"Guess Dr. Lee found an antidote, huh?" I said.
"He always had it. We just needed to know which poison it was. He figured it out from your symptoms and had it ready when we arrived. It was close, though. Too close."
I craned my head to take in the room. I was in Dr. Lee's clinic in Portland.
"Paige and Lucas aren't here," he said as he straightened. "I called a few times, but they must have been out for the day. They're probably back by now. I'll go call--"
I gripped his hand as he tried to walk away. "No."
"They should know."
I shook my head. "If Dr. Lee says I'll be fine, then let them finish their vacation."
His mouth tightened. "They should know, Savannah."
"They will, when they get back." I managed a smile. "If they get mad, blame me."
Blame me.
I thought about Michael. About Claire. About that security guard. About the homeless guy.
"Savannah?" Adam leaned over me, face drawn with fresh worry.
"Just tired. Don't call them, okay?" I tightened my grip on his hand. "Just stay."
I DRIFTED OFF into nightmares. I was back on the scenic lookout with Michael. He was kissing me, telling me he wanted a third date, and over his shoulder, I could see Leah ready to push him over the cliff, and I tried to tell Michael to run, to get as far from me as he could, but he only laughed and kept kissing me.
The scene changed and I was in the sawmill with Adam, searching for Jesse. I told Adam to let me handle this, that it was my problem and he needed to get out, get away from me, but he just kept saying he'd protect me. Only he was the one who needed protecting ... from me.
I knew what happened wasn't my fault, but I felt like it was, like I should have figured out something was up with Jesse.
Leah had chosen her target perfectly. Jesse was telekinetic, so she could use her powers and I'd never be the wiser. Lucas knew him and trusted him, which was an instant stamp of approval for me. And, in life, Leah had been a deputy sheriff, meaning she could pull off even the PI parts with ease. She'd found the perfect disguise and there was no reason I shouldn't have fallen for it. No way I could have stopped her sooner. No way I could have saved Michael. But I couldn't stop thinking it.
Every time I opened my eyes, though, Adam was there. Nothing I could say would make him leave my bedside. Finally, one of the nurses must have heard us arguing about that. She came in and said she had to work on me and he couldn't be there. It'd be about an hour, so he should go get something to eat, and she'd have someone notify him when he could come back up.
I drifted off again as soon as Adam left. I couldn't rest with him gone, though. I started dreaming that Leah was in my room, and I kept screaming at myself to wake up, but I couldn't.
Rage boiled up inside me, impotent rage at Leah for everything she'd done. It roiled until it exploded and the room flashed against my eyelids. A cry of pain. A crash. Then the sound of running feet, a nurse saying "You can't be here," a voice protesting, not Leah's, but a young woman's, insisting she was a friend. The nurse hauled her out, and the dream slid away.
JESSE CAME BY, and we pieced together what had happened to him. He didn't stay long. It was awkward, because I kept thinking of him as the guy I'd worked with, only he wasn't. This was the first time I'd met the real Jesse Aanes. It felt weird talking to him now. But I was glad he was okay.
"I'M READY TO go," I announced the next afternoon as I brushed my hair. Given how long my hair was--and that I'd been tossing and turning for almost twenty-four hours--the brushing was a major chore. I figured if I could accomplish that, I was ready for anything.
"When you can stay awake for more than an hour, we'll consider it," Adam said.
I swung my legs out of bed. "It's been sixty-five minutes. Bring the Jeep around front--"
He grabbed my legs and pushed them back under the covers. "I was being sarcastic."
"Too bad, I'm holding you to it. Now let go--"
"If you can't make me, then you're clearly not ready."
"It's always easy to find you two," a voice said from the door. "Just follow the sounds of bickering."
A red-haired woman in her late forties walked in, garnering a double take from a passing orderly half her age. If I pointed it out, she'd say it was only because he recognized her from her TV spots, but the truth is that Jaime Vegas is gorgeous. Even in a casual blouse and slacks, she exudes glamour.
