She starts to touch her face then decides not to. "I fell down the stairs."
"Ouch."
"What do you want?" Her voice sounds annoyed. What happened to our little bond from seeing April? It doesn't matter. What I want to do is better if she's not friendly. I don't want to second-guess my decision.
"Are you alone? Can we talk?"
She steps aside and lets me in. We go into the kitchen and sit at the table, by the back door. I guess she wants me close to it so I can run out if her folks come home soon. "So, spill."
"I can see ghosts. I didn't know I could do this, but apparently I always could. It started with my brother. I think. And now…well, I can see and talk with Linzy and have been since the night I found her body."
There's a moment in every horror movie where there's no music; it's completely silent and normal sounding just before they strike a heart-stopping chord and something jumps out at you. This is what that feels like. But instead of a demon or killer flying at me, Shayla leans back in her chair, and her entire demeanor softens, like she let out a really big breath.
"I figured that, what with all the stuff you said."
"You knew?"
She shrugs. "Not exactly, not for sure. But it crossed my mind."
Whoa. I didn't expect this. I'd never assume someone could speak to ghosts. That stuff is only in movies.
"So you don't think it's crazy?"
She shrugs. "I guess not. There are a lot of things I don't understand. That doesn't mean they aren't true. I believe in God, and I can't see him, but I know he's there."
"Yeah, but that's faith. I can see Linzy. And talk to her too."
She thinks for a moment. "Okay, that sounds crazy but only 'cause I can't. Do Troy and that Asian girl know?"
"Her name is Kinley, and no."
"Why not?"
I focus on the bananas on the counter behind her. "Because. What does it matter?"
She narrows her eyes. "What's stopping me from telling them?"
Is she threatening me? Did the fall down the stairs jar the bitter and mean lobe of her brain, or was the time in Linzy's and my room a momentary lapse in her normal, everyday hatefulness? "It would be my word against yours. They both know how you feel about me. It'll look like you're trying to hurt me or something."
She lowers her head, stares into her lap, and doesn't respond. Surely I didn't hurt her feelings. Then she looks up but not at me. "What has she been saying about me?"
I shrug, not wanting to describe the hate.
Shayla points to her face. "I think this was her. I could've sworn I felt someone push me down the stairs, but no one else was home."
It makes total sense. "She mentioned you hated her enough to kill her, but that was before she heard what you said that day in her room."
"She was there? Then why try to kill me? Is she here now?"
I look around and shake my head. "I can't always see her. Sometimes she hides."
Shayla tilts her head as if she's talking to the ceiling. "Linzy, if you can hear me, you weren't any good to me alive, and you certainly aren't dead, so just leave me alone."
"That might make her angrier. When did you fall?"
"Last night."
"After your mom cut herself on the plate."
She cocks her head. "How did you know…? That was Linzy too?"
"She messed with the dishes. Your mom cut herself by accident."
Shayla lets out a slow, long breath. It's going to take her some time to sort through it all. I bet she'll be questioning everything that's happened in the last couple of weeks. There are probably things I don't know about. How much has Linzy tortured her own family?
As much as I don't want to give Shayla a mani-pedi or spend the night with her at a slumber party, I'm relieved I have one ally. Too bad it's not the one I want.
* * *
When I get back to my side of the street, I stop again. I'm not ready to tell Kinley the whole truth. But I'm also not ready for her to leave either, and it doesn't matter if I look pathetic and needy. I knock on Kinley's door.
She opens it and widens her eyes, obviously surprised I'm here.
"Look," I say, before she gets a chance. "I'm supposed to play it cool. I lost other friends by wanting to spend all my time with them. I don't know when I'm being too pushy, so I can only be honest. And I know I don't want to lose your friendship."
She frowns. "What…"
"I don't want you to go to camp." I cut her off. "I'll miss you. I want to hang out, even if it's too hot to do much and Dad won't let me leave the house until he's certain the streets are safe, and even though you have to be in by eight. I want a BFF, and I want it to be you. I don't care if I sound stupid or desperate or lame."
