by Kat Stiles
“Em, do you know the person they’re talking about?” She concentrated on her rings, pulling each one on and off.
“No.”
“I’ll Google him later,” she said and then added quietly, “His eyes—I think he’s the guy from my vision.”
“He died of a heart attack. Sounds like natural causes to me.”
“What I saw would seem like a heart attack, afterwards... I wonder if they’re going to do an autopsy?”
“Relax,” I said, gently touching her arm. “It’s probably someone who didn’t take his heart medication.”
“I hope so. If Adam hurt someone else, and we didn’t do anything to stop him…” Her eyes glazed over, and she looked off to the side. For the rest of the ride, she didn’t say a word.
At my locker I was still distracted thinking about everything that went down last night. I closed the door to find Tommy standing right behind it, leaning against Angel’s locker. I nearly jumped two feet in the air.
“Hi there.” He grinned, apparently proud to have scared me.
I put a hand on my heaving chest. “Are you trying to kill me?”
“No. Need to get my morning fix.” He inhaled an exaggerated deep breath.
I smiled. It was strange, but I was tickled every time he sniffed me.
“Hey is everything all right?” he asked. “The way you left last night…”
“Yeah, it’s fine. My mother took Lauren’s side yet again. Whatever.”
Tommy held his arms out to me, and I hugged him back.
“Who cares what she thinks anyway,” I whispered into his chest.
“Excuse me,” someone said in an annoyed tone. I disengaged from Tommy and frowned. Angel.
“Oh, did you want to get in here?” Tommy asked.
“That’s my locker,” she said.
“I know.” He glared at her. “Come back later.”
She gaped, and then her bottom lip started to quiver. “I… I’m going to tell.”
“You do that.” He motioned for her to leave. “Run along now. You’re not wanted here.”
She stomped off in a huff, heading straight for the principal’s office, I was sure.
“You are amazing,” I said, awestruck.
“See how easy it is? You really should try it some time. Good for the soul.”
I laughed. “Yeah, right. Oh, I almost forgot.” I handed him the jacket he’d let me borrow last night. “I should probably give this back to you.”
“Keep it. Something to remember me by.” He looked into my eyes. “You know, I think it’s only fair I get something of yours to keep me company, too.”
“I can only imagine what you want from my closet,” I said dryly.
The look of playful shock on his face was adorable. “What is your perverted little mind thinking?”
“I’ll consider it.”
* * * *
At lunch, Roz joined us at our table, her hair in a messy bun.
“I looked him up.” She pushed a stray curl away from her eyes. “I’m pretty sure he’s the guy from my vision. He did not die of a heart attack. At least not without some help.”
“Do you think it was Adam?” Tommy said.
“Who else could it have been? The attacks were similar.”
“But you couldn’t see him?” I asked.
“No,” she said, with a resigned sigh. “The killer wasn’t clear.”
“Do you want to try another session, like we did before?” I said.
Roz shrugged her shoulders. “I guess so.”
We wolfed down our lunches and then headed over to Judy’s office. She was alone, sitting at her desk.
“Do you mind if we use a bed for a while?” I asked her. “I wanted to help Roz…” I trailed off when Tommy suddenly squeezed my hand. He shook his head.
Judy looked at Roz. “Did you have another vision?”
Roz was about to respond when Tommy said, “Seems your boyfriend is at it again.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.” Judy folded her arms against her chest.
“Then how exactly did his scent get all over you?” His eyes met hers, and she gave him one of the meanest looks I’d ever seen.
Judy broke off the stare and took a deep breath. She turned to Roz. “What’s going on?”
“There’s been another attack,” Roz said. “It was similar to my first vision, the one we know Adam was involved in.”
“Just because Adam was at the first one, it doesn’t mean—”
“You are awfully protective of him, if he’s not your boyfriend,” Tommy said.
Judy glanced down. “Adam and I are a long story.”
“It doesn’t matter if he’s your soul mate,” he said. “If he’s responsible for this death, then—”
“Death?” she blurted out.
“The man from my second vision died,” Roz said.
“Killed is more like it,” Tommy corrected. “It won’t happen again, huh?”
Judy sat slowly down in her chair. She stared blankly at the opposite wall.
“We wanted to replay the vision with Roz, to see if she missed something,” I said.
Judy didn’t respond.
“Well?” Tommy said.
She motioned to the beds, still staring off into nothingness. I could feel her emotions, a mixture of guilt and fear, or maybe it was confusion. It frustrated me that I couldn’t tell the difference.
“You’re wrong about Adam,” she said softly. “What happened the first time was an accident. He could never kill…”
“If you say so,” Tommy muttered.
I whispered to Tommy, “Must you crucify her?”
“I don’t know whose side she’s on. Do you?”
I grimaced. He did have a point.
Once we were situated, it took a few minutes before Roz relaxed and I felt the connection to her. Thinking about Judy and the emotions I felt from her, I wondered what was going on, and whether I should try to talk to her. The heat built up slowly in my hands as I tried to decide what to do.
Roz suddenly bolted upright and gasped.
