Devil's Advocate Page 10

  “What should we do?” asked Melissa, oblivious to the exchange.

  Corinda snapped her fingers. “Got it,” she said. “Sunlight.”

  “Right,” agreed Melissa at once.

  “Why?” asked Dana. “What’s he got to do with this?”

  “With the murders?” asked Corinda. “Nothing. But he has a gift, too.”

  “Which is what?”

  “That series of classes he’s giving? Psychic Emergence? It’s for people who have, or think they have, gifts like yours. He has a talent for helping people cultivate their gifts, develop them. I bet he could help you.”

  Dana felt apprehension rise up in her chest. She wasn’t sure she wanted her “gifts” to get any stronger. But what if Sunlight could help, though? And what if, by helping her focus her visions, Dana could prevent the murder of another teenager?

  “Okay,” she said uncertainly, “let’s try.”

  A line was forming at the front register and Corinda stood up. “You girls go find Sunlight. I’ve got to work; then I have back-to-back readings.”

  “But—” began Dana, but Corinda cut her off.

  “After you see Sunlight, go home and meditate on this. I will, too, and then come back tomorrow so we can compare notes and make a plan.”

  They agreed. Corinda touched Dana’s cheek.

  “Be strong, little sister. You’re becoming powerful, and that is always a frightening process. Have faith in your own power and trust the larger world. It holds all the answers.” And with that she was gone.

  CHAPTER 29

  Scully Residence

  5:54 P.M.

  When they went looking for Sunlight, they learned that he had already left for the day. So Dana and Melissa had walked home, talking about everything but getting nowhere they hadn’t already reached. It was so maddening that they eventually lapsed into a shared and troubled silence that pursued them all the way to their door.

  Dana went to her room and was doing homework when the phone rang, and a moment later she heard her mother call her name. “Dana! It’s for you.”

  There was a phone on a small table at the top of the stairs, and Dana hurried out to take the call. She didn’t have her own phone, but almost no one ever called her. She had no real friends here and none of any depth back in San Diego. Sometimes her dad asked to speak to her if he was away, but he usually asked for both girls. She lifted the receiver.

  “Yes?”

  “Hey,” said a familiar voice. “Got a sec?”

  It took her a moment to place the voice.

  “Ethan…?”

  “Yeah, I was thinking—”

  Dana covered the mouthpiece and yelled very loudly, “I got it, Mom!”

  After a moment there was a discreet click as the downstairs phone was laid back in its cradle.

  “I didn’t interrupt dinner or something, did I?” asked Ethan.

  “No,” she said quickly. “I was studying.”

  “Frogs?” he asked.

  “Frogs,” she agreed, and leaned back against the wall.

  “Best thing to think about before bed. Frog guts.”

  “How’d you get my number?” she asked abruptly.

  “Huh? Oh, I got it from Eileen, who got it from Dave, who got it from your sister. Is it cool that I called?” asked Ethan. “I’m not like … overstepping or anything?”

  “It’s totally cool,” she assured him. “What’s up? Is this about the dissection essay?”

  “No,” he said, his voice suddenly becoming more confidential. “I’ve been thinking about what we were talking about over lunch. About Maisie and the others.”

  “What about them?”

  “You seemed interested.”

  “I am.”

  “In the accident reports and police files, I mean.”

  “Ah,” she said, getting it. “And?”

  “They’re here at the house,” said Ethan. “My uncle has his own master case file. It’s in his desk.”

  “So?”

  “So, I have the key.”

  Dana stared into space, wrapping the phone cord around her finger.

  “You still there?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “When Uncle Frank is at work tomorrow,” said Ethan, “we could … I don’t know … maybe take a look?”

  “Yes,” she said again, and the intensity in her voice surprised her.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Absolutely. But what about your parents?” she asked.

  There was a brief pause. “Mom’s gone and Dad works a lot. He’s never home.”

  “Oh,” she said, because there didn’t seem to be anything else to say. Ethan’s tone had not invited comment on that.

