“That might not be such a bad thing. Don’t most humans retire at your age?”
Father Montgomery looked at Avian fondly. “My boy, perhaps you are right. Retirement might be something that I should look at with a fresh perspective.”
“I can get a sidecar for the motorcycle,” Avian said. “You can travel the world with me.”
“Ride in the sidecar? What if I want to drive?”
“You’ll have to get your own bike for that. I don’t do shotgun.”
The priest laughed, and the tension in Avian’s gut eased up. Maybe he was wrong. This would be just like every other visit he’d made home, and everything would be fine.
~ ~ ~
They finished dinner and then had some coffee before Father Montgomery finally shuffled off to his bedroom. Avian was just about to go lock the front door when someone knocked.
Striding across the room, he threw the door open. “Yeah?”
A skinny, bundled-up girl with brown hair stood outside on the front step. Her cheeks were red, a fresh scratch covering one of them. The shadow of an occupying soul flared to life briefly beneath the surface of her face.
She took a step back, startled to see him. “I’m looking for Father Montgomery. I know it’s late, but I was hoping he was still up.”
“He’s not. Do you have any idea what time it is?”
“But the light’s on.”
“I had to turn a light on because someone felt the need to bang on the door at three thirty in the morning.” Avian crossed his arms and scowled. “Do you always stop by for late-night calls?”
“No, I . . . I needed someone to talk to and I figured that he would be . . .” She looked down at the ground and then took a step away. “Just forget it.”
“Already forgotten.” Avian closed the door behind him hard as that gut feeling of danger hit him again, deep and fast. People like her were trouble. Manipulative, greedy, controlling. Looking to bleed more and more out of people like Father Montgomery until there would be nothing left. Then she’d move on to find another fix. They always did.
That was the problem with humans who were conduits for the dead.
They were called Echos. And she was one of them.
CHAPTER FIVE
Cyn turned away from the tall, angry-looking guy at the rectory door and put her hands into her pockets. When she saw the face beneath hers reflected in the window at the apartment, she hadn’t thought, she’d just reacted. And found herself coming to the church for help. It wasn’t like she could really explain to Father Montgomery what was going on, though—she didn’t even know herself. She’d learned the hard way when she was seven years old and saw someone else’s face looking out from beneath hers for the first time not to tell anyone else exactly what she was seeing.
No one would believe her anyway.
Something brushed against her fingers, and Cyn realized the cop’s card was still in her pocket. Unconsciously, she rubbed the sharp corner into a bent nub.
What’s he doing here? Does it have anything to do with Hunter’s murder?
Her fingers moved from the business card to the gold ring at the thought of Hunter’s name, and panic coursed through her. She didn’t want to go back to the apartment. It was too dark there. Too cold. Too much room for her thoughts and her headspace and whatever else was taking up real estate inside her body.
She needed a distraction. Something shiny and fast.
Route 202 led out of town, and it was there that Cyn found herself. Thumb raised, looking for a car to steal. A black Mustang came around a curve, and she threw one hip out, cocking her body at an angle.
The car came to a stop, and the middle-aged driver rolled down his window. “Helloooo, midlife crisis,” she muttered.
“Need a ride?” he called out.
Cyn walked around to the driver’s side and leaned in, pupils dilating. “Sounds like a good idea. How about you give me your keys and get out?”
The man looked up at her, wide-eyed. “Sure.” And got out of the car.
“Are you from around here?”
Cyn tried to keep the chances of running into the car owners again at a minimum.
“I live two hours upstate. Just dropping my kids off at their mother’s house.”
Cyn climbed into the driver’s seat and glanced over at the side of the road. The man’s breath was showing in frozen puffs of air. It would have to be a short ride tonight. Too cold to leave him out here for long.
“Okay, here’s what you’re going to do,” she said. “Keep following this road, and I’ll be back to pick you up in twenty—no, forty minutes, tops.”
