Ashes to Ashes (25 page)

What the hell?

Shep starts going absolutely nutso. The dog's so old, he barely has the energy to wag his tail, but suddenly he's yanking me forward so hard I have to use both hands to hold on to his
leash. I let him pull me toward the truck. Over his barks I call Mary's name.

Reeve keeps his eyes closed. I don't think he can hear me over the blaring music. But Mary hears me. She suddenly turns her head and meets my eyes. I'm up to the truck now, my hand on the door handle. And just as I pull it open, she disappears.

I swear to God, she just fucking disappears!

Shep lets out one more bark. And then he quiets down and sits next to my feet.

Reeve's eyes fly open, startled. He quickly shuts off his radio.

“Jeez, Kat!”

I stare at him. Did he not just see Mary sitting freaking next to him? “What? What the hell is going on?” I look all around me, over my shoulders.

“Nothing. I'm just trying to be alone.”

Alone?

But Mary . . .

Maybe I'm dreaming? I've had so many weird dreams about her lately.

Reeve cracks open a new beer, tips it to his lips, and chugs it down in about four gulps.

“Reeve.” Damn. What the hell is going on here? Shep is amped up, sniffing around and growling. I let Shep up into the truck, climb in, and lock the door. “I . . . need to talk to you.”

Reeve gives me a sour look. “Dude, I just want to drink. I don't want to talk.”

“You've got to stop this. I mean, come on. You're destroying yourself!”

I figure he'll call me out for being dramatic, but instead he says, “There's nothing left to destroy. It's over.” Reeve throws his empty bottle into the woods, and it shatters off a tree. He pops open another beer, turns to me, and says bitterly, “All thanks to Alex. He's obsessed with her. That's why he ratted me out.”

Reeve lifts the bottle to his lips, but this time I grab his arm and stop him. “For cheating on Lillia?”

Reeve stares at me. “What? I never cheated on Lillia. Are you crazy? He's the one who told everyone about what happened in seventh grade.” He looks up at me, waiting for me to say something. “I know you've heard about how I bullied that girl until she freaking killed herself, so don't pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about.”

I can hear my heart pounding. “Who cares what those dummies say? Rennie made up lies about me for freaking years, remember? Yeah, it was shitty what you did, but it's not like the girl died. It was a suicide
attempt
.”

“She did die.”

“No, she didn't.”

Reeve punches the steering wheel. “I don't know why you're
arguing with me about this, Kat! I'm telling you she died, okay! She freaking died because I was an asshole! I can't blame everyone at school for thinking I'm a big piece of shit, because I clearly am.”

I can barely breathe.

“What was this girl's name?”

“Elizabeth Zane.” He chokes on the words. “I used to call her Big Easy.” He looks at me and blinks a few times as his eyes fill with tears. “Get it? Big
E
-
Z
. Aren't I so fucking clever?”

Holy shit. There's no way. No fucking way. “What did she look like?”

“Blond hair. Heavy.”

That sounds like Mary, back before she lost the weight. And she did say Reeve used to call her Big Easy.

“Are you sure she's dead?” I whisper. “I mean, are you one hundred percent positive?”

Reeve looks at me like I've lost my mind.

Maybe I have. Mary is . . . dead?

No. I mean, that's impossible.

But then I think about the occult books I took from Mary's house. A bunch of them were dog-eared on the pages that talked about communicating with spirits, spirits who think they are still alive.

I can't see; I can't hear; I can't breathe. I feel for the door handle and tumble out of the truck.

“Wait, where are you going?” Reeve asks.

“I—I—I need a ride. And you're too drunk to drive me.” I walk around to Reeve's side and pull him out of the driver's seat.

“What? Come on, dude.”

He's got a few more beers left in the truck. I dump them all out and say, “Just shut up and pass out.”

There's only one person who can tell me, for sure, what the hell is going on with Mary. I take out my phone and look up directions to Greenbriar Sanitarium.

