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For a long time, I lay on that wet asphalt, wishing I was dead. It’s like I’m not even here, like the hurt’s so big I disappear in it. Something soft brushes my shoulder, near the base of my neck. Pain knifes through me, and I choke on a sob. Then I feel that touch again. I lurch up off the track to look around. Nothing.

I’m soaked, numb clear through, but the
chill don’t do a thing to dull the fire of losing Cole. That wells up so big and powerful, I can’t hold it back. I scream as loud as I can, till I’m still yelling, but no sound comes out.

I can’t do this. No way can I go back to how things were. Didn’t I do all I could to make sure nothing like this would happen? All them lies I told, why couldn’t they keep him safe?

I shove the wet hair from my eyes and go get my bike. I rip out of the parking lot hard and fast, daring the cops to come after me, hoping I skid under the wheels of some car.

I got no idea where I’m going, but I wind up at Ivan’s Automotive, the shop where I work. Soon as I pull into the lot, the answer comes. My bike might
not’ve done me in, but I know something that will.

I find a piston in the scrap bin outside and use it to bust the glass in the back door. When I get in, I turn on the office light, but leave the rest of the place dark.
Don’t want nobody calling the cops before I finish this.

I pick the ’89 Taurus ’cause emission standards aren’t so strict for a car that old. Once I got the keys, I grab one of the hoses we use to vent exhaust from the shop. I stick one end on the tail pipe and put the key in the ignition so I can roll the window down a little. I snake the other end through till it’s resting on the passenger side floorboards. There’s a big gap, so I find some towels and cram ’
em in to stop it up.

When I crank the engine, I have one thought of Momma, but the pain’s so big and deep it chases even that away. I close my eyes. For a second, I wonder if I’ll see Cole, or if it’ll just be over, but either way it
don’t matter.

There’s this whir, and all four windows start going down.
What the hell?
I jab the master control to raise ’em. The second I take my finger off, they head south again.
Are you kidding me?
Real quick, I roll ’em up, kill the engine, and get out of the car to pull the fuse. Whatever’s going on, them windows can’t work if they don’t have no juice.

I get back in and crank the starter. The engine revs for just a second before it dies. I try again. The car sputters and stalls. One more shot, and this time it won’t run for nothing. Pissed, I twist the key and don’t let go until the starter sucks every bit of life out of the battery.

“Son of a bitch!” I slam my fist against the wheel, beating it again and again. Finally, I got nothing left. A sob grabs my throat and I slump forward, pain crashing down in waves that want to drown me.

Then something touches my shoulder. I jump and swing around. This time I see him, right beside me.

Cole. Only not Cole—he’s sorta sunk down into the seat a little, and the fabric shows right through him.

The shock stops my breath. I stare at him and he stares back, sadder than I ever seen him. That look is so damn
Cole
it rips a hole in me. I got no doubt that if he could, he’d take every bit of my pain and carry it himself.

When he puts his hand out, I feel that feather touch again.

“I’m sorry, Ace,” he says, “but I can’t let you do this.”

I know this ain’t real. I gotta be dreaming. I reach out to touch whatever it is I’m seeing. Something’s there, like the hum you feel around a substation, but it don’t stop my hand.

“I’m losing it,” I say. I can’t stop staring. I want so
bad for this to be Cole. My cheeks feel hot and wet, only this time the crying’s quiet.

Cole reaches up, like he’s
gonna wipe the tears away, only he can’t. All I feel is this electric crackle against the wetness.

“I hate that I did this to you,” he says. He’s wearing his
firesuit and looks like he did just before he went out on the track, ’cept for being all shimmery.

I know he
ain’t real, but I don’t care. I’ll take anything I can get. “How come you’re still here? Why didn’t you go to heaven or whatever?” I don’t believe in that stuff, but he does, even if he only went to church on Christmas and Easter.

“I think I was supposed to,
then I saw you at the track. I couldn’t leave you like that, Ace. And I can’t let you take your own life.”

His look is so intense, I
gotta turn away. “I don’t want to live if you ain’t here. What difference does it make, anyway?”

“You know what difference it makes. Your mom needs you.”

I got nothing to say to that. I can’t argue, but I ain’t letting him change my mind.

“And there’s Ivan,” he says. “How do you think he’ll feel if he comes in here tomorrow and finds you dead?”

That never crossed my mind, but I figure it ain’t my problem. “I don’t care,” I say, staring straight out the windshield.

“Yes you do. And you care about your mom, too. What’ll happen if you aren’t around to cash her check or do her shopping? Who’s going to keep your dad from hurting her?”

“I don’t care!” I can’t think about that stuff right now. Why the hell don’t he just leave me alone?

