Chapter 30
The street seemed unusually still as Cal hurried toward Laura’s apartment.
It had started drizzling while he was on the bus, and now it gleamed on the pavement, lending the night shimmers and flashes as Cal made the short walk from the bus stop. The silence made him uneasy, he realized, hunching his shoulders as if he could feel the rain. When Laura’s apartment was within sight, Cal noted that the sign in the window was dark, and the smaller sign hanging off the door had been flipped to the CLOSED side. She was waiting for him.
The moment he entered Laura’s apartment, some of the tension in Cal’s shoulders eased. Maybe it wasn’t the silence that had gotten to him, Cal thought. Maybe it was Cass—she’d been a nervous wreck before he left. She’d tried to hide it, of course, but Cal knew her tells. There was the bangs thing, not to mention how Cass always tapped her heel when she was worried. She also chewed her nails until they were red and raw.
By the time the two of them left for the test, her fingers had been practically bleeding.
“Hi,” Laura said from the kitchen. She stood in front of the sink, her hands submerged in soapy water. Tonight she’d traded in her dramatic dressing gown for waist-high jeans and an oversized football jersey.
“Hey. The usual spot?” Cal asked, pointing his thumb toward the table. He started toward it without waiting for a response. As Cal claimed the same chair as last time, he immediately spotted the drawing Laura had done, resting there on the velvet tablecloth. The guy stared up from the paper with dark, guilty eyes.
Laura raised her eyebrows, taking her hands out of the water to reach for a small hand towel. “Whoa, where’s the fire?”
Oh. Shit. He was being an ass again. Cal released a breath and shook his head, making an effort to clear his mind. “Sorry. Cass has a big test tonight, and I was hoping to be at the house before she gets back. Just in case it doesn’t go well, you know? But I didn’t mean to rush you. Take your time.”
She regarded him with an expression Cal had never seen before. Not from Laura, at least. But then it was gone, too quickly for him to know for sure if he’d really seen it. Without a word, Laura crossed the room and slid onto the other chair, reaching back to braid her hair.
“Cass is lucky to have a brother like you,” she said quietly.
Cal met her gaze, hiding his surprise. It might have been the nicest thing Laura had ever said to him. His eyes flickered between hers, and Cal noticed her oversized pupils. “Thanks.”
She nodded and looked away like something had made her uncomfortable. Her voice became brisk as she said, “We should get started, then, so you’ll be home on time.”
“Okay.” Cal felt like he should say something else, but that strange uncertainty had struck him again. He reached across the table and gently took her hands. Cal felt Laura jump slightly, as if he’d surprised her, too. Then she closed her eyes, and the lines in her expression smoothed.
Cal knew this was his cue to focus. After glancing at the drawing one more time, he swallowed a sigh and closed his eyes, as well. For what felt like the millionth time, he pictured it—the boy, the bridge, the water. Cal remembered all the scents and the sounds. The cherry air freshener hanging from the rear view mirror of the car, a song playing on the radio. He thought of those words he’d heard right before the guy pulled Cass over the edge. I’m sorry.
“I’m not getting anything,” Laura said, breaking Cal’s concentration. He looked at her, but Laura stayed as she was, her lips puckered. Cal had learned to recognize her in-the-spirit-world face. If he started asking questions, Laura might lose her hold on it.
Okay, Cal thought determinedly. If the play wasn’t working, you tried a new one, and the drawing obviously wasn’t cutting it. He needed to make his memories more vivid, more powerful. Cal searched the apartment, hoping to spot something that would spark an idea. His gaze landed on the record player.
And there it was—an idea.
Cal got up from the table. Laura’s music collection was in a stand beside the TV. He started to reach for the first vinyl, but Cal remembered himself at the last second. He forced his arm back down, his hand clenched.
Laura’s long fingers appeared in his line of vision. Her rings gleamed in the lamplight as she began to flip the records for him. Cal scanned each one, his eyes narrow with concentration.
“That one,” he said suddenly.
Laura pulled the sleeve out of the stack. Cal noticed that her movements were slower than usual, and he wondered if part of her was still in the spirit world. Laura’s eyes were open now, but they were distant, as if she were deep in thought. She placed the record onto the platter, then moved the needle. After a moment, “Bad Reputation” floated from the speaker.