“What’s wrong?” I said. “Are you okay?”
“It…it was the scariest voice in my head. Right when I started to zone out.” She rubbed her forehead, mumbling, “I’m coming home.”
“I’m coming home?” I repeated, unsure I heard her right.
“That’s what the voice said.”
“Was it from your vision?” Tommy asked.
“I don’t know. I don’t think so. I never heard it before, and I didn’t see anyone. It was only the voice. He sounded so desperate.”
He? I wondered if it was the voice of the killer, something she heard out of context from her vision. But how would that make sense? Did he intend to kill his family?
“Lie back down, Roz.” I resumed the connection to her.
“I see Mr. Kenney… He’s angry,” Roz said. “He’s telling the killer to get out.” Her brow wrinkled, and her eyes moved underneath their closed lids. “I can’t see his face, but the killer has short hair. It’s brown. The killer… he can see into Mr. Kenney’s mind.”
I could feel her pulse rate climb, and her body tingled beneath my hands. “It’s painful. Mr. Kenney… He’s frozen, powerless to stop it. Pressure, it’s building. He can’t take it anymore.” Roz cried out, and I winced, experiencing the pain, too.
Tommy whispered, “Please stop.”
“Okay, Roz, I want you to clear your mind.” I moved a hand to her forehead. It was burning up. She calmed down, and her breathing returned to normal. “We’re done.”
She sighed. “Nothing else?”
I half-smiled while I centered a palm on my own forehead to clear the pain that lingered there. “We know the killer has short, brown hair. Unfortunately, that describes a large percentage of the male population.”
“And Adam,” Tommy said. “It describes Adam.”
“But we still aren’t certain.” My hand stayed fixed to my forehead.
<
br /> “You okay?” Roz asked.
The pain slowly dissipated. “I’m fine.”
“What happened?” she asked.
“I felt the pain, as you felt it.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t realize—”
“No, it’s all right. I’m fine.”
Tommy interlaced his fingers through mine and squeezed my hand. “Don’t do that to me,” he whispered.
An overwhelming feeling of concern washed over me, and I couldn’t help but smile.
“So where do we go from here?” Roz said.
“Let’s do some digging,” Tommy suggested. “If we can find something to tie Adam to both attacks, then we’ll know for sure.”
“That’s a good idea,” Roz said.
We thanked Judy on our way out. By the suspicious expression she wore, I was pretty sure she overheard our conversation. But was it enough for her to do something about Adam? And what was her involvement in all of this?
* * * *
Roz and I researched Adam at my house after school. We learned he’d been a social worker for the past seven years, but only recently moved back to Cannondale.
“If the first family was one of his cases, it would explain why he was at their house,” I said.
“Yeah. I wonder if the second family was one of his, too.”
We tried to look up the names on the internet, but we couldn’t find anything.
“That kind of information is confidential,” Roz said, her forehead wrinkled in frustration. “I’m sure it’s all there in his case records, but I don’t know how we’re going to get at them.”
I remembered Tommy’s story about his old school, how he broke in to the principal’s office. Slowly, a mischievous grin appeared.
Roz shook her head at me. “That boy has seriously rubbed off on you.”
“What? We need to find out, don’t we?”
“Yes, but breaking and entering?”
“Tommy can help us. It’ll be like we’re visiting his office, only after hours.”
She continued to look at me in a less than approving manner.
“It’s for a good cause, right?” I said. “It’s not like we’re stealing anything.”
“I guess you’re right. If we can help apprehend Adam, then we’ll be preventing any future murders.”
A knock sounded on my door.
“Honey, it’s time to leave,” my mother said.
I totally forgot about my appointment with Dr. Hayes. “Ugh.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Another doctor’s appointment.”
“Doctor, as in creepy psychiatrist?”
I nodded.
“Oh.” She winced. “Sorry, Em.”
I half-smiled. “Maybe tonight he’ll fix me.”
Roz laughed and hugged me. “Girl, don’t you know there’s nothing wrong with you?”
A sensation of familiar warmth rose inside of me, and I could feel the conviction behind her words. Maybe it isn’t such a crazy idea after all.
* * * *
The doctor made me wait again. About five minutes into the waiting, I lay down on the couch and relaxed. I think my body must have been exhausted—it certainly wasn’t the cold, hard leather that calmed me. I closed my eyes and allowed my mind to drift off. I hadn’t quite fallen asleep when the doctor entered the room.
“I see the relaxation won’t be necessary today,” he said and smiled.
“Yeah.” I closed my eyes again.
“How are you feeling, Emily?”
This damn question again. “Look, if you can tell me what to say, it’ll be easier on both of us.”
His lips parted. “I’m here to help you, Emily.”
“Whatever,” I muttered.
He glowered at me, and a sharp, stabbing sensation surfaced in my head.
“You left off at your father in our last session…”
Without thinking, my hand went to my forehead. The energy flowed but couldn’t keep up with the pain. “W-What do you want to know?”
“Talk about the kidnapping.”
My heart pounded. How does he know?