“I know it hurts, Ace,” he says, his voice gentle now. “But you’re not the sort of person who runs out on his responsibilities. You can’t abandon her.”

“Shut up! You don’t know how I feel.” I turn and glare at him. “Why’d you have to die, anyway? You keep yapping about duty, but
you’re
the one who didn’t do his duty.
You’re
the one abandoning people!”

Pain hovers in Cole’s eyes. “Not by my own will. Do you think I asked to be dead at thirty-three? Do you think I wanted to leave you and
Torey? There’s no way I’d do that if I had a choice.”

I slump against the steering wheel, burying my face in my arms. I know it’s true, and I know I can’t run out on Momma. “Okay,” I say, “I won’t kill myself. You can go off into the damn light.”

Cole sorta laughs. “Funny thing about that—there wasn’t any light. In fact it wasn’t like any of the things you hear. All I saw was a bus.”

I pull away from the wheel and look at him.
“A bus?”

“Yeah.”
He gives me this haunting kind of smile. “My old summer camp bus. It pulled up with all these kids hanging out of the windows, calling to me. When I looked at it, I felt nothing but peace, and I knew if I got on, I’d be happier than I’d ever been in my life. But I couldn’t do it. After a few minutes, the driver shut the doors and pulled away.”

A pang shoots through me. “You think it’s coming back?” I don’t want him to leave, but I
don’t want him getting stuck here ’cause of me, either.

“I don’t know,” Cole says, running a hand through his hair. “Maybe that depends on you.”

“Whaddaya mean?”

“There’s something dark happening in your life, Alex. I can feel it hovering around you, and it scares the hell out of me. You have to get away from your dad.”

I snort. “Don’t you think I woulda left by now if I could? He’ll come after us. You know what happened last time.”

“Go to
Torey.”

Is he crazy? “
Torey don’t want nothing to do with me.”

Cole leans close, his hand tingling on my shoulder. “I know it might seem like that, but she’ll help. Just call my cell. They gave it to her at the hospital.”

Thinking of Torey with Cole’s phone is like getting kicked in the nuts. My hand slides to my pocket, and I pull out my cell. When I run my thumb across it, the pain fills me all over again.

“Call her.”

I flip it open and click through to the phone book. There’s only three numbers: ‘work,’ ‘home,’ and ‘Cole.’ I snap it shut. “The last person she wants to hear from is me.”

Cole’s image flickers, faint and then sharp. “You can’t stay with your dad. Something terrible will happen if you do.”

“You think that’s news? Bad things always happen with him.”

“Not like this,” he says.

“What—you can see the future? What’s he gonna do that he ain’t done already?”

“I don’t know!” Cole’s face twists up, and for a second he looks almost solid. “I can’t see anything—all I can do is
feel it. But you’ve got to get out of there.”

He’s so intense it spooks me. “Okay. Okay,” I tell him. “I’ll figure something out. But I
ain’t going to Torey.”

“She can help. You two need each other.”

That idea’s so far from real it don’t make sense. “I don’t need anyone.” I glance over at him and can tell he ain’t buying it.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ll stick around until I know you’re safe. Now go get some sleep. You look like hell.”

I pull myself out of the Taurus and clean the place up the best I can. Not much I can do about the broken glass. Back home, I sneak into my room and slide my busted dresser in front of the door. It don’t stop my old man when he’s in a rage, but it slows him down enough that I can get out the window.

When I turn, I jump half out of my skin. Cole’s right behind me.

“So this is where you live.” He looks around, shaking his head. The walls are dirty white with holes in ’em where the old man threw stuff at me and missed. The carpet’s this nasty gray thing with a mattress in one corner, my blankets tangled up on top. I got boxes and milk crates everywhere, filled with parts and broken machines I’m gonna fix someday.

“Least it’s warm and dry,” I say, flipping off the light. “How’d you find me, anyway? You
ain’t never been here before.”

“That doesn’t matter. I can sense where the people I care about are by what they’re feeling. The stronger the emotion, the easier it is. You were a piece of cake. All I had to do was think about you, and here I am.”

I dig my keys and cell phone out of my pocket and lay ’em by the head of my mattress, where I can get to ’em quick. Sadness tugs at me. Ain’t no one to call anymore.

I collapse on my bed, too beat to pull my clothes off. Cole sits down beside me, his back against the wall so he’s facing the door. He sags into the stuff around him, same as in the Taurus, like he
ain’t quite got this ghost thing figured out yet.

“I’m sorry, Ace,” he says. Then that whispery touch covers my hand.

Somehow, it makes sleep come a little easier.

Purchase
Dead Heat
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