by C. C. Hunter
Hayden’s gaze is glued to me again. I start backing up. Except without backup mirrors, I run into Jacob again. He catches me by the forearms this time, and I can feel him looking over my shoulder at me. I step to the side. His hands fall away.
“How’s Kelsey’s mom?” Dex asks before I can bolt for the door.
“Better,” I say, wishing I hadn’t come. Wishing it didn’t hurt seeing him and Brandy together. Wishing my dad hadn’t lied to me all my life. My chest grows heavier.
“Good.” Dex frowns. “Kelsey must be upset. She really bit my head off yesterday. I mean damn—”
“She was worried,” I defend my best friend and take another cautious step backward.
Hayden pulls his hand from around Brandy’s waist and sits up. “Riley?” He says my name in such a caring way, a familiar way, that I feel my sinuses sting. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
Don’t lose it. Don’t lose it. “Nothing.”
He studies me, and I know he’s seeing more than I want him to. I remember him telling me that I didn’t lie worth a shit. “You’ve been crying. And don’t deny it, because your face is puffy and you get puffy when you cry.”
Jacob looks at Hayden, then at me. “Did you cry a lot when you were at camp?”
Hayden flinches. I don’t know if it’s from realizing he knows what I look like when I cry or if he’s afraid of how Brandy and the others might interpret it.
Either way, I come to his aid. “Yeah, I cried all the time at camp. Totally embarrassing. I was a real crybaby. Look at me wrong and I’d cry. I can’t even tell you how many times…” I’m suddenly aware I need to shut up. Or better yet, I need to get the hell out of here.
“See you guys later.” I dart past Jacob.
I don’t stop to hear if anyone protests. I don’t chance having to wait on the elevator and someone finding me. I take the stairs.
I head straight down to the second floor, where Kelsey’s mom is. I stop outside the door, realizing I’m bringing my problems to Kelsey when she’s got plenty of her own. But she’s all I’ve got right now. I pull out my phone and text.
Me: How r things?
Three dots appear. I hold my breath.
Kelsey: Going stir-crazy. Mom’s better. I was about to text u to see if u could take me home.
Me: I’m here. Outside your mom’s hospital door.
The door swings open. “Hey.” She’s smiling, but one glance at me and her smile fades. “Okay, who shit in your Cheerios this time?”
I swallow. “The only person who hasn’t shit in my Cheerios is you.”
“Hayden?” she asks.
I nod. “And Brandy. But that’s not the worst thing.”
“Your dad?”
“Yeah.”
“What did he do?”
I go to answer, and emotion swells in my throat. I start fanning myself fast as if the fresh air will hold back my bombardment. “Not here.” A nurse walks past us. “I was hoping I could stay at your place tonight.”
“You bet. And it’s safe. Guess who got arrested about two hours ago?”
“Charles?”
“Yup!” She owns that bit of good news, and she knows it. It’s because of her that he’s behind bars.
“How did your mom take it?” I ask.
“A lot better than I thought. It was like my grandmother said, she wasn’t trying to protect him. But the cop who came convinced Mom that doing nothing was even more dangerous.”
“I know you’re relieved.” My phone rings. My heart drops. I pull it out, praying it’s not Dad. It’s not. But it’s almost as bad.
I look up at Kelsey. “It’s Hayden.”
She lifts a brow. “I’ll go tell Mom I’m going home. Be right back.” My phone rings again. “Answer it.”
“But…”
“No buts. You care about him.”
Leaning against the wall, I watch her go back into her mom’s room. Biting the bullet, I answer. “Yeah.”
“Hey.”
“Yeah.”
“Are you really okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Is that the only word you can say?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
He chuckles, but it dissolves into silence, then he asks, “What’s wrong?”
I hesitate, then… “I had a fight with my dad.”
“About what?”
I’m not ready to go into all that. “A lot of stuff.”
“Are you still in the hospital?”
“I’m about to leave.”
