by Natasha Deen
“Maggie?”
I turned from the crowd and my gaze glanced off Debbie-Anne, seated on a gurney with a grey blanket wrapped around her frail shoulders. “Is she going to be okay?”
Nancy nodded.
“Are you sure? She was out for a long time.”
She nodded again. “The amount of alcohol in her system—when she was knocked to the ground, it hit her harder than you.” She grimaced. “No pun intended.” Putting her hand on my shoulder, she said, “Come on.”
I tightened the scratchy blanket around my shoulders and followed her to where Nell and Debbie-Anne were.
“It’s amazing none of you were seriously injured.”
I glanced at my hand, at all the places where Serge had burned me, and all the places where the psychic wounds had knit together. My skin still ached and I couldn’t get the bacon-smell of fried flesh out of my nose. “Yeah. A real miracle.”
We moved to the ambulance.
“I tried phoning your dad—”
My memory went to the calendar on the fridge. “I think he has a consult with the Chanthy family. He turns his cell off.” I shrugged off my blanket. “Anyway, it’s better that I tell him. I’ll go see him at work.”
Nancy frowned. “I have a few questions left for you. Are you sure you don’t want me to get a deputy to get your dad?”
I shook my head.
Her mouth pulled down.
What could I say? Don’t worry, Nancy. Dad and I have been through worse. This isn’t my first exploding building.
I turned to the paramedic. “Is Debbie-Anne okay?”
“She’s fine,” said the paramedic. He smiled as Nell came around the corner. “They both are.” He glanced at the smoldering, wet wreckage of the house. “Do you know what happened?”
“Furnace, most likely,” said Nancy. She smoothed a strand of hair from Debbie-Anne’s forehead. “Can you remember anything?”
She didn’t answer the sheriff. Instead, she looked at me and said, “Serge did it, didn’t he? He’s angry.”
The paramedic and Nancy exchanged worried glances.
“Maybe I should check you for head trauma again,” he said.
He reached for her, but she batted away his purple-gloved hand. “I’m not traumatized, you moron. I know what I heard.”
Her eyes locked on mine with the accuracy of an F-150 fighter jet. “He’s angry and looking for revenge, isn’t he? He’s pissed because no one helped him.”
Nancy nodded at the paramedic. “You better take her to the hospital. Just keep her overnight.”
He gently pushed Debbie-Anne down on the gurney and began to strap her in.
She fought, but her strength had been wasted by alcohol and despair. “I know what I heard—tell them, Maggie! Tell them what you said!”
Nancy turned to me. Her eyes searched my face. Her fingers played with the holster of her gun. “What did you say?” she asked. “What did you see?”
“Tell them the truth!” Debbie-Anne’s bony fingers reached out and clamped onto my arm.
I shook my head and directed my comment to the woman in the gurney. “No one’s looking for revenge.”
Nancy’s hand fell to the side.
Debbie-Anne’s face hardened. “Even you.” The words came out with a venomous whisper. “Even you betray him.” She took a breath. “And me.” Her head dropped to the pillow and she turned away from me.
I swallowed and looked away, too ashamed to maintain eye contact. I hadn’t lied, but that wasn’t the entire truth and we both knew it. I’d done my best to protect her and myself. Better to let the town dismiss her statements as the rantings of a drunk woman than to have them add “the woman who believes in ghosts and fairies” to her tag of “alcoholic.”
Nell didn’t say anything. She only edged away from me.
The paramedic called his partner over, and they wheeled Debbie-Anne into the back of the ambulance. The police on duty moved the tape and cleaved the crowd. With a path before them, the ambulance drove away, the lights flashing but silent.
Nancy turned to me. “If you hadn’t been here she could have been killed in the fire.”
I swallowed. Acid burned my stomach.
Nancy cupped my face. “I see that look. Don’t you go giving yourself a hard time about what she said. She’s a sick, sad lady, but she has you to thank for her life.” She watched me for a moment. “Maggie, you weren’t…investigating, were you?”
“Is it okay if Nell and I go?”
“Because we talked about this.”
“I think I should get Nell home.”
“Sweet cakes,” she said gently.
I avoided her gaze.
“Go ahead. I know where to find you.”
“Thanks.” I glanced at Nell.
She didn’t look at me. She didn’t say anything.
But when I moved, she followed.
I ducked under the yellow tape. The crowd, bathed in mawkish light, reached out, clawing, grasping. Voices twittered insipid lines of condolence and sympathy. Insincere masks of concern covered their faces. I ignored them all and made my way to Nell’s car. Judging by the look on her face, it would be the last time I’d ever get a ride from her.
The air remained heavy with ash and soot, acrid in the stench of burnt rubber and plastic. I stopped at the passenger side of the car. Gravel crunched as I turned and made eye contact.
Tried to. She wouldn’t look at me. Her head remained down, her gaze focused as though she’d lost a contact lens and was determined to find it.
The car chirped.
I sighed and reached toward the cold steel door handle.
Nell’s hand appeared out of my peripheral. Fast and smooth, she shoved her palm against the window and slammed the door shut.