She sailed over to my bedside, giving me a hug. She'd called Adam when he was still in the ambulance, and between them--and with Jesse's help--they'd pieced together the story. She'd been checking in every few hours since, undoubtedly relaying the updates to my mom. I didn't ask if Mom was with her now. There are rules about that sort of thing, and we were careful not to bend them too often or the Fates would ensure my mother couldn't make contact with me.
"So Leah's back in her hell dimension?" I asked as Jaime settled on the edge of my bed.
"Nope. She got an upgrade to a worse one."
"And Mom?"
Jaime's grin faltered. "She's ... not in the best place right now. Kicking herself silly. You know Eve. She can pull the whole 'I don't give a shit' routine, but when she makes a mistake, she beats herself up worse than anyone else could."
"Sounds familiar," Adam said, giving me a look I ignored.
"We'd argued about telling you that Leah was out," Jaime said. "I wanted to. Eve didn't. We had Leah in our sights--or so we thought--and she was a thousand miles from you, so Eve didn't want to freak you out, freak Paige and Lucas out, spoil their vacation ..."
"Tell Mom it wouldn't have made a difference. Even if I'd known Leah was free, I'd never have seen her in this until it was too late."
"I'll tell her. And she has a message of her own to pass along. She says that what you did was incredibly selfless and brave, and if you're ever tempted to do anything like that again, remember she's waiting on the other side to kick your ass for the rest of eternity."
I laughed, but it came out a little ragged, my gaze sliding to the safety of the window.
"Did I miss something?" Adam asked.
"She's warning me not to tangle with psychotic hell-escapees," I said. "Which is good advice in general, and--"
"What'd Savannah do?" he said, cutting me off as he turned to Jaime.
I tried to protest, but Jaime told him. As Adam realized what she was saying, his face went rigid, eyes blazing, his fingers heating on my arm. When she finished, though, he turned to look at me, and his expression ... It was respect and it was pride and it was anger and it was something more, too, but before I could figure out exactly what it was, he glanced down, rubbing his chin, the fingers rasping against his beard stubble.
"Yes, you need a shave," I said.
The corner of his mouth twitched a little, but he still didn't look at me.
"Your mom's right," he finally said, voice gruff. "It was an insanely brave and insanely stupid thing to do, and if you ever consider it again, remember I'm on this side, and if you survive, I'll kick your ass for the next fifty years, okay?"
"Okay."
I smiled and he looked at me, and our eyes met, and my heart started beating so fast I could barely breathe.
"Oh, would you look at the time?" Jaime said, jumping up. "I promised Elena I'd call with an update before three."
"I'll call her myself," I said quickly, and Adam looked away just as fast, saying he'd get my phone, then go grab us all something to eat from a cafe across the road.
"They have chocolate chip cookies," he said as he handed me my phone. "They look really good."
I made a gagging noise and he laughed, and whatever had been in the room a moment ago had passed.
As he teased me, though, a nurse stopped and popped her head into the room.
"You got the cookies, then?" she said.
We all stared at her.
"I heard you talking about cookies ..." Her gaze moved down the hall. "No, they're still here. Just a moment."
br />
She came back carrying a box that made my stomach clench. Taste of Heaven cookies.
"Your friend dropped these off earlier," the nurse said as Adam took the box.
"Friend?"
"A young woman. She came in to see Savannah. She knocked over the bed tray and Linda gave her quite the tongue-lashing, I'm afraid. She left these and took off."
"When did this happen?" Adam demanded.
"When you went for dinner last night," I murmured. "I thought I dreamed it." I turned to the nurse. "What did she look like?"
"Mousy little thing." She colored. "I shouldn't say that. She was very sweet."
"Did she leave a name?"
"No. She was about your age. Long dark blond hair. Turned-up nose."
I thanked the nurse. When she left, I turned to Adam. "The new girl at the commune."
He frowned. "I thought Leah ..."
"Killed Tiffany? She said she didn't--and she wouldn't bother to lie. Seems we have a witch-hunter after all. So can we leave now? Before she comes back and kills me in my sleep?"
