I froze, a chill sprinting up my spine. Lindsey was dead? I looked up at Sawyer in disbelief, the world spinning. “Oh my gosh, Sawyer.”
I couldn’t breathe. The other night at The Pancake House, Lindsey was shook up. I saw that. But I ignored it, didn’t want to help her, or Sawyer to help her, because she was being a witch, scamming on Sawyer. Now I felt horrible.
And responsible.
She was … dead.
All morning the school was abuzz about Lindsey—gruesome stories about the police finding “remnants” of her—but not her actual body. It made me sick. So sick. It made me think about Ethan. Could he have done it? It sounded like his work—exactly like his work—gruesome. Only he didn’t have a body now. Dad took care of that. Didn’t that mean he couldn’t kill anymore? Not unless he somehow got in another body.
A chill ran down my spine. Could he do that?
Instead of morning classes there was an assembly about Lindsey—or more about dealing with death, with counselors and everything. Then our principal got on the stand and announced that the police would be speaking throughout the day with students who were close to Lindsey, stressing that anyone who knew anything about her death should come forward and speak to the police.
“We aren’t accusing anyone,” the police chief announced. “We’re simply trying to gather facts. Any aid you can give—any information at all—please come forward. Speak with us.”
Somehow I doubted they would believe an evil spirit might have killed Lindsay.
***
Zack stood over me, watching me pour sulfuric acid into the test tube. “You smell good,” he murmured.
“I don’t know why,” I tried sounding natural as I put the mixture down, unable to concentrate with him standing so close, breathing on me. “I’m not wearing anything different.”
“You always smell good. I just never mentioned it before.”
“Zack,” my voice was unsteady, “I can’t concentrate with you standing so close.”
He seemed to get what I was saying—he did—he wasn’t stupid, far from it. But he edged closer anyway, gripping either side of the desk, caging me. “Maybe we could go out sometime, just you and me,” he murmured, playing with a lock of my hair.
Panicked, I jerked away from him.
“Or not.” He gave a nervous laugh at my alarm. “Don’t get all riled up, Jodi. It was just a thought.”
“Kenzie?”
I heard the whisper and my heart stopped.
“Kenzie?” I heard it again and whirled around, seeing the shadows. Two of them, creeping along the wall. My heart went berserk—beating wild against my chest.
Watch out for the shadows. Watch out for the shadows.
Suddenly others came—dark and menacing—gushing, gushing, gushing. “Kenzie? Kenzie?”
I started to faint. The world went black and my knees buckled. I was going down, but in a flash, Zack was beside me, holding me up, no longer predator, but total protector. “Jodi, you okay?” He glanced around the room. “Are there shadows?”
With a swallow, I gave a slight nod, gripping onto his shirt, trying to stay upright, knowing if I fainted they would get me. Get me for sure.
“There’s no Kenzie here!” Zack said loudly.
The class snapped up to look at him in bewilderment.
“What?” He gazed around at everyone’s stunned faces. “There’s not.”
People laughed him off, going back to work.
I squeezed my eyes shut, relief washing over me. The shadows were gone—poof!—as soon as he said the words.
“Thanks,” I muttered, when I could finally speak again. Why couldn’t I ever get the words out? They were simple words. But when you see shadows scrambling around talking, you get kind of freaked.
During Civic Service the women in the office were in a frenzy about Lindsey.
“I didn’t even know the poor girl,” I heard Mrs. Daniels say to the lady filling in for Ms. Baker.
That made me pop my head out of the filing cabinet tempted to say, “She’s the girl you freaked on last week.”
But I didn’t.
Everyone was acting that way, though, like Lindsey was a saint, or saying, “Oh, I didn’t know her,” like they thought they were going to be blamed for her murder. It seemed almost funny—until I got called down to the cafeteria for questioning. Apparently Eve had said she heard me fighting in The Pancake House bathroom with Lindsey the night she died.
From what the police could ascertain, I was the last person to see Lindsey alive.
