Spooked. Part 8

"It's the company you keep that's questionable," Mick said, grinning at me.

I smiled. "Right."

"Why do you think she'd be looking for you? Or should we say it? That wasn't your Aunt Delia in her body. Something took her over. Do you think it's just because you'd be in her memory banks somewhere?"

As I considered this, I got a serious case of the w.i.l.l.i.e.s. I had to come clean with Mick, if I were going to trust him with my life. Which it looked as if I was going to have to do.

After we entered his house, which was huge and airy and impossibly clean, I said to him, "There is something about me you don't know."

He tossed his keys on a table in the entryway. "Spit it out."

I took a deep breath. The lemony smell of furniture polish filled my nose. "I can read secrets...from people's minds."

His brow furrowed as he looked at me. "You can read minds?"

I shrugged. "I guess. Kind of. I can read secrets. If someone has a secret, I can fish around for it. I can take secrets from people, too, to ease their burden. But that has some unpleasant side effects. One of which is that bad...creatures, or ent.i.ties, would be able to find me and take me away, and do G.o.d knows what to me. The idea is that I'd never be seen or heard from again. I don't know whether it's the same they, but this talent is the reason my parents sent me to live with Delia. They said I'd be safe with her. That they wouldn't find me if I never used my...ability."

"Okay...but why would it or they be after you now? Have you used that talent recently?"

I nodded. "After Eliza vanished, I probed around a little. I thought that whoever took her had to be someone she knew. Someone we all know. Otherwise, why would she go with them?"

"Makes sense."

"I didn't find anything out, though. And..." I looked at the floor.

"What?"

"I used it on you...at the diner. It's why you got that headache."

He frowned. "Why did you use it on me? You thought I might be the one who took her?"

I shook my head. "No. I was just experimenting a little before I used it on anyone else."

"Did you find a secret?" he asked me.

"I know you want your father dead. I just don't know why," I said. "I backed out before I learned anything else." I winced. "I'm sorry."

He stood watching me for a long moment. "The reason I want him dead is because he murdered my mother."

I blinked. The air went out of me.

"Not in the way you'd think," he said. "She killed herself."

"Oh, Mick. I'm so sorry."

"So am I." He headed through a large living room area and I followed him into a bright, pale yellow kitchen that was probably as large as the bottom floor of Delia's entire house.

Mick went to a cupboard and took out cocoa and coffee.

"He had an affair. The other woman called my mother. Sent her pictures. I guess she wanted my dad all to herself."

"That is horrible."

"Yeah," Mick said, his back to me as he began making the mochacinos. "The most ironic part of it all is that once my mother died, the woman didn't want my dad anymore. She broke it off."

"The compet.i.tion was gone. It wasn't fun for her anymore."

"Right."

"Mick, I'm so sorry," I said again.

"My mother lived for her family. We were everything to her. When she found all that stuff out, she figured it was all a lie." Mick stopped moving for a moment, swept a forearm over his eyes. "Maybe it was."

I didn't know what to say. Telling him that he hadn't all been a lie was pointless. Telling him that she took her life and left him without her because the pain was too much to bear wouldn't make him feel better. Sometimes people can't see beyond the darkness, and they can't find the strength to even do everyday things anymore. If she'd taken her life, it was likely she thought that the affair was her fault. In her mind, if she'd failed as a wife, her ability to mother was questionable as well.

None of this would ease his pain. So I settled for a truth that I was certain of. "I know one thing."

"What's that?" He turned his head slightly, listening.

"No matter what happened, you are a friggin' awesome person."

His mouth turned into a small smile. "Thanks."

He placed a mug under the single-serve coffee maker.

"Oh, my G.o.d. You have one of those? Those are fantastic."

He shrugged. "Yeah. Convenient."

I thought it was strange that Mick really thought nothing of the luxuries he was privileged enough to have. His indifference to them was likely because he'd always had them, so they were nothing to him. Also, none of that stuff made him happy. I was certain that he'd give it all up to have his mother back.

"Awesome," I said as he placed a big, chunky mug in front of me. "Nice."

"Yeah. Most everything in here is." His tone had a sarcastic edge to it as he sat at the table. "Only the best for my dad."

"Our nerves are going to be jumping if we keep drinking all this caffeine, though."

"After meeting your aunt, I'm not exactly in the mood for sleeping, and I really don't want to let my guard down to catch a few winks." He looked at the table, shaking his head. "Probably have nightmares, anyway."

"This is a nightmare," I said. "This whole thing is just too weird."

He watched me thoughtfully. "So you have this ability. Let's use it."

"The problem with using it is that I put myself and others around me at risk. I guess that's already happened," I murmured. "I don't know how they found out."

