by C. C. Hunter
Now the truth’s out. The genie’s out of the bottle. The devil’s loose. How is Dad going to deal with that? How will I deal with Dad dealing with that? What if now he just starts drinking in front of me?
I look up at the ceiling feeling overwhelmed. “Mom, please help me. Tell me what to do.”
But like every damn time I ask for her help, I get nothing. Nothing. Why the hell did she have to die?
My home phone starts to ring. I think of Dad. Did he have an accident on the way to work? Was he still drunk? Should I have stopped him from driving? I can’t lose Dad. He’s all I’ve got.
I bolt into the kitchen to answer it. “Hello?” My heart’s rocking against my chest bone. Be okay, Dad. Please be okay.
I hear nothing but breathing. Then a click. The line is dead.
Shit. Was that . . . ?
I glance at Hayden. “I’ve been getting hang-ups. I don’t know if it’s him or if I’m jumping to conclusions. Probably just jumping to conclusions, right?”
He doesn’t answer. The color of his clothing starts fading. Everything about him is muted, like an . . . old photograph. Like all the other ghosts.
“What is it?” I ask, sensing something is happening. Something . . . not good.
“I have to go,” he says. “I can’t . . .”
“Will you come back? Are you crossing over? Talk to me, Hayden.”
“Call the police to protect you.”
Emotion swells in my chest. “You . . . you protect me.”
“At least tell Jacob.”
“Jacob? Are you crazy? I can’t tell Jacob about any of this. He wouldn’t believe me. The only reason you believe me is because . . .”
“And that’s the same reason I can’t protect you. Please . . .” He fades even more. “I have to . . .” He never finishes the words.
“Hayden?” I say his name, but he’s gone.
I’m alone.
Chapter Twenty-five
Fear curls up in my empty stomach. Fear for Hayden. Fear for myself.
I dash upstairs and grab my backpack, storm downstairs, grab my keys, turn the lock on the door and fly outside.
Jumping in my car, I start the engine and drive off. I start driving to Kelsey’s, only to remember today is Thursday and she went for that interview and won’t get to school until after second period.
I force myself to take deep breaths and tell myself I’m simply overreacting. It wasn’t a serial rapist on the phone. But I can’t deny that it was liquor in Dad’s clothes hamper. What the hell am I going to do about that?
I look in the rearview mirror, something I’ve been doing a lot since Abby told me Evil Allen was looking for me. A dark blue older Honda is about four car spaces behind me.
I squint into the mirror. It has tinted windows and I can’t see who’s driving. It’s not him. It can’t be him. But just to make sure, I turn off the main drag to confirm he won’t follow. My eyes are skipping from the windshield to the rearview mirror.
Then I see it. The blue car. It’s behind me.
“Fuck!” I say, borrowing Dad’s word from this morning. I turn down another street, and hold my breath. I feel the thump thumping of my heart as I watch to see if the blue car follows.
It does!
I hit the gas and turn down another street that I know will lead me back to the main road. I don’t have a freaking clue where I’m going. I just want to be with more cars, more people.
I get back to the main road, driving with one eye on the road and one on the rearview mirror. He’s still there, but lagging behind as if he knows I’m on to him. I look back up just in time to see the red light in front of me. I slam on my brakes. The tires squeal.
My eyes are glued to the rearview mirror. The blue car moves closer, closer.
I start remembering everything Abby told me he did to her. Fear turns my skin cold. I look back at the car again. I still can’t see the driver through the tinted windows, but I can see his license plate number. I glance down. There’s a pen in the console.
I pick it up and start writing his license plate number on the back of my hand. The light changes, and I take off. The next thing I know I’m hit from behind. The idiot just hits my Mustang and knocks me into the oncoming traffic. Tires squeal, a car swerves to avoid hitting me—then a horn blasts out. I slam my car into reverse. I push on the gas. I get a few feet back, then my car seems to stall. It sputters as the engine dies. And that’s when I see him. He’s getting out of his car and walking toward my Mustang.
I try to start my car and it won’t start. “Shit!” I go to lock my doors, but I don’t know if the back ones are locked.
I try to start the car again and it still won’t start.
He appears at my window and looks down at me. My blood runs cold. I blow my horn, hoping someone will hear and come to my rescue.
And that’s when see the truck pull over. Not just any truck. But Jacob’s truck.
Evil Allen turns around and bolts back to his car. Jacob is walking toward me. Allen drives around me, even runs over the curb to get away. His tires burn rubber in his escape.
I’m gripping the steering wheel and have tears in eyes.
Jacob knocks on my window. I’m so shaken, I don’t want to remove my hands from the steering wheel.
“Are you okay? Did you he just hit your car?” He knocks on the window. “Riley, open the door.”
Now hearing more car horns, I pull myself together. I roll down the window. I realize if that man was brave enough to hit me in broad daylight, he might also try to hurt Jacob. “Let’s go to school and I’ll tell you about it there.”
“You’re crying. Are you sure you’re okay?”
I nod and I start my car. Jacob runs back to his car. He follows me.
I’m pulling into the school parking lot. There are kids mulling around. Surely he wouldn’t try to follow me here.
