Jess felt as though she teetered between two worlds, and she didn’t know how to balance. She cleared her throat and pointed upstairs. “My son,” she began. “He was . . .” She trailed off.
Lucy pressed her lips into a thin line. Ebee put her cards facedown and folded her hands in her lap. Jeremy looked out the window. Their silence added to the swirl of emotion that tied her tongue.
She waved the article in the air. “What’s in the shed?”
Lucy’s eyebrows drew together. “I haven’t gone in that shed for years.”
“Why?”
Lucy rose from the table and walked slowly toward Jess. “You need to understand, Jess. He couldn’t come to you on his own. It’s too hard for them to communicate with the ones they left behind.” Lucy closed her eyes. “Painful even.” When she opened her eyes again, Jess stiffened. The flecks of color spun around her pupil. “They come to me for help, and I do what I can.” She patted Jess on the back before returning to her seat at the table.
Ebee reached over and touched Lucy on the arm. “You do good,” she said quietly.
Jess’s eyes darted from Lucy to Ebee, but they stared back at her with unreadable expressions. The ticking of the clock in the foyer grew loud and began to grate in her ears. She stared at the article in her hand. The shed. The boy—she cleared her throat—no, her son had been trying to tell her all along.
Jess tore out of the house. She ran past the library window and through the weed patch. The door of the shed stood open. Dying sunrays lit the inside through cracks in the rusted ceiling, splashing across the yellow hood of the car parked inside.
Bile stung her throat. Her legs weakened, and she gripped the shed to steady herself. The hood curved inward into a crater, and a spiderweb crack ran across the windshield. Oh God, not Lucy. A stabbing sensation in her chest made it difficult to focus. Star’s note. I hope you can forgive her. She’s the loose end. Everything blurred. Jess wiped her hand across her eyes and stumbled down the dirt path to the house.
Lucy and Ebee sat at the table, playing cards in hand and eyeing her expectantly. She gasped for breath, her lungs bursting from her effort to breathe and speak at the same time.
Ebee’s chair scraped against the kitchen floor when she stood. She took Jess by the elbow and led her to the table. “Come now, sit down. How about some tea?”
A warm mug was pressed into her hands. Jess stared into the amber liquid and let the heat seep into her skin, but it couldn’t touch the coldness in her heart. The car that had killed her son was in the shed. Lucy had killed her son.
When they’d thrust Chance into her arms in the delivery room, covered in white paste and streaks of blood, his eyes and lips swollen, she couldn’t think, couldn’t blink, couldn’t utter a single word. He lay with his cheek pressed against her breast, and all she could do was stare. She reached down to stroke the velvet skin of his face, and the contact made him turn his head and stare up at her with wide black eyes.
The nurse who held her hand patted her on the shoulder. What’s his name, sweetheart?
Chance. Jess locked her gaze onto his face. He’s my Chance.
Rage turned the muscles of her face into stone, and she slammed her mug onto the table. Brown water sloshed over the lip and collected in dark pools. “Did you kill my son, Lucy?”
Lucy’s gaze slid away, landing on the folded-up crossword puzzle in front of her. She leaned over, pushed her glasses onto her nose. “A clock,” she read.
Jess’s stomach lurched, and she pounded the table with her fist. “No! No more! You have to answer me. That car in your shed killed my son.” Her shoulders slumped forward, the fire that had fueled her spent. Not Lucy, please, not Lucy. She breathed in. “Tell me. I have to know.”
From behind her came a soft rustling. She looked over her shoulder. The pages of the calendar fluttered wildly up and down, and the walls appeared to shift inward, giving the room an unnatural slant. The overhead light fell into the creases in Lucy’s face, turning her hair blood red. She looked older, frailer, as though her very bones had shrunk. “I can see them now,” she said, her voice a raspy whisper.
Jess’s hands clenched into fists on the table. “See who?”
“The loose ends.”
“Enough!” When she stood, she knocked her chair over. It clattered to the floor.
