Part 22 (1/2)
Mr. Sloane placed his hand on his wife's shoulder and responded, ”It helps to keep her occupied. The color choices and the decorating ... it's work she loves.”
”Excuse me?” I interrupted. ”Mr. and Mrs. Sloane?”
They turned to face me with identically polite smiles on their faces. I could see them searching their minds for a name to match to my face, but coming up blank.
”Um, you don't know me,” I said. ”I live in your old house.”
The polite smiles faded and the well-dressed man quickly excused himself.
”I'm very sorry about your daughter,” I started.
”Thank you.” Mrs. Sloane clutched her pearls. ”That's nice of you to say.” The words were spoken as a dismissal, and they began walking, clearly anxious to get away from me.
I boldly stepped in front of them. ”I need to ask you something.”
The force I spoke with surprised them and me. But my concern for their grief was gone. This little act they put on here in town, refusing to show weakness, maintaining this air of arrogance at all costs, materialism above all else. It bothered me. Enough to ease any misgivings I'd had about talking to them. Besides, I only had one simple little question.
”Someone broke into the house this week and searched the room that used to be Kayla's. Do you know why someone would do that?”
”Obviously to steal something of yours,” Mr. Sloane replied coolly. ”All of Kayla's belongings are gone.”
”Are you sure?”
”Of course,” he insisted. ”We either kept them, donated them, or distributed them to her friends.”
”Her friends,” I muttered. ”Did any of them ask for anything in particular?”
”No, we just gave a few of her closest friends some of her clothing,” Mrs. Sloane said, but her husband's expression had changed. Like he was remembering something.
”Well, there was one thing,” he said. ”But it didn't exist.”
”What?” I pressed.
He turned to his wife. ”Remember, someone asked about a diary?”
”Oh yes.” She waved her hand. ”It was silly because Kayla never kept a diary. And if she had, we would have found it among her things.”
Unless she hid it so well that it was still in the house, I thought. ”Who asked for it?”
Mrs. Sloane tapped a manicured fingernail against her chin. ”You know, I don't remember. It was the day of the funeral and there were literally hundreds of people coming up to me. And I was ...” For a moment, the mask of togetherness she wore slipped a bit. ”I was in a bad place.”
”And I'm sure it has nothing to do with your break-in,” Mr. Sloane said, leading his wife away. ”Good luck.”
Maybe it didn't or maybe it did. But the only person who knew for sure whether or not Kayla kept a diary ... was Kayla herself.
Dad was coming home later that afternoon, and Marie was running around like a crazy person, cleaning the house and planning dinner. When I offered to play board games with Colby up in his room, I thought she was going to drop to her knees and kiss my feet.
”Thank you, Jade,” she said, patting my shoulder. ”You're such a help.”
Guilt lay like a block of lead in my stomach. If only she knew what I was really planning.
Colby was on the floor in his room, paging through a Star Wars sticker book. I didn't want to involve him in this. But it was the only way. And I was doing it to save his life, after all. But that didn't make it any easier.
”Hey, buddy.” I sat cross-legged beside him.
He looked up at me and smiled. One of his top front teeth was loose. It would fall out any day and that smile would be forever changed. Part of me didn't want it to happen, didn't want him to grow up, to lose his innocence. Even though, in a way, he already had.
”You know how I promised you that I'd make the ghost girl go away?”
The smile faltered, but he nodded slowly.
”I'm working on doing that ... but I need your help, Colby.”
He blinked his big brown eyes. ”What can I do?”
”You're the only one who can communicate with her. And I need you to do it. Just one more time. I need to get some answers from her. And then I'll be able to send her away.”
”For good?”
”For good,” I repeated.
He pondered that for a moment. ”Okay. I'll do it.”
”Great.” I clapped my hands together. ”We'll just wait until the next time she comes around and then you can help me ask her some questions.”
”We don't have to wait,” he said, closing his book. ”I can call her.”
”You can ... make her show up?”
”Yeah, I did it before by accident.”
That could have been a coincidence, but I plastered on an encouraging smile. ”Okay, then let's do it now.”
He crossed to his bed and sank down, closing his eyes. Only a moment later, my whole body hummed as Kayla's now-familiar energy filled the room. I couldn't believe it. Colby could not only see her, he could summon her.
The temperature plummeted. Colby opened his eyes. His head snapped suddenly to the right and he fixed on an empty corner. There was nothing there, but I knew Colby saw otherwise.
A chill seeped into my veins.
His eyes never left the corner. ”She's here.”
As Colby sat on his bed, expressionless, I realized he was much braver than me. Sweat trickled down my spine despite the cold in the room. I slowly stood to my full height, though my bones felt like they were made of jelly. If I took one step forward, my legs would collapse underneath me.
I angled my body in the direction Colby was looking and cleared my throat. ”I'm close to the answer you wanted, Kayla, but I just need to know a few things first.”
My eyes slid to Colby.
”She's waving her hand,” he said. ”Like she's saying, 'Go on.'”
”Okay.” I faced the girl I couldn't see. I pretty much knew the answer to my first question, but wanted to be sure. ”Are you here all the time?”