It was a visual echo that disturbed me.
“Come on,” she said, motioning toward the cute wooden shack that served as a pool house. “We’ve got work to do and a full night ahead, if you’re up to it.”
Why not? It’s not like I needed sleep or anything.
The pool house wasn’t as big as the one the Edgetts had on their property, but as I floated inside with her, I noticed it was roomy enough, with a cushioned bench under a moonlit window and a closet that held beach clothing and supplies. Amanda Lee even had an old, tiny TV with bunny ears stored in here, perched near a swinging window that probably opened and doubled as a bar.
Somehow, I doubted she had many poolside soirees.
After she dried off and put on a caftan, she sat on the bench, the moon shadowing her.
“Are you ready for some exercise?” she asked.
“Always.” I’d been on the volleyball team during high school, but I knew she meant something way different here. Kinda cool that I didn’t have to run or diet to stay in shape anymore.
She said, “While you were gone, I was looking into hallucinations and how they’re connected to ghosts.”
Oh, I could barely wait for this. “And?”
“It seems there are some theories that say electromagnetic field exposure lowers melatonin levels in human bodies—”
Whoa, Nelly. “Melatonin?”
“Let’s just say it acts as an anticonvulsive. If you don’t have much in your system, the right temporal lobe of your brain will be vulnerable to small epileptic seizures.”
I sorted through the garble, then said, “And that can cause hallucinations.”
“Slight ones, if a ghost should touch a human. Your touch freezes us with electricity and lowers our melatonin level. So they say.”
So that’s another way I worked. It made me wonder how long it would take the world to definitely accept scientific explanations for ghosts. After all, back in my day, we wouldn’t have dreamed of owning lights that turned on and off when you clapped, like Amanda Lee had in the casita. That was most definitely magic, and I’d missed having those in my own apartment by only a few years because it hadn’t hit popular stride yet.
And yes, I had been that lazy after my parents had died. I’d mostly sat around watching TV, drinking beer, chilling out, getting up to shower and go to work, and starting all over again.
I suppose being caffeinated on Mello Yello when I was killed had given me some much-needed oomph as a ghost, at least.
When Amanda Lee crooked her finger at me, Come here, I approached.
“You need to master your form, especially when it comes to these hallucinations,” she said. “Seeing you become so gray today and almost retreat into another imprint worried me. You were shocked so badly that I feared losing you.”
I hovered there, not knowing what to say. Someone actually cared about me these days.
“So what’re we going to do to keep me from going gray again?” I asked softly.
She smiled. “You’re going to try a hallucination on me to see how much you can take.”
I backed up a bit. Was this Amanda Lee talking? The woman who had sprinkled salt around her windows and chimney to block spirits and also blacked me out when I’d tried to empathize with her?
When she lifted a finger, I knew there’d be caveats.
“This isn’t empathizing, understand? We’re attempting this experiment only one time, and you’ll have a specific purpose for coming into me. I think that’s part of the reason you can make humans hallucinate—knowing exactly what you want to get out of them.”
Such as making them happy, like I’d done with Wendy.
Or getting them to blurt out their crimes.
Amanda Lee was very serious now. “I’m warning you. I won’t give you emotional access, Jensen. The moment I feel you worming your way into my soul instead of my head—and I’ll know if you’re doing that—we’re done. This is only a test, and I’m trusting you.”
I nodded, eager to get started. Part of the reason I’d had a lot of friends way back when was that I’d never double-crossed them.
And I knew Amanda Lee had researched that.
Hell, I felt her confidence in me with every psychic vibe she was sending my way. Maybe she’d even foreseen the outcome of exercising my skills.
“What’s my goal?” I asked. “How about I get you to tell me about a minor scare in your life?”
That wouldn’t be so hard on Amanda Lee’s emotions—not like the far more horrific hallucinations I would be throwing at Gavin.
“We can be more ambitious than that.”
“But I don’t want to freak you out.”
“That’s the point, though. Scaring me. I want to see how you handle something a little more strenuous than the images you gave to Wendy.”
Okay. That did make sense. But it wasn’t like I was looking forward to booing her, much less booing me.
She understood my reluctance. “Don’t worry. I’ll be here, and if I feel you going into a time loop, I’ll pull you out again.”
“What if you’re too affected by the hallucination to do anything?”
She laughed. “We’ll begin with something mild.”
If she was this certain about it, I should be, too.
“All right,” I said. “Name your cup of terror.”
“Certainly. But one more thing—what I’m asking you to show me is a traumatic moment that will elicit a powerful reaction from me. Not strong enough to send me spinning, but enough to matter.”
“So what do you have in mind?” No pun intended.
She laughed again. “Don’t look so scared, Jensen.”
Not scared.
When she saw my resolve, she said, “I was in a car accident once, around the time you died. I won’t tell you any more details than that because I’d like to see what comes out of your spontaneous imagination. Are we set?”
I sucked it up. “Set.”
With another reassuring smile, she let herself relax, folding her hands on her lap as she waited for my touch.
