Glancing at my surroundings, I found the bed on the other side of the room empty, giving me the space to myself. A small clock on a little table beside me read two AM.
A machine beeped beside my bed, and I glanced down to find an IV attached to the inside of one arm. Reaching up, my fingers encountered a plastic oxygen cannula resting inside my nostrils and looping behind my ears. Sighing, I fell back against the pillows and closed my eyes for a moment. While I was eager to try to figure out what the things I’d seen while in the lake meant, I couldn’t think past the gratitude I felt at being alive. I didn’t even have it in me to shake Tate awake and say ‘I told you so,’ because I’d been right all along about that damn lake. But then, that intuition was a gift I seemed to have—one shared by me, my dad, Tate, and his dad. We all saw ghosts, and couldn’t seem to figure out how we could when others seemed incapable.
I had no doubt in my mind that the woman I’d seen had been a ghost. But what had happened to her? Why had she attacked me? The ghosts that had once haunted Baldwin House had chased Tate and me, and sometimes messed with the electricity or threw things around when they got angry. But they’d never seemed able to hurt us, and closed doors kept them out. My dad had seen ghosts around Wellhollow Springs for years, and not once had one tried to harm him.
This ghost had somehow attacked me, leaving me baffled. What had been the point? What did she want?
Glancing over at Tate, I decided I really should move his head so he didn’t wake up with a crick in his neck. Leaning over, I gently nudged him, trying to settle him into a more comfortable position.
Unfortunately, he’d always been a light sleeper. He came awake with a sharp inhale, jerking upright in his chair. He relaxed when he turned and found me sitting up in bed.
Coming to his feet, he approached the bed and reached out to run a hand over my bedraggled hair. I didn’t even want to think about what the dunking in the lake had done to my curls.
“Hey,” he murmured. “How do you feel?”
“So tired,” I confessed. “And my chest still hurts.”
Tate nodded. “The doctor said it might for a few days. You took in a lot of water … but it all came up when I did CPR on you. They did tests and scans, and everything looks good. They wanted to keep you overnight just in case, for observation, but you should be able to leave tomorrow.”
I nodded, relieved I apparently hadn’t been in the water long enough to cause any lasting damage to my body.
“You didn’t call my dad, did you?” I asked.
He shook his head. “I didn’t want to do that until you told me what you wanted to do.”
I nodded. “Good call. I don’t want him to worry, so let’s just keep this between us for now.”
Leaning down to kiss me, he sighed, resting his forehead against mine. “You scared the crap out of me.”
I snorted sarcastically. “Please. Until you’ve watched the person you love get beat half to death with a cinderblock, you don’t know fear.”
He chuckled. “Lucky for you, I’ve got a hard head.”
It was easy for me to laugh with him over the night Lincoln Burns had almost killed him, but at the time, it hadn’t been funny. It had been terrifying. Looking back on it now made me glad it was far behind us. Things were good—apart from the near drowning and the pressing concern of an unexpected pregnancy.
“What did you see?” he asked, turning his body to perch on the edge of the bed beside me—careful not to jostle my IV.
Lying back against the pillow, I shivered, remembering the ghostly face. “A ghost … a woman who looked a lot like Camila and Isabella did—white face, blue lips, black eyes. I also saw a necklace … a silver chain with a half-moon pendant hanging from it. A boy’s face … well, the bottom part of his face … he was smiling. And a red pickup truck.”
Tate frowned. “Any of that stuff make sense to you? Did the woman look familiar?”
I shook my head. “It was like a slideshow of images moving too fast for me to really grab on to anything. I’ve never seen the woman before in my life. It must be the lake. Something happened to her there, and she needs someone to figure out what.”
He groaned, rolling his eyes. “Not another one. Bell, this ghost almost killed you.”
“We don’t know that,” I argued. “She never actually touched me. It was like a tree root or something wrapped around my foot. Maybe her presence in the lake has made it hostile. The rise in drownings in the lake makes sense now.”
