Oh. Her stuffed crocodile. Of course she won’t leave him.
Herold looks toward the stairs leading to the main level, feeling them taunt him. So close to the exit. “Let him go, April!” But he knows she won’t. Herold drops to the ground, trying to find cleaner air. Quickly he moves to April’s bedroom.
Her tiny arms wrap around him when he enters, her little body shaking.
“I’m here, April.” Mommy. He has to get Mommy.
Another sound fights to be heard over the alarm, a roaring and snapping. Sweat drips from Herold’s brow and his heart races. Instinctively, he knows time is running out.
“Come on.” Herold lifts April up, ignoring her cries for the crocodile, and runs for the doorway. He sees it—he’s almost there—and then the floor gives way, dropping the two of them into the fiery abyss below.
The connection broke the moment Herold died, and I jerked away. I pressed my hands to my cheeks, feeling the tears that streamed down my face. It wasn’t too far into the future, either, because I hadn’t seen any other events in Herold’s life. Just his death.
“I’m so sorry,” Herold said. I knew now that he couldn’t be older than nine or ten. “Did I do something?”
“No.” I shook my head. Pulling out my wallet, I handed him several twenties. “Ill take all your lollipops.” Just go. Go and enjoy Coney Island.
“Really?” I could hear the awe in his voice. “Thank you, lady! I mean, ma’am!”
“Herold?” I paused, my throat aching. How could I warn him? “If you’re ever in a fire, you need to get out of the house. You know that, right?”
He looked at me oddly. “Right.”
I closed my eyes. But the little sister. What could I tell him, to leave her behind? No way would he do that. “That’s all,” I whispered. I waved him off and resumed picking up the spilled lollipops. At least the kid would see Coney Island before he died.
He hurried away with his empty box of candies, and I couldn’t help it; I looked for her.
This time she stood in the middle of the street. I wondered if she ever got tired of wearing the same white dress. I crossed my arms over my chest. “It doesn’t mean anything to me, you know!” I shouted. “Declare. Declare what?”
I turned around and went into the house and straight to my room, ignoring my math homework still laid out on the kitchen table. My hands trembled as I grabbed the matches, fumbling to light my Sweet Pea candle. In a moment, the essence filled the room and I threw myself on my bed, inhaling deeply. Tears leaked out the sides of my eyes and I fought back a sob, images of the last minutes of that little boy’s life invading my mind.
I groaned and pulled a pillow over my head. What could I do? How could I get these visions to stop? I didn’t want them anymore, I didn’t want to See anymore.
My pocket vibrated, followed quickly by the perky jingle of my cell phone. I took several deep breaths before answering. “Hello?” The smoke and the candle were calming me. I exhaled lightly.
“Hello, Jayne?”
Aaron. I’d know that British accent anywhere. My eyes flashed open. Sitting up, I ran a hand through my hair. “Yes?”
“Jayne, it’s Aaron. Don’t hang up, please.” He paused, as if checking to make sure I was still there.
“Okay...” I let the word draw out doubtfully.
“I need to talk to you. Can I come to your house?”
Aaron, at my house. I closed my eyes again and quickly opened them when Herold’s face popped into my head. I needed a distraction. Suddenly I longed for Aaron to be here, to hold me and comfort me. I wanted to lay on my bed with him, my head on his chest, his arms wrapped around me.
“Jayne?”
“Yes.” My face grew hot and I fanned myself. “Do you know where I live?”
“No.” The relief was evident in his voice. “What’s your address?”
I rattled the numbers off distractedly while running my fingers around the edge of my candle. The hot, soft wax molded under my fingertip.
“All right. I’ll be there within the hour.”
“Kay.” I tossed the phone on my bed and stared into the flickering flame. What on earth was I getting myself into?
Once I felt good enough to leave my room, I headed downstairs and gathered my homework into a neat pile on the kitchen table. I wasn’t done with it, but my head wasn’t in the right place for mathematical calculations. Mom had left the kitchen and the oven was off, the last loaf of bread cooling on the stove. She was probably sleeping.