***
“Relax. This is just an inquiry,” the police chief said. “We just want to know what you know. What was the fight about?”
“Um.” I didn’t really want to involve Sawyer. He had that scratch on him. Maybe he would look suspicious. I mean, how could he explain it to the police? A ghost gave it to him? Or a girl in a coma? “I don’t remember, exactly,” I said. “It was more a fight with Eve, actually. She and I—we don’t get along.”
That was the truth, it wasn’t a lie. And hopefully, it would shed light on why Eve pointed them towards me. She would love it if I were somehow locked up. That would make her prom.
“Miss Vintrola—Eve—said she saw you leave the restaurant with Lindsey, then cross the street to the dry cleaners with her. Is that correct?”
“Oh, um,” my mind scrambled, not sure which direction to take. Which way would get me out of here faster without seriously being “looked into”? ‘Cause, you know, my dad recently chopped up people, and I had a ghost in me—I might look sort of … suspicious.
“Uh, well, actually, I didn’t go to the dry cleaners, I went to …” My mind twisted. “… The Read Palm,” I finally blurted out, figuring I should leave The Clutch out of it. I mean, Zack had a gash on him too. And I would just as soon the guys didn’t get hauled down to the station for a lie-detector test. Again, ‘cause of the Kenzie-thing. How could they explain her without looking suspicious? Or crazy? Or suspicious and crazy.
“The Red Palm?”
“Um, yeah. The Read Palm. It’s right next to the dry cleaners. I go there sometimes—to get my palm read—just for fun, I don’t really believe in that stuff, but it’s fun, you know?” I was nervous and totally rambling, not wanting to look like a kook, but trying to throw them off the other side of the dry cleaners—the hotel. “Um. But Lindsey didn’t go to The Read Palm with me. Maybe she was getting Chinese—only, then I don’t know why she was at The Pancake House. Maybe she was going to the bookstore instead, further down the street. Or the pawn shop.”
All in all, I was looking pretty ditsy, clueless. That’s pretty much what I was going for. But still, just to be safe, I added, “You can check with the lady at The Read Palm—she’ll tell you. I was there. Alone. Just me and her. She said I’ll find true love.”
The officer smiled at me patronizingly. “Thank you. We’ll give you a call if we have any more questions for you.”
***
At lunch, the guys couldn’t believe I had been interrogated by the police. They seemed apprehensive. For me. And them. It was a little unsettling. But then, so was this whole day.
“But so, you didn’t mention us at all?” Zack sounded incredulous. “And Eve—she didn’t mention us, either?”
“No.” I had a huge headache. He kept asking me the same thing over and over. “She must not have seen you guys. She just saw Lindsey and me in the bathroom, then us cross the street together.”
Sawyer furrowed his brow. “But why’d you say The Read Palm?”
“Because I had to say something. And if the police are going to verify my story, I had to say something that someone would collaborate—say I was there. I don’t think the dry cleaners would do that. I mean, since I wasn’t there.”
He leaned toward me, nudged me playfully with his head. “But you weren’t at The Read Palm either.”
“No. But the lady will say I was. She’ll say whatever I want. She’s afraid of me.”
/> Finally someone being scared of me was paying off.
Whoopee.
During lunch, I wrote a note to Read Palm Lady. Then I had Sawyer drive me to her building. We missed fifth period, but, well, school wasn’t super high on my priorities these days. Not since I had shadows showing up in my classes. It gave “school spirit” a whole new meaning.
When Read Palm Lady saw me coming, she shrieked, locking her door before I could enter.
“Relax,” I said through the glass, sliding my note under her door. She backed away like I’d just shoved in a stink bomb. “Read it,” I pleaded.
I waited for the lady to pick up the note. Once she read it, she gave me a scared nod.
“Come on,” I said to Sawyer.
Out in his car, heading back to school, Sawyer glanced at me, looking worried. “So, what did the letter say?”
“That if she told the police I got my palm read there the night Lindsey died, I’d never go back to The Read Palm again—ever.”
