Second Grave on the Left

  He touched his cheek where I slapped him. “I deserve that, but let me explain.”

  We stood in the hall as a prickly kind of betrayal and humiliation kept me from hearing anything he had to say. I shut down. His words bounced back as though I had an invisible force field protecting me, and after delivering the best glare I could conjure, I turned and tried to walk away again, mostly because I saw Gemma and Denise coming. The thought of dealing with their indifference made me physically ill. I swallowed hard, fighting the bile in the back of my throat.

  Dad didn’t grab me this time. He just braced an arm on the wall, blocking my path. He bent down to me, whispered in my ear. “If I have to handcuff you and carry you kicking and screaming back to that room, I will.”

  I glowered at him as Denise hastened up to us in a huff. “Did she just hit you?” she asked, appalled.

  More than any other time in my life, I wanted to belt her as well. Where was Ulrich when I needed him?

  “What are you going to do about it?” she asked my dad. My dad. She glanced around the room, embarrassed that the other officers had seen my tantrum. “Leland—”

  “Shut up,” he said, his voice so quiet, so menacing, it left her speechless. For once.

  She raised a hand to cover her throat self-consciously. By law, any police officer who saw me hit him was duty bound to arrest me. None stepped forward.

  Dad towered over me, his frame thin but rock solid, and I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that if he wanted to wrestle me back, he could. But he would be grabbing a cat by its tail. He would have a fight on his hands, one he would not soon forget.

  “Fine,” I said, my voice just as soft as his, “cuff me, because I am not going back into that room so that everyone can feel sorry for me because my father sent a madman to kill his own daughter.”

  He sighed, his shoulders crumpling. “That’s not what I did.”

  “Isn’t it?” Gemma asked, her voice hard as she stepped forward. “Dad, that’s exactly what you did.”

  “No, I mean—”

  “She’s so special. She’s so unique,” Gemma said, her words stealing my breath. “She’s so much more than even you know. And you sent him to her?”

  “Gemma,” Denise said, and I could feel the betrayal wafting off her, “what are you talking about? He begged that man not to hurt Charley.”

  Gemma seemed to be struggling for patience. She closed her blue eyes a long moment, then turned to her. “Mom, did you not hear him?”

  “I heard every word.” Denise’s voice was suddenly edged with bitterness.

  “Mom,” Gemma said, placing her hands on Denise’s shoulders, “open your eyes.” She said it softly, not wanting to hurt the hag’s feelings.

  I had no such qualms. “That’s impossible.”

  Denise’s jaw clenched in anger. “See?” she asked Dad, pointing at me just in case he didn’t get it.

  I was still floored by Gemma’s reaction. Quite frankly, I didn’t think she gave a crap.

  Uncle Bob had been standing back, but he stepped forward now. “Maybe we can take this to my office.”

  “I’m leaving,” I said, so exhausted, I thought I was going to be sick. I started out the door again.

  “I knew he would lose,” Dad said quietly after me.

  I stopped and turned around. Waited.

  “I knew he would end up like the others.”

  What others? How many did he know about?

  He stepped closer to me, leveled a beseeching gaze on me. “Sweetheart, think about it. If he had gone after Gemma or Denise before we found him, they would be dead right now.”

  He was right. But that didn’t make what he did hurt less. A twisting pain like I’d never felt in my life burrowed a hole in my chest, blocked off my passageway until I was gasping for air. And then it happened again. The fucking waterworks. God, could I be any more lame?

  Dad put a hand on my face. “I knew you would be okay. You always are, my beautiful girl. You have, I don’t know, a power or something. A force that follows you. You’re the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “But, Dad,” Gemma said in admonishment, “you should have told her. You should have prepared her.” Gemma was crying now, too. I couldn’t believe it. I had entered the Twilight Zone. No more science fiction marathons for me. Gemma stepped to my side and hugged me. Like, really hugged. And damned if I didn’t hug back.

  The bitterness and frustration from years of being the fuckup, the odd girl out, the ugly duckling surfaced and I could not, with my most concentrated effort, stop the sobs from racking my body. Dad joined in, whispering airy apologies as we embraced.