Cal spoke without looking up from the glint of the record as it spun. “This is the song that was playing that night.”
He felt Laura’s eyes on him. Cal still wasn’t sure if she should speak, so he spared her from a response. He turned and went back to the table, eating up the distance in a few long-legged strides. Laura slowly followed. The moment she was sitting, Cal reclaimed her hands and closed his eyes. If Laura reacted to his touch again, he couldn’t see it. Her fingers were cool and relaxed inside his.
Okay, Cal thought again. He frowned and put all his focus into the song. The upbeat lyrics were strange in this setting, but Cal ignored the feeling. He let his mind drift back. He saw Cass reach for the volume knob, making this song blast through the car. He saw himself turn it down.
Such a killjoy.
This is nothing compared to what’s waiting for you at home.
Cal knew he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about Cass, but suddenly he was remembering details he’d forgotten. Neon green signs. The click of the blinker. The rest of their conversation played out in the darkness of his eyes, and Cal felt the jolt of the car as it rolled onto the bridge.
There’s someone up there, Cal.
Laura’s voice broke through the memory. “You did it. You strengthened the connection. I can see the thread now,” she said.
Excitement surged through Cal’s veins. He kept going. The song hadn’t ended yet, and Joan Jett’s voice wrapped around him. Cal heard the sound of a car door opening. He felt the pavement beneath his sneakers. Saw the way the boy’s T-shirt flapped against his stomach as Cal ran closer.
“I see him,” Laura murmured. “He’s in a chair. The room is dark, I can’t… wait, the TV is on…”
She jumped again, but this time, it was the violent lurch of terror. The image in Cal’s head vanished. His eyes shot open. “Laura?”
She was still in the spirit world. Cal found himself staring at her pinched, frozen features, and if it weren’t for the subtle rise of Laura’s chest, he’d worry she was trapped. Her grip on his hands was so hard it should’ve hurt. Cal started to say Laura’s name again, but he hesitated. Indecision raged within him. Did she want to be pulled back? What if they never got this chance again? A frustrated curse rose in Cal’s throat. He knew what he had to do—he couldn’t let Laura endanger her life for a vendetta.
“Hey,” Cal started.
“He knows I’m here.” Laura’s voice was a whisper. “He’s looking at me, Cal.”
His hand tightened around hers. Fuck this. “Run. Laura, fucking run. Get out of there!”
“He’s pulling me in, Cal,” she gasped. “I don’t understand how he’s so—”
Laura’s body wrenched to the side, as if someone had struck her or she’d been wounded. Cal leaped forward as she hit the floor, and her chair tipped over beside them. Laura screamed. Her hands pressed to her stomach and she began to writhe. Her eyes were wide open and unseeing, the veins in her neck standing on end.
“What can I do?” Cal asked sharply, holding her shoulders as firmly as he could. “Laura, what can I do?”
She didn’t respond—couldn’t—and Cal curled his body around Laura’s as if it were possible to physically protect her from the pain. His mind raced. He’d taken CPR, but this wasn’t like anything he had been trained for. How could he fight a killer he couldn’t see? Was there a way to break the connection between them?
Seconds later, Laura’s convulsions slowed. Panic seared through Cal. Was he losing her? He started to get up, intending to dive for Laura’s phone to call 9-1-1. An enraged bellow filled Cal’s chest when he remembered that he was fucking dead, and even if he managed to dial the numbers, no one on the other end would hear him.
The pressure in Cal’s chest was on the verge of exploding when Laura’s eyes fluttered. Cal went still, hardly daring to hope. Time slowed as he watched Laura refocus on him. She was still breathing hard, and her throat moved in a painful swallow. Water, she needed water, Cal thought with a rush of relief. He should get her some. But he couldn’t bring himself to let Laura go, and he gazed down at her intensely, terrified the danger hadn’t passed.
She swallowed again, and her breaths became deeper, more even. “I got him. He was slippery, but I got the son of a bitch,” Laura hissed.
Cal’s eyes widened. His fingers dug into her shoulders as his terror abated, and hunger took its place. “Who is he? Where did you find him?”
Her eyes gleamed. When Laura answered, her voice was hoarse from screaming, but there was triumph in it, too. “His name is Ricky Ramirez.”