Wraith (16 page)

“Whatever it is, Girl Scout cookies, cheerleading fundraiser—not interested.” He was curt and closed the door in my face.

“Wait!” I said, finding my voice.

The door swung back open and he glared down at me—his irritation more prevalent than ever. His hand gripped the frame of the door.

“Yes?” he said with mock sincerity.

Bracing myself, I said, “I’m looking for Ellen Chambers. Is this where she lives?”

Creepy guy narrowed his eyes, “Why?”

“I know…I knew her son…Evan? And I just wanted to talk with her.”

“You knew Evan?”

“Yes, can I speak to his mom? Is she here?”

“Sorry, but you walking up like this to talk about her son will upset her. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

He took a step back, but I wasn’t ready for him to close the door. “Please? I just need to talk with her. It will only be a minute.”

“What do you want to say to her that’s so important?” The way he spoke made me feel trivial and weak. My skin crawled with discomfort.

My mind started racing. Why wouldn’t this guy just let me in? Why did he care? Clearly Evan’s mother was in the house, but what could I tell him? I hadn’t been prepared for this man to answer the door and it was quickly becoming apparent.

I tugged on the hem of my coat. “We were friends. And he really loved his mother. I just wanted her to know that. And regardless of what happened, he’s okay now.”

As soon as the words left my mouth, I knew it had been the wrong thing to say. His face twisted and he took a large step forward, toppling me off the step and onto the sidewalk.

“What do you mean regardless of what happened? What does that even mean?” His voice was laced with venom. Anger rolled off his body in waves.

My hands became clammy and I wanted to run—but where? I was trapped in this man’s yard. “I didn’t mean anything.”

“John?” A soft voice called and we both looked over his shoulder to see a woman with blonde hair standing in the doorway. Her gray eyes met mine and it was as if Evan was in front of me.

He didn’t respond but instead returned his focus on me. I could see the woman, Ellen, standing on the small porch and I could see the fear and worry on her face—she shook her head at me—in warning.

“You need to leave and never come back.” His tone was hard and frightening.

I crossed the yard as fast as I could, never taking my eyes from John. My hands searched for the gate. I was afraid to turn my back to him. My backside bumped into the fence and I jiggled the lock—this guy had gone from creepy to scary in seconds. I fumbled with the lock, keeping my eyes on him. The latch lifted but slipped, clamping down hard on my finger.

“Ahh!” I wailed, my finger trapped between the hard pieces of metal. Without speaking John’s large hand reached down and unlatched the mechanism and released my finger.

He leveled a cold, hard glare at me. Before he could say anything, a loud rattling barreled down the street and a flash of blue stopped at the curb.

Thank. God.

I had never been happier to see anyone in my life, even though the expression on Connor’s face was beyond murderous.

John looked at Connor, who climbed out of his still-idling car. With a glance back at me the man said, “Go,” and opened the gate, freeing me from the yard. I scurried past a furious Connor, and jumped into the warmth of his car.
 

I thought Connor would follow me, but he didn’t, he took a step toward the older man. The fence was between them and I could see Evan’s mother standing on the porch—her face creased with worry. Unsure what to do, but wanting to get out of there more than anything else, I pressed my hand flat against the pad in the middle of the steering wheel. A loud bleat sounded, causing Connor to jump and both him and the man to look at the car.

Frantically, I gestured with my hands.

He
really
needed to get in the car.

Our eyes connected through the glass windows and he left the older, still furious man in the yard and got back in the car.

Connor shifted gears and we flew down the road, leaving Evan’s family behind. My nerves were completely shot. I dropped my face to my hands and burst into tears.

We were silent as he took the curves of the neighborhood streets too fast. Veering left and right—clearly taking his anger out on the car. On one particularly sharp curve I was jarred out of my seat and had to steady myself on the dashboard.

“Connor!” I yelled when his wheels squealed on the asphalt.

“What the hell were you thinking?”

“I…” I choked on an explanation. “I’ll tell you. Just take me somewhere we can talk, okay?”

He sighed and ran his hand over his chin, like I was forcing him to do something terrible. He eased his foot off the gas pedal and said, “Hold on tight,” and my fingers gripped the edges of the cracked leather seats for stability.

Without warning he turned the car into a sharp u-turn, spinning us in the other direction to an unknown destination.

