#Book 1 - Page 25 (2/2)

She slowly reached over with a bony hand and placed it on my shoulder. Her hands were covered with many rusted c.o.c.ktail rings; the white taffeta coat she was wearing had clownish puff b.a.l.l.s on it. They were all different colors. Bright yellow, orange, red, blue and green. She really did look like some satanic clown’s aging mother.

She started to speak. Rather, her sticky red lips moved but no sound was coming out. She spoke like this for a few seconds before she finally said, “Declan.”

What about him? I thought inside my head, the terror competing with curiosity.

“He’s got some stories to tell,” she whispered, her voice low, almost metallic sounding, as if she was speaking through a phone. There was a familiar accent on certain syllables. “He’ll tell you, one day. About what happened to him. You just need to watch him. Watch out for him. Closely. You’re cut from the same cloth.”

She took away her hand, and with her eyes focused on the diner, walked straight inside as her coat ruffled behind her in the light breeze.

I stood still, my breath coming back. I realized I was soaked to the bone from the rain (and maybe sweat); I didn’t care. I looked around to see if anyone else had witnessed what just happened, but there was no one on the wet, grey street.

I looked back at the diner and took a hesitant step toward it, wondering why she had gone in there and if anyone else noticed how f.u.c.king freaky she was. I dipped low, trying to see inside through the dark tint and the stupid food paintings. I couldn’t make out anything except a few shadows of people sitting down at their tables. I put my face at the window and cupped my hands around it, not caring if anyone inside saw me trying to be a Peeping Tom.

I had thought I saw some sort of commotion, when the door flung open and Dex burst outside. I jumped a few inches off the ground and almost knocked my head against the gla.s.s. He looked around him—pure panic in his eyes—and then spotted me.

He reached over and grabbed my arm and pulled me roughly towards him. “We’ve got to go. Now.”

We ran over to the car. My mind was racing. What was going on? Who was that lady and why did she warn me about Dex? Watch out for him? What did that even mean?

I jumped in the pa.s.senger seat and barely closed the door before Dex stomped on the gas and the SUV rocketed down the street, veering side to side on the slick roads. I decided to heed her advice. I would keep an eye on him. He looked like a man possessed.

I turned my head to look back at the diner, but Dex yelped, “Don’t look back there. Keep looking forward.”

Heart in my throat, I did what he said.

“What the f.u.c.k just happened?” I squeaked out once he brought the car off of the street and on to the highway.

He just shook his head, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles were a hard shade of white.

“Dex! Talk to me! Slow down!” I yelled as the car went skidding around a corner, water flying everywhere, my body straining against the seatbelt.

He kept his foot on the gas, speeding in deathly silence.

He reached over and locked all the doors in the car.

Watch Dex, indeed. I felt like he would be the last thing I would ever see.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

We were speeding crazily around the wet corners on the 101 heading north. With the doors locked for some inexplicable reason, and Dex refusing to utter a word or even look my way, I was on the narrow verge of having a freak out.

It was obvious that Dex was having one himself as the look of absolute fear never left his eyes. I didn’t know what to do. Part of me wanted to grab hold of the steering wheel and pull the car over myself. But as strong as I was, he was no doubt stronger and in this weather I’d probably end up flipping the car, or worse.

I wondered if screaming would help, or if pleading would help, or if crying would help. Billy Joel was still playing from the speakers, which made the situation even more absurd.

And then it dawned on me. I knew what it was. I knew what Dex was afraid of. It all made sense. He saw it, her, with his own eyes.

“You saw her,” I said, keeping my voice as calm as possible. “Didn’t you?”

Dex’s hands tightened on the wheel though his foot came off of the pedal slightly. His eyes darted towardsme and then back to the road again.

I leaned in closer, careful not to invade his s.p.a.ce.

“I saw her too,” I confided. “And I’ve seen her before that, back in Portland. She told me things.”

Dex’s brow furrowed. “What did she say?”

“So you did see her!”

He ignored me. “What did she tell you?”

“Pull over and I’ll tell you. I won’t talk to you while you’re like this. You’re going to get us both killed.”

Just like that, Dex stepped on the brakes and yanked the Highlander down a rural road flanked by waving chestnut trees. The car lurched to a stop and he impatiently flipped the gear into park and flicked off the ignition.

He took off his seatbelt and adjusted himself in his seat so he was facing me. The rain was falling hard on the roof. I had always found that to be one of the most soothing sounds and this time was no different.

“Talk,” he commanded bluntly. His eyes were noncommittal; his long, wide mouth was set in a grim line. His hat had slid down a bit, adding shadows to his face. The front of his hair flopped onto his forehead.

I reached over and tilted the hat’s brim up off his brows and gently smoothed his hair to the sides. His forehead was hot and smooth underneath my hands; his hair slightly damp from sweat and hair product.

Touching him felt strangely intimate, like I was really seeing him for the first time. I don’t know why I did it; I guess some part of me instinctively wanted to soothe him. It was the first time I’d seen him look remotely vulnerable.

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