“Easy there, kiddo,” Ebee said in a low voice.
Jess curled her hands into fists. “What did you do, Lucy?” she asked in a small voice.
Lucy sighed. “All I know is that he doesn’t regret it. Do you understand that?”
Air rushed from her lungs like she’d been punched in the gut. She sat back down in the chair, laid her forehead on the table. “How do you know?” she whispered.
Lucy touched Jess’s arm. “Regret burns. But your son . . .” She paused, cleared her throat. “He’s in shadow and very angry.”
Jess thought of the shed, and a bitter taste flooded her mouth. “Is he angry with you?”
No response. Jess lifted her head. Lucy’s mouth twisted as though she fought whatever she wanted to say.
“We’re here together. Me, Star, Chance, you, and that car.” She pointed toward the back of the house. “All the loose ends.” She breathed through her teeth. “Please just tell me—did you kill my son?”
“No, I didn’t,” she said quietly.
Jess felt a sob catch in her throat. She desperately wanted to believe that Lucy was telling the truth, even as a part of her questioned how much the old woman could remember from that long ago.
Lucy slid her hand into a pocket in her dress and pulled out something small and black and in the shape of a heart. “Take it.” She held it out to her. “It’s always something small at first. A sign that they want to communicate. He began with stones. I think it’s what connects them.”
Jess’s heart thumped loud in her ears. “He gave her one when they first met.”
Lucy’s face tightened. “But I don’t always understand what they want.”
“I think he wants me to know the truth about that car. Can you tell me that, Lucy?”
Lucy’s eyes grew bright blue, the chunks of color spinning. “That’s the right question. It was mine.” A frown deepened her wrinkles into ruts. “But it’s not mine anymore. I gave it away.”
Jess knelt in front of Lucy, feeling a surge of hope rush through her body. “You gave it away?”
“That’s right, I did.” Lucy stared down at her hands. “Sometimes my memories have holes, you know. This one is a big hole, or it’s too close. I think . . .” Her gaze lifted, but now it looked unfocused, confused. “Nine letters, a confirmed habit,” she murmured.
Jeremy spoke for the first time. “Addiction,” he said.
Her skin tingled.
“A six-letter word for an unnatural ending.”
“Murder,” Ebee answered quietly.
The words began to jumble around in her head, puzzle pieces. She waited for them to fall into place, to make a picture she understood.
“Six letters, a clock,” Lucy said, then again, “Six letters, a clock.”
Jess leaned close. “What did you say?” But her heart pounded because she already knew the answer. “Big Ben.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
STAR
There it was. Her bench, caught in the greenish light of a nearby streetlamp. She approached it, her boots dragging across the cement. Once it had been her refuge; now it looked like her coffin.
In the years since her father’s death, at each foster home and every dark night on the street, she had never felt so alone. She’d never had anything to lose before either. It had been a different story in Pine Lake. And here she was, back in her pathetic life, having lost it all.
She huddled on the bench; the cold cement seat felt hard through the fabric of her jeans, and she thought about the old army coat she’d left hanging in the closet. She shivered. Concrete was never warm, especially at night.
Down the street she c
aught sight of a familiar hunched figure in a coat with ragged tails that dragged along the ground. He pushed a small shopping cart with wobbly wheels. It stopped at her bench. Mel. He studied her, his bushy, overgrown eyebrows drawing together in disappointment, his cheeks sucking in and over his toothless gums.
He stuck his hand into a small black garbage bag inside the cart, rummaging around until he found what he wanted—a green wool coat. He held it out to her, the skin of his small hands laced with deep and painful-looking cracks.
“Thank you,” she said.
He nodded—his mouth curling up at the ends, his lips pressed together—and shuffled down the mall until he came to a doorway with a large awning. The cart quieted, and Star watched as Mel spread his own coat across the ground, easing his withered frame onto it until his back pressed against the doorway.
The streetlight pulsated, growing bright before it shut off. They did that, she remembered, turning on and off at random times. She felt exposed in the darkness that followed and quickly crawled inside. But as she tried to find a comfortable position, her thoughts went to the night before she’d left: Shred, his hands, the knife.