I hovered between the kitchen and the living room, anxious for Aaron’s arrival. I couldn’t get my heart to stop racing.
My phone rang at the same time that the doorbell did. I pulled it out. My sister. No, not now. I hit ignore and quickly opened the door.
“Jayne? Are you alright?” Aaron drew his brows together, a frown etching lines into his face.
I realized I was staring at him. At that brown curl on his forehead that would look ridiculous on anyone else, the way his light blue jeans clung tightly to his form. His deep blue eyes, which I could gaze into as long as I wanted now. Now that I already knew how he died. I took a deep breath and shook myself. “Yes, I’m fine. Sorry. Was just...thinking about something important.” Like how extremely sexy you are.
The brows lifted. “Have you been crying?”
Oh, drat. I’d almost forgotten. “Come on in, Aaron.” I ducked my head, avoiding his eyes out of habit.
I continued toward the kitchen and stopped when I realized he wasn’t following. I turned around. Aaron still stood in the entry way. “Well? You coming in or not?”
“I want to make sure you know why I’m here.”
I didn’t want to speculate about what brought him to my side of town. Suddenly weary, I waved a hand and rested my head against the kitchen doorway. “Go on.”
He cleared his throat and shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. “Well, about that girl you saw me with—”
“That girl?” I echoed. The painful, embarrassing moments at the game on Friday came flashing back to me as clearly as if they had just happened. I jerked my head up. “You mean, Libby? Your girlfriend from England? The one you never bothered mentioning when you canceled our date?” I worked hard not to sound spiteful. But really, I didn’t know why I bothered. I knew what he was going to say. I’d already seen them married.
For a moment he looked more like Clark Kent than Superman, a pathetic and forlorn expression on his face, his dark eyebrows raised over those blue eyes.
I sighed, the fight going out of me. He didn’t have any more say in the matter than I did. Fate would have its way with us. “Just tell your story.”
“Okay.” Aaron nodded. “Libby was my girlfriend in England. I didn’t know she would expect the relationship to continue once I moved.”
I kept my expression impassive. Did he ever break up with her? What else was she to expect? Men. At least I knew better. When Aaron left the States, he also left me.
“It was quite unexpected when she showed up this week. It wasn’t very comfortable. I had to let her know that she isn’t my girlfriend anymore.” He met my eyes on the last sentence, as if this were some big reveal and he wanted me to put the pieces together.
But it wasn’t a big reveal. All of this I’d already known. I’d known everything he was going to say. I didn’t feel the least bit of excitement—just apprehension. This was the beginning of the end.
No. I wouldn’t let it go that way. I could end this here. If I never became his girlfriend, he couldn’t break up with me just to go back to Libby, marry her and...die. Wow. Happily ever after for both of us. I would not let him shatter my life that way.
“As long as you’re happy, Aaron. I’m glad you two worked something out.” I gestured to the door behind him. “You’ve made yourself clear. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got things to do.”
Aaron crossed the foyer to where I stood in the kitchen, his chest touching my shoulder. I caught my breath. I felt his gaze
on me but didn’t dare look up. Then he moved past me to the dining room table. “You’re upset, Jayne. I can’t leave you like this. What’s wrong?”
Everything. My thoughts ran from Aaron, Libby, and my heartbreak, to the last moments of Herold’s life, to the lemon scent enshrouding my sister, to Hannah and the serial killer. Goosebumps popped up on my arms. I rubbed my eyes. “It’s nothing.”
“Are you having a row with your parents?”
I let out a laugh and shook my head.
“Trouble at work?”
“Would you stop?” I stalked into the kitchen and poured a glass of water. “I’m fine. Now if you’ll please—”
“Is this your homework?”
I turned around. Aaron stood over the table, looking at my math assignment.
“Looks like you got stuck on number three.” He glanced up and flashed me a grin, his eyes crinkling in the corners.
I slammed my glass down on the counter, unable to tear my eyes away from his disturbingly blue eyes. And that strong jawline. “I’ll get it. Math is my best subject.”