“I know I’m not going to be able to talk you out of anything—” he began.
“Darn right you’re not,” I muttered.
“But,” he continued. “Baldwin House and the ghost on campus were one thing … they directly affected us. Solving their mysteries allowed us to move on with our lives. But Lake Blackshear is hours away from Atlanta, and even further from Wellhollow Springs. This isn’t our business.”
I scowled. “How can you say that? Something terrible happened to that woman—you know the ghosts only linger when there’s unfinished business, and horrific deaths are usually at the top of the list. How can we pretend not to know about it and just go home like it never happened?”
“Easy,” he countered. “By reminding ourselves we can’t help everyone. Bell, you might be pregnant, we have so much waiting for us back home, and no matter what, an amazing life ahead of us. I’m not going to risk losing you over this. Not when it’s already begun by you almost being drowned.”
“Do you remember Mrs. Vasquez?” I asked, determined not to let this go.
“Camila and Isabella’s mother?” he asked. “Of course.”
“That poor woman walked around for two years thinking her youngest daughter had killed herself, and that her eldest had died in a car accident,” I reminded him. “Can you imagine the closure it gave her to know the truth? That Camila hadn’t actually lost her mind, and had been right about Isabella’s murder all along? That ghost from the lake—whoever she is—has a family somewhere. Maybe even a boyfriend like you who loved her. They might not know what happened to her, and it’s killing them more and more every day. We can’t turn our backs on this.”
I fell silent, not realizing I’d started crying. I wasn’t sure if it was the near-death experience or the idea of someone’s family not knowing what had happened to them that did it. All I knew was I wouldn’t feel right packing up to go home—not when it seemed we had been given the gift to see these ghosts for a reason.
Sighing, Tate pulled me into his arms, kissing the top of my head. “God, I hate it when you’re right.”
I chuckled, swiping at my damp cheek. “When are you going to learn that I’m never wrong?”
Pulling back the blankets, Tate kicked off his shoes and worked his way into the bed with me, rearranging my IV, then pulling me against him so my head rested against his chest.
“You are definitely right most of the time,” he agreed. “After all, you were willing to see the best in me when no one else would. I’d say that turned out pretty okay for both of us.”
Smiling, I nestled closer against his side and closed my eyes. “More than pretty okay.”
The moonlight shining through the windshield of the truck illuminated the face of the boy sitting in the driver’s seat. My belly quivered whenever he looked at me … and I still couldn’t believe someone like him would be interested in me. I’d liked him for so long, wishing he would notice me. Now, here we sat after a fantastic date, parked near the marina with Lake Blackshear stretching out before us in an undulating, black sheet reflecting the white glow of the moon. My palms began to sweat as he leaned over the center console, one hand braced on the steering wheel, the other reaching out to touch my face.
I couldn’t believe this was happening. He was going to kiss me!
I closed my eyes and tilted my head, holding my breath and waiting. His lips found mine, warm and soft, gently exploring. It was incredible.
We kissed for what felt like hours—soft, slow ki
sses that began to grow into something more. Before long, we were clinging to each other, panting and sighing—his hand running through my hair and down my back. I didn’t think I ever wanted it to end.
Until he reached over my seat and yanked on the lever, causing it to recline. I gasped as I fell back, my head bouncing off the headrest.
“Wait,” I managed before he leaned over me and kissed me again—harder this time. So hard I could barely breathe past the pressure of his face against mine.
His hand slipped beneath my shirt, and he ignored my hand attempting to swat his away. Panic flared in my chest as I realized what was happening. I didn’t want this—not this way, on the first date in the front seat of his truck. Not with him trying to climb over the center console to get on top of me.
Turning my head and dislodging his lips from mine, I sucked in a breath and cried out, “Stop!”
It didn’t seem to matter how loud I yelled, he simply kept pulling at my clothes, murmuring in my ear that I needed to relax. The panic grew until I became terrified of what might happen if I didn’t fight. Doing my best to twist my body and angle away from him, I swung my arms, managing to land a slap against his cheek and a knee between his legs.