“D
O YOU THINK WE MADE
the right call with this font?” I ask. I'm at Alex's, mounting on an easel the picture of Rennie we had blown up. I picked up the picture of Rennie from the copy shop and brought it right over so we could see how it looked. It's her senior photo, and at the top it reads
Rennie Holtz, Prom Queen In Memoriam
in a scripty Edwardian font. “Should we have gone super clean, like, minimalist?”

Alex looks up from untangling twinkle lights. His mom had a bunch left over from his uncle Tim's wedding, and the guys on prom committee are going to string them up all over the
backyard tomorrow morning. “Nah. Rennie's always liked bling. The fancy font was the right choice.”

“I hope so,” I say. Prom queen was Rennie's dream. I want it to be just right. After all, homecoming should have been hers.

“Don't worry, it looks great,” Alex tells me. “It's exactly what she would have wanted.” Like always, his words have a way of setting me at ease. Which is a feat these days. I hate being at school, seeing Reeve fall apart. I have such crazy anxiety that he's going to say or do something he won't be able to take back. Make some kind of scene, like he did at the sports banquet.

Lately it's been good between us. Almost like old times. I know I don't have to say anything, but I blurt out, “This year's been crazy, but the one thing I'm grateful for is that you and I can be friends again. I really missed you, Lindy.” Alex looks taken aback. Before he can say anything, I say, “Wait. I know I haven't been a good friend to you. I took your friendship for granted, and I led you on because I liked the way you made me feel. You made me feel—so special . . . and I didn't want that to end. But it was wrong. And I'm sorry, Alex. I'm so sorry.” I hold my breath, waiting for him to answer.

“It means a lot that you'd say that.”

“I mean it.”

“So, then, apology accepted.”

I stare at him. “Just like that?”

“Yeah. We're cool, Lil. I mean, we've been friends for a long time. That counts for something. It does to me, anyway.”

“To me, too.” I lean over and give him the biggest hug I can. Then Alex goes back to the twinkle lights and I say suddenly, “Hey, what do you think about us going to prom together? I don't have a date, and you don't have a date, and you know our moms are going to be all about us getting pictures together either way. You don't even have to buy me a corsage!” Alex takes so long to answer that I add, “As friends, of course.”

At last Alex says, “As friends. Sure. But don't worry, I'll still get you a corsage.”

I beam. I feel lighter already. “Then I'll get you a boutonniere.”

A
BOUT AN HOUR LATER I
pull up through the wrought-iron gates. The place is a huge brick mansion from another time, with beautifully manicured gardens. It could be a spa, if not for the bars on the windows.

Reeve passed out cold before we even pulled onto the ferry, and he's been snoring ever since with Shep in his lap. I park in one of the visitor spots and walk quickly up through the front door.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes. I'm here to see my aunt. Her name is Bette Zane.”

“You mean Elizabeth Zane?”

“Um, yes. Sorry.”

I sign in as Mary Zane, and then I'm pointed down a long hallway. It takes all my self-control not to run down there as fast as I can.

As beautiful and tony as this place looked from the outside, the inside looks exactly like a hospital. White walls, beeping machines, sterile.

The hallway ends at a large room with a glass ceiling. It could have been a greenhouse or something back in the day, and it's filled with sunlight. It's now a rec room, and patients here are quietly going about their business—a few are watching a television in the corner, one is working on a puzzle, three are playing cards. One lady is just staring off into space like she's catatonic, but then she catches me looking at her, and she glares.

I see two nurses who are manning a pill cart look at me with suspicion and share a whisper. Probably thinking if I'm here to see someone, why am I just staring around, casing the joint? Shit.

And then, to my right, I see a woman painting at an easel.

A painting of a lighthouse.

It looks exactly like the ones in Mary's house. Except it's blurry. Unfocused.

I race over to her side. “Um, excuse me. Elizabeth?” She
doesn't even blink. I lay a hand on her arm. “Bette?”

She turns and looks at me, confused. Not in the
Oh! Why, I wasn't expecting company!
way. In the
I'm hopped up on so many drugs, I can't see straight
way. Who even knows if she'll be able to tell me what I need to know.