I floated toward her, hovering over her cheek, tempted for one second to merely empathize, just to see the ins and outs of my partner.
But I pressed my essence against her skin hard instead, going deep, rushing right into her head, and—
Cactus, sand, desert, right outside the pool house window, rushing past, just like this pool house was a car, speeding down a road.
In front of us, a stretch of gray highway cut by headlights, whirring under the tires of the room.
The spinning sound of rubber over concrete. Eyelids getting heavy.
One blink. So tired.
Another blink, eyes closing longer this time.
Tired. Such a long trip.
We leave our eyes closed, giving in to the lull of the highway.
Blankness. Finally, some peace after an endless day. . . .
The electronic scream of a horn.
Our eyes blast open as—
I jerked out of the hallucination, pushing out of Amanda Lee and into the real world so quickly that I practically skidded to a stop near the opposite wall.
Across the room, which had gone back to normal, she was gripping the bench cushion, her gaze shocked, her body trembling.
Was she cold from my touch, just like Wendy had been?
“Why did you stop?” she asked.
“Because we were about to crash!” God, why else would I have stopped?
“Damn it.” She was shaking her head. “This is what I was afraid of. You’re holding back because you don’t want to experience what comes next. We weren’t really going to crash, even if I saw the other car coming toward us in this room as if it was really happening.”
Her criticism stung because she was right.
Was I really that much of a chicken?
“Your body,” I said. “You’re trembling, like you’re afraid. Like there’s adrenaline tearing you up.”
“I’m fine.” Th
en her voice gentled as she ran a gaze over me. “You’re no grayer than you were before, but how do you feel?”
I took stock of myself. “Fine, too.”
“That’s good.” She rubbed her arms, warming herself, then straightened in her seat, getting comfortable again.
Determination in action.
“Just for the record,” she said, “I didn’t live in California at the time. The accident happened back east, during winter, in the daylight. And I didn’t fall asleep at the wheel. Even so, I can feel my heart beating out of my chest right now. Everything was very real, so kudos for that.”
This woman was definitely a warrior. I wanted to be one, too.
“I’m ready whenever you are,” I said, sidling up to her.
She nodded, and I pushed against her cheek, zooming right into the hallucina—
Winter outside, snowy trees, gray sky flying past the pool house windows.
Tires over slush-laden concrete, the floor of the room becoming the road.
The sound of the radio. Air Supply. Mushy love.
Getting lost in the song, humming along with it.
“Here I am, the one that you love . . .” An oldie but goody—
The blare of a horn as two headlights appear on the wall, like a truck just now came over a hill, bearing down on us.
A scream. Yanking the wheel to the right, toward a guardrail emerging out of the wall—
I barely felt myself starting to pull out of her, but I wouldn’t. Not this time.
Flying all the way back into her, I saw—
—a guardrail, rushing toward us, the wheel out of control underneath our hands, taken over by the tires.
We crash, our seat belt strap knifes the air out of our lungs, our knees hit the dashboard, the car hood bunches, steam hisses from the engine.
The radio still plays.
“. . . asking for another day . . .”
We don’t move because our body won’t let us.
Got to start the car, we keep thinking, willing our hand to reach up and turn the key in the ignition.
Dull thoughts, knees hurting, steam hissing.
Got to start the car again . . .
This time, when I pulled out of her, I did it shakily, slowly, like I was getting out of that scrunched, seething compact car and stumbling away from it.
I was weaker, but still okay. Amanda Lee, though?
Not so sure.
“Hey,” I said, going back to her. She was dazed, her hand cupped over her chest, her body quaking harder. Was she only freezing from my touch? Or worse?
“Amanda Lee?”
I wanted to shake her, but then she blinked, leaned forward, her breathing harsh. She could only shake her head, gasp for oxygen.
Out of pure worry, I did the last thing she’d wanted me to do. Automatically, I touched her, only meaning to try and ghost-heal or something. To do whatever I could to help her.
But that’s not what happened at all.
Because of the visceral car crash, her defenses were down for a splinter of time. At even a slight touch, I zoomed right in.
For the first time ever, I crashed through the black wall she’d erected around her emotions, just like I was bursting through a bank of dark ice.
In my empathy, the whir of her thoughts circled my vision. It was like she was in shock from the car accident. She’d brushed right by death, and moments of remorse had taken her over.
Standing over a grave, touching the headstone.
Thinking of blond hair, blue eyes, a secret smile that said, “Someday they’ll all know.”
Thinking of the one voice that had mattered more than anyone else’s before it’d been silenced.
Her voice . . .
Unlike most times when I’d been jarred out of a human, this exit was slow, like I had lost heart and was trudging away from the person who’d taken it.
Numb once again, I hovered over Amanda Lee, waiting for her to tell me why she’d been lying to me about knowing Elizabeth Dalton.
11
After a few minutes, Amanda Lee let her hand fall away from her chest.
She was still shaking. “I’m going to guess that you know.”