He grabbed my shoes and jacket from the closet.
forty
Getting discharged from the clinic wasn't easy, so we took the express route ... out the nearest exit door. Jaime covered for us. I gave her my house key and said we'd meet her there tonight. An hour later, we were pulling up to the commune gates.
I let Adam help me out. When he tried putting my arm around his waist, I pushed him away.
"I'm fine," I said.
"No, you're barely walking." He put his arm around me for support. "Enough with the heroics, okay? You've earned enough brownie points to last you a lifetime."
My cheeks heated. I tried stepping away again, but he only tightened his grip.
"Either I help you or we go back to the hospital and get you a cane. Better yet, a walker." He grinned at me. "Now that, I'd pay to see."
I lifted my fingers, tips sparking.
He laughed. "You don't scare me, Savannah Levine. You might have your spell power back, but you're liable to keel over before you can cast."
A figure appeared on the porch. Megan, bringing out a basket of laundry. She shaded her eyes and looked our way. A hand raised in halfhearted greeting, then she came out to meet us.
I had to remind myself I'd been gone only a day. Not long enough for people to notice I'd left, I hoped. The fewer questions I had to answer, the better.
"We're looking for the new girl, Amy," I said.
"That makes two of us," Megan said.
"She's not here, I take it," Adam said.
"Packed and left last night. Didn't even ask for her final wages." She hefted the basket on her hip. "I should have notified the police. I just thought ... well, I thought with Cody dead and the murders solved, she wasn't likely to turn up dead."
"What the hell are you doing on my property?" boomed a voice.
We turned as Alastair strode toward us, his face red with fury. Behind him, girls watched from the house, accusing glares fixed on me.
"I cannot believe you would have the nerve to set your foot on my property after what you did."
"What did I-?" I began.
"You're a lying, hypocritical little bitch, Ms. Levine."
"Whoa!" Adam stepped forward. "I don't know what you think Savannah did--"
"She came to my house and she pretended to care about that little girl-"
"If you mean Kayla--"
"Of course, I mean Kayla. You told Paula you weren't going to do anything. You promised her. She trusted you. You lied because you didn't have the guts to look her in the face and tell her you were turning her in."
"What? I never-"
"You sawwhat kind of mother she was to Kayla. You saw how much that little girl needed her. But you turned her in. And for what? That wasn't even your case--you were hired by Claire's mother. You had nothing to gain by accusing Paula."
"Civic duty," Megan murmured. "She's a detective. Whether Ginny's death was her job or not, it was still her responsibility--"
"I don't know what's going on here," I said. "Did someone accuse Paula-?"
"You accused Paula," Alastair said. "And not only that, you didn't have the guts to do it to her face. You didn't even have the guts to make the accusation in person. Or to give it to Chief Bruyn, because God forbid, he might show some mercy."
"We have no idea what you're talking about," Adam said. "But Savannah didn't accuse anyone of anything. She's been in a hospital for the last twenty-four--"
"Who was called?" I cut in.
"The state police," Megan murmured when Alastair wouldn't answer. "Early this morning. Bruyn arrested Paula a few hours ago and called social services for Kayla."
forty-one
We went straight to the police station. On the drive, Adam ranted about Alastair's sudden show of concern for the benefit of the girls watching. I barely listened. Two sheriff's department cars sat out front. Adam parked behind them and I took off ahead of him, jogging to the door.
I felt the chill as soon as I opened it. Bruyn's mother and the local officers were crowded in the front room. All three stared at me and none said a word. The old woman pointed to Bruyn's office, where I could hear him talking.
I threw open the door.
Bruyn turned sharply, and saw me. "Looks like you don't need to track her down after all. Here's the source of your information. Savannah Levine."
Bruyn left me with the two detectives--a man and a woman. They weren't the officers who'd come to the motel to question me after Michael's death.
"Come in," the woman said. "We have some questions for you."
"Me first. Who told you I accused Paula Thompson?"
The detective looked at her partner. They exchanged a confused frown.