I park, spill out of my car, and go hauling ass across the parking lot, wanting to be inside. Jacob steps out between two cars and catches me.
“What happened back there?" he asks. “Your car looks hit in the back. Did he hit you?”
I catch my breath and nod. “He was following me. Then he hit me when I stopped at a red light.”
“Who was he?”
I’m back to lying. “I don’t know. It was a blue Honda.”
“Shit, I should have gotten his license plate,” he says.
“I have it,” I say and hold up my hand.
“Come on,” he says and with his arm around me, he leads me into the school.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“To report it.”
I stop. Jacob stops beside me.
“What?” he asks.
My mind races. Will this lead the police to find out I wrote the letters?
“Come on. Before he gets too far away.”
I suddenly know I don’t have a choice. He needs to be caught. He has to be stopped.
I jog the rest of the way into the building with Jacob.
When we get to the office Jacob rushes the desk, breaking in front of other students. I stand back, still a little unsure if this is the right thing.
“Someone was following Riley to school and even rear ended her,” he tells the desk clerk.
She looks up, and finds me in the crowd. I move in.
“Who was following you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did he pull over and talk to you? Did you get his insurance card?”
“He walked to my car, but he looked angry. I was scared because he’d been following me.”
She frowns. “Are you okay? You aren’t hurt, are you?”
“No,” I answer.
“When I pulled over, the man saw me and ran,” Jacob said. “He drove over the curb to get away. Riley got his license plate.” He grabs my hand and holds it up.
The clerk looks from Jacob to me. She pulls a pen and a notepad out. “Show me your hand, and I’ll report it to the school police.”
&nbs
p; • • •
“You going to be okay?” Jacob asks five minutes into auto tech as we find our coveralls and slip them on.
“Yeah,” I say. I still feel the rush of my pulse fluttering at my neck.
“Do you have any idea who it could have been?”
“No,” I lie. “But thanks for being there.”
“Any time.” He squeezes my hand. I remember what Hayden said about Jacob protecting me.
In five minutes, Jacob and I crawl under the car. We spend the next fifteen minutes loosening the last bolts of the transmission. Jacob manages to get the transmission loose. “Transmission out!” he calls out and smiles at me, proud of our accomplishment.
“Be careful. It’s heavy,” Mr. Ash says.
Jacob is beaming. I should be excited, but I’m still trying to breathe normally. We manage to pull it out and put it down between us.
“We make a good team,” Jacob says.
I nod.
“Is it down?” Mr. Ash asks and I see his feet at the edge of the left tire.
“Yeah,” Jacob says.
“In that case, Riley, can you come out here? Someone needs to speak to you.”
“Okay.” I start rolling out from under the car.
When my head finally clears, I see a school policeman standing by Mr. Ash’s desk and any chance of getting my pulse back to normal is lost. I stand up on weak knees.
“What is it?” I ask and feel everyone’s eyes on me.
“Let’s step out in the hall,” the officer says.
I follow him, and feel as if my stomach shrinks to the size of a peanut.
“The car that followed you this morning . . . Did you ever see the driver’s face?”
“Yes.”
He nods. “Can you describe him?”
I give the man his description.
He jots down notes as I tell him. He pulls out his phone. “Give me a few minutes.” He dials and says, “She can describe him. It’s him.”
I swallow. Relief starts to flutter in my stomach. “Did you catch him?”
“The local police did. Thanks to you. And he was wanted in a case the Brian County Police are investigating.”
I feel the weight on my shoulders lift. A knot forms in my throat. He’s caught. I did it. I stopped him. The police have him. Abby might get her justice. Emotion floods my chest. Good emotion, but tears still try to climb up my sinuses.
“The police will want to talk to you. We’re trying to reach your dad, but he’s not available right now.”
“He’s at work,” I say. “But you don’t need to call him.”
“Yes, we do. And we already tried to reach him. We called his work phone and someone there gave us his cell. But he’s not picking up now. We left a message for him to call us. When something like this happens, we’re required to call the parents. And he’ll have to be there when the police speak to you.”
I nod and go straight to worrying. Not worrying about the police finding out. It’s all about Dad. Where the hell is he? Did he go somewhere to drink?
“You okay?” the officer asks.
“Yeah. Fine. It just freaked me out . . . a little.” I shouldn’t have let Dad go to work. What if he got in an accident?
“Well, you don’t have to worry now. The police have this guy. We’re hoping your dad will get our message and we’ll get the police here to speak with you. If you need to you can go and just rest at the nurse’s office.”
“No, I’m fine now. Thanks,” I say.
“Okay.” He walks away. I’m standing there, part of me wanting to jump in the air and click my heels. Another part is fixated on Dad.
I force myself to remain calm and watch the officer turn down the hall. As soon as he cuts the corner, I grab my phone and dial Dad’s number.
It rings then goes to voicemail. I bite down on my lip so hard I taste blood and I don’t even leave a message. I find the number of the funeral home and call.
“Canton’s Funeral Home,” Ms. Duarte answers.
“This is Riley. Where’s my dad?”
“Hi Riley. Is everything okay? The school called and—”
“Everything’s fine. Where’s my dad?” I know I sound rude, but right now I don’t care. He’s my dad. He’s all I have.