I squeeze my eyes shut, knowing I screwed it all up. I've opened my big mouth and ruined it all. But when I open my eyes, Kinley's smiling. Not a polite one either, but a full, ear-to-ear grin.
* * *
When Dad shouts up that he's running out for a few minutes, I try not to imagine him smooching the chief. Where do they go? To a motel, or do they make out in the back seat of one of their cars? I remind myself to never sit in back again.
I'm on my bed, rereading Linzy's file. Not that I've learned anything new, but maybe if I keep at it, something will pop out at me. I reach for my can of soda on my nightstand as a car alarm goes off. Not again.
My hand hits the can, and I knock it over. Purple liquid fizzes onto the hardwood floor. Dad will kill me if we have to pay damages when we move.
I jump up and grab the first thing I see to mop up the grape deliciousness. It isn't until I've soaked it up that I realize I grabbed my white, now splotchy lavender, shorts.
From my position on my knees, I glance around my floor. There are clothes, shoes, and books strewn everywhere. I guess I hadn't cleaned up from Linzy's tantrum as well as I thought. I should probably do that and laundry too. I spot one of my slippers under my bed and pull it out.
Something scrapes.
I reach back under and feel around, praying I didn't scratch up the floor. My fingers touch something hard and tiny. I pull it out, and my heart leaps. It's the silver charm.
Ohmigod.
I jump up and go to grab my phone, but it's not there. Where the heck… The kitchen counter. I set it down when I found the last can of soda in the fridge. I run down and find it exactly where I remember. I dial Dad's number while walking back down the hall. It goes straight to voicemail. Since when does he not have his phone on?
When I reach the front door, I cringe from the shrillness of the alarm. Who does it belong to? I yank open the door and step onto the porch. The air smells thick with rain. It's too dark to see the clouds. Not that I'm a meteorologist. Papa, Dad's father, loves to watch the news, and every night we'd be at his and Nana's house for Christmas, he'd tell us the day's weather. Dad says preparing us for the cold or a storm is his way of showing his love.
I step down onto the walkway, and a chirp sounds. The alarm stops. Thank goodness. The Quinns have their outside garage light on. A lime-colored Volkswagen Beetle sits in their driveway. Super cute.
I head back inside, pushing the door with my elbow and dial Dad's number again. Where is he? I pace the hall. He's most likely with the chief, so I'll call her. But I don't know her number. I text Troy.
wheres ur mom? Is my dad w/ her?
prolly @ park. its their spot
Eww! Why do I keep finding out more gross information? Next I'll learn they have their own song.
the one near my house?
yep
I redial Dad's number and wait for the beep. "Dad, I found the charm. The one I told you about. I'm home. I…never mind. I'm coming to you."
I end the call and turn. Shayla's standing in my open doorway. I must not have shut the door all the way. The streetlamp casts an amber glow along the left side of her body. Her face is in the shadows, so I can't see her expression.
"You scared me," I say.
S
he doesn't respond.
I step closer. Did she hear me? "Shayla?"
She's still silent. Motionless. Creepy.
My stomach twists. I stop moving. "What's wrong?"
My phone vibrates in my hand. I flinch and look down at it. It's a text from Troy.
everything cool?
I glance up, and Shayla's gone.
Weird.
I slip into my flip-flops, rush outside, and slam the door behind me, totally forgetting my key. I don't want to take the time to go back in, though. Hopefully there aren't many robberies around here.
I run down the street, not caring about how I'll be soaked in sweat in a few seconds, not flinching at Cujo's barking, and not turning back to see whose front door I just heard slam shut also. I'm on a mission, and nothing will stop me. I turn the corner, veer out of the way of the Elm tree, and suck in a lungful of air. Running is not my thing.
I slow down to a brisk walk. My lungs burn, and I feel like I'm going to die. Maybe I should try that Couch to 5K thing 'cause detectives need to be able to move fast.