  “So, tomorrow,” he said. “We have a half day, but I can get the guys in the science club to hang around for a bit. If you want to meet them, I mean.”

  “Definitely,” Dana assured him.

  “We’ll all meet in the chem lab after last bell. We won’t have long ’cause they’ll be closing the whole school down, but we can probably get half an hour or so to talk with them.”

  “That works,” said Dana. “I’ll meet you there. And, Ethan…?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks,” she said.

  “For what?”

  “For not treating me like I’m some kind of freak.”

  “Not a chance,” he said, and hung up.

  Dana walked slowly back to her room, thinking about everything that had happened today. That night she did not dream of angels or of devils. She had another ugly dream, though.

  Dana dreamed that her heart was on fire.

  In the dream, she lay on the cold and bare floor of a deserted building. A church. The high, arched stained-glass windows were smashed, and there were spiderwebs strung between the shattered remains of wooden pews. Dana lay on the floor with her arms stretched out to either side and her ankles pressed together. For a horrible moment she thought she was about to be crucified like Maisie. But that was when she felt the burn deep inside her chest. It was white hot and heavy, as if someone had stabbed her with a spike of pure fiery light. The weight of it pinned her to the floor.

  She could feel the fire burning inside her, but when she raised her head, there was no smoke, no visible flames. Her pajama top was undamaged and there was no blood.

  But the pain …

  It was worse than anything Dana had ever felt, awake or in nightmares. It was so huge, so intense, that she did not even scream. No scream could be loud enough to express that searing agony. She lay there, teeth clenched, muscles rigid, mind burning along with her heart.

  And then the burning sensation seemed to pulse, to expand with the intensity of a sun going nova. It overwhelmed her and consumed her and charred every last bit of her down to hot ash.

  She came bursting up out of sleep, finding her voice at last and crying out in pain. She was on the floor beside her bed, the sheets coiled around her legs. The burn in her chest was still there, still burning hot. Dana kicked savagely at the sheets until they released their tentacular hold and she was up, running to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. She yanked up her pajama top, needing to see how badly she was hurt.

  There it was. A red mark as livid as a fresh burn, shaped like a starburst, with rays extending outward. It seemed to throb with heat and light and pain.

  Then it faded and disappeared, taking with it all sensation and any traces of the burned flesh. It left behind only smooth skin.

  She stood there, hips pressed against the sink as she bent closer to the mirror to examine her skin.

  Nothing.

  Dana sagged back against the bathroom wall. She slid down and huddled there, shivering, trembling.

  “What’s happening?” she asked the empty room.

  No one answered her.

  It took a long time for her to climb back to her feet, using the sink and doorknob as handholds. She washed her face, staggered back to her bedroom, and dropped down to
pray. But the words of every prayer she tried came out wrong, clumsy, broken.

  Dana crawled into bed and begged God or the universe or anyone at all to let her sleep, pleading for no dreams at all. Not even good ones. Nothing but darkness and peace.

  And she did sleep.

  But she dreamed again. This time she dreamed that she was dead. That she’d died in her sleep. She dreamed that she floated like a mote of dust in the still air of her bedroom, watching with helpless dread as her mother came in to wake her. The moans that were torn from her mom’s throat when her fingers touched the cold, slack skin of her daughter’s flesh were horrible beyond words.

  When Dana woke in the cold, pale light minutes after dawn, she lay there, panting, feeling weak and spent.

  “God,” she gasped. “Oh my God.”

  CHAPTER 30

  Scully Residence

  April 4, 6:07 A.M.

  “You look like death,” said Melissa when Dana came into the kitchen.

  It was just the two of them. Dad had come home late and was still sleeping, Gran was dozing in her chair in the living room, and Mom was sitting in the backyard, drinking tea. It was what she did when she wanted to be left alone. It was a cold, quiet morning in the Scully house.

  “Thanks,” muttered Dana as she reached for a knife to cut a bagel. The blade caught her reflection, and for a moment Dana stood there, staring at her own face. Melissa was right: she looked awful.

