Lost in Thought (34 page)

I shook my head, maybe in answer to her question, maybe in denial of this whole insane conversation, but she just kept talking. “He keeps blaming
me
for not figuring it out sooner. Why didn’t I sense it when I touched you? Why can’t
my
gift be as strong as yours? All these years, and he doesn’t even understand how my gift
works!”

Her head whipped from side to side as she spoke, her cheeks flushed and blond hair flying around her small face. I had no idea where her hat had gone. And in a further sign that my brain was not working right, what with the lack of oxygen and the crazy girl shaking on top of me, I also noted that there, in all her passion and the glow of the setting sun, I’d never seen Jill look prettier.

When she was killing me.

I came to that realization pretty quickly, that I was not meant to get up off the cemetery ground. Surely no one else knew we were here. Jill had asked me to keep it to myself and, perhaps stupidly, I had. But then, could I logically have suspected
this
would be the afternoon’s outcome? I wouldn’t have suspected it in a million years and, I was sure, thanks to my careful trip into the woods and the only evidence of my companion—Jill’s note—tucked safely in the bag I’d carried with me, neither would anyone else.

Jill took advantage of my distraction, contemplating the grim certainty of my impending death, to let go of my arms only long enough to slam my head on the ground. While the world spun around me, she tugged the scarf from around her neck and wrapped it twice around mine, spreading her knees wider to pin down my upper arms.

This was very bad news. The scarf I’d so admired earlier might have been thin and stylish, but it was long and, most importantly, it

260 | C A R A B E R T R A N D

was silk. The strongest fabric known to man. I had no hope it would break before I did, and that would not take very long.

She wound her small hands in the ends of the scarf and began to pull.

While she choked me, she actually smiled. It was wide and lovely, all teeth and happiness, and was, perhaps, the first genuine smile I’d ever seen on her usually somber face. It scared me more than anything, more than the scarf around my neck or the lack of air in my lungs. It had already been difficult to breathe, with her weight on my chest and my burning ribs, but it was rapidly becoming impossible.

She started to go blurry, and I wasn’t sure if I was crying or finally about to pass out. That would be it for me, if I slipped into the dark oblivion that was very close, so I struggled to remain conscious.

Jill’s voice became my only lifeline.

It was low, but I heard her, would have heard her if she’d whispered. Probably even if I’d had to read her lips. There was nothing in my world at that moment except Jill and her rage.

“I would have let it all go,” she said, with an equal mix of venom and sincerity. The strangest thing was, I actually believed her, believed that she was just one or two sentences gone over this crazy cliff. If not for a few words, I might have been spared.

Too bad for me.

“I would have,” she continued. “You’d be gone in another year anyway, and Carter will tire of you eventually, just like he always does.

He always comes back to me. But you
can’t
have my father. He’s the most important man in the world, and he is
mine.
I wish you’d never come here, Lainey, but now, I won’t have to wish anymore.”

With that, she leaned back, pulling even harder. Time was almost up.

I didn’t have the energy, or the oxygen, to try to fight her, so in my last few moments I said silent goodbyes to all the people I loved and

L O S T I N T H O U G H T | 261

all the things I would never get to do. I also decided to pray, just a little bit. It was something I’d never done much of before but I figured couldn’t hurt. If there was ever a time I needed divine intervention, this was it.

Just maybe, it worked.

While Jill smiled down at me from what was beginning to seem like a very long distance, I noticed my last, really
only,
chance. She was pulling tightly, arms down near her sides for leverage—honestly, it had to be difficult work, strangling me—and her coat sleeves had slipped back, exposing a tiny stretch of skin between them and the ends of her gloves. With all the energy I had left, I threw my hand up and caught onto her pale wrist.

And then, out of complete desperation and a very, very strong desire to live, I killed her instead.

t was surprisingly fast. Not instantaneous, but quick enough to spare me. I had no idea if it would work, or how—had never
wanted
to know either—but between my life and hers, I had to try.

