CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
T
he moonlight cast a silvery sheen across the second floor. It left Manuel and me terribly exposed, and regret landed almost immediately.
Why had I dragged us up here? Where could we hide from Ben’s dad? According to Manuel, he wouldn’t even bother searching the first floor.
“Should we climb another?” I asked, breathless from the rush of blood flowing through my veins.
Manuel shook his head. “If we keep going up, we’ll box ourselves in further. At least if we’re here and get cornered, we can choose between facing him and jumping. Another level up, and our odds of surviving uninjured drop.”
My eyes widened at the idea of jumping from the second story. “We just have to survive long enough for Veritas to show up.”
“Oh shit!”
“Shh,” I hissed.
“Sorry,” he murmured, digging around in his pocket. “I have my phone. We could call him from mine and tell him where we are. It’ll save time if they don’t have to search through the vehicles and guess—why are you shaking your head like that?”
I pulled my hair. “Oh God, we’re going to die because I don’t have someone’s number memorized.”
“No, no,” Manuel soothed, pulling me into a hug.
“It’s okay. Not your fault. That just makes you the same as any other teenager these days—present company included.
Think of it this way. They know who I am, and they can find my number easily enough.
When they see the crash, they’ll switch to either tracking mine or even the chief’s. Either way, we win. They’ll find us.”
“Yes, okay. Of course. You’re right.” I clung to him, soaking in his warmth. “I’m so sorry I dragged you into all of this.”
“About that… Why did you bring us here? How do you know this place?”
A desperate edge colored his words, though he did his best to hide it. My brows drew down in confusion. “This is where I sleepwalked to.”
His nose scrunched as he recalled the story I’d dumped on him at his house. “Before you were arrested?”
“Yes, and I keep having dreams about it. For the life of me, maybe quite literally, I don’t know why. I think it’s connected to… well, to your mom’s fiancé.”
“George again?” He shook his head, beginning to pace before stopping himself. “We need to sit down if we survive this and have a nice long chat, because it feels like there are still major things you’re keeping from everyone, including your pet FBI agent.”
“Stop it. He’s not my—”
“You have his contact info programmed into your phone,” Manuel declared dryly, moving us around the other side of the stairwell, the only semblance of a wall on this entire floor.
“Right now, he’s the only person I can trust to stand his ground against the local cops.” I paused. “My watch!” I clicked the screen on, watching it light up.
My hopes soared for half a second before I remembered that I’d halted syncing it to my phone after the fight with my mom.
It’d helped me on Friday since she didn’t know about the attack that catapulted me into the firmly believing in ghosts camp.
My lowest temperature reading yet, cold enough to frost the glass interface on the display, and I’d thanked fate for the timing of setting it into airplane mode to avoid alerting my overprotective mom.
Not even two days later, my atrocious luck reared its ugly head again.
Veritas’s number wouldn’t be saved in the watch because it hadn’t connected to the cloud since then.
I wanted to punch fate in the face.
“No go?” Manuel guessed.
“No.”
He glanced around, crab walking to the edge to peek over. “So, to recap, Ben’s dad hates you. He thinks you killed his son.”
And Manuel’s future stepdad also wanted to kill me. What was it with me and dads? “And he hit me so hard during the interrogation that it kind of did kill me a few times, depending on how you look at it.”
“Wait, you didn’t tell me that!” he hissed.
I frowned. “Yes, I did.”
“You said he sent you to the hospital, not that it flatlined you—wait, was he the reason you needed brain surgery?”
“Quiet,” I shushed, searching for any suspicious sounds.
Manuel lowered his voice but still hissed, “How is that man not in prison? You said ‘during the interrogation.’ Was it recorded? They don’t conduct those solo.”
“Oh, there were witnesses—a whole department full of witnesses. Even lawyers were present. They made it all go away somehow.”
Manuel released a succinct and heartfelt, “Fuck.”
“Join the club. In hindsight, I think a ghost softened the chief’s blow. There was a weird white flash, and I could have sworn Ben was in the room with us.”
Manuel leaned over the edge again, biting his lip.
“It’s too quiet. I don’t like it.” He glanced at the wall at our backs.
“And I don’t like being this close to the stairwell.
It’s the only wall and the first place he’ll check.
” His hand sought mine. “Come on. We’ll hide behind one of the concrete pillars.
It’s less obvious, and he’ll have to move slowly to check them all.
Pierce might even keep going upstairs if he doesn’t spot us right away. ”
I followed, glancing over my shoulder.