Groaning and cursing, he rolled back into the driver’s seat, clutching his brutalized man parts. I fought to catch my breath as I reached for the door handle, desperate to get away from him. Before I could get it open, he reached out and grasped a handful of my hair. His fist tightened around the strands and he propelled me forward, slamming my head against the dashboard.
He said something, but I couldn’t hear him past the ringing in my ears from the blow. My vision swam and blood trickled down my temple, warm and sticky. Another shove against the dashboard, and the world began to spin and tilt.
I slumped forward and rested against the dash, my breathing shallow and my limbs sapped of strength as more blood began to pour from the wound in my head. The sound of a door opening and closing echoed, then the warmth of the summer night reached out to me along with a pair of hands.
By then, I’d grown so weak I couldn’t even cry out when my back hit the ground, or even open my eyes. I felt myself being dragged. A strong hand wrapped around my ankle pulled me, and the sting of branches and stones scraping my limbs and back was nothing compared to the throbbing agony in my head.
Prying my eyes open, I glanced up and noticed the sky moving above me, the stars like white splotches against the dark night. I glanced down and saw him, pulling my ankle, dragging me toward the lake.
I wanted to kick and scream, to cry and beg him not to do this. To tell him I couldn’t swim.
But my mouth couldn’t seem to move, sounds wouldn’t come out of my throat, and I had no strength left. I could only suck one deep breath in my mouth just before I was plunged into the depths.
***
My entire body jolted as if I’d been struck by a bolt of lightning, and a cacophony of noise came screaming at me in a rush. A frantic beeping mixed with the sound of pounding feet. Several voices jumbling over and around each other, one of them more familiar than the others.
“Bell! Bell, come on, baby … don’t do this to me!”
Tate.
Another voice, ringing out clearer than his, closer.
“Clear!”
Another jolt shook me, and the wild beeping slowed to a steady pace, blipping every few seconds.
The third voice came, sharp and commanding. “Sir, you’re going to need to clear the room.”
“I’m not leaving her!”
“Sir, please calm down…”
Something bubbled up in my throat and filled my mouth, causing me to sputter and choke as the bright light of my hospital room flooded my vision. The annoying whining sound ceased, replaced by a steady blip. Something wet splashed my chin and neck, and a pair of hands grasped my shoulder and turned me to my side as I continued to spew what I realized now must be water.
As the coughing abated, the voices hushed, and I rolled onto my back to find Tate, a doctor, and handful of nurses staring at me as if they’d just seen a ghost. Tate’s eyes brimmed with tears, and he looked like someone had just told him his dog died.
“Welcome back, Ms. McGuire,” murmured the doctor—a tall, slender man with short gray hair wearing a lab coat. “I’m Doctor Kearney.”
I frowned at him as he flashed a penlight into first one of my eyes, then the other. “What’s going on?”
“You gave us a bit of scare there,” he replied, turning off the light and urging me to sit up.
Placing the tips of a stethoscope into his ears, he pressed the end of it into the opening of my hospital gown against my back. Behind him, a nurse replaced the paddles on a defibrillator, while another scribbled hasty notes in my chart.
“Deep breaths,” he commanded in that soothing tone doctors use on their patients. “Very good.”
“A scare,” I said between the deep breaths. “What kind of scare?”
“You went into what we call tachycardia,” he replied. “Which is when the heart beats much faster than normal when in rest. We gave you a little shock to bring you back to normal.”
I wrinkled my brow and tried to make sense of what he was saying, while my head still reeled from what I’d just experienced while asleep.
“Your lungs sound clear, which is odd,” the doctor said, standing up straight and pulling the stethoscope to hang around his neck. “I’m going to have you sent up for more scans. The ones we did last night showed that your lungs were clear of any water you might have taken in, but just now, when we revived you, quite a bit of fluid came up. We need to determine the cause of that.”