“Could you come back? Everyone left.”
I can’t face him now. “Maybe tomorrow.”
He’s quiet. “Seriously, are you okay?”
“I will be.”
“You know I’m a good listener.”
I almost smile. “I know.”
The dreaded silence fills the line again. “How? How do you know?”
“Instinctively,” I answer.
“Like I instinctively know things about you?” He lets go of a deep breath. “How the hell do I know you get puffy when you cry?”
My mind races about what to say.
When I don’t answer, he says, “There’s something you’re not telling me. Why else would you lie to Jacob about crying at camp?”
I close my eyes. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow. I’ll try to come by after school.”
“Call first. I may be home by then. If I am, meet me there. I need answers, Riley.”
“I’ll see you then.”
I’m about to hang up when I hear him say, “Riley?”
My name sounds different when he says it. It sounds beautiful. Special. Like he thinks it’s special. “Yeah.”
“Don’t cry anymore. Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think.”
“Yeah it is.” And I hang up.
“Are you freaking kidding me?” Kelsey asks as we walk through the parking lot to my car.
“No. I even found the divorce papers.” The night feels way too dark and cold. Bone cold. They are close by. I keep my eyes focused on my Mustang, not wanting to deal with any spirits tonight.
Kelsey bumps me with her shoulder. “I’d be so pissed.”
“I am.”
We get to my car, and I go to unlock the passenger side door and see my suitcase. I drag it out and drop it on the pavement. “I can’t see how he could think this was okay.”
Kelsey eyes the suitcase as I wheel it to the back of my car. “Does he know where you are?”
“No. He didn’t tell me where he was going, so I’m just returning the favor.” I unlock my trunk.
“He hasn’t called you?” she asks.
“No, he left. He’s out drinking somewhere. He doesn’t even know I’m gone. He probably won’t even realize I’m gone when he gets home. You should have seen him last night. He could barely walk into the house.”
Kelsey offers me her sympathetic look. “What are you going to do now? Are you going to talk—”
“I’ll have to face him sooner or later, but I can’t do it now.”
“I meant your mom. If the bride’s right and the artist is your mom, are you going to go see her?”
I reach down for the case. “I haven’t thought that far ahead. I mean, I’m sure I am.” I have to swallow to get the lump of pain to go away. “All this time, I’ve missed her, and I’m so fracking furious at Dad, but it’s not just him. Why would she leave me? What kind of mother would leave her kid?”
“Mothers like my mom,” Kelsey says, her tone carrying a layer of hurt. “I can’t tell you how many times we would go see my grandmother and Mom would sneak out and leave me. Once I didn’t even hear from her for a month.”
“I’m sorry.” I stiffen my spine.
She gives me a shoulder bump. “Don’t be. Parents aren’t perfect. Then again, maybe she didn’t leave you. How do you know your father didn’t kidnap you?”
I shake my head. “No. In Dallas, the house we lived in was the one where she’d been wi
th us. I know because…I used to see her there in my mind. Cooking, or sitting in an old porch swing we had in the backyard. It was one of the reasons I didn’t want to move. I felt like her memory lived there.”
I set the case inside the trunk. The second I slam it closed, everything goes pitch black. I turn to where Kelsey was standing, but I can’t even make out her shape. I suddenly realize I’m no longer standing in the hospital parking lot.
In fact, I’m not even standing. I’m on my side. I try to sit up, but I slam my head into something metal. I reach out, feel around. I’m in the trunk of a car. How?
“Let me out!” I scream and feel a pain in the back of my head. Running a hand through my hair, I find a knot and a sticky substance that I suspect is blood. Someone hit me. Hard.
“Help me!”
The car turns on a road that feels like gravel or dirt. Where are we going? My body is bounced back and forth. I search for something to beat at the trunk. I feel a thin piece of plastic to my right. Blinking hard, I wait for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. A desperate gasp leaves my throat when I see it. See the dress, a wedding dress, with one of those clear plastic covers. I recognize it, too.
