by Apryl Baker
“What happened next?” Grady prompts.
“It got quiet and I was happy. Mom sat beside me,” my voice drones. “I thought she wanted to watch cartoons. She did that sometimes. She loved SpongeBob. Squidward was her favorite. I loved it when she behaved like my mommy. I didn’t see the knife until it was too late.”
“Knife?” Grady frowns.
I ignore the question. “I turned to ask her if she was going to watch cartoons with me and that’s when I saw the knife. She had it raised above me. Her face was so determined. I tried to get out of the way, but I fell on my stomach. The knife hit me in my back. When she ripped it out, I rolled, but she didn’t stop, she just kept bringing the knife down, again and again. Eight times. I remember counting while SpongeBob sang about his perfect day. Mom told me she loved me and that now I’d be safe. Then she stabbed herself in the neck and fell. Her face was just inches from mine. I watched her die, watched her eyes go all empty while I bled out on the floor. The next thing I remember is waking up in the hospital. Someone told me she was dead. But I already knew that.”
By now, there is a deathly quiet all around me. I blink a few times. “Is there anything else you want to know, Detective Grady?”
“No, Mattie, not right now,” he says softly, eyes wide. “I’m sorry to put you through that.”
I nod, accepting the apology. He really means it, and looks worse than I do.
“Did Mrs. Cross tell you that Nancy was here?” he asks.
“She said she was going to meet us here to get a sample for a DNA test,” I say, sounding hollow and empty. It takes a while to come back from the scary place inside.
“She’s here already. We just need to do a cheek swab for DNA comparison to make sure you really are Emma Rose Crane.”
“What did you say my name was?” I ask slowly, fear beginning to curl tightly in my stomach. No freakin’ way.
“Emma Rose Crane.”
My eyes widen. That’s what the painter, Silas, called me. He said my name was Emma Rose. For a moment I can’t breathe.
How does a demon know my name?
Chapter Five
I hate pity stares. They suck. I can handle anger, disgust, and hostility better than pity. Every single cop in the pit stares at me. I despise that look. I much preferred the amusement they regarded me with before.
Nancy knows the details of my case, but she’s never heard me talk about it. I didn’t know she’d been listening when Grady questioned me. Now even she’s giving me pity-looks and Nancy knows how much I detest them. She’d taken a swab from my mouth for a DNA sample and asked me to wait a few minutes before I headed home. God only knows what she wants. Probably to explore my feelings or urge me to talk about them during my weekly counseling session with the state appointed shrink. Yippee for me. Not.
Dan is talking on the phone and I’m betting it’s with the backstabber. He looks way too contrite and seems to be arguing with her. She’s probably demanding my head on the proverbial silver platter. Her dad is the mayor, after all. If Meg wants to get me into trouble, she can, and I’m not sure even Nancy can help me get out of it this time.
“Hey, Hilda,” Eli murmurs in my ear, making me shiver.
I grimace and turn, but once again I’m not prepared for the power of those aqua eyes. They burn with some emotion I can’t identify. My stomach tightens, but in a delicious kind of way and I take a hasty step back.
“I’m really not in the mood, Eli.” I’m doing my best to sound aggravated and not nervous. “It’s been a long day and it’s not even noon yet.”
“Yeah, I figured.” He nods and leans against the wall. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“I didn’t ask if you were fine, Mattie, I asked if you were okay.”
I close my eyes and lean against the wall as well. “I will be.”
“So what happened at the airport earlier?”
“It’s none of your business,” I bite back.
“That’s not exactly true.” He sighs. “There’s some stuff we need to talk about.”
“Like the fact your dad’s an FBI agent?”
He laughs. “That was never a secret. Dad’s been in the Bureau since before Caleb was born.”
“Do they know about his…uh…extra-curricular activities?”
Eli gives me that incredibly sexy smile and I’m thankful the wall can support me when my knees turn to jelly. “Why do you think we move around so much? There’s an entire unit devoted to this kind of stuff. Dad’s one of the Bureau Chiefs for their supernatural division.”
He can’t be serious. So very X-files. “They have a division just for ghosts and demons?”
