Death Whispers (Death Series, Book 1) (22 page)

Miss
Cote came forward awkwardly, eyes downcast. “It's cot-A, ya know, a
long 'A',” she corrected sullenly.

Cops growing out of the ground and she's
correcting their pronunciation.

“
Okay...
Miss Cot-
A,
”
he
emphasized. “Please repeat what you told us at the police station
for these folks.”

Cote
looked at Tiffany, who shook her head, no
.

So, Tiffany wasn't feeling like being outed
either.

Cote rolled her lower lip, biting it with her
teeth and staying silent. Garcia turned his whole body to face her,
towering over her with his height, intimidating. She looked up at
him, a shadow of doubt crossing her face.

“I thought I saw something over there by his
parents.” She pointed in the general direction of Gran's tombstone.
“But it isn't here now.”

“Now come on, you said a lot more than that,”
McGraw prompted.

Dad gave him an unfriendly look and Garcia gave it
right back.

Cote glanced over his way and sighed.

Tiffany said, “Mia, no.”

That
was it! Mia
.
I
hated forgetting peoples' names.

Mia
went on, “We were just going to come out here and hang. And then we
saw these guys,” she gestured to my parents and I like a loose
unit, “and saw something else too. It smelled,” she said with
distaste.

“What smelled?” McGraw asked.

“The dead woman,” she said finally.

Garcia smiled with triumph. Well, good luck with
finding any evidence, I thought with a stab of satisfaction.

“
But
where is the dead woman now?” Dad's arms spread out on either side
of him,
no corpses here, guys.

Garcia and McGraw left Mia where she stood. They
began a tight search of the area, moving in between tombstones where
tall Douglas fir trees grew in great clumps.

The
cops separated, stepping on top of Gran's grave without a downward
glance. When I said undisturbed
,
I meant it. Not a blade of grass was out of place. It looked perfect.

McGraw turned back to Mia. “Where did you see
this dead woman?”

“Right there,” she said.

He looked to where she was pointing, his eyes
roving up to read the tombstone:

Here Lies Charles Doyle, beloved husband of
Margaret “Maggie” Doyle. Born 1934, died 2000.

He read Gran's headstone next.

Don't ask Garcia, don't ask.

He asked, “One of your relatives, maybe? Doing a
little visiting.”

“No. Actually, we were conducting experiments,
as I mentioned earlier,” Dad repeated.

“Well,
I did some looking.” He tapped his pen to the side of his head,
indicating some thinking too. “I have the last five generations of
both your families in my little notebook, right here.” He looked
down then back up again. His eyes met Dad's in a direct challenge.
“And here you all are, right at the family plot.”

He snapped the notebook closed with a tight
grinding sound that made me give a little involuntary jump. Dad put
his other hand on my shoulder. “But from what Miss Cote tells us,
you were doing more than experimenting.”

I looked at Mia but she wouldn't look back.

The Weller kids had been quiet this whole time
then Bry spoke up, “Caleb and I got into a fight, that's all. His
dad tried to break it up when it got out of control.”

McGraw looked openly skeptical but took in Dad's
appearance; the disheveled hair, the grass stains on the seat of his
pants. He looked at Mom next, who shrank behind Dad. That clinched it
for me, she didn't like him any better than I did.

Garcia focused all his attention on Bry. Taking in
the blood all over the front of his shirt, then looking at Tiffany,
the dried blood from the ruckus with Gran, still congealing
underneath her nose.

He looked back at me.

“
But
not a scratch on
you.
”
His eyes steady on my face.

“I guess I got lucky,” I said with only a
small tremor in my voice.

“
But
the,” he opened his notebook, scanning with his index finger until
he came up with the name, then tapped it once, “Weller boy, has
what looks like a piece of his tongue missing. And the sister,” he
looked down again, “Tiffany,
has
sustained trauma to her nose.” His eyes narrowed at me, barely more
than slits.

“It's not Caleb's fault,” Tiffany rushed into
the space in the conversation. “I just got in the middle.”

Silly
me.
I
kept the surprise off my face, she was sure busy keeping things from
the cops.

McGraw was openly scowling and Garcia looked
thoughtful. They couldn't do anything. They'd have to chalk the whole
thing up to a hysterical girl in a graveyard, thinking she saw things
she didn't. Two boys getting in a fight, maybe over Tiffany. Duh,
like that would happen but they didn't know that and a fight ensuing
after Mia took off to rat on us.

The cops studied us as we calmly looked back.

Finally, Garcia turned to Mia. “Are you sure
that you saw a dead woman? Or, are you willing to recant your
testimony?”

“Recant?” Mia asked.

“Take it back. What you said. All of it.”

“Yeah... yes... I recant. I don't know what I
saw,” she responded helplessly. No corpse and her two friends
obviously siding with me. I almost felt sorry for her. Almost.

“I guess we'll have to be satisfied with that.”
Garcia said.

The wind had come up so much it was distracting,
whipping my hair and lashing my face.

“But
know this: I thought I smelled a skunk, saw a skunk so there must be
one.” Weird, just like Morginstern. Must be a contagious skunk
fetish going around.

“You
have my full attention Caleb, and for the record, I don't like being
played. If I find out you're a Cadaver-Manipulator, we are lawfully
bound to report that to the proper authorities. Don't let me find out
you've been holding out on us.”

His
hand came to rest on the baton strapped to his utility belt. Well
hell, threatening-much. Mom made a sound behind me, Dad drew her into
his body.