I Carter had been right, that I’d be able to feel it. I experienced it inside myself almost the moment I Thought, capital T, about killing her.

The specific words of the Thought didn’t seem to matter—in fact, if I had to put into words
what
I’d Thought, it was probably something like,
please God, let this work
—but the intention was the most important part, and apparently I’d meant it. For me, the internal sensation was almost indescribable. The closest I could come up with was a cross between being able to
feel
your blood flowing combined with a light electric shock. Maybe that’s what it was, some kind of electrical pulse, from my body into hers. I didn’t know.

All I was certain of was that, after a few seconds, the pressure around my neck slackened. Jill gasped at the same time I did, as I sucked in the first blissful, cool breath I’d had in far too long. She looked down at me—eyes wide with shock and, if possible, even more hatred—clutched at her chest, and then fell sideways.

L O S T I N T H O U G H T | 263

She was dead. And I had done it.

For a second, I lay there, gasping, trying to figure out what the hell I was going to do. Jill was
dead
. I mean, I hadn’t taken her pulse or anything, but I knew she was. Carter hadn’t said this “gift” of mine knocks people out. No, it stops their hearts…but I
knew
what to do if someone’s heart stopped.

I bolted upright, which was a bit of a mistake since I was still lightheaded and weak. Luckily, adrenaline, mixed with a little bit of self-loathing for what I’d done, took over. Maybe it was a ridiculous no-tion, but even though Jill had been trying to kill me, I certainly didn’t feel the same about her. I hadn’t ever wanted to hurt her at all.

For once, finally, training prevailed. Where my obviously rusty martial arts instincts had failed to protect me, at least my CPR kicked in to save someone else.
Thank you, Coach Anderson, for making us all get certi-fied!
I quickly checked for a heartbeat, which, not surprisingly, wasn’t there, then threw open her coat and started compressions. I also remembered there were professionals who could help me save her, if only I could get them here. I paused after a round of breaths and pulled out my cell phone.

Blessedly there was service.

I made a frantic call to 911, doing my best to describe the situation and where I was—I had no idea the name of this cemetery nor how to get to it except through the woods—but they seemed to know where I meant and said they were on the way. The dispatcher wanted me to stay on the phone, but I couldn’t do CPR and listen to her at the same time. I tossed my phone to the side and continued trying to revive Jill.

There was almost nothing left to do but compress, breathe, pray, and wait, but something, I couldn’t say what, made me quickly search her pockets. I didn’t know what I thought I’d find, maybe a note or something professing her guilt, but I was surprised instead to pull out a small bottle of lighter fluid and a pack of matches.
Was she going to

264 | C A R A B E R T R A N D

burn
me after I was dead?
I shuddered at the thought, but shook it off. It didn’t matter what she’d been planning to do.

I tossed the small can as far as I could—it bounced behind a row of headstones and out of sight—then resumed CPR. When the paramedics and, no doubt, the police finally arrived, they’d have nothing but questions for why she was carrying lighter fluid. They’d have nothing but questions anyway, but that was one thing I didn’t want to have to explain.

I could hear the sirens wailing in the distance, getting closer every second. I stopped my efforts only long enough to adjust Jill’s scarf around my neck so that it completely obscured the bruises I could already feel blooming. Those were also questions I didn’t want to answer.

Other than that, as far as I knew, I had no obvious injuries. My flushed cheeks and mussed hair could be written off to my frantic attempts to save my friend. A plausible amount of screaming when Jill “collapsed,” plus the fact that I was crying freely and breathing heavily, would be cover enough for my bruised voice.

As I kept up my desperate attempt to revive Jill—tiring arms and aching throat be damned—I went over my story in my head. It had to be simple, because those were the easiest lies to tell. In fact, I felt like I could get away with telling almost the whole truth, up until the part where Jill attacked me.