“That’s just the tip of the iceberg, Hilda,” he says with a wink. “Maybe one day you’ll learn the rest of it.”
“The rest of what?” I push myself more upright against the wall.
“I see my son is sharing things he shouldn’t.” James Malone stands next to Eli. “Feeling better, Mattie?”
“Yes, sir.” I nod. “I just need to get home and sleep.”
“So, TSA, huh?” He gives me what I have come to call ‘The Dad Look’.
“Forget it, that look never works on her,” Mr. Richards tells him. “Dan falls for it every time, but not this one. She’s impervious.”
“Thanks, I think,” I murmur.
“There could be a problem,” Mr. Richards sighs. “Meg is upset and she wants to press charges.”
“Of course she does,” I mutter. Perfect. My day just keeps getting better and better.
“Dan is doing his best to talk her out of it,” Mr. Richards continues, “but she’s pretty angry. You broke her nose, Mattie.”
“This is the same girl you talked about in your sleep? And you broke her nose?” Eli laughs. “Excellent.”
“I told Dan to keep her away from me,” I snap. “But he had the bright idea she should pick us up at the airport, so we could talk things out.”
“He doesn’t have sisters?” Mr. Malone directs his question to Dan’s dad, who shakes his head. “Too bad. You have to have sisters to understand teenage girl drama.”
“Teenage girl drama? Really?” I snarl. “Mattie Hathaway does NOT do drama.”
“Yes, well, your drama may have gotten you into big trouble,” Dan says, his voice tired. “I’m not sure Meg will let it go, Mattie.”
“Whatever trouble has befallen my daughter, I assure you I shall get her out of it,” said a very cultured, very-Southern male voice.
We all turn to see the man standing behind us. I’m not sure how old he is. He has one of those faces that could be twenty-five or forty-five. His hair is like mine, a dark chocolate brown he wears shoulder length, but his eyes are cerulean blue. I’d guess he’s well over six feet since he towers over all the men standing around me. Strangely, he reminds me of the actor that plays Ichabod Crane on Fox’s Sleepy Hollow. His very expensive black suit screams wealth, but there’s something about his face that sets my nerves on edge. He’s handsome and his face shows a pleasant expression, but there’s something off about it. It’s like he’s trying a little too hard to seem friendly and not too…sinister. Except that he really is dangerous. He may come off all polite and refined, but he’s anything but that.
“Allow me to introduce myself.” He smiles. “I’m Ezekiel Crane and you must be Mattie.”
“They said you weren’t coming for a few days,” I say shakily. And Nancy didn’t breathe a word about this earlier! She had to have known he was here. Dang it!
Eli moves closer to me and I gasp at the heat radiating from him, taking the chill out of my bones. How does he do that?
“I’m sorry to show up unannounced, but I needed to see you with my own eyes, ma cherie.” His accent sounds like he’s from New Orleans. Is that why Mom kept taking us back to New Orleans? It makes no sense, though. Why go back to the place where she could get caught?
“I’m Mattie’s attorney, Earl Richards.” Mr. Richards places himself firm
ly in front of me. “I thought we had agreed to arrange a meeting?”
I peek around Mr. Richards to see that my maybe-father is frowning, but trying hard to maintain a pleasant expression. I get the feeling he’s not used to being thwarted from getting what he wants when he wants it.
“As I just said, I needed to see my daughter,” he replies, his tone steely and cold. “I haven’t laid eyes on her in sixteen years. Surely, if you were in the same situation, Counselor, you would have a burning desire to be reunited with your child, the child everyone said was dead. I never lost hope, and I needed to see her, to know that she was real, safe, and unharmed.” He takes a deep breath. “However, she doesn’t appear to be unharmed.”
“I’m fine,” I say softly. “Just a fall down the stairs. I’m clumsy on my best days.”
“You most certainly are something, ma cherie,” he says, eyes bright. “But clumsy does not adequately describe you.”
I wonder. Does this man know what I can do? Can he do it, too? My eyes widen and the old pulse races just a little. Can my father see the dead? His eyes tell me yes and that he knows I can, too.