He turned and started walking down the highway, and Cyn thought she just might be able to make it this time. As long as she drove fast enough, she might be able to chase away her demons for good.
But it was only a couple of minutes later when sounds went dead, her sight grew dim, and her fingers clamped down onto the steering wheel.
Even though she fought it, there was nothing she could do. He was taking control.
Suddenly jerking back to awareness, Cyn found herself driving straight toward the edge of a cliff at sixty miles an hour.
She slammed on her brakes, the car fishtailed, and she hooked the wheel sharply to the left. Trying not to panic, she rode it out, letting gravity dictate the direction. Tires skidded on the loose gravel, and her heart stopped as momentum carried her closer and closer to the edge. Finally, with just inches to spare, the car came to a screeching halt.
Her fingers went numb. Where am I?
She couldn’t remember anything. Couldn’t remember where the car had come from or why she’d been careening straight toward certain death.
The door squeaked loudly as she opened it and got out. Leaning her forehead against the cold metal frame, Cyn inhaled slowly. God, I need a cigarette. Her hands suddenly started shaking, and she glanced down at them in surprise. A sob clawed its way out of her throat, and she shoved it back down. Don’t cry. Don’t start crying now.
To distract herself, she stepped closer to the edge of the cliff. Stared down into the abyss below. It was so dark and so deep, it reminded her of the night sky when there weren’t any stars.
They climbed up onto the bed of the pickup truck. The view was wide and clear, but there weren’t any stars. They were still too close to the city. Hunter wrapped his arms around her and leaned in from behind. “I love coming out here like this.”
Cyn grinned. “You know what they say. You can take the boy out of the country, but you can’t take the country out of the boy.”
“Pennsylvania isn’t country.”
“Since you grew up on a fifty-acre farm there, I’d say that’s country.”
“Farmette,” Hunter corrected. “A hobby farm used on the weekends for overflow crops.”
“Did it have a barn?” Cyn leaned in closer to him and felt his head bob up and down. “Did it have a tractor? A truck? A rooster? A cow?”
He nodded his agreement again.
“Then I rest my case. Barn, tractor, cow. F-A-R-M. You are country, country boy.”
He lowered his head and spoke softly into her ear. Lips humming against her skin. “You know what they say about country boys, right?”
“What?” Cyn whispered.
“That we have tough hands . . . but soft hearts.”
The laughter that suddenly erupted out of Cyn shook both of them. “Oh my God, that was the cheesiest line ever, Hunter.” She turned to face him. “Tough hands and soft hearts . . .” She shook her head and he laughed with her.
But their laughter faded as he reached out. Cupping the back of her head, he gently pulled her closer. “Did it work?”
“Yeah.” Cyn breathed the words across his lips before she closed the distance between them. “It worked.”
Shaking the memory of Hunter off, Cyn stepped back from the edge of the cliff and returned to the car. Don’t think about him now. It’s easier not to remember.
Turning the
heater up to full blast, she held her cold fingers up to the vents. She still couldn’t remember where she’d been going or who the car belonged to. Reaching for the glove box, She pulled out an insurance card, and everything came rushing back at the sight of James Donnely’s name and address.
He was still out there.
She almost stalled out the engine in her haste to back up from the cliff. She didn’t want to look at the dashboard clock, but her eyes betrayed her. Almost two hours had passed.
Cyn forgot to breathe as she looked for any sign of James, scanning the edges of the trees bordering the highway. It wasn’t until she’d gone six exits down that she finally spotted him. His cheeks and ears were red, but he didn’t seem to be any worse for wear.
You got lucky.
“Thanks for letting me borrow your car,” Cyn said, coming to a stop beside him. “Why don’t you get in and we’ll go grab a cup of coffee before you get on your way back home?”
He nodded absentmindedly, and she let him climb behind the wheel. Once he seemed coherent enough to drive, Cyn directed him to the nearest gas station and pumped him full of hot coffee and stale doughnuts. Then she told him to forget about their little diversion and not stop again until he made it safely home.