"Is it possible that when you read someone's mind-their secrets-it somehow opens some kind of window to your mind that allows them to see into you?"

"That's possible, I guess. I think that's what Delia was trying to explain to me Halloween night. These things found me somehow."

"Whatever the deal is, we have to formulate a plan. What do we do from here? Your aunt is no longer your aunt, and looking at her, I don't think the real Delia is coming back."

Suddenly, a wave of sadness washed over me and my throat tightened. My bottom lip quivered and tears spilled from my eyes. I covered my face with both hands and sobbed, unable to stop myself.

"Oh, hey."

I heard Mick's chair slide back and in moments his arms were around me as he knelt next to my chair.

"I'm sorry, Lore. I'm a jerk. I shouldn't have said that."

"It's probably true," I said, my voice thick with tears.

"Even if it is, it was pretty cold of me to say." He moved a hand up and down my back, soothing me.

"She's all I have, Mick. If she's gone, I have n.o.body." My last word was choked off by another sob. Grief rocked through me and I couldn't get enough air into me. I took a long, shuddering breath.

"Hey," he said. "Look at me."

I slid my hands down my face and looked at him through tear-blurred eyes.

His hazel eyes gazed into mine. "You've got me."

Neither of us wanted to stay holed up in Mick's house, nice as it was. We felt like sitting ducks. If anyone else was set on coming for me, they'd figure out where I was before long. Everyone in town knew by now that Mick and I were friends. We'd been seen around town together a lot. So we figured a moving target is harder to get.

However, there was a greater risk of being seen by someone who wanted to get at me. Or something that wanted to get at me. Six of one, half a dozen of the other. The situation was just plain bad, any way you looked at it.

My cell went off, the eighties slasher film music making the situation even more unnerving.

Mick and I looked at each other. I looked at the caller ID number: Delia.

"Not good," I said, looking down at my phone.

"Don't answer it," Mick said, glancing at me, and then back at the road.

"She won't know where I am. I just want to see what she says. If she sounds the same. Maybe...she's back to normal."

He paused as the cell played its high pitched, eerie song.

I pressed the green b.u.t.ton. "Delia?"

There was a pause. Nothing.

"Delia?" I said again, hearing the panic rising in my voice.

"Lorelei?" Delia's voice came through. A little far away and faded, as if she were outside and her cell connection wasn't good, but she sounded normal. She had to raise her voice.

"Yes!" I almost cried with relief. "Delia, did you come to the house about an hour ago, looking for me?"

"What? No. I've been at a vigil for Eliza and Kerry. Where are you? I thought you'd be here."

The vigil. I forgot. Someone had mentioned it to me but I couldn't remember who it was. "Shoot. I forgot all about it. Is it still going on?"

"Yes. It's at the school, at the edge of the woods. We're holding a prayer service. Are you coming? I was getting worried about you."

I didn't tell her that Mick and I saw her drive up in her car.

"Do you have your car, Delia?" I asked her, my nerves jumping.

"No. It was stolen. Can you believe it? Of all things. Some people are just plain evil. Taking advantage of such a horrible situation to steal a car!"

I let out a long breath. "Okay, we'll be there in a few minutes."

"Okay. Oh, Sheriff Will is just walking up. I think he has news about my car. I'll talk to you when you get here."

"Okay Delia." I ended the call. "That was strange."

"What?" Mick asked me.

"Delia said that she never went to the house looking for me. She said that her car was stolen."

"What?" His brows furrowed. "You're kidding."

"You have to admit, that was not Delia."

"Then who the h.e.l.l was it?" he said.

Chapter Nine.

As we drove into the parking lot of the school, I was amazed at the crowd. I could hear low singing, and there was a steady stream of people dropping flowers in front of blown-up school photographs of Eliza and Kerry.

A chill ran down my spine, as for a moment, I imagined my picture there, too.

I didn't know who was next on the abductor's list, but as we walked solemnly to the vigil, my gaze hesitated as it pa.s.sed over each young girl that went to the school.

Any one of us could be next. Eliza and Kerry were as different from each other as different could be. There didn't seem to be any pattern except that they both were about the same age.

An enormous plastic bowl was filled with carnations of all colors. The carnations came from both the flower shops in our town. The owners and workers of both shops were there, refilling the bowl with more carnations as the supply went down. I chose a couple of pink carnations, and made my way through the crowd to place one carefully on the ever-growing piles in front of each girl's photograph.

My throat tightened as I looked from one to the other. How could this be happening? Girls vanis.h.i.+ng-seemingly before our eyes. We couldn't let this continue. Somebody had to do something.

I had the ability to do something, and at that moment, it seemed so wrong not to use it, even if I were putting myself at risk.