  I glanced up at Denise. She stood looking around, confused and embarrassed, and I almost felt sorry for her. Only not. Then I motioned for Uncle Bob to join us. He stood with a dreamy smile on his face, but when he saw me motion him toward us, he frowned and shook his head. I stabbed him with my laserlike death stare and motioned again. He blew out a long breath, then walked up and encircled us in his arms.

  So there we stood, in the middle of an APD precinct, hugging and sobbing like celebrities in rehab.

  “I can’t breathe,” Gemma said, and we giggled like we used to in high school.

  Chapter Nineteen

  JUST BECAUSE I DON’T CARE DOESN’T MEAN I DON’T UNDERSTAND.

  —T-SHIRT

  “No offense, but you’ve been a stone bitch to me for years.” I blinked toward Gemma as we sat at a table in Dad’s bar. Sammy was making us huevos rancheros and Dad was filling our drink order. Denise had followed us there as well, and even Uncle Bob excused himself from work for a bite to eat.

  “The congressman can wait,” he’d said with a grin. Right before he said, “Care to explain the slice across your back?”

  And then I patted his belly and said, “You know, if you keep eating like you do, I might have to start calling you Uncle Blob.”

  And he said, “That wasn’t very nice.”

  And I said, “I know, that’s why I said it.”

  And he said, “Oh.”

  And then we came here.

  Gemma shifted in her chair. “I’m working on that, okay? I mean, do you know what it’s like growing up with the amazing Charley Davidson as a sister? The Charley Davidson?”

  I’d taken a sip of the iced tea Dad handed me and promptly choked on it. After a long and arduous coughing fit, I gaped at her as best I could. “Are you kidding? You were always the perfect one. And you had issues with me?”

  “Duh,” she said, rolling her eyes. We were much more alike than I remembered. It was creepy.

  “You don’t even say hi to me,” I argued. “You don’t even look up when I walk into a room.”

  “I didn’t think you wanted me to.” Her gaze dropped self-consciously along with my jaw.

  “Why would you think such a ridiculous thing?”

  “Because you told me never to speak to you again. Not even to say hi. And never, under any circumstances, was I to ever look at you again.”

  What? I totally didn’t remember that. Well, there was that one time. “Dude, I was nine.”

  She shook her head.

  Okay, there was that other time. “Twelve?”

  Another shake.

  “Well, whatever, it was a long time ago.”

  “You didn’t mention a time limit. You obviously don’t remember, but I do, like it was yesterday. And besides that, you were always so secretive. I wanted to know so much more, and you wouldn’t tell me.” She lifted her shoulders. “I always felt so left out of your life.”

  It was my turn to shift uncomfortably. “Gemma, there are just some things you’re better off not knowing.”

  “And there she goes again,” she said, tossing her arms into the air.

  Dad had sat across from us, and he laughed. “She does the same thing to me. Always has.”

  “Really, guys. I’m not kidding,” I said.

  “Charley is right,” Denise said. “She needs to keep
that stuff to herself.” We were venturing into Denialville again, which was not nearly as fun as Margaritaville. There was nothing Denise liked less than talking about Charley.

  “Denise,” Dad said, placing a hand over hers, “don’t you think we’ve insisted on that long enough?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, you’ve always pushed her aside, refused to acknowledge her gifts, even when the evidence was staring you in the face.”

  She gasped. “I have never done any such thing.”

  “Mom,” Gemma said. She genuinely liked the woman. It boggled my mind. “Charley is very special. You know that. You have to know that.”

  “And that’s why I did it,” Dad said, his face turned down in shame. “I knew that if Caruso came after you, sweetheart, you’d make it through unscathed. You always do.”

  I wouldn’t say I’d come through the ordeal unscathed. I did have superglue holding my chest together. Well, for a few minutes. The cut healed almost immediately, but I didn’t have the heart to tell the doctor. Which was another aspect of me my family didn’t know, how quickly I healed.

  “Dad, why didn’t you just tell me about him?”