  “You have more dreams?” asked Melissa.

  Dana avoided her eyes. “Kind of.”

  “Another vision?” her sister asked, jerking upright from the comics page of the newspaper.

  “No,” said Dana, not wanting to describe those dreams. “Ordinary stuff. Nothing I want to rehash. Is there coffee?”

  “You hate coffee.”

  “I need some.”

  Melissa got up and made a fresh pot. Dana poured just a little cream into hers and sipped. They sat in moody silence until they were almost done eating. Gran shuffled in and sat down, smiling benignly. “Oh, hello, Margaret,” she said to Melissa. “Who’s your little friend?”

  They did not bother to correct her. The girls kissed her, gathered their school stuff, and went out.

  They did not see the curtains part on the second-floor master bedroom window. They did not see the face of their father watching them walk away.

  * * *

  Dave and Eileen intercepted them again, and they walked to school in a pack. From the bright smile Dave gave Melissa, Dana figured he had planned to “run into” them. Dave gave Melissa a smile brighter than the April sun.

  “That’s a really pretty blouse,” he said.

  Melissa plucked at it. The blouse was sheer, but the swirling pattern of wildflowers kept it from being totally see-through. It was low-cut, though, and Melissa wore a new color of lipstick.

  “Thanks,” she said. “I just threw on the first thing I could find.”

  It had taken her half an hour to pick out the right blouse, and the very tight jeans to wear with it, and it was clear to anyone with a pulse that she had planned for this encounter. Especially since it wasn’t that warm outside and she must have been freezing. Eileen caught Dana’s eye, and they both turned away to hide smiles.

  “Much as I love school half days,” said Dave, “I wish it wasn’t because they’re letting everyone out because of the viewing. That sucks. And a bunch of people got permission to skip school tomorrow for Maisie’s funeral.”

  Eileen glanced around. “Are you guys going?”

  “No,” said Melissa. “I don’t do viewings and I don’t do funerals.”

  Eileen cut a look at her. “Because you didn’t know her?”

  “No, because death should be about rebirth and not a bunch of people staring at a corpse in a box. That’s creepy.”

  No one commented on that, and silence followed them for almost a full block.

  They crossed a street and saw Karen and her friend Angie. The girls paused to study Dana with unreadable eyes. On reflex Dana nodded to them, and after a moment Karen nodded back. No words were exchanged, though, and the other girls walked ahead.

  “What was that all about?” asked Dave.

  “Maisie’s cousin and her friend,” said Dana. “We talked yesterday. They’re really hurting.”

  They walked in silence for two blocks, and then Dave said, “We talked to Ethan Hale last night. He was asking about you.”

  Dana said, “Oh…?” She tried to make it sound casual, but Melissa and Eileen both cut sharp looks at her.

  Melissa scowled at him. “What was he asking about?”

  “Nothing much,” said Dave. “He knew I knew you, and wanted to know stuff about Dana.”

  “What kind of stuff did he want to know?” persisted Melissa.

  “General stuff. Where you guys live. What Dana’s into. Y’know, books and movies and music. Like that.”

  “Ah,” said Eileen, giving a knowing nod.

  “Ah,” agreed Melissa.

  Dana was way too embarrassed to say a word. One of the real downsides of being a redhead was that her face flushed brightly with every change of mood, and something like this was like being a lobster in a pot. Hot and bright red.

  “Ethan’s cute, for a nerd. What’d you tell him?” asked Melissa, clearly amused.

  Dave shrugged. “All I know is that she likes school.”

  Dana quickened her pace, as if she could outwalk her blush.

  “Hey,” said Dave as they crossed toward the school. “Look at all the deputies.”

  There were two sheriff’s department cars and several uniformed officers standing in a knot, speaking with the principal, Mr. Sternholtz, and the school’s elderly security guard, whose name Dana didn’t know but who all the students called Tex.