Sawyer looked skeptical, like he didn’t see why that would work. But he’d never been there with me and heard the lady plead for me to go away, never come back. That had been Jeremy.
Sawyer scrunched up his brow. “She agreed?”
“Apparently.”
We rode in silence a long time, almost all the way back to school. But then I got a text from Hanna. She wrote:
Okay, I’m writing this in a protective circle. I used the blanket and found out how Ethan is still linked to this world. It’s because Kenzie was pregnant—with his child, part of Ethan, his blood. So, part of Ethan is still linked to this world, because his blood was in Kenzie and she’s still alive, understand?
Right now Kenzie’s body is hooked up to machines at the hospital. Basically at this moment, her body is an incubator for Ethan’s tie to this world, even though the baby aborted—died in that car crash you saved Kenzie in.
But the thing is: Ethan needs Kenzie to come back—back to her body. He can take his physical form in her body, as it’s part of him, but he needs her spirit there too. He needs to be part of her body—it’s his link. Otherwise, Ethan will be forced to leave this world. Go to Hell, where he belongs.
A chill ran through me. Ethan wanted to take over Kenzie’s body … like she was taking over mine.
“See why I don’t want to go back?” Kenzie said in my head. “I want your life, your body, your boyfriend. And guess what? I got them—I got them all. And I’m not going to give them back. Got it?”
Yeah. I got it. I’d had it a while now.
I shut Kenzie out of my head, focusing on now, this hell—Lindsey’s murder.
I bit my lip, flicking a sideways glance at Sawyer. I was itching to text Hanna back, needed to, but his words You’re scaring Hanna loomed over my brain, made me feel guilty. He was protective of Hanna. It was sweet. And it wasn’t just that she had a crush on him. Thing was, lots of girls had crushes on Sawyer. Too many. But with Hanna it seemed to be different for him, dear to him. Endearing. She seemed to hold a special place in his heart. I guess maybe it was because they’d had a “thing” in the fifth grade. First love, it’s … powerful.
I didn’t want to mess with it. Mess it up.
Still, I texted Hanna back anyway. Could Ethan have killed Lindsey?
I didn’t really see why Ethan would kill Lindsey. I mean why? What did he have to gain? But who else would do it? And be so gruesome about it?
A chill went through me. I stared out the window, feeling edgy. I needed to do something productive. I had to, or I was going to explode.
“Sawyer, we have to go back to the cemetery.”
***
At Lucy’s grave I texted Grey. “Do you know any church leader type people near the clinic in New York?”
Sawyer looked over my shoulder as I typed. He squinted his eyes. “Why are you asking him that?”
“When we figure out how to get Kenzie to New York we’re going to need a priest guy near her body to vanquish any evil spirits in it—as soon as we get her back in it.”
Sawyer looked at me quizzically.
“Hanna said Ethan will get in Kenzie’s body when she does and take it over—he’s evil scary. We can’t let that happen—we need to stop him.”
Sawyer inclined his head. “Hanna said that?”
I nodded.
Sawyer eyes looked troubled. “I’m worried about you, Jodi. I don’t care about saving the world from an evil spirit. I care about you. Being near a priest—you almost died.”
I nodded. “I know.” But what could I do? Send a killer out into the world?
***
Back at school, I sat all through pre-calc trying to concentrate on theorems—seriously. I tried hard. It was better than thinking about anything else going on. I used my rubber bands any time my mind started to turn toward Ethan or Lindsey or murder. I used the rubber bands a lot.
After class, I got another text from Hanna. It said: No, Ethan couldn’t have killed Lindsey. He’s a spirit. Only a spirit. He can’t cause physical harm without a physical body. But Jodi—he can hurt you. Watch out.
CHAPTER 38
As I was walking down the crowded school hall, a hand grabbed my shoulder. Normally I would jump. Sky-high. Especially because I’d just read Hanna’s message and was freaked. But I didn’t jump. The hand that touched me—it calmed me. Filled me with a warmth.