  A deep and sorrowful shame swallowed him whole, and I reached over and took his hand, afraid he would disappear. “I didn’t want you to know anything about Caruso if it could be helped. About what I did. We were hoping to find him before he could act on his threats.”

  “Dad, you can tell us anything,” Gemma said.

  “But you don’t understand. He was right.” Dad’s face fell in disgrace. “I was the reason his daughter died. We were in a high-speed chase, and I fishtailed him. He skidded into the guardrail, bounced off, and careened down a short embankment on the other side. His car rolled, and his daughter was thrown out.”

  “Dad—oh, my gosh,” I said, exasperated with him. “That makes it his fault. Honestly, he’s in a high-speed car chase with children in the car?”

  After a long sigh, he nodded. “I know, but it didn’t make it any easier to stomach.” He glanced back at me. “I just couldn’t tell you. But I did. Your turn.”

  “Oh, man, that was totally a setup.”

  Uncle Bob snorted.

  “He’s right. You gotta give us something.”

  Holy macaroni, if they knew I was the grim reaper … No. No way was I going there.

  “For starters,” Dad said, “how did you do that thing the other night?”

  “Do what?” I asked as Donnie, Dad’s Native American bartender, brought us our food. I took a moment to gaze at his chest; then I snickered when I caught Gemma doing the same. We high-fived under the table. “Hey, Donnie.”

  He looked up and frowned. “Hey,” he said, his tone wary. He’d never taken to me.

  “That thing,” Dad said when Donnie left. “The way you moved.” He leaned in close and said under his breath, “Charley, there was nothing human about the way you moved.”

  Gemma’s eyes grew to the size of saucers. “What? How did she move?”

  Even Denise suddenly became very interested as she mashed her eggs and red chili together.

  As Dad explained what I did, how I moved to everyone, I looked over at Strawberry Shortcake. She had appeared at my side. I scooted Gemma over with my hip and made room for her.

  “Hey, pumpkin,” I said as she climbed onto the bench seat with me. When Dad stopped and the whole table stared, I rolled my eyes. “Okay, really, everyone here knows I can talk to the departed.”

  “We know,” Gemma said. “We just want to eavesdrop.”

  “Oh. Well, okay, then.”

  Denise feigned an extreme interest in her food. I half expected her to snort or throw a fit, but I think she was realizing she was outnumbered. For once in her life.

  “What’s up?” I asked Strawberry. “Is your brother dating ho’s again?”

  “Charley,” Gemma admonished.

  “No, he really does,” I explained. “He might need an intervention.”

  “I don’t know.” Strawberry shrugged, her blond hair spilling over her shoulders. “I’ve been at Blue’s house. That old building. It’s really fun. And Rocket’s so funny.”

  My heart kick-started when she mentioned Rocket. “So he’s okay?”

  “Yep. Says he’s good as gold.”

  With a sigh of relief, I wondered if Blue might have found Reyes’s body. I hated to say it out loud, but … “Did she find him? Did she find Reyes?”

  Uncle Bob stilled. He was the only one at the table who knew anything about Reyes and the fact that he had escaped from prison, so to speak.

  Strawberry shrugged. “No, she said only you can find him. But you’re looking with the wrong body part.”

  My gaze darted to my crotch before I caught myself. “What does that mean?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Well, did she tell you—” I leaned in and whispered. “—which body part I should use?”

  Everyone at the table had leaned in as well.

  “She just said to listen.”

  “Oh.” I sat back, confused. “Did she tell you what I should be listening for?”

  “I don’t know. She talks funny.”

  “Okay, well, tell me exactly what she said.”

  “She said to listen for what only you can hear.”

  “Oh,” I said again, my brows furrowing.

  “We’re going to play hopscotch.”

  “Okay.”

  “Oh, yeah, she said to hurry.”

  “Wait!” But Strawberry was already gone. “Freaking dead people.”

  “What?” Gemma asked, her interest utterly piqued.

  It was kind of nice to be so open. I glanced at Uncle Bob knowingly. “She said that if I was going to find Reyes, I had to listen for what only I could hear. I don’t know what that means.”