He snorted, causing my face to flush. “You’re having a laugh.”
Did we even speak the same language? “What?”
“It means you’re joking. Because I can see from the scribbles in the first two problems, math is not your best subject.”
I licked my lips and rubbed my fingers together. He wasn’t going to leave. I couldn’t get this incredibly handsome and persistent guy out of my house. Should I even bother? I threw up my arms.
“Fine, boy genius. Help me with my math.”
Aaron cocked a brow and sat at the table. I scooted my chair up beside him, careful to maintain an arm’s length between us.
“Let me show you what you’re doing wrong.”
I closed my eyes, letting his British accent caress my ears. Some European cologne clung to his ribbed sweater, and I inhaled. Nothing he said made any more sense than it had in class, but at least it sounded more pleasant.
“Are you listening, Jayne?” Aaron’s voice held a note of amusement.
“Of course.” I shrugged. “You understand it all so well. So what’s the answer?”
Aaron wrote the final result on my paper. “Math isn’t your thing, huh.”
“I’m more of a words person.”
“That’s why you write for the school paper?” He put the pencil in my hand.
“Yes. That’s more my element.” I held the pencil up, waiting for him to tell me what to do.
“That’s well neat.” He pointed to two numbers in the equation and I wrote them down. “Are you going to study journalism in college?”
“Hopefully.” I worked out the rest of the problem, beginning to feel more optimistic. It wasn’t exactly easy, but it was starting to make sense.
“What paper do you want to write for?”
I shrugged. “Anything I can do from home. I don’t want to be in an office. I want to get my assignment, have my column, and head home. Or maybe even do freelancing. But not around people.”
“You’re not a people-person?”
I clucked my tongue and stared at the book. “You could say that.”
“Where do you want to go to school?”
“Oh, just the local community college.”
We drifted into silence. I copied the next equation onto my paper, shooting glances at Aaron out of the corner of my eye.
He caught me and smiled. “Well. Let’s get started!”
I became as passive as possible, letting Aaron do the work without letting him realize it. He helped me find the right numbers and prompted me if I started to work them incorrectly.
“You’re not as bad at math as you think. You just don’t like to try. Well, my parents want me to go to Oxford.”
Aaron’s comment caught me off-guard, and then I realized he must think it weird that I hadn’t asked any questions about him. I probably appeared very uninterested. He had no way of knowing that I already knew everything about him. I knew he was going back to England for college. I knew he would meet back up with Libby and marry her. Okay, so I didn’t know he went to Oxford, but that was a minor detail in the big scheme of things.
“Oh?” I feigned intrigue. “I could’ve guessed that. You being from there and all, and it’s such a prestigious school. Aren’t you excited?”
“My parents have no doubt I’ll get in.”
“No doubt,” I agreed, noting that he didn’t give his own emotional reaction to the idea. “What do you want to study?” I gnawed at the nail of my index finger. Polish chipped off onto my tongue, reminding me of Dana’s effort after Friday’s game to get me to stop biting my nails.
He favored me with a grin. “Classics and English.”
“So you must like English, too.”
“I’m in your advanced English class, aren’t I?” He nudged me with his elbow. “Did you think I was just a dumb English bloke?”
I shook my head, flustered by his touch. “No, I just—well, you’re good at math. I didn’t expect you to be good at both.”
“Oh, yes. Guys with more than one talent are a rarity.” His arm bumped me again, and I dropped my pencil on the floor. It rolled under the table.
“Let me get that.” Aaron pushed his chair back.
“No, that’s okay.” I jumped up, not wanting him on my kitchen floor, searching for my pencil. Dropping to my knees, I scurried under the table, wishing I weren’t in a skirt. Bad, bad idea. Backing out, I found Aaron standing behind me, lips curved upward, hands on his hips.
“I would have done that for you.”
I put the pencil down and fanned my face. “Um, did you want a drink or anything?” I put my thumbnail in my mouth and bit down.