I sighed again, not ready for another battle, but thankful she couldn’t burn my skin, only sear my reputation…on second thought, I think I’d rather have taken on Serge again. Turning, I eyed her.
The features of her face scrunched together, making her look less pixie-fairy and more gargoyle troubled by indigestion. Her mouth worked side to side, up and down, but no sound came out. She kept shaking her head.
I noticed her hand tremble. Finally, when I could stand it no longer and was about to say all she couldn’t—this friendship is over; you’re a freak—the lines of her face stiffened further.
She looked up, her eyes wide, frightened, and unseeing. Again, she tried to speak and failed. And since words couldn’t give her what she needed, she chose action: she flung herself into my arms.
I rocked into the car. For a little girl, she had momentum, and she drove me back into the side mirror.
Then she began to sob. Hard. Hot streams of salty tears soaked my shirt and left my neck wet. Pre-Nell, I’d been dumped by a lot of friends, though never in such a pitiable manner. Stumped for what to do, I did the cliché: I patted her on the back and murmured, “There, there. It’s all right.”
She looked up. Streams of tears joined a river of snot and ran in rivulets off her cheeks and chin. “No, it’s not.” She tightened her grip.
Her fingers dug into my skin—my freshly seared flesh. I winced and hissed, but she didn’t notice.
The tears renewed themselves. “All this time.” She raised her head. “I love you, Maggie, but all this time, I’ve judged you. I thought you were such a wuss—with your gift, Serge, and Craig.”
Oh, boy. This night was just getting better.
“I could never figure out why you were such a pussy. If it had been me, the whole town would have known I saw dead people—”
I glanced around to see if anyone could hear her, but the night was empty, save the ashes that floated on the ghost waves of air and wind.
“—and I would have paid for my university by holding séances. And Serge
. What fun! What an adventure. But now…” Her face crumpled as though invisible hands had reached out and shoved the muscle and skin together. “Maggie. He could have killed you.”
“Well”—I opted for a joke since she seemed a breath away from being buckled down next to Debbie-Anne—“that’s nothing new. In life he could have done the same.”
Angry lightning flashed across her face. “It’s not funny. It was horrible. Seeing you—seeing what his energy did…” She yanked me back into her arms. “You are the bravest person I know.”
Her hug held warmth. The tight steel bands of rejection—the unflinching certainty that she was going to bail on our friendship—rusted and broke under the tears of her love.
I hugged her back, ignoring the pain lancing through me, because, save Dad, she was all I had to protect my heart and soul.
“I will never, never question your courage again.”
I laughed. Yeah. Right.
“Maggie?”
I frowned and turned, bringing Nell with me. “Craig?”
He emerged from the shadows. The lone lamplight in the parking lot shed its sickly fluorescence but the majority of him remained in darkness, a black figure wrapped in the cloth of night.
Why did I find this so sexy? “Hey. What are you doing here?”
“It’s all over town, about the fire. I didn’t care—but someone said”—he glanced at Nell, who clung to me with the ferocity of a Siamese twin—“you guys were here. Maggie. First Serge, now this. Are you okay?”
My heart boomed loud enough for astronauts to hear, and Nell must have heard because she gave a mighty sniff, dissected herself from me, and not so subtly shoved me in his direction.
Craig caught me on the first stumble.
He wrapped me in a strong embrace but before I could feel too smug, he reached out and caught Nell with his other arm.
“Are you guys okay?”
It was my hair he pressed his face against, my cheek that warmed under his breath, my nose that gloried in the spicy-sweetness of his cologne, and I told myself it mattered, that it was an omen. Then I remembered the hill and clung tighter to him because this could be my only chance to ever have the memory of his body next to mine.
His grip tightened and his lips brushed the top of my head…maybe. Or maybe that was just my fantasy taking hold.
“Let me drive you home,” he said. “Nell, we’ll get your car later.”
She pushed away and said, “Okay.”
He let her go, but he held close to me.
My foolish heart tried to make sense of this.
Taking my hand, he led us to the back of the parking lot, where a grey sedan sat.
“My parents’ car,” he said as the lights flashed and the vehicle chirped.
“Your car’s still in the shop?” Duh, Maggie.
The interior light lit his grimace. “Yeah, it’s like some weird car virus. We’re just taking turns putting the vehicles in the shop.”
Nell shoved me to the passenger side and climbed in the back. “Do you want to listen to the radio?”
I flinched. I’d never told her about the static.
“I’d rather know what’s going on with you.” He looked my way.
I shrugged.
The engine revved and he slowly backed the car out of the spot. “That’s not an answer.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“Drop me home, first,” said Nell. “I’m too upset to see any fighting tonight.”
“No one’s going to fight.” Craig turned on the signal light and pulled on to the road. “I just want the truth.”
Yeah, right, and give up my opportunity for more Craig hugs? I don’t think so.
He glanced my way. “You’re trying to figure out who killed Serge, aren’t you?”
Close enough. “Yeah.”
“And you think one of his parents might have played a part.”
“Uh. Yeah.”
Craig shook his head. “Maggie, that family is seriously screwed. Seriously. You can’t go around them, and can’t be digging into their history.”
“Who said—”
“Give me a break.”