Confused, I gazed up at the person. Then blinked, even more confused. It was Kyle Ryan, this artist guy from school. He was dating Rain Tolley—a girl in my pre-calc class. Neither of them had ever spoken to me before in my life. So, I was beyond bewildered that Kyle was, you know, touching me. And that he had this strange, awesome power to make me feel … peaceful.
My mind glazed over as I looked up at him and I was suddenly in a warm, fuzzy place, a trance. It was like his hands were a hypnotic drug—or valium. “Don’t worry,” he said. “When the time comes I’ll be there—I’ll help you.” His eyes looked deep into mine. “Don’t be scared.”
I blinked up at him, “I’m not.”
At that moment, I wasn’t. Really. Not at all. The guy made me feel reassured. And suddenly I knew he wasn’t normal. He was “special.”
He gave me a small smile, like he knew what I was thinking. “I’ll be there,” he said, then started to walk away.
“Where?” I called after him.
He turned back to me. “Doesn’t matter. You won’t remember.” He said it matter-of-factly. “You won’t remember anything I say.”
“What? Why?”
His smile was sympathetic. “You just won’t.”
Just then another hand grabbed my shoulder. It came from behind. This time I jumped. A mile. And when I whirled around and saw who it was, I wasn’t comforted. “Mr. Daniels,” I gasped. I turned away from him, distracted, looking back at … something … or someone … I couldn’t remember. What had I just been doing?
“Miss Logan,” Mr. Daniels redirected my attention back to him, handing me an envelope. I glanced at it and read my name scrawled on the front. “For a conference,” Mr. Daniels said, answering my unasked question.
I would have asked him about the conference—maybe—only just then I noticed Hanna watching me from across the crowded hallway. She looked concerned and like she wanted to tell me something. I shoved the letter into my backpack, and started toward her, but she backed away, like she was going to run. So I quickly pulled out my phone and texted her.
“Hey,” I typed.
Instantly she typed back: “What were you and Kyle talking about?”
What? Who was Kyle? I didn’t have a clue. I texted: “???”
“Kyle Ryan. The boy you were talking to.”
I’d never talked to Kyle Ryan in my entire life. She was seeing things. Weird. “I was talking to creepy Mr. Daniels.”
“I’m not sure about Kyle,” she went on doggedly, making absolutely no sense. Why did she keep talking about Kyle? “He might be able to help you. But he also might be
on Ethan’s side.”
Reading that made my stomach knot and my heart go spastic. “What are you talking about?”
“Kyle Ryan—be careful of him. He’s part angel … but he’s also part demon. Something like that.”
“Kyle Ryan? From school?!”
“He might be able to help because you can both be near him—you and Kenzie—because he’s a little of both—angel and demon. But Jodi, he’s spooky.”
Oh really? Hanna thought someone was spooky?
“WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?”
“Forget it. You won’t remember anyway.”
“Remember what?” I asked as I accidently cleared the conversation I’d just been having on my cell phone. What the …?
***
After school, Sawyer and I were trenched at his computer, scrounging everything we could find about Lindsey’s murder. Well, I was scrounging. Sawyer was trying to get me to stop obsessing. But I couldn’t. I felt responsible for Lindsey’s death. If I had just tried to help her, let Sawyer help her….
Ugh! I desperately wanted to discover that I was wrong—it wasn’t my fault, we couldn’t have prevented her murder. I needed to find that out. Had to. So I could breathe again.
Stuff about Lindsey was on everyone’s social pages. People blogged about her—her death, her life, her saintly-ness, her slutty-ness. Everything. We couldn’t decipher what was rumor and what was real. People were saying she was pregnant. People were saying it was Brody’s baby. People were saying it wasn’t Brody’s baby, that she was seeing another guy. People were saying she wasn’t pregnant at all. People were saying Brody did it. People were saying he didn’t do it, that he was at Lauren Jennings’s party that night. People were saying he left early. People were saying he didn’t leave early, he was in the back room with Tessa Stevens. People were saying Tessa Stevens is a slut.
It went on and on.
The Stranger Inside Page 26