“Mr. Crane,” someone says. I wince, recognizing Nancy’s icy tone. She’s beyond pissed.
“Ah, Mrs. Moriarity.” My father turns and smiles, all warm with southern charm, but unfortunately for him, Nancy won’t buy it for a second.
“We agreed you’d wait for the DNA results to come back before introducing yourself.” Her tone is hard and cold. Ohh, she’s super-pissed. “It does no one any good, especially Mattie, if you are not a match. She’s been through enough the last few months without getting her hopes up.”
“She is the image of her mother,” Mr. Crane murmurs, taken aback by Nancy’s icy voice. “I have no doubt she’s my daughter.”
“You’ll have to forgive me if I do have doubts,” Nancy all but snarls. “I suggest that you say your goodbyes now. I will call you when the results come back. If they are positive, Mr. Richards and I will arrange an initial meeting between you and Mattie. Until then, you will stay away from her.” That sounds like an order—or a warning?
Mama Bear on the prowl protecting her cubs. Nancy is fierce when she wants to be. If Mr. Crane knows what’s good for him, he’ll shut his mouth and do as he’s told.
“Of course,” he says smoothly in acquiescence. “I don’t wish to cause her any harm. I agree, she’s been through quite enough as it is. I only want to make things as easy as possible for her when she comes home to New Orleans.”
Home? I feel my breath whoosh out. “Leave Charlotte?”
There’s a blinding pain that splits open behind my eyes and I blink at the spots appearing in front of me. I have the sinking suspicion…am I close to fainting? I take several deep breaths, and focus on my breathing. No. I can’t leave Charlotte. It’s my home. Dan’s here, and Mary, and I still have to help those girls!
“Non, ma cherie,” Mr. Crane soothes. “I wouldn’t force you to leave until you are ready. All the professionals I spoke with advised against pulling you out of familiar places, away from friends and family. If your foster home is a place you feel safe, I won’t make you leave. I’m buying an apartment here in Charlotte so we can spend time together, get to know each other. None of this is your fault, ma petite, and you will not be made to suffer for it.”
My hand reaches out and grasps Eli’s in a death grip. Panic is hitting full force and I need to calm down. Why does the thought of being alone with this man make me panic to the point of unconsciousness?
“Mattie, are you okay, sweetheart?” Nancy asks. Her eyes are full of concern. She’s never seen me react to anything like this, but then it’s not every day a girl meets her father, who I’m pretty sure is a bad, bad man. Dan’s mom said they’d taken me to protect me from him. Maybe there is some truth to it.
“I’m fine, Nancy,” I say, putting more of an edge into my voice. “Just got a little dizzy is all. I hit my head when I fell at the airport. The last couple days are finally catching up to me.”
“Maybe we should take you to the hospital,” she frets. “Head wounds are tricky.”
“No.” I shake my head very carefully. “I’ll be fine, I just need rest. Dan, can you give me a ride home? I need to talk to you.”
“Sure,” he nods.
“I’ll come, too,” Eli says, smoothly inviting himself along. I roll my eyes at the hostile expression consuming Dan’s face.
“Whatever.” I stand before Dan can argue. “Eli might be able to help.” Besides, I need the warmth his body gives off. He takes the edge off the cold.
“Okay. I’ll find your foster family and let them know Dan will be taking you home.” Nancy sighs. “Dan, if her headache gets worse, force her to the emergency room.”
“Will do, Mrs. Moriarity.”
“Mattie, it was nice to meet you.” Mr. Crane holds out his hand for me to shake and I’m leery of touching him, but with everyone staring at me, I can’t not be polite. Nancy will have a seizure if I don’t. Here goes.
“You too, Mr. Crane.” I grasp the proffered hand and instead of snatching it back, want to pull him to me and hug the man instead. I can sense emotions in ghosts sometimes when they’re broadcasting really, really loudly. This man is screaming his emotions. I can feel pain, grief, love, but mostly I feel joy. He is so full of joy that he’s found me.
“I’m not as bad as you think,” he tells me softly. “And I’m so glad I’ve found you, my Emma Rose.”