As she started to walk the four miles back to her apartment and the sky turned the color of pink ash, the lonely highway stretching out in front of her was a reminder of just how long the trek back was going to be. Maybe I should flag down another ride.
But before she could do anything, a car came up behind her.
“Hey,” the cop from Sleepy Hollow said, sticking his head out the window. “Need a ride?”
~ ~ ~
“You didn’t call me.”
He had to repeat himself because Cyn was concentrating so hard on trying to breathe normally that she didn’t hear him the first time.
“Huh? Oh . . . yeah.” She forced her fingers to relax their death grip on the door handle. “Sorry. I don’t have a cell phone.”
She made her shoulders move up and down in what she hoped was a convincing shrug.
He guided the car toward the Hampton Falls exit ramp, and Cyn silently counted down the seconds until she could make her escape. Just hold it together a little bit longer.
“Why would you want me to call you anyway?” Only two more stoplights to make it through. Time to stop letting him ask all the questions.
She even managed a grin.
“Since I’m here on vacation, I thought you could show me around.”
Is he trying to ask me out on a date?
Cyn pulled down the back of her wig and looked out the window. The diner was straight ahead. “You can just drop me off up here.”
“At the diner?”
“Yeah.”
“Why don’t I take you home?”
Cyn wasn’t about to lead him straight to where she lived. He might be just a harmless guy asking her for a date, but he was still a cop. “I’m meeting a friend for breakfast. So . . . thanks . . .”
“Declan,” he reminded her.
“Right. Declan.” He pulled into the parking lot, and Cyn had to remind herself not to go running from the car the instant he stopped.
“No problem. Just be careful.”
Cyn paused, one hand on the door handle. “Be careful?”
“The first time we met, that kid was being an asshole to you, and now, the second time, you were stranded on the side of a highway.”
Cyn forced a smile. “I guess it’s a good thing you’re here, then.” She got out of the car before he could reply but returned his wave when he pulled away.
“Yup. It’s totally a good thing that a cop from Sleepy Hollow is here in Hampton Falls,” she said under her breath as his taillights grew smaller and smaller in the distance. “Nothing could make me happier.”
CHAPTER SIX
You look like shit. Get any sleep today?” Lenny tossed a pile of cold cigarette butts from the bucket next to the back door and sat down on the stoop, wedging a phone book under the door to keep it open.
“Yeah. Tons. Can’t you tell by my bloodshot eyes that I got more than my fair share of beauty sleep?” Cyn tied her apron on and left the strings tangled. It was time for her shift, and she was beyond tired. After Declan had left, she’d hung around until the locker room opened at eight and then took a quick shower before heading back to her apartment. She’d tried to get some sleep but had been too wired to actually close her eyes for anything more than ten minutes at a time. “It was fucking great. I slept like a queen.”
Lenny shook his head at her tone and held out one of his cigarettes in a peace offering.
“I’m trying to quit.”
But her hand was reaching for it even as she said those words.
“I’ve quit before too. Twice.” Lenny flicked open his lighter and she leaned in. “Sometimes a good smoke is what you need to keep the nightmares at bay.”
His eyes shifted away from her, and Cyn realized that he might have some demons of his own. They sat in silence until she finished puffing.
“Hey, I’m here if you ever want to . . . you know.” Lenny shrugged.
Cyn pretended she didn’t hear him.
“Thanks for the cigarette,” she said instead. “You’ve officially broken my quitting streak.”
Lenny grinned as he held up both middle fingers and flipped her off, a fresh smoke stuck between his lips. Cyn straightened her wig—brunette again tonight—and headed in to greet the customers.
~ ~ ~
Three and a half hours later, only two customers had come in, and one of them ordered a slice of pie. Not even coffee or a soft drink to go with it. Just pie. And he was a cheapskate to boot.