The sirens came screaming up behind me, first one, then two more vehicles screeching to a halt. My back was to them as I leaned over Jill, but I heard doors slam, followed by shouts and running feet.

With little more warning than a rapidly spoken, “Miss Young?

We’ll take over now,” I was unceremoniously picked up and plunked down a few feet from where I’d been. My arms were still in the compression position, and I fell backwards onto my butt, landing hard on the ground despite not being very far from it to begin with. I blinked,

L O S T I N T H O U G H T | 265

and a muscular-looking EMT expertly took the place where I’d been seconds before, his partner already having set up a mobile defibrillator.

Two police officers hovered near where the EMTs were bent over Jill’s lifeless body, and a fire truck pulled into the lane behind us, lights blazing but sirens off. A second ambulance pulled in moments later. A blanket appeared around my shoulders as I became aware of two more police officers, a man and a woman, on either side of me. The woman had her arm around me and was gently saying my name. They were trying to get me to stand, to usher me over to the other ambulance, but I refused to move.

I couldn’t tear my gaze away from Jill.

There was no place for modesty here. They’d completely cut off her shirt and bra, exposing the pale, flawless skin of her chest, marked now with angry red welts as they shocked her, for the how many-ith time, I couldn’t remember. The big EMT tirelessly performed compressions as the other one continued testing Jill’s vital signs in between giving her regular breaths. With nothing for them to do, the firemen milled about, watching anxiously.

I was beginning to despair, rapidly losing hope that she could be saved and that I would not forever carry the knowledge that I killed her. I heard the woman EMT with the paddles shout, “Clear!” again, and watched as the man instantly held up his hands and leaned out of the way. Jill’s body convulsed as she was shocked one more time, arms flopping loosely at her sides.

The man was about to recommence compressions when the woman held up her hand, listening intently with her stethoscope and looking at her machine. “PULSE!” she shouted. “I’ve got a pulse.”

I think I might have shouted too.

Everything moved very quickly from there. In what seemed like mere seconds from when the EMT had shouted that Jill’s heart was beating, she was in one ambulance, already speeding out of the ceme-266 | C A R A B E R T R A N D

tery, and I was in the back of the other, doors slamming and sirens blaring to life around me. Both my bag and my phone had somehow made it into the cab with us.

The EMT with me was speaking to me gently but firmly. I was not processing words, but he seemed to be encouraging me to sit up. I did that, and he quickly pulled my jacket off my shoulders. He reached for my scarf too—Jill’s scarf—but I pushed his hand away.

“No, no, I’m fine,” I told him. “I’m fine. It’s just Jill.” I slumped back into the bed, exhausted.

“You’re in shock, miss,” said the jacket-taker, and I couldn’t help but agree with that. I was most
definitely
in shock. “I need you to try to relax so I can check your vitals,” he went on. “Okay?”

“Okay,” I replied, limply holding out my arm. He first placed an oxygen mask over my face, which almost instantly made me feel better. I
had
been significantly deprived of oxygen, I realized. My paramedic efficiently did his checks—blood pressure, pulse, breathing, eyes—as we sped away.

“Jill?” I croaked again, when he finished prodding me.

“We’ll do our best, Miss, I promise,” was all he said.

DESPITE MY PROTESTS that I was fine, my ambulance followed Jill’s to the hospital, where all my vitals were checked again in the Emergency Department. That’s also where I was, for the first and hopefully last time in my life, questioned by the police. Even though they were friendly and assured me they only needed my statement for their records, it was a frightening experience. Especially when you really did have something to hide.

Thankfully, I hadn’t had to talk to them alone. To my surprise, once the doctor declared me healthy—physically anyway—my advisor from school, Dr. Callahan, preceded the officers into my sectioned-off room. I was worried he’d been sent to deliver the bad news about Jill, but it turned out there was no news about Jill, yet. No, he was simply

L O S T I N T H O U G H T | 267