Manuel tightened his grip. “So a ghost brought you here and told you we needed to head up, I’m assuming. What’s that… person telling you now?”
“Nothing,” I whispered.
We didn’t fit behind a single column, so we split up, hiding near the edge of the outer wall, but far enough in to avoid detection from the ground.
“Well, that’s super helpful,” Manuel retorted.
“Welcome to my existence. Don’t hold your breath for cookies.”
Silence ensued, neither of us knowing what to say. Every small sound startled me. The suspense was agony.
With my house swallowed up by the woods, I’d grown up hearing the natural sounds of the forest at all times of the day, including when the moon stepped out to claim its time to shine. None of those—not the crickets chirping, the owls hooting, or the frogs humming—were present.
It sent chills up my spine.
Willa.
I straightened, feeling the action pull Manuel’s attention to me.
Willa, the voice was so faint that it was hard to tell if I’d heard my name or felt the intention.
My ghost friend wanted to chat, but about what?
Manuel hunched down, trying to whisper across the distance. “Hey, is something happening?”
Willa! The screech vibrated like a gong through my soul, full of warning. My breath escaped in harsh gasps while I recovered from the assault on my senses.
Manuel took two steps my way, only for a low, dangerous command to bring him to a halt.
“Don’t move.”
My stomach bottomed out. Pierce.
He found us.
Manuel glanced in the chief’s direction, slowly raising his hands above his head. “I’m not moving.” He angled his body more, facing Ben’s dad fully. “I don’t know where Willa is. We split up once we hit the stairs.”
Pierce laughed, an ugly, awful sound. “Oh, I know you’re lying, boy. She isn’t far from here. In fact, I bet she’s close enough to hear me. Want to test that theory?”
“Not really—” Manuel’s flippant answer was cut off by the crack of a gunshot ripping through the air.
I clamped a hand over my mouth to hide the screams bubbling up. Tears spilled and dripped to the fingers there as I shook.
Manuel, his voice a little shaky, doubled down. “She’s not—”
Another deafening report of a bullet rocketed through space and drowned out his response.
“The next one goes in your new boy toy here, Willa Walker,” Pierce growled, addressing me directly.
With a shallow, quick breath, I took the plunge and stepped out from behind the pillar. “Don’t shoot him! Please. He has nothing to do with this.”
Pierce scoffed. His gun, a black piece that gleamed in the silver light, didn’t waver. The scent of sulfur lingered, a reminder of the very real threat.
Goosebumps trailed along my arms, an almost there brush of skin. I took another step, but Pierce cut that short before I could reach him.
“Don’t move. I’ll shoot him. You know I will!” Ben’s dad bellowed. The scariest part was how steady his aim was despite all the angry energy he packed into each word.
And why not? As a trained officer of the law, this was far from his first trip around the block. Had he killed someone with that gun before?
The thought terrified me.
“I’m not moving,” I assured him hurriedly. “Look, I’m staying right here.”
Pierce scowled. So many of his features matched Ben’s, but I detected none of my boyfriend in him.
“Don’t pacify me like I’m some raging psycho on the edge of breaking.
I’ve been with the force longer than you’ve been alive.
I wrote the book on de-escalation techniques, you patronizing brat!
” His voice boomed almost as loudly as the gun, echoing around the open level and humming through metal I-beams. “If you tell me to fucking calm down, I’ll shoot him just on goddamned principle. ”
Right, but he wasn’t a psychopath on the verge of losing control. That made total sense.
“Okay, I won’t. What do you want?” I asked.
Manuel kept sparing glances in my direction, but I avoided catching his gaze. If I ignored him enough, maybe he’d fade into the background. It was a wishful theory anyway.
Pierce took a step forward, his face burning red. “What do you mean, what do I want?”
I spread my arms apart. “You have me here. Don’t you want to kill me?”
Manuel grunted in protest, and he actually moved despite the warning not to.
So swiftly that my reaction time only kicked in after the crack of the bullet finished echoing, Pierce readjusted his aim and shot at Manuel.
“No!” I cried, rushing forward in an attempt to catch him as he fell to the ground. His weight couldn’t be stopped, but we hit the floor together, my body at least cushioning his fall. “No, no, no, no, no. You can’t die too. No. Manuel? Manuel, look at me.”
He leaned on me as I knelt beside him, keeping him upright. I searched him for blood.
Red bloomed on his jacket… on the arm.
“Oh, stop your fucking theatrics. I clipped him,” Pierce mocked.
My fingers came away red as I explored the wound.