I must’ve looked as afraid as I felt because the next thing he said was, “It’s all in your file.”
How could it have been in my file? I never discussed it with any of the prior shrinks. They always backed off if I was uncomfortable.
He chuckled. “I will help you, Emily.”
It sounded more like a threat than an offer of assistance. The stabbing pain resurged, and my hand became hotter to counter it. I placed my other hand on my head, struggling to make the pain subside.
“Tell me about your father,” he whispered.
“I don’t like to talk about him. It gives me nightmares.”
“You must, to get better.” He scribbled some notes.
I stared at him but didn’t say a word. He focused on me again, and the pain resurged, worse than before.
“He kidnapped me. Is that what you want to hear?” I blurted out.
His brows wrinkled together, like he was concentrating on something. “More,” he whispered.
“I felt weak with him. He overpowered me, but I couldn’t do anything about it. I couldn’t get away.”
“Yes,” he groaned, his stare penetrating me. “Keep going.”
The pain flared, and I massaged my head with both hands. “It hurts,” I murmured.
“No, you can’t stop now!” His voice was raspy when he resumed. “You’re almost there.”
“What do you want from me?” The heat from my hands wasn’t enough to heal the pain. And yet, the doctor’s dark eyes continued to focus on me.
“What’s inside. That’s what I want,” he said, a wicked grin on his face. “Don’t be afraid, Emily.”
“What is it you think I’m afraid of?”
“The truth. About your father.” He looked me up and down, as if he were sizing me up.
I tried to mask the fear I felt with a confident expression, but I couldn’t fool the doctor. It was as if I were completely exposed to him. “And what is the truth?”
The pain rose, more acute than ever, reverberating relentlessly in my head.
“Why don’t you tell me?” he said, his voice downright sinister. A chill ran through my entire body.
“He… he’s not…” I cried out, right before everything went black.
* * * *
I awoke to the very unpleasant odor of smelling salts underneath my nose. Disoriented, I jolted upright when my eyes adjusted.
I’m still at the doctor’s office. It wasn’t a nightmare. It’s real.
I didn’t know what to do next. I wasn’t sure exactly what happened, but I didn’t feel safe there. As my heart raced in fear, the doctor addressed me.
“You’re fine, Emily. You fainted for a moment.”
I stumbled to my feet. “Are we d-done?”
“Yes, you’re free to leave,” he said. “We had a very productive session, Emily. I’m looking forward to your next visit.”
Are you totally mental? There is no way I’m coming back here.
“Oh, Em? I’ll be phoning your mother to tell her all about it.”
I stopped and turned around. He wore an insufferable smirk.
She would believe him, of course, and force me to return. Feeling helpless and alone, I couldn’t see any way out. My eyes heated up and the tears began to fall. Embarrassed, I hid my face in my hands.
“That’s it, Emily. Let it all out,” he said.
I was startled by the feel of his arms embracing me. I staggered back away from him.
“Emily, it’s okay. This is good for you.” He attempted to hug me again, and I continued to cry. I hid my face in my hands once more while his arms closed around me.
My mother pretended not to notice I’d been crying when she picked me up. She didn’t even ask what happened but instead drove straight to the outlet mall. Retail therapy was her thing. It was cool because it gave me the opportunity to b
uy a real bra and a few outfits in my real size. And it was nice to forget about the doctor and my life for a while.
Chapter Eleven
Of all the things in life that confused me, of one thing I was certain: sonnets totally suck. I figured I’d be happy to be finished with Romeo and Juliet, until I discovered the next topic was sonnets. They were even more boring and difficult. At least Romeo and Juliet had a plot, however absurd it was.
I got to English class early to gather all my notes and review the homework I didn’t understand from last night. Before I finished organizing my things, Angel walked in. Her irritating voice filled the room.
“I heard you were making out with your loser boyfriend in the hall the other day.”
I sighed. “What do you care?”
Her eyes grew large. “You’re admitting it?”
“Are you really so concerned with my life?”
The question threw her off for a second. Then her twisted smile emerged. “I’m only looking out for everyone—no one wants to see a couple of losers all over each other like that.” She cackled at her own stupid joke.
A friend of hers came in and distracted her enough to stop bothering me.
Tommy came in and approached my desk. “What’s wrong?”
But then the bell rang. Before all the commotion died down, I whispered a response.
“She’s being a bitch again.” I motioned behind me, in case there was any doubt as to whom I referred.
Mr. Dominic was still preparing for class, so he didn’t catch the strange muffled whimper from behind me. There was a note opened on Angel’s desk, and she was turned back towards Tommy, who grinned slyly. I snatched the paper before she noticed me. In Tommy’s handwriting, it read:
Heard the conversation you had with your friend the other day. I’m sure there are others who’d love to find out about your little visit to the clinic.
“Makes that purity ring you’re sporting pretty damn funny, don’t ya think?” Tommy said to her.
I hadn’t noticed it before, but when I returned the note to her desk, she was fidgeting with the ring on her finger. I tried to stifle a laugh, unsuccessfully. Of course it was right when Mr. Dominic finished up.