  “I heard they were going to assign a bunch of narcs to FSK,” said Eileen.

  “Right,” said Dave, “because clearly we’ve become a wretched hive of scum and villainy.”

  “This is about Maisie,” countered Eileen, “and those other teens. Maybe there really is a problem.”

  “Maybe,” said Dana quietly. “But I don’t think it’s drugs.”

  CHAPTER 31

  Francis Scott Key Regional High School Parking Lot

  7:21 A.M.

  Gerlach’s driver drummed his fingers on the curved top of the steering wheel.

  “She saw you, you know,” he said.

  Agent Gerlach popped the glove box and rooted around for a fresh pack of gum. There were a dozen packs in there, most of them empty. He never threw his trash out the window. Fingerprints. He found the last unopened pack behind the spare magazines for the automatic pistol he wore.

  “I know,” he said.

  “Is that going to be a problem?”

  Gerlach unwrapped a stick and bent it to test its freshness. It snapped. Brittle and stale. He sighed and put it in his mouth anyway.

  “I don’t have a particularly memorable face,” he said.

  “You sure?” asked the driver. “I read her profile. She’s a sharp kid. Young, but sharp.”

  Gerlach chewed the gum and did not reply.

  The last of the students vanished through the big doors, and the neighborhood fell into a false quiet, as if there were no one around.

  As if everything were calm and peaceful.

  As if.

  CHAPTER 32

  Francis Scott Key Regional High School

  7:28 A.M.

  Dana was at her locker sorting through her textbooks when Ethan seemed to materialize out of nowhere.

  “Hey,” he said, and she jumped about a foot in the air.

  “Don’t do that,” she said, shoving him back.

  “Sorry,” he said in exactly the way someone says it when they’re not. “Are you still coming to science club today?”

  “Sure,” said Dana. “But then we’ll go look at your uncle’s files. Right?”

  He searched her eyes. “If you’re sure you want to.”
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  Before she could answer, the special notice bell rang very loudly, and they automatically glanced at the speakers mounted high on the wall. There was a tap-tap sound of someone testing the mic, and then Mr. Sternholtz’s voice spoke in a slow, heavy tone.

  “All students are required to go to the auditorium for a special assembly that will be held in place of homeroom. Please make your way there now. The assembly will begin in fifteen minutes.”

  Then silence.

  “What’s that all about?” wondered Ethan. “No, wait, I get it.… The narcs. Did you see them all outside? We’re going to have them up our butts from now on.”

  Dana nodded, though there was a tone to Sternholtz’s announcement that bothered her.

  Even so, she cut a sidelong look at Ethan. “You want to sit together?”

  He grinned. “Sure.”

  They headed off, and almost immediately Ethan collided with a young man who came out of a doorway. Ethan bounced off the other guy and nearly fell, but the second boy whipped out a hand and caught him. It was an incredibly fast move, and it carried with it enough strength to stop Ethan’s fall.

  “Hey! Watch where you’re going,” growled Ethan as he pulled his arm away.

  The other boy was Angelo, from Corinda’s shop. “You walked into me, ese.”

  Angelo’s blue work shirt was half-unbuttoned to reveal a white Henley beneath. His arms and face were a medium brown except for some old pink scars. Signs of an interesting life, Dana thought.

  “You came out of nowhere and crashed right into me,” protested Ethan. He was flushed, clearly embarrassed for getting both knocked over and saved in the same moment.

  “I came out of there,” said Angelo, pointing to a door clearly marked JANITORIAL. “If you’d been paying a little attention to where you were going instead of hound-dogging with your girlfriend here, you might have seen me.”

  “I wasn’t hound-dogging; I was going to the assembly.”

  “He’s not my boyfriend,” Dana said quickly.

  Both boys looked at her. Angelo smiled; Ethan did not.

  “If you were going to the assembly,” said Angelo mildly, “then I guess you better scurry along.” Before Ethan could organize a reply, Angelo turned to Dana and gave a little lift of his chin. “¿Qué pasa, mai?”