I nod and reluctantly pull my hand out of his, not wanting to lose those feelings, despite the definite impression that Ezekiel Crane is dangerous. I also know he’s my father. DNA results or not, everything inside of me shouted family when he took my hand. Maybe there is something to that old saying about blood knowing blood.
“I will see you soon, ma petite,” he tells me with a reassuring smile.
“Come on, Mattie.” Eli grabs my hand. “Let’s get you out of here.”
I still can’t believe it. I finally found my dad.
Chapter Six
I roll my eyes when Eli puts himself between me and Dan in the cab of the truck. I swear, the two of them are ridiculous.
“Your dad is officially on my scary-freaky-people list,” Eli tells me, his face all serious. “Did either of you get bad vibes from him?”
Dan nods. “Yeah, he gave me the creeps, too.”
“Can we not talk about that?” I’m not in the mood to discuss my father. I need to talk about the missing girls. “I have more important things to discuss like the ghosts that attacked me in the airport bathroom.”
“I wondered when you were going to tell me about that,” Dan says and turns onto I-85.
“It’ll be more than a mention. To start with, there are several pissed-off girls who blame me for their deaths.”
“You?” Eli frowns. “Why?”
“I got an up close and personal look at the why,” I whisper and describe my ghostly vision, leaving out nothing, not even the part I wanted to forget. Okay, I know it didn’t happen to me, but it sure feels like it did.
“Oh, that sucks.” Eli pulls me close and buries his nose in my hair. “I’m sorry you had to go through that, Mattie.”
I really, really like the feel of his warm breath stirring my hair, but I won’t admit that to him. “Is there something you guys can do? Like what you did in New Orleans when you muted the ghosts? I’d rather be an observer than an on-board passenger. I can’t do that again, Eli. It’s like…I have a feeling all of them will make me experience their deaths before this is finished.”
“I’ll check,” he agrees. “Caleb’s pretty good at altering designs to fit what he needs them to do.”
“How many girls are there?” Dan asks, doing his best not to seem bothered by the fact his brother has his arm around me. “Can you describe them to me?”
For once I don’t smile at Dan’s jealousy. “I’m not sure exactly. I only saw two of them, but they said there were others. Maybe eight? I’m guess
ing. I can draw you the ones I saw. I think the one girl died around Lake Norman. I remember the woods and the water. No, I’m sure it’s Lake Norman. That’s where she thought she was, so yeah, Lake Norman.”
“Mattie, I’ll get a sketch artist if we need to,” Dan frowns. “Your hands are still pretty messed up.”
“About that…” I start, then stop when both guys give me sharp looks. Oops. I have got to control my guilty tone of voice better in these situations. I’m a good liar, but it’s hard to do around these two. Besides, it’s not like I have anything to feel guilty about, at least I don’t think so.
“Mattie…” Dan urged.
“In a second.” I need time to stop thinking about my old serial-killer foster mother—the one who’d kidnapped and tortured me for a few days? That one. Yeah, she pretty much destroyed my hands. I’d been a very good artist before then, but afterwards, the doctors figured I’d never draw again. That’s mostly what pushed me into the spiral of self-destruction I’d been on before New Orleans.
“Mattie…” This time it’s Eli getting pushy.
Telling them the rest would be hard, but necessary—how it was while in New Orleans, Demon Silas—who’d visited me through my dreams—healed my hands. Dan and Eli won’t be very understanding about this. I’m still pretty freaked. “Maybe we should talk about it when we get home?” I hedge.
“Mattie…” they chorused.
I hear the warning in Dan’s voice, which causes me to sigh. “It’s not that big a deal.”
“What’s not that big a deal?” Eli asks, almost giving me the stink-eye.
Just say it, Hathaway. “Well, um, while I was in the hospital, my hands sorta got healed.”
“Sort of?” Now Eli sounds suspicious. “People don’t just ‘sort of’ get healed, Hilda.”
“Stop with the Hilda stuff.” I totally hate that nickname. “Don’t get your panties in a twist about the healing, either,” I say. “It’s not as bad as you both think.”