Tremors racked her body, and she scrambled out from under the bench. She couldn’t sleep here. A cool wind whipped down from the mountains, rushing over her exposed skin. She slid her arms into the coat, pulled it tight around her, and tried to ignore the musty smell that rose from the wool. She scanned the area. Cones of light illuminated benches and trash cans. She squeezed her shaking hands into fists and began to walk in the direction of the chocolate shop.
When she got closer, her heart sped up, and her eyes searched the area. Empty. She spied another bench, this one made of metal and not nearly as long, but it would do. She crawled underneath and curled into a ball. Maybe she’d wake up to those two girls playing their guitars.
She tried closing her eyes, but they sprang open at the slightest sound. She thought of her bed at Lucy’s. The door that locked. A lump settled in her throat. How was she going to make it alone?
The scrape of shoes on pavement, of a body settling onto the ground beside her head. She peeked out. Soft brown eyes stared back at her, and she gasped, hitting the back of her head so hard that stars pitted her vision. A small hand appeared and flicked something toward her. It landed by her elbow. She inched her fingers across the cool concrete until she felt it. Her breath caught, and she brought it close to her face.
A heart-shaped rock. Small and perfect.
She tightened her palm around the rock, made a pillow with her hands, and laid her head on top.
She awoke to Chance’s voice and the feel of his breath tickling her ear. Star! Her eyes sprang open, and her body turned rigid. A bright light shone under the bench. She covered her face with her hand.
“Star?”
The light shifted, and Officer Ben’s face appeared, peering at her from outside the bench.
“How did you find me?”
“Girl with that skateboard kid said you hung out here.” He shifted on his knees. “Come on out.”
She crawled out and stood. He loomed over her.
“You okay?” he asked softly.
Tears pricked her eyes. “Not really. Are you here because of my note?”
“What note?” He held out a bottle, but she couldn’t see what it was in the dark. He shone the light on it. “Apple juice. Thought you might be thirsty.”
A bead of condensation slipped down the cold glass. Thirst burned her throat. She hadn’t had a sip to drink since the day before in Pine Lake.
He opened the bottle and handed it to her. The sweetness of the juice exploded in her mouth and slid down into her empty stomach. It tasted so good she almost choked. It had been only one night, and she was so hungry and thirsty her stomach ached.
She gulped the rest of the juice, not minding the liquid that dribbled down her chin. Officer Ben cleared his throat, and she wiped a sleeve across her mouth. “Thank you,” she said, and handed the bottle back to him. “How’s Lucy?”
“She’s going to be okay,” he said. “Can I ask you something?”
She flicked her eyes up at him. A nearby streetlight kicked on, and in the blue glow she noticed that he wasn’t in uniform. Instead he wore a plaid shirt over jeans with a ball cap pulled low over his eyes.
Sugar from the juice rushed through her, momentarily buoying her mood. “Yeah.”
“You said you remembered me trying to help your dad. I’m not sure I follow.”
She smiled. “I remember you coming over to our apartment. When my dad dealt, he’d make me hide in the bathroom, but one night I saw you before I went in. I remembered how nice you were to me at the hospital, and I figured you’d come to help my dad.”
“Did you tell your dad that I was a cop?” He craned his neck forward like he was trying to see her more clearly.
The movement made her uneasy, and Star hugged her arms across her chest. “Um, yeah. I did. I thought he already knew.” She wrinkled her forehead. “Why are you looking for me?”
Ben tilted his head to the side, but with the ball cap Star couldn’t see his eyes. “Jess asked me to bring you back,” he said.
A faint fluttering of hope rose in her chest. Did Jess want her after all? She slumped. No, nothing had changed, and she couldn’t go back. Not with Lucy and the car in the shed. She didn’t know why Lucy had that car, and she didn’t want to find out.