Just a few feet from the next corner, a car behind me puts on their brights. I glance back, but the glare is too strong for me to make anything out. It doesn't matter anyway. A car is definitely faster than me, and it'll soon past.
But it doesn't.
The engine revs, and I'm reminded of my nightmares. Any chance I'm asleep and this is one now?
Despite my panting, I pick up my speed.
The car's tires hit something. I glance back. It's driving on the edge of the sidewalk coming straight at me.
What the…?
I try to leap out of the way by throwing myself into the closest yard, but the car nips me in the hip, and sends me flying. I land on my back.
White lights burst in front of my eyes, like popping soap bubbles. I can't tell if I'm breathing. Everything feels so tight and compressed. Pain rolls into my limbs, to every inch of my body.
Then someone is over me.
Yes, please help me. I try to focus on the face, but it's a blur. I feel like I'm floating.
The person grabs my hand, probably looking for a pulse. Is the ambulance here?
There's something familiar, something…
But the person's fingers aren't on my pulse. He pries open my fingers and takes the charm.
No, you can't have that. I need it. It's proof.
I want to fight back, tell my body to move, but the pain pounds harder and harder until…
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
I rouse and hear beeping. It takes a moment to pull from sleep. I'm cozy and don't want to stir, but the closer I get to opening my eyes the sharper I feel. My entire body is sore, but my right hip feels like it went through a meat grinder.
I reach out to feel it, and something tugs at my hand. I open my eyes and wince at the headache.
"Piper?" It's Dad's voice.
I groan and realize there's tape and a tube attached to my hand. An I.V. I'm in the hospital.
Dad's by my side and grabs my other hand.
I turn to face him and notice the fear drawn all over his down-turned mouth, like a magic-marker mustache. "Hey," I say and cough. My throat is dry.
He lets go of me and pours a glass of water from a pitcher. He puts a straw into it and holds it up to my mouth. "Here. Drink."
I take a sip, cough again, and take more. Despite it being flavorless water, it tastes great. Cool, crisp, and so awesome.
"How do you feel?" he asks.
"Like crap." I dig my hands into the mattress and wiggle into a sitting position.
"Let me help." He fluffs the pillows behind me and presses a button on the side of the bed to raise the top half.
"How long have I been here?" I reach for the water.
"Several hours. They've taken you for tests. Your head, everything is fine. No broken bones. You'll just be sore for a few days." From the scared look in his eyes, I must have worried him bad.
"I don't remember tests. Was I asleep the whole time?"
He shakes his head. "You passed out from the pain, but then they gave you medication. You've been groggy but awake and asleep through it all."
There's a knock at the door, and it swings open. The chief walks in, holding a stuffed bear clutching a puffy, red heart. She hands it to me. "Hi. It's nice to see you fully awake."
"You've been here the whole time?" I squish the bear against my chest.
She smiles. "Absolutely. Your father's been so worried. And you left your father that message."
Message? Everything feels fuzzy. But of course she's worried about Dad and work.
She pats my leg. "Besides Troy would kill me if I came home without an update. But most importantly, I needed to make sure you're okay."
I grin. Maybe she's not selfish. "What happened?" I ask Dad.
He glances to Olivia then says, "Don't you remember?"
I rub my forehead trying to put the pieces together. "I-I found the charm."
"That's what you said in the message, but the paramedics didn't find it on you," he says.
I pick through the bits of my memory. "The driver took it out of my hand. Wait, paramedics? Who called an ambulance? How'd you find me?"
"We saw the ambulance at the corner. We were at the park." He looks to her again, like he's unsure if he should tell me the truth, like he feels guilt.
I can't deny that feels nice. At least it means he cares about how I feel. "That's right. When I couldn't find you, I texted Troy to see if you were together. He said to try the park, which is where I was headed."
"A neighbor saw you on their lawn and called 911," says the chief.
"Did they see who hit me?"