C
ONNOR DIDN’T SPEAK AGAIN
as he drove through the city. Nor when he rested at a stop light, his jaw clenched and his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly I thought it might break. He didn’t say anything as he entered the large parking lot next to the museum, only nodding to the attendant as he retrieved his parking stub. The only noise I heard him make was a low grunt as he slammed his door and stalked toward the pristine white building. I followed him. Inside, he handed a card to the woman at the front desk, who in return gave him a map and two stickers—one he gave to me unceremoniously.

He was pissed. Epically pissed.
I would have preferred to go back to the quiet of the car. Although, in public he couldn’t get too angry.
I hoped.

The museum was nearly empty. It was mid-afternoon and the school groups were gone for the day,
so
our footsteps echoed on the marble floors. Again, I followed Connor up the winding staircase toward the upper rooms, close enough but keeping my distance—wary of the anger rolling off his body. At the top of the stairs, he turned into the small room that held the children’s exhibits, the same one I had seen Connor and Emma in that first day.

“I’m sorry. It was stupid and dumb and I’m a total idiot,” I admitted. I apologized from behind him, so I wouldn’t have to look him in the eye.

Connor didn’t reply. His footsteps were loud as he continued to cross the room and stood in front of a painting. Her painting. He lifted a finger and tapped it.

“Emma painted this.”

I opened my mouth but didn’t speak. I was afraid to tell him I knew this already, so I didn’t.

“It’s our house. The one I tried to burn down.” He moved his finger. “This is my room and hers is the one next to it. With the pink curtains.”
The painting was good. This was the first time I saw it up close. Emma was talented.

“I tried to burn the whole house down. This painting would have been there. I could’ve destroyed this if I’d been successful.” His hands tightened into fists by his side. “I could have hurt her. What if she’d been there? Or any of them?”

“Connor,” I said, reaching for his arm. “They weren’t there.”

“But they could have been, Jane! It was so stupid. So, so dumb.”
My hand slid down his arm, anchoring on his wrist. He looked at me under his lashes, tears brimming at the edges and my heart broke. “You shouldn’t have gone there. Not alone. Not ever.” His voice was deep and rough.

“I’m sorry, but I needed to do something. I can’t sit back anymore when I know Evan’s mom and sisters need help.”

“Not that,” he said, shaking his head and capturing my hand with his. “This guy is dangerous! I understand wanting it to go away—risking it all for the voices and images to stop. Trust me, I know, but what were you trying to accomplish?”

I shuddered, thinking about Ellen’s boyfriend. He
was
dangerous. “I just wanted to talk to Evan’s mother. To make sure she was okay. I’m trying to do what you told me to! I’m trying to help him and let him go!”
I yelled, my wavering voice echoing off the high ceilings. Connor’s eyes grew wide at my outburst, but he reacted by dropping my hand and wrapping his arms around my shoulders.

“I know,” he said, his own voice shaking. His arms tightened and I buried my face in his chest, inhaling his warmth and scent.

“I’m sorry.”

I felt his head nod over mine. “I know.”

Tightening my arms around his waist I wanted to feel him and nothing else. I wanted to forget that scary moment at the house. We were crossing a line here, but I wanted to. I was ready.

After a minute, Connor stepped back and lifted my head up. “No more solo work, okay?”

Yeah, no. That would
not
happen again.
 
”I won’t. Trust me.”

With regret, I dropped my arms from around his back and stepped away from his protective arms and warm body.

“How did you find me?”
I asked, pretending I wasn’t just huffing his shirt in public. Pretending I didn’t love the weight of his arms around my shoulders.
Frightening experiences must make me pathetic.

“Evan.”

“Evan?” I wasn’t sure how I felt about that; my two worlds colliding.

“He found me after I called you. He showed up in my Spanish class and wouldn’t leave until I got a pass and met him outside.
That’s one persistent ghost you got there.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. It was true. “So he knew where I was?”

“Yeah, he knew. I don’t think he was aware ahead of time, though. He seemed distracted, but yeah, he told me how to find you. He was worried.” He gave me a hard stare. “As he should’ve been.”

I grimaced at the thought of everyone messing up their day to come and save me. I was a bit shocked Evan had gone to him. The idea he could go around me and through Connor was intriguing. What else could he do?

“So you didn’t know when you called me?” I wondered.

“No. I was just worried when you weren’t in class.”

My heart and face warmed. “Did Evan say anything else?”