“I’m not going back.” She stood tall, but even at her full height, the top of her head barely reached his chest. She pulled at her sleeves and stepped away. “I know what’s in that shed.”
He stared at her until she began to fidget in the silence.
“Tell Jess I’m fine and thanks for trying to help me, but I’m better off on my own.” When she turned to go, his hand gripped her elbow.
“You need to come with me, Star.”
She yanked her arm out of his grasp, and the effort sent him wobbling backward, where he stumbled over the curb behind him. He must be a lousy cop if it was that easy to push him over.
“You have to come with me, Star.” He advanced toward her, his mouth set in a grim line.
“Or what?” The hair on the back of her neck stood on end.
He let his hands fall by his sides. “Or I’ll call social services,” he said in a resigned tone. “And after running away like you did, your next foster home will be something with locked windows and guards.”
She shifted from one foot to the other, legs twitching with an urge to run. He loomed above her, tall and muscular. She’d never outrun him. “Fine. I’ll go with you.” She’d wait for the first opportunity to get away from him and disappear for good. She’d done it before, and she could do it again. And this time she’d get on a bus and never look back.
“Good girl.”
She cringed, his tone making her feel like an obedient puppy.
He rested his big hand at the small of her back, pressing lightly into her spine. The pressure made her lurch forward. He walked her to a white pickup and opened the door with one hand, the other still pressing into her back. She slid into the cab, surprised at the wrappers at her feet and the stale stink of cigarettes clinging to the upholstered seats. When he climbed into the driver’s seat, she caught the dull gleam of his gun poking out from under the hem of his shirt.
“I thought you were off duty,” she said.
He looked down, staring at the gun for a long moment before pulling the hem over the weapon. Without a word he started the engine, and when he pulled forward the truck swerved and nearly hit a parking meter. She grabbed the door handle with both hands to keep from sliding across the seat, looking at Officer Ben through the corner of her eye. He drove with both hands gripping the wheel, shoulders rounded forward.
She turned to her window and stared at the dark and empty streets, part of her relieved that Officer Ben had found her. At least this time she’d make sure she said goodbye to Jeremy.
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
JESS
“Ben,” Jess said again.
Lucy’s body crumpled, her stooped back rounding forward until all Jess saw was the top of her head where glimpses of her white scalp showed through the delicate red strands.
“I understand now,” Lucy said.
“I don’t understand. Star thought she was Ben’s loose end.”
“She is.” A single tear worked its way in and out of the deep creases in Lucy’s cheek. “I thought I had helped Benjamin, but I was too close to see. Mother always said I could be blind when I wanted to be.”
Jess felt her stomach heave, and she squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head back and forth. “He told me he was addicted to pain pills from an old football injury. That he tried to hurt himself.”
Lucy nodded. “The second time was when I found him at the waterfall, and that was . . .” She trailed off, and her eyes shifted to the calendar. It seemed like all of them held their breath. “Eight years ago.”
Jess sat up straight. “The car in the shed is the one he fixed up when he was a kid.”
“That’s right.” Lucy straightened up suddenly. “He’s gone after her.”
Jeremy scrambled to his feet, his eyes wide. “After Star? We have to find her.”
“I’ll stay in case she shows up here,” Ebee offered.
“I’ll drive.” Jeremy hustled out the door.
The pages of the calendar fluttered wildly in the air. “We have to go now,” Lucy said. “We have to find them. Time is running out.”
“Is he going to hurt her?” Jess’s voice cracked as she hurried to keep up with Lucy.
Jeremy helped Lucy into the van, and Jess climbed into the back, feeling panic settle deep inside, writhing and twisting in her stomach. She bit her lip so hard it bled.
Jess saw Jeremy’s eyebrows scrunch together. “Where to?”
Lucy pointed a curved finger ahead of them. “Just drive, Jeremy. He’ll help us.”
“But I thought Ben—”
“Chance,” Jess said in a low voice. “My son. He’ll help us.”
As the van lurched forward, Jess clutched at her chest.
The Secrets of Lost Stones Page 28