“He was meeting Mr. Canton this morning.”
“Bad news?” I ask, now worried Dad’s getting fired.
“No, Mr. Canton is thinking about buying another business in Berry Town and wanted your dad’s opinion of the place. I called his cell after the school called, but he must have it turned off.”
“Oh,” I say. It makes sense Dad might not answer while he’s with his boss.
I hang up, stick my phone in my back pocket, and feel better. He’s alive. Surely he won’t blame me for the accident, right? Then again, he’ll probably be furious that I poured out his liquor. I turn back to the door, but before I grab the knob the cold hits me. I swing around.
Abby’s there. She looks good. Her makeup is perfect, and her hair looks as if she just walked out of a salon. She’s smiling. There’s a glow around her, an aura.
“You did it,” she says. “You caught him. He’s not going to hurt anyone else ever again. Some officers went to the park this morning. They found my ring.”
“That’s good.” I feel this heaviness that I’ve been carrying around with me lift.
“I can go now,” she says. “It’s because of you that I can let go. You did that for me. Saying thank you doesn’t seem like enough. All I can say is that I won’t stop looking for your mom. If she’s there, I’ll find her.”
I smile. Abby disappears, but where she stood I see a rainbow. Beautiful colors dance in the air.
I breathe in and feel the rush of peace, the rush of rightness. I cross my arms and give myself a hug. I realize I’m smiling.
Right then, all of my other woes feel manageable. The sensation grounds me. I feel stronger. Strong enough to face Dad and his demons. Strong enough to lie to the police about how I already knew Allen Griffin. Strong enough to help another ghost. And probably another after that.
Strong enough to accept that in some crazy way this is my destiny.
I don’t know what it really means, but I need to own it.
Then I think of Hayden and I hope he’s passed over, too. Hope that he’s there with the colors. Where only peace lives.
“You okay?” a voice asks. I swing around and see Jacob.
“I’m working on it,” I answer.
“Working on what?”
I offer a little smile. “On being okay.”
“Good.” He looks at me, a little uncertain.
“Yeah. It’s good. I’m going to be okay.” And for the first time in a long time I actually feel it. It may not be easy, but if I can manage to get a serial rapist and murderer caught, I’m sure I’ll be able to tackle whatever comes next. Whatever happens between Jacob and me.
“Thank you.” I lean in and kiss him. On the side of his lips. It’s short but sweet.
“Wow!” he says when the kiss ends. “That’s promising.” He pulls me closer and kisses me again. It’s longer than mine. It’s right on my lips, his tongue even slips softly between mine. I realize this is the “real” first in-school kiss I’ve gotten. Carl kissed me plenty, but never at school. He was a private kisser.
Jacob passes a finger over my wet, swollen lips. I can still taste him on my tongue. I still feel the just-been-kissed flutters in my stomach. The kiss, the public kiss, felt secret and little sinful, but all in a good way.
Pulling back, he asks, “What did the officer say?”
“They caught the guy. He’s wanted for questioning in another case.”
“Good. Are you going to have to testify or anything?”
“I don’t know about that, but the police want to talk to me. But they are waiting for my dad to show up.”
He moves in and slips his hand in mine. His palm is warm, comforting.
Right then my phone rings. I pu
ll it out and see Dad’s number.
“Excuse me,” I say to Jacob, and then, “Hey,” I say to Dad.
“Are you okay? The school just called me and told me what happened.”
“Yeah, I’m fine. But they want to talk to me and you have to be present.”
“I’m already on my way. But should you be at the hospital?”
“Dad, I’m fine. Really.”
“Oh, Riley. You’re my baby girl. Nothing can happen to you.”
I hope you feel that way when you find out I’ve been in your dirty clothes hamper. “I love you, too.”
Chapter Twenty-six
Dad walks into my English class. He goes straight to the teacher’s desk, but his worried gaze finds me. I see it in his eyes. His love for me. Then I hear murmurs in the class and the word mortician floats from those whispers. I pop up, hoping to get the hell out of there. Fast. The last thing I want is for Dad to know they make fun of me because of him.
The second we walk out into the hall, he turns and grabs me. His hug lasts longer than any I’ve gotten in a long time. Tears sting my eyes.
They are waiting for us in the counselor’s office.
The closer we get to that office, the faster my heart beats. Have they somehow figured out that I was the one to send the letter? Will I get caught in a lie?
I breathe in. Trying to recall the feeling of seeing Abby pass over, I keep putting one foot in front of the other.
We walk into the school office and are led to the counselor’s office. The officer shakes my dad’s hand and introduces himself.
I nod, my mind already going over what I can tell the truth about, and what I have to lie about.
We sit down and the officer asks me to start at the beginning. Of course, I don’t. Not the real beginning. I start when I saw the blue Honda following me, leaving out that I was afraid I knew who it was. In a tight voice, I tell them about the car hitting me, about him coming to my window and looking angry and evil.
My voice starts to shake, tears fill my eyes, roll down my cheeks. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m lying or if . . . if I’m just realizing how close I was to the person who raped and caused Abby’s death.