It’s hers.
This is one of those visions the spirits pass on to me so that I can learn something. It doesn’t make it any less terrifying, but it does remind me to stop panicking and start noticing things.
I process the data of what I see. Or what I don’t see. There isn’t an emergency trunk-release button. I remember we talked about this in auto tech. No release button means the car is older than 2002, because they became mandatory that year. I run my hand around to memorize the shape of the trunk. I can’t tell what kind of car it is, but I might figure it out later.
I take a deep breath and smell oil, burnt oil. I suspect the car has a blown valve-cover gasket. I listen to the deep roar of the motor. It’s loud, it’s powerful. Sounds like a V8 engine. The car comes to a stop. Fear takes over again. I don’t want to experience what happens next. I don’t want to see it.
I don’t want to die.
“You okay? Riley. Answer me.” Kelsey’s voice rings in my head, but she’s not here. She’s back there. Back at the hospital parking lot. Back where I’m safe. Where I’m not locked in a trunk.
I want to go back there.
“Hey! Look at me.” Kelsey’s voice feels closer. I need it to be closer still.
The trunk suddenly feels as if it’s shrinking. I can’t breathe. I’ve never thought of myself as claustrophobic, but suddenly everything’s closing in on me. Out. Out. Out.
I need out.
Mentally, I try to claw my way back. Escape.
Then I do it. I’m no longer lying on my side. No longer a prisoner. I’m standing on weak legs. My lungs feel empty and shriveled and beg for air. I pull it in so fast I wheeze. I’m leaning on the back of my car. Kelsey has me by my shoulders, as if she’s afraid I’m going to fall.
Still trying to clear away the cobwebs of the vision, I blink and try to focus on my best friend.
“Do you need to go to the ER?” Her voice, pure concern, gets pulled away by a cold breeze. “I think you just had… Your eyes rolled back in your head.”
“No.” My voice is weak, my throat mostly closed, and my heart is thumping and thrumming in my ears. “I’m okay.”
“I don’t think so. Seriously, you looked weird. You don’t have epilepsy, do you? My cousin has it, and that’s what she looks like right before a seizure.”
“No. It’s not… Let’s go to your house,” I say.
She nods hesitantly, and we both get in the car. The moment I sink into my seat, I try to let go of the tension, but my muscles are so tight they are trembling. I want to cry for Shane. Then I remember what Bessie told me: She also said that the person who killed her is trying to do it to someone else.
Someone else is going to be taken, locked in a trunk. Someone else is going to be killed if I don’t find a way to stop it.
Kelsey stares at me as if concerned I’m about to start convulsing. “Wait. Should I drive?”
“No, I’m fine. Really. It wasn’t a seizure. It was… Sometimes a ghost gives me a vision. It’s like they show me things so that I’ll understand what happened. So I can help them. Let’s just sit in the car a few minutes, make sure she’s not going to spring another one on me, then I can drive.”
We sit there for about five minutes. “You want to tell me about it?”
“Have you studied for the history test?” I ask to derail the conversation.
She lifts a brow at my nonanswer. “So you’re back to keeping secrets?”
I give in. “The visions are different with every ghost. Your grandmother showed me her filling out the paperwork for her life insurance.”
“Was this one from my grandmother?”
“No.” I start the car.
“From the bride?” Her voice drops to almost an oh-shit whisper.
I release some air. “Yeah.”
“What was it about?”
Pulling out of the parking lot, I almost say I’m not ready to talk, but then realize talking might be exactly what I need. Talking might help me remember. My mind starts collecting data to spill, then I stop. How can I make this sound less terrifying? I can’t. There is no way to put a positive slant on what the bride showed me.
“She was locked in a trunk.”
Kelsey’s mouth and eyes go round at the same time. “Who locked her in there?”
“I don’t know. It started with me in there. I didn’t see—”
“You?”
I hesitate, then blurt it out, trying to make it sound like no big deal. “In the visions, I’m…them.”