“No. I should go now.”
“Oh. Already?” I felt a pang of disappointment and berated myself for caving into my human longings.
“My parents will worry.” Aaron walked through the foyer to the front door. I followed him, wondering if he would try to kiss me before he left.
He paused with his hand on the doorknob and turned around, facing me where I stood in more or less expectant anticipation. “Jayne, I’ll call you.” He closed the door behind him.
I sighed and leaned against it, feeling wholly unsatisfied. I had expected to be the one refusing his advances. As they had been entirely non-existent, I found myself yearning for them. He hadn’t even tried to hug me or touch me or anything. Knocking my pencil out of my hand didn’t count.
Sticking my lower lip out in a pout, I pushed myself up the stairs. It was time for bed. It was only eight o’clock, but it was time.
CHAPTER TWELVE
I changed into my Mickey Mouse flannel pajamas and wrote Herold's stats in my file folder. I put it away, closing his chapter. That gave me sufficient closure for the moment.
Beth! I’d forgotten to call her back! I panicked at the thought of her out there alone. Quickly I dialed her number.
“Hello?” Her voice carried from across the hall, and I exhaled in relief.
“Oh, good. You’re home.”
“No thanks to you,” she responded, her tone too light to be angry. “Anyway, I’ve got homework to do, Jayne, so if you really want to chat, feel free to come to my room.”
“Um, sure.” I felt so bad for not taking her up on her offer. “Maybe I will.”
“’Kay. Bye.”
I sighed and put my phone down. Lifting my eyes to the mirror of the vanity in front of me, I gasped, goosebumps popping out on my flesh. There was a man in my closet.
I whirled around, heart thumping so hard I expected it to burst. There was no one there. Not even the shape of a man, just my gray towel hanging from a hook on the closet door.
I rubbed my arms and shivered, creeped out.
A light breeze blew in from my open window. I crossed to it and closed it, making sure the lock latched in place. I chewed on my lower lip and tried to talk myself out of it, but I still checked under my bed and behind the door.
No one was in my room.
I climbed under the blankets and squeezed my eyes shut, trying to slow my racing heart. There was a serial killer out there, and I’d seen him face to face. Did he have a girl with him now? Was he, at this moment, murdering someone?
I rolled over onto my stomach and buried my head in the sheets. Think of something else. Something good. Christmas, sugar cookies, the taste of brine in the air, Aaron—
My mind seized on Aaron, grasping at the memory like a lifeline. Clenching his jaw, studying my math book, touching my hand.
This is counterproductive. I needed to stop thinking about him. But it felt so nice. I let the image of his deep blue eyes and smug smile dance in front of my eyes. My body relaxed, and I slowly drifted to sleep.
By morning, nothing I did could get my mind off Aaron, or the way my stomach exploded with butterflies every time I remembered him bumping my elbow. I could picture quite clearly the way those eyes looked when narrowed in concentration, his lips pursed over that square jaw.
I paused by my car in front of my house, squinting in the bright sunshine. How would I be able to face him in class today?
“Jayne!” Beth flounced down the driveway, shiny brown hair bouncing off her shoulders. “I don’t need a ride today. Theresa’s picking me up!”
“Great. I’ll see you later.” I jumped in the car and drove around the corner. But when I reached the intersection to go to school, I made a quick decision and headed east instead. I felt like going sand walking.
The beach had a tendency to be crowded with tourists no matter what day of the week it was. But I knew a spot overlooking the ocean that was usually deserted, and I headed there now. Losing myself in the frigid water with a surfboard had a certain appeal to it, but I didn’t have my wetsuit. And it wasn’t safe to do such activities alone.
Instead, I parked my car and myself on the rocky sand, pulled out several books, and settled back to lose myself in the world of literature. At least if I did homework, I wouldn’t feel so bad about skipping.
I let the scenery distract me for a bit. Seagulls dove at the grass around me, daring me to throw food at them. Below the bluff, a few ducks and a swan waddled over the sand. I studied them a moment before turning back to the books.
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