  “Charley,” Gemma said, “I know what you are.”

  My jaw started to drop open before I caught myself. I glanced around self-consciously. “Gemma, nobody at this table knows what I am.”

  “And why is that?” Dad asked.

  Gemma grinned. “I know you’re in love with someone,” she said. Then she offered a conspiratorial wink, and I realized she was covering. She did know what I was. When the hell did that happen? “And I know you have abilities you’ve never told us about.”

  Dad leaned back and eyed us both. He wanted answers I simply wasn’t willing to give. Not just yet.

  “Would it help to know I use my powers only for good?”

  His mouth slid into a thin line.

  “What does your heart tell you to do?” Gemma asked.

  I plopped my chin into a cupped palm and started stabbing my side of hash browns with a fork. “My heart is too in love with him to think clearly.”

  “Then stop and listen,” she said. “I’ve seen you do it. When we were little. You would close your eyes and listen.”

  I would. My shoulders straightened with the memory. She was right. Sometimes when I would see Big Bad in the distance—who later turned out to be Reyes—I would stop and listen to his heartbeat. But he was near me at the time. That was why I could hear it. Or was it?

  Gemma chastised me with a frown. “Close your eyes and listen.” She leaned in and whispered into my ear. “You’re the grim reaper, for heaven’s sake.”

  I kept my surprise hidden behind a mask of reluctance. “How did you know that?” I whispered.

  “I heard you tell that kid Angel when you first met him.”

  Holy cow, I’d totally forgotten.

  “Now concentrate,” she said, eyeing me like she had all the faith in the world.

  Drawing in a long breath, I let it out slowly and closed my eyes. It came to me almost immediately. A faint heartbeat in the distance. I focused on it, centered everything else around the sound. It grew louder the harder I concentrated, the rhythm so familiar, the cadence so comforting. Was it really Reyes’s? Was he still alive?

  “Reyes, where are you?” I whispe
red.

  I felt a warmth, a rush of fire and heat; then I felt a mouth at my ear and heard a voice so deep, so husky, the low vibration curled over me in sensual waves. “The last place you will ever look,” he said almost teasingly.

  I opened my eyes with a gasp. “Oh, my god, I know where he is.”

  I scanned the faces around me. They all sat waiting expectantly. “Uncle Bob, can you come with me?” I asked as I jumped up. He slammed another bite into his mouth and got up to follow. So did Dad. “Dad, you don’t have to come.”

  He offered a sardonic gaze. “Try to stop me.”

  “But this might be nothing, really.”

  “Okay.”

  “Fine, but your food’s going to get cold.”

  He grinned. I looked back at Gemma, unable to believe that she knew what I was. But the thought of Dad knowing crushed my chest. I was his little girl. And I wanted to remain that way for as long as possible. I leaned toward her just before I ran out the door. “Please, don’t tell Dad what I am,” I whispered.

  “Never.” She leaned back and smiled at me reassuringly.

  Wow, this was nice. In an Addams Family kind of way.

  * * *

  Where was the one place I would never look for Reyes? In my own house, naturally.

  I raced across the parking lot as fast as my killer boots would carry me, not waiting for Dad or Uncle Bob, and practically stumbled down the basement stairs. It was the only logical explanation. All the apartments were rented with college in session. Reyes had to be in the basement.

  When I finally skidded to a halt on the cement floor, the door up top had closed, and I realized I’d forgotten one thing. Light. The switch was at the top of the stairs. I turned to go back up but stopped. An odd kind of anxiety skimmed along the surface of my skin, like static electricity rushing over raw nerve endings. The first thing that registered was an odor. A pungent aroma hung thick in the air. The acidic scent burned my throat and watered my eyes.

  I covered my nose and mouth with a hand and blinked into the darkness. Geometric figures started taking shape. Sharp angles and protruding joints materialized before my eyes. When my sight had time to adjust, I realized the shapes were moving, crawling one over the other like giant spiders, dripping off the ceiling, crushing each other for a spot up top.