The corner of his eyes tightened. “No. Not really. He just told me how important it was to get here. That his mother’s boyfriend wasn’t someone to play around with.” His comment made me feel stupid and immature. Going off on my own and having to be saved by the two—apparently more capable—boys around me.
What a moron.

“He cares for you. It’s the total opposite of any experience I’ve had. All mine have wanted something specific and harassed me to no end to get it.
Evan just wants the best for you,” he said, his tone thoughtful. “He’s very protective of you.”

“Is he still the only ghost you can see right now?” I lowered my voice on the word ‘ghost.’

“Yeah. I think it’s the meds. It seems weird that we can both see him, but maybe Evan’s problem is big enough for the two of us.”

I considered this. It could be true. I hadn’t done well on my own. Either by passively letting Evan exist around me or diving in head deep, endangering myself.
I hated to admit it, but I needed help.

“I think I should get home now. It’s getting late.” I knew I should call or text my mom and reached into my bag for my phone.

“Ouch.” I withdrew my hand and inspecting my bruised finger.

“You okay?”

I held it up to show him and ignored the way my stomach tightened when he touched the swollen spot where the skin had been mashed between the metal latch on the fence. “It’s okay, just bruised I think.”

Anger flashed on his face and he opened his mouth to speak, but shut it again abruptly. Instead he wove his fingers through mine carefully and directed me down the stairs and out into the cool afternoon air.
 

O
N THE LESS AGGRESSIVE
drive home, we talked about what happened at Evan’s mother’s house. We both agreed to no more Nancy Drew or Hardy Boy moments, especially not without telling the other first.

It was dark when Connor drove his car up to my curb. I knew I was in trouble at home. I’d never gone all afternoon without calling and I’d forgotten back at the museum. Plus, I didn’t want to get into a fight with my mom while Connor stood by. Thanks, but no thanks.

Sure enough, when I looked up to the porch through the car window, my mother had already opened the door and was waiting for me. If looks could kill, I would be dead already.

“You want me to come with you?”

I laughed darkly and shook my head. “No.”

He offered me a sympathetic smile. “Sure?”

“Positive.” I gathered my things and unlatched the door. “See you tomorrow. And thanks.”

He gave me a little wave and waited until I got to the top of the steps before he drove off. There was a loud screech of tires and I looked back to see Connor slam on his breaks in an effort not to hit a truck barreling down the street. Once clear, he pulled out and I turned to face my mother who stood in the open door.

“I’m sorry.” It was all I could offer, and at this point all I knew was that she was mad about me not calling—not about skipping school.

“You’re late. Is your phone working?” she asked, her steel gray eyes were narrowed and tight. I did not want to cross my mother when she was angry.

“Yes. I just…I lost track of time,” I said, feeling safe that she didn’t know about school. It would have been the first thing she said.

She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at me in response. Crap. She wanted a full confession.

As I dropped my bag and hung up my coat, I concocted a believable story. “Connor asked me to the museum.” I peeled the sticker off my chest as evidence. In an attempt for honesty, I added, “I was excited and forgot everything else.”

The lines on the side of her eyes softened a bit. “Connor, huh?”

I blushed at her tone, and wished I could melt into the floor. “Yeah.”

Her arms were crossed over her chest, but I could see the curiosity brimming under the anger. “Are you two dating? Because if you are, you know the rules—he needs to meet me and Dad.”

“No. It’s not like that.”

Another stare. I groaned at her ability to read me. “It’s not. We’re friends and he’s in my art class and he has a pass to the museum. He offered to take me—that’s all.” That wasn’t it by a long shot, but I didn’t know how to define it and I wasn’t about to try.

She studied me for a long moment, I guess trying to decide where to go next. I prayed it wasn’t a repeat of the sex education speech she gave me and Grace when we were ten.
PleaseGodno.

My mother touched my hand. “What happened to your finger?”

I allowed her to look at it. “I smashed it. In Connor’s door.” I rolled my eyes playfully. “You saw how beat up that thing is, right?”

Concern flashed on her face. “I don’t want you riding with him if it’s not safe.”

“No, he’s a safe driver.” The lie rolled easily off my lips. Connor was, in fact, a terrifying driver. “It was my fault, being clumsy.”

She seemed satisfied. “We’ll talk about this more later, but right now I need help with dinner.”

Relieved
I had not been caught skipping and across town on my own, I agreed and followed her into the kitchen, glad this day was coming to an end.