Water coming up out of my mouth after a dream like that couldn’t be a coincidence, but it wasn’t as if I could explain that to the doctor.
“Does this mean I can’t leave?” I asked.
I was already so over this hospital thing. Plus, I knew that what had just happened to me had something to do with the ghost in the lake. I needed the doctor and nurses gone so I could tell Tate what I’d dreamed.
“Unfortunately, we need to keep you a bit longer for observation,” Doctor Kearney replied. “Especially after what happened. Better safe than sorry. Now, before we take you up for tests, I need to know if you’re pregnant or nursing.”
Exchanging a glance with Tate, I cleared my throat. “There’s a chance I might be pregnant. I haven’t had a chance to take a test yet.”
Nodding, the doctor turned to the nurse writing notes in my chart. “Let’s order a blood test for possible pregnancy.”
“Are the scans safe if she’s pregnant?” Tate asked, brow wrinkled in concern. “They won’t hurt the baby, will they?”
“We’ll be doing a MRI, as x-ray has a slight risk of exposing the fetus to radiation,” he replied. “The MRI will take longer, but it is safer for the baby and will still allow us to get a look at your lungs. Don’t worry, Ms. McGuire, we’ll take good care of you and get you out of here as soon as we can. Okay?”
Nodding again, I reached up to my chest. Beneath my damp hospital gown, my heart beat steadily, as it always did. It brought me comfort, the familiar rhythm.
The doctor patted Tate’s shoulder as if to comfort him before leaving, murmuring instructions to one of the nurses. Sinking down into a chair near the door, Tate stood staring at me with unblinking eyes—as if he feared that looking away for a second would risk me coding again.
I tried to give him an encouraging smile, but it died on my lips. This made twice within a twenty-four-hour period that I’d almost died over something to do with this ghost. Before, when we’d tried to solve the mystery of Baldwin House, not once had we been in any danger because of the ghosts. Our town’s corrupt mayor and sheriff presented more danger than the specters of Isabella and Camila had. This was something I didn’t know how to handle.
Talking to Tate about my dream would have to wait, I soon learned. First, I was changed into a clean, dry hospital gown, before suffering a t
rip to another floor for several scans of my chest—which seemed to take hours. Then, it was back to my room where vials of my blood were taken—one to be used for the dreaded pregnancy test.
Just when it seemed we might get a moment alone to talk about what had happened, Mia and Brooke arrived to check up on me. They entered my room just as the man who’d taken my blood was leaving.
“Are you okay?” Mia asked, coming to my bedside, her face a mask of concern. “Tate brought you back to the cabin last night to call the ambulance. I wanted to come, but they would only let one person ride to the hospital with you. I’ve been worried sick!”
“I’m fine,” I said. “Hopefully, they’ll let me leave after they finish running these tests.”
“How are you holding up?” Brooke asked Tate.
I scowled, realizing she had barely spared me a glance since coming into the room.
“I’m fine, thanks for asking,” I snapped. Petty jealousy wasn’t my thing, but my nerves were frazzled after two near-death experiences.
Tate flushed red like he always did when annoyed. “I’m good as long as she’s okay.”
Brooke, at least, had the grace to look embarrassed. “Of course, we’re all glad you’re okay, Bellamy.”
I pursed my lips and shifted my gaze away from the girl before I was tempted to get out of my bed and shove her into the hall.
“Look, I’m glad you guys came by, but Bell’s been getting poked and prodded all morning, and I’m sure she’s tired,” Tate said, a clear hint in his tone.
“Of course,” Mia said. “We’ll go. Let us know when they decide to release her.”
Tate nodded in response, and I waved as Mia collected Brooke and left. For a long while after the door closed, he simply stood beside it, staring at me. In his eyes, I saw all the fear and worry he’d experienced since I’d been dragged into that lake last night.
“Come over here,” I murmured, patting the bed beside me.
Bellamy and the Haunting Page 3