"You did," the other one said.
"No, I did not. I've been in Portland since yesterday afternoon."
"Ah, that explains the delivery. You sent it from there?"
"If someone sent you something, it wasn't me, and I know nothing about it. What did you get?"
A package, they explained. Delivered directly to the sheriff's department first thing this morning. Apparently from me. Inside, they'd found all my supposed case evidence--copies of my notes, my interviews, plus some notes that weren't mine. All of it led to a single conclusion. Paula Thompson had shot Ginny and Brandi, whom she believed were plotting to kill Kayla. According to the extra notes, though, I'd found no evidence to support that, and personally thought she just wanted a way to get custody of her granddaughter and rid herself of her embarrassment of a daughter.
"We've verified most of the details," the detective said. "We have phone records showing the calls from the Degas home to Paula Thompson, and to Alastair Koppel. We've confirmed your DNA findings--he is the girl's grandfather, which speaks to his motive in helping Thompson. We expect to charge him as an accessory after the fact."
She beamed at me. "You're an excellent investigator, Ms. Levine. If you've ever considered going legit, we're always looking for recruits."
Her partner cleared his throat. "Oh, and this was in the package," he said, handing me an envelope. "You must have left it in the file by accident."
I took the envelope. On the front was my name, with Confidential below it. I ripped it open and read.
Hey, kiddo. If you're reading this, then I guess you won. Good job. I know I should be gracious, but I can't help it--I'm a sore loser. I want a little payback. And my hell will be a little cozier, knowing I got it. Say hi to little Kayla for me. Tell her she has every right to hate your guts and hate the world and grow up just like Mommy, as every little girl should.
I crumpled the letter, rage filling me.
Adam's hand tightened on my shoulder and he leaned to my ear, whispering, "We'll fix this."
How could we? The damage was done. My own work, used to do exactly what I'd tried to avoid.
"You'll have to excuse us," Adam said. "Savannah's been ill and she's very tired. If you need to s
peak to her, can we do this another time?" He passed them his card. "I'm going to get her home."
THE FIRST THING I saw when I barreled out of the police station was Cody Radu's house. Empty now, every window dark, a swing on the front lawn swaying forlornly in the wind. I thought of their three little girls. Orphans now. I don't know what kind of father Cody had been, but I knew one thing--three young witches were going to grow up thinking they were the daughters of a serial killer. Being treated like the daughters of a serial killer.
I turned away. As Adam fumbled to get my door open, I noticed Kayla down the street, coming out of a building. I blinked, sure I was seeing wrong. A woman in a business suit stepped out behind her. A social worker.
I saw the backpack over Kayla's thin shoulders and the battered suitcase the woman carried. With her free hand, she guided Kayla to a sedan idling in front of the building. Kayla walked with her head down, gaze fixed on the sidewalk.
"Kayla!" I shouted as I ran toward her.
She glanced up. Then she looked away, opened the back door to the car, and got in. When I called again, the social worker shielded her eyes and squinted at me.
"This is a mistake," I said as the woman put Kayla's suitcase in the trunk.
"Are you a relative?" the woman asked.
"No, but it's a mistake. You don't need to take her. Paula will get out on bail and it'll all be cleared up--"
"Paula Thompson has been charged with her daughter's murder. Bail or not, the girl can hardly stay with her, can she?" The woman handed me a card. "You can contact my agency if you have any concerns. Right now, I need to get this little girl to a home."
"You have a placement for her already?"
"I meant a residential facility."
She brushed past me and got into the car.
"Savannah," Adam called.
I glanced over to see him a few yards away. I hurried to Kayla's door. She sat rigid, staring forward, backpack on her lap.
I rapped on the window. She ignored me.
"Kayla," I said. "Please. It's a mistake. I never meant--"
The car started rolling away. I jogged alongside it. Adam started walking fast, closing the gap between us.
"Kayla, please. I can explain. I didn't do this. I'd never--"
The woman hit the gas. I lurched forward. Adam caught me. I pushed him away, but the car was already too far gone to catch.