Her hair is almost entirely gray, and the ends zap out, fried and dead, like she hasn't gotten a haircut in a long time. Years, I bet. She's thin, almost sickly-looking. She's got on a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt that are two sizes too big. She's got the same pale complexion as Mary, and the same little nose.

“I'm sorry to bother you, but can I ask you a couple of questions?” That's all I say because I don't know whether I should call her Mary or Elizabeth or Big Easy.

She turns back to the canvas and smacks the brush against it.

“I'm hoping you can tell me what happened to your niece.”

A shock of panic bolts through her. Her paintbrush tumbles handle over tip, until it hits the floor with a splat of red. Aunt Bette grabs me and tries desperately to make her eyes focus on mine. “Why? What happened to Mary? Did she hurt someone?”

I shrink back and try to wriggle my arm out of her grip, but she won't let go. “No. I don't know.” Panicked, I start looking around for help. What the hell was I thinking coming to a damn mental asylum? They don't lock people up for nothing!

“She's here because of that boy. She won't let him go. She
won't ever let him go.” The hairs stand up on the back of my neck. Reeve. “But you've seen her too?”

“Yes . . . I . . . We're friends.”

The next thing I know, Aunt Bette is dragging me out of the room, her bony fingers digging into my skin. “You have to tell them! My sister, she made them think I was crazy! She didn't believe me that Mary was back from the dead!” She's making such a ruckus that everyone's turning to stare.

My knees buckle. “Mary's really dead?”

But before Aunt Bette can answer me, a voice calls out my name. “Kat! Kat, what the hell? How long are you going to make me wait out there?”

Aunt Bette turns her head. It takes a second for her to drop her hold on me and lunge at Reeve, snarling like a wild animal. Before she can get to him, a bunch of people restrain Aunt Bette. She's not making any sense. She's foaming at the mouth. And Reeve, he's as white as a ghost.

I grab his hand, and together we run down the hallway.

“What the hell was that all about?” He's still drunk. I can tell.

“Family business,” I pant.

*  *  *

After I drop Reeve off at his house, I walk Shep home then jump into my car and head over to the Jar Island cemetery. It's dusk, and the groundskeeper will be locking the gates soon,
but I make zigzags down the lines of gravestones until I find it. The Zane obelisk.

I crouch down and touch the cold marble slab.

ELIZABETH MARY DONOVAN ZANE

I glance around. Is she here right now, watching me?

I take out my phone, snap a photo of the grave, and send it to Lillia along with a text.

I'll be outside your house in ten minutes.

I
'M IN
R
EEVE'S ROOM WHEN
he comes stumbling home. I watch from behind a curtain as Kat parks his truck in the driveway, helps him up the stairs, and then runs down the street with her dog.

She knows my secret. I didn't mean for her to see me. Even though it was only for a second, it made me feel . . . naked. Exposed.

But it doesn't matter.

Reeve comes in and passes out cold on his bed. I put my hand to his forehead, enter his dream.

He's already at the lighthouse. He's there, ready to jump.

I see that, and then I lift my hand. I let him have a bad dream all on his own. And when he wakes up, that's when it will happen. I can feel it.

W
E'RE OVER AT
A
LEX'S WATCHING
a movie—Ash, Derek, PJ, and the junior girl he's been dating. We hang out here a lot lately. I don't think any of us want to risk getting into it with Reeve somewhere in public. We're all avoiding him. Alex fell asleep thirty minutes into the movie, his head on my shoulder. I've tried to hold as still for him as I can.

My phone buzzes with a text from Kat. Maybe I can convince her to come over. It's an action movie that PJ picked, and it's not like she needs to see the beginning to be able to follow along. I see the picture, and I feel my heart stop.

I write back,
I'll be out front at Alex's
.

I slide away from him. As I do, he opens his eyes and smiles up at me. “Where are you going?”

I whisper, “I'm going to the house to make popcorn,” and fluff up a pillow for him to put under his head.