Cyn didn’t bother to use her mind mojo on him. If she kept making the customers leave five-dollar tips on two-dollar checks, someone was bound to start noticing. Lenny had already made a point to mention all the green she was bringing home.
In between breaks, she snuck a couple more cigarettes and tried not to doze off. But it was a fight she was losing, and Marv caught her using her coat as a pillow behind the front counter.
“I’m not paying you to sleep here. That’s what you have a bed for. If you’re really that tired, go home.”
She couldn’t go home to her bed even if she wanted to. She didn’t have one.
Stuffing her coat behind a box of extra napkins, she acted like she was counting them. “I can’t hear you. I’m too busy working.”
“Working, my ass.” Marv grabbed a dust broom and pushed it across the floor. “I see that again, and you’re done.”
Cyn poured on the charm. “Come on, Marv. Don’t be like that. You know I need the money.” He liked it when she acted like he was doing her a huge favor, when in reality he couldn’t get any other waitress to work the night shift, because he was so cheap.
Lucky for him, she was desperate.
“Work. Don’t sleep.”
Cyn stuffed a handful of napkins into the front pocket of her uniform. Functioning on autopilot, she checked the holder on each table and refilled the ones that were almost empty. It was another hour before the bell over the door jingled again.
She didn’t bother looking up from the crossword puzzle she was halfheartedly filling in as she said, “Sit wherever you like. The floor’s open.”
Then she saw it was the cop from Sleepy Hollow again. Declan.
He had one finger on his menu like he was considering his choices, but he was watching her instead. Sitting at table seven. Next to the back door.
Cyn’s throat went dry, and she had to cough to clear it. Why was he here? To ask her out on a date?
Stay calm. Take his order. It’s no big deal.
She picked up the coffeepot and put on her brightest smile. “Would you like a cup?”
Her hand only trembled a little bit.
“Sure thing.” His grin was big and bright too. “So we meet again.”
“I guess that’s what happens when you come int
o the diner where I work.” For the second time. But she made sure to give him a flirtatious wink.
He glanced down at the menu. “I’m thinking about the soup. What’s the special of the day?”
“Clam chowder.”
“What are your other soup choices?”
“Clam chowder or clam chowder.”
Marv liked to keep things simple. He was always spouting off about picking one thing and doing it well. “I know, not very much of a choice.” Cyn gave him a sympathetic eye roll. “But it’s the best clam chowder you’ll ever taste. I can promise you that.”
“If it’s even half as good as the crabs at Tom’s Crab Shack, then I’ll take it.”
“You went?”
He nodded.
“Glad to hear it.” She put on an I’m-so-happy-you-took-my-suggestion face. “So one order of clam chowder. Will that be all? Or do you want some more time to look at the menu and—”
“Have you been by the Crab Shack recently?”
Cyn’s grip on the coffeepot handle tightened. “I’m not really a big seafood person.” The back of her wig itched, but she ignored it. “So I don’t remember exactly.”
“It’s just that I couldn’t get the all-you-can-eat special. I asked about it, and Tom himself told me they haven’t had it since June. Stopped because it was costing them too much money.”
The coffeepot almost slipped out of her hands.
Shit, she was screwed. She was so fucking screwed. That must have been an old takeout menu she’d found on the floor of her building.
Suddenly, Cyn would have given just about anything for several of her buttons to spontaneously start popping open. Hell, she wouldn’t be averse to flashing him and Marv and Lenny just to give him something else to think about.
The cop leaned back in his seat, legs stretched out in front of him, hands resting on the table. “I mean, look, I understand,” he said. “When you’re local to these parts, you don’t always go out to eat as often as someone just passing through.”
Cyn smoothed down the back of her wig and forced a smile as her brain worked feverishly, trying to come up with an explanation. The sound of Lenny bringing out a tub full of dishes came from behind her. But before she could say anything, Lenny spoke up.
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