She shakes her head. "No, the car had already driven off. What do you remember about it?"
"It was dark—the night, the car. And the headlights were blinding. I couldn't make it out."
There's some piece that wants to come to the surface, but it won't. It's just out of my grasp.
"Did you see the driver?" the chief asks.
I shake my head. "No. But he wanted that charm. It was the same person who killed Linzy and Cameron."
From the looks on their faces, I doubt they're as convinced as I am.
"But how would this person know you were on your way to give your father the charm?" the chief asks.
I think hard, but my head hurts, and I don't want to push my memories anymore. Maybe later. "I don't know. But it's too much of a coincidence for that not to be the truth."
* * *
The next morning I wake early. Between the nurses in and out to check my vitals and Dad snoring in the chair, I didn't get much sleep. Luckily the bed next to me stayed unoccupied all night. Now, the blinds are drawn, sunlight spills across the room like a golden blanket, and Dad is off finding coffee and lots of it. They already served me breakfast, a boring plate of Corn Flakes, milk, dry toast and rubbery scrambled eggs, and word is the doctor will be releasing me this afternoon.
When the door opens I expect it to be a nurse or Dad, but instead it's Troy.
My grin stretches my mouth so wide I'm almost certain my skin will crack. "Hey."
He walks in, trailing a bouquet of helium "Get Well Soon" balloons behind him. "I hope this isn't too much."
The dorky look on his face makes me giggle. "It's perfect."
He wraps their ribbons around the end of the bed then sits in the chair. "How are you feeling?"
"Much better. My headache's gone, and I'll be leaving later."
"That's great."
We sit in this awkward silence, just smiling at one another and glancing around the room like hospital equipment is so entertaining. Why aren't we talking about last night or our parents? Why are we acting as if we're strangers who didn't make out?
I bite the inside of my cheek. Maybe he regrets it. Maybe our parents' lip-locking made him change his mind about us. I need to ask. But when I open my mouth, the words do not follow. Gosh, why am I such a wuss?
Afte
r a few more minutes of brain-numbing silence, he stands. "I need to get the car back to Mom. I'll call you later."
I widen my plastic smile. "Great. Thanks for the balloons."
"No problem." Then he hurries to the door and dashes out.
I lean back against the pillows and sigh.
When Dad returns, I'm flipping channels.
"The coffee here is disgusting." He sticks out his tongue, as if the air will scrub away his spoiled taste buds.
"Then go home, make a big pot of it, and work."
He widens his eyes. "I can't leave you."
I chuckle. "Of course you can. The nurse said I won't be leaving before noon, probably closer to two. You can leave. And you can figure out who mowed me down last night."
He sits on the edge of the bed and stares into my eyes. "Who are you, and what have you done with my daughter?"
I laugh. "What are you talking about?"
He places the back of his hand across my forehead, checking for a fever. "My daughter wants to solve her own mystery. She'd never tell me to do it for her."
I sigh. He's right. Under different circumstances I wouldn't. "I thought solving a case meant searching for clues on paper, talking to witnesses, that kinda thing. Not getting hit by a car." My voice cracks at the end.
He squeezes my hands. "I can't believe that happened. I'm so sorry I wasn't there to protect you."
"It's not your fault." It happened so fast, I don't remember being scared, but thinking back on it now, I was terrified. They wanted the charm so badly, they drove their car into me. On purpose. They didn't know I'd be fine. I could've died.
"And I think the only important thing is finding out who did it. Even if I'm not the one to do that."
He smiles. "You've matured."
I roll my eyes. "Yeah, well, metal on flesh will do that to a person."
I giggle and try to make it sound lighter than it is, but Dad frowns and gets up.
"I'll be back in a couple of hours. Try to rest. Take a nap."
"I just woke up."
He walks to the door and opens it. "Hey," he says to someone on the other side. Then he looks at me. "Guess I'm leaving you in good hands."
I Spy Dead People Page 20