He spoke softly, easily, but I heard the “don’t BS me” tone.
“You’re at Debbie-Anne’s house. She’s the biggest gossip in town and she used to be a nurse.”
My head tilted sideways. “How do you know that?”
“I may be new to Dead Falls, but word spreads. You were trying to find out about what—previous abuse charges, right?”
I shifted, uncomfortable.
“They’re bad news,” he said. “Stay away from that family.”
The car turned silent.
“If we’re going to go all awkward,” Nell’s voice sounded from the back seat. “Can we turn on some music?”
Craig cranked the dial, but all that came out was static.
My body broke out in chills.
He turned it off. “The radio doesn’t work sometimes.” He glanced at Nell’s reflection in the rear-view mirror. “I could always sing.”
“I’ve heard about your singing,” said Nell. “I’d rather not have bleeding eardrums. The night’s been tough enough.”
He grinned. “How about an ice-cream cone, instead?”
“The Tin Shack’s closed.”
“My house.”
Geez. My heart just stopped.
“You and Maggie can—”
I heard the smug tone in her voice—the one that always precipitated a trademark Nell pep talk-lecture.
“—but I’d rather go home. My parents will be freaking out.”
“Mine too.” My tongue tripped over the words.
“I doubt it,” said Smug Nell. “Nancy’s there to talk to your dad and—”
I glanced at Craig. “I should still talk to him. Let him know what’s going on.”
“I can do it,” said Nell as the car pulled up to the curb of her house. “I’m practically like a daughter, anyhow.”
Craig cut the engine and looked at me, his face shrouded in shadow. “It’s fine if you don’t want to—”
Don’t want to? Don’t want to? I’d have crawled over desert and shattered glass, lived through a million Serges if it meant time alone with Craig. But, watching him eat ice-cream—seeing that delectable tongue doing things to creamed dairy that I wanted him to do to me—and knowing his sexy mouth had been on someone else’s lips. I couldn’t stand it.
Nell’s seatbelt slid into its holder with a canvas rasp. She popped open the door and said, “Thanks, Craig.” Then she climbed out of the seat.
I followed, tossing a “Be right back” at the object of my obsession and scurried after Nell.
“Stop following me, and get back in there.”
“Haven’t I suffered enough?”
“Maggie. You need to figure this out and clear it up.”
I translated the words. “Be brave.”
“Something like that.”
She traipsed up the flagstone steps, and I resisted the urge to toss her into the shrubbery. “I thought we decided you weren’t going to question my courage.”
“I’m not. There’s no question about your lack of it when it comes to Craig.”
“I don’t care if there are witnesses. I’ll drag you into the back and drown you in the pool.”
“It’s been drained for winter. Besides, we’re not talking about courage.” The bell-shaped lamp on the porch lit her face. “We’re talking about bravery.”
“Semantics.”
“Kazuntight.”
“Do you ever get whiplash from the sudden turns in logic?”
She grinned. “It’s why I’m a cheerleader. It keeps my muscles limber.” Her smile faded.
“All joki
ng aside, Maggie, you deal with enough craziness and dysfunction.” Her eyes locked onto mine. “There’s a lot of crap in your life. Don’t add extra fertilizer if you don’t have to.”
“What if he doesn’t want me?” Turning toward the car and assuming he was watching, I held my hand up in a “one more minute” gesture. I dropped my voice and said, “He’s seeing some girl right now, fine…if I don’t ask him about it—if I don’t tell him how I feel, I can tell myself that one day he’ll see me and love me. But if I ask—” The ache of unrequited love sent its barren sigh through my body and left my lungs spent of air. “What if he says, ‘no, Maggie. I could never see you in that way.’ What if he never wants me as a girlfriend. Ever.” I looked down at my fire-smudged sneakers, then back at Nell.
“Why hold on to a dream? If he doesn’t want you, move on.”
“The dream keeps me warm.” The cold air hitting my skin was nothing compared to the Siberian freeze coming off my heart. “You, Dad, Bruce, Tammy, and Craig are really all I have. You and Dad the only ones who really seem to see me. Everyone else—I’m just a satellite orbiting their planet. With you and Craig, I can at least say I have a couple friends. If he was gone, all I’d have is you. I’m already pathetic. I don’t need to be tragic.”
Nell folded her arms across her chest and did a little jig to warm up. “You’re not giving him enough credit. Just because he may not like you doesn’t mean he’d stop being your friend.”
“I see the dead. I don’t read minds, and I can’t afford the risk.”
She grinned.
“What?”
“You’re hyper-anxious about this guy but totally in love and obsessed, and you think seeing dead people is what makes you freaky.”
I rolled my eyes. “Jerk”
“Yeah, but you’re my friend, so what does that make you?”
She had me there.
Nell moved to the swing by the railing. “If you won’t go home with him, stay with me. You haven’t said anything, which means Serge hasn’t appeared—”
“He won’t, not for a little while. That kind of energy takes a lot out of a ghost. He won’t be around ’till morning. Maybe longer.”
“Still, you shouldn’t be alone and I know your dad probably won’t be back until late. Go with Craig or stay with me, but don’t be alone.”