I wanted answers too much to fly off the handle. “You were friends with Elizabeth?”
She sent me a lowered glance, like she was trying to puzzle out just how much I’d gleaned from my empathy. There was a bit of accusation there, too, but she wouldn’t dare chide me for accidentally going where I shouldn’t have gone with her.
Instead, she merely rubbed her arms, probably still cold from my empathy. “I should have been sure about what I was doing. Should have waited for a vision or feeling to tell me that this exercise wouldn’t get out of control. I knew you were trustworthy, but that obviously wasn’t enough. I was too eager. You’re important to me, and I wanted to see that you were going to be okay during intense hallucinations.”
“This isn’t an explanation I’m hearing.” My tone was so even-keeled that I barely realized it was my own.
She was still quaking. So was her voice. “I was going to tell you everything.” Then she swallowed. “Eventually.”
My laugh was cutting, electric blades. “You’re just going to talk in circles, aren’t you?”
“I . . .” She let out a beaten sigh. “You have to understand. I was so afraid you’d leave me. I didn’t want you to think that I was too close to this case, that I lacked perspective.” Her gaze was devastated. “You’re the only one I have in all this, Jensen.”
The only ghost.
The only friend?
“Jon,” I said. “He doesn’t exist. You don’t have a friend who asked you to look into Elizabeth’s murder for him.”
She shook her head.
My ghost-heart began to crack, especially as she stayed on her knees, just like she was about to beg me to understand.
I thought of that photograph Jon had been in. The dignified older man, the way he’d been standing next to Elizabeth.
“But I saw that picture of him with her,” I said.
“He was her last cousin, and he passed away two years ago. They were at a wedding, and I found the picture in her private effects after she died. She . . . left what she had at my house. There was no one else to claim her belongings.”
Something I’d heard in Amanda Lee’s thoughts rushed back to me.
“‘Someday they’ll all know,’” I repeated. “That’s what Elizabeth told you once. What does that even mean?”
Amanda Lee turned her face up to me again, and in the moonlight, I could see in her the greatest pain a person could have. Heartbreak.
It took me a second. Maybe two. Then . . .
Oh.
Her eyes got misty. “We met online. A book readers’ club. She loved mysteries, so did I, and we started up a friendship. I’ve told you I’m not one to get out much. I always find myself lying to people about my abilities because they never understand them—they’re always a joke. ‘Can you tell me my future?’ ‘Can you use your divine powers to tell us who Jack the Ripper was?’ It never stops.” Her voice had gone too hoarse, so she had to take a moment. Then, “It’s so much easier to keep to the house, to the computer, where you don’t feel that you have as much responsibility to another person as you would if you met face-to-face.”
Her smile wobbled. “But Liz was such a force of nature, so easy to talk to and so persuasive, that I wanted to come out of my shell. I told myself, just this once, I would give friendship a try. And we met for coffee nearby. Much to my surprise, coffee turned into dinner. And it went from there.”
My head was swimming with questions, most of which were probably too indelicate to ask.
So I played dumb. “You’re telling me that you’re out to get justice for your best friend, then.”
Amanda Lee gave me a look that could’ve been pity for my naïveté.
See, when I was alive, I didn’t know anyone who was a homosexual. They were people on TV who protested again
st politicians because of their stance on AIDS. They were the focus of jokes in movies and from kids who lisped and minced around for a laugh.
Amanda Lee was right—I was knocked for a loop.
“You come from a different time,” she said, no doubt vibing what I was thinking. “I told you that I withheld the truth about knowing Liz because I didn’t want you to think I was too close to this case. But I also wasn’t sure what you would think of me after you found out that we were . . .”
She couldn’t even say it.
“Someday they’ll all know.”
Was she more afraid of what I would’ve thought about her relationship with Elizabeth, or was she more fearful of saying it out loud?
“You and Elizabeth never told anyone?” I asked.
“No. Neither of us was ready to come out. This was a first for us.”
She was still gauging how I was taking the news. Truthfully, I was still digesting it.
“Were you afraid of how other people would treat you?” I asked.
“I was.” Amanda Lee wiped a hand over her face. “Lord knows why. I don’t have a family left who would care. And my neighbors? Hardly. I wasn’t ready to admit who I was. Liz was closer to that point, though. She wanted to reveal everything to the world.”
Amanda Lee had been ashamed of being in love with another woman. And now she was ashamed of that shame.
How awful. I was still wary of her and her lies, but I felt sorry for her, too.
Even in my frustration with Amanda Lee, I made an attempt to make her feel better about Elizabeth, at least. “It sounds like she loved you a lot.”
She pressed her lips together, nodding. The soft part of me wanted to put my hand on her again, to comfort her, but I knew I would just make her cold.
When she was ready to talk again, she said, “Liz didn’t even care that I was older than she was. And she accepted everything about me—my shut-in tendencies, my out-of-the-ordinary abilities. But it seems those psychic talents didn’t help her in the end. They didn’t show me what would happen that night.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” I said flatly.
Only the Good Die Young Page 13