McGraw let a huge smile settle on his face, a look
of concentration sitting oddly askew. Raising his palm up he said,
“Be still.”

The
wind that had been so annoying suddenly stopped. Yet, just about
fifteen feet away it made the huge, low branches on the fir trees
dance and move rhythmically. We were in some kind of eye of the
storm. McGraw was showing his “juice” was working here; he was an
air elemental (AE). Clyde-the-corpse's words,
to
whom much is
given,
much is expected,
didn't apply to this guy. It was all about him.

Terrific.

“
We'll
see you again, Hart family. There
will
be a next time, and we'll be ready.” He turned and gave a moment's
attention to the Weller kids and Mia, committing them to memory.

With that charming goodbye, McGraw gave another
small, tight smile, closing his open palm into a fist and drew it
into his body. There was an audible pop and the wind rushed back, a
reverse whirlpool, to lash our faces again.

Garcia lingered, staring at our group, then turned
and joined his partner.

That didn't go well.

We
watched the police cruisers drive off, knowing that some vague threat
had been issued, a warning. I looked at my parents worried faces and
saw identical expressions mirrored on the kids I had met today: we're
screwed.

CHAPTER 14

Tiffany
turned to Mia. “You're
such
an ass-potato!”

Mia looked around for support, getting none, she
retaliated with, “It looked bad to me. The old, dead woman and all.
I didn't know what to do!”

Mom and Dad were watching this interchange with
interest.

Bry walked up to Tiffany. “Leave it Tiff, we all
did the best we could. AFTD has been hard for you too.”

I looked at their bloodied faces and felt
responsible.

Dad
turned to me. “Is this girl another AFTD?” he looked at Tiffany.
“Just clarifying here.”

“Yeah.”

Tiffany looked at me. “I thought I was the only
one.”

If I'd known sooner, we wouldn't have needed to be
alone.

“No. I just found out that I had it.”

“How?”

I
gestured to the grave behind me, Gran's grave. “It was an accident
the first time. I told Carson and Brett,” I paused here, our school
was big enough...maybe she didn't know them? But she gave me a
gagging finger down the throat, she knew them
,
“...
that
I could hear the dead. Actually, John did.”

“Why
would you guys tell them? They're dickheads.” She caught Mom's look
and rephrased to soften the swearing some. “They're jerks to
everybody.”

I nodded, perfect assessment. I'd agreed with the
first one too.

“Because, I knew from Biology and some other
stuff.” The roadkill came to mind and all the fun with the
insects, also in Biology. “That I had AFTD... the frogs...” I
shuddered where I stood, “that I may have enough,” I thought for
a second, making airquotes, “ 'power' to prove that I wasn't some
kind of coward.”

“
Who
the he...
heck
,”
she looked at Mom, “cares what they think?”

“
They
were being jerks to me and I was tired of it. Jonesy,” Tiffany
rolled her eyes, she really
was
good at that and Bry chuckled,
“thought
it'd be a good idea to show them what I had, that I wasn't a poser.”

“Does that seem like a good idea now?” she
asked.

“No way.” I smiled, I couldn't help it.

Dad clapped his hands together, we all jumped.
“This is all well and good but we need to discuss what happened,
the possibilities.”

Tiffany and I looked at Dad with puzzled
expressions. What were we supposed to think about? Gran was back, she
helped out and I wasn't on my own with AFTD.

Dad turned to Tiffany. “Can you raise cadavers?”

“Zombies? No.” She looked at me for clarity.

She could do some other stuff, but not The Biggie.

“Sometimes I know where murdered people are.
And,” she looked my way. “I can sense the dead.”

She
must mean hear them, ya know,
hear
them. I told her so.

She shivered. “No, it's not like those loud
voices you hear.” She looked at me with a grudging admiration,
“that'd be bad.”

“It's like impressions of their feelings or
thoughts, I don't know, it's hard to explain.”

We shared a moment of complete understanding.

“Jade told me about that bird thing outside of
gym.”

Tiffany
looked confused for a second then did an
ah-huh.
“Oh
yeah! I almost forgot about that, LeClerc, right? Aren't you guys
going out?”

“Yeah, that's the girl.”

Was
there another Jade
in
our entire school? Totally rare name. Then a whisper wafted through
my head: a girl with a “...
name
of stone.
”
That's right, Gran had said I needed to protect her. She must've been
talking about Jade.

Tiffany was snapping her fingers in front of my
face. “Hello, wake up!”

“Sorry,” I said. “Just thinking.” Geez,
pushy thing.

I glanced at my parents. Mom said, “We have some
things to talk about.”

“We do but I wanna,” I grabbed my pulse out of
my back pocket, Tiffany did too, “add Tiffany to my pulse-contact
before I forget.”

I
thumbed my pulse and thought,
add
contact.

Tiffany walked over and laid her thumb on the pad
and her contact info. appeared:

555.455.9830: Tiff Weller

“Tiff?” I asked.

“Yeah, I hate 'Tiffany'.”

“Why? Tiffany is a swell name,” Dad commented.

We both looked at him. I gave him the double-lame
parent stare. Tiffany looked equally disgusted.

Dad said, “Alright... brother, chillax!”

“Dad,
don't try okay?”

A ridiculous lack of coolness.

Tiffany recovered and looked around for the scraps
of her hoodie. Seeing that the hood and armpits of her hoodie were
beyond repair, I took mine off (the teenage uniform, hoodie, jeans
and tennis shoes), handing it to her.