“Oh, hell no!”
“Which is why I wasn’t sure I should tell you.”
She frowns. “I still want to know, but…”
“It’s not as bad as it sounds,” I lie.
“Riiiight.” She bites down on her lip. The air thickens with silence for several minutes, then she says, “How will seeing that help you help them?”
“I might be able to figure out what type of car the killer drove. I already know it was an older car, because it didn’t have an emergency escape latch in the trunk. And it was at least medium-sized, because the trunk was big. And the engine sounded like a V8.”
She kind of stares at me. “Wow. You are good at this.”
“I’ve had a little practice.” I grip the steering wheel to hide that my hands are still shaking.
But I see her eyes go to the steering wheel, and she frowns. “How do you deal with this shit?”
I swallow. “Just like you would a nightmare.” Except you know this one is real. Maybe not for you, but for someone else. “They’re not fun. But they help.”
I stop at a red light. An old Chevy Malibu pulls up and stops beside us. I see it. Kelsey sees it. The driver is a man. Middle-aged with stringy long hair that looks dirty. Scary-looking. Just how you’d expect a murderer to look. He turns his head and stares. Stares hard, with interest.
“Is that him?” Kelsey twists and looks at me with panic.
“No,” I say and face straight ahead so I won’t meet the man’s eyes.
“Do you know that, or are you just saying that to make me feel better?”
“It would be too much of a coincidence.” I believe that, but why am I tempted to slam my foot on the gas and run the light? Fear lifts goose bumps on my skin. “He’s probably just looking at my car.” I kind of believe that, too.
The light changes. The Malibu turns to the right. Relief has my shoulders dropping. “See,” I say, but I twist my head to see the car’s taillights moving down the street.
As I roll under the light, I remind myself to check out the trunks of older Malibu models.
“How long have you been up?” Kelsey, doing the sleepy shuffle, joins me in her kitchen the next morning.
“A while.” I pet Pepper, the gray tabby pawing at my leg. In truth, I barely slept. I spent the n
ight thinking about someone else being locked in the trunk of a car. Thinking about what I’m going to say to Dad. What I’m going to say to my mom. What I’m going to say to Hayden when I see him today.
All that, plus I kept waiting for Dad to call. He didn’t. That got me questioning if he even came home. What if he wrecked? What if… So at four this morning I gave up trying to sleep, and I left Kelsey a note and drove to my house to make sure Dad’s car was there.
It was in the driveway. And since I mostly park in the garage, he probably didn’t even realize I wasn’t home. That sucks. When you run away, you want people to notice.
Yawning, Kelsey drops in the kitchen chair beside me. “I’m not going to school,” she says.
“Me neither. I barely slept.”
Her gaze shifts to my computer screen.
“What are you looking at?”
“Researching car trunks.”
Her expression changes from sleepy to sort of scared. “Did you find anything?”
“Not anything definitive. I’ve found two cars with similar trunk spaces to the car in the vision, a Malibu or a BMW, but I can’t rule out some of the others because I haven’t been able to find the compartment spaces on a couple of the models.”
“At least you know it’s old. That will help, right?”
“Yeah.” But not enough.
“Are you going to write a letter to the police, like you did before?”
I nip at my lip. “I can’t do the same thing. I’m afraid they’ll be suspicious.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. But I have to figure something out before he grabs someone else.”
“Yeah.” She slumps back as if mentally debating. “Tell me what I can do. I can help. You shouldn’t do this alone.” Spoken like a true friend.
I exhale. “Right now I don’t know what else to do. When the spirit comes back, maybe she’ll give me something more.”
“When, not if?” Kelsey leans in to study the screen.
“I’m pretty sure she’ll be back.”
My phone dings with an incoming text. I pick it up off the table. My heart stops beating when I see it’s from Dad.
“Who is it?” Kelsey asks.
“My dad. I think he finally realized I’m not home.” Breath held, I swipe to read it.