I Spy Dead People (26 page)

When I reach the front door, I cringe from the shrillness of the alarm. Who does it belong to? I yank open the door and step onto the porch. The air smells thick with rain. It's too dark to see the clouds. Not that I'm a meteorologist. Papa, Dad's father, loves to watch the news, and every night we'd be at his and Nana's house for Christmas, he'd tell us the day's weather. Dad says preparing us for the cold or a storm is his way of showing his love.

I step down onto the walkway, and a chirp sounds. The alarm stops. Thank goodness. The Quinns have their outside garage light on. A lime-colored Volkswagen Beetle sits in their driveway. Super cute.

I head back inside, pushing the door with my elbow and dial Dad's number again. Where is he? I pace the hall. He's most likely with the chief, so I'll call her. But I don't know her number. I text Troy.

wheres ur mom? Is my dad w/ her?

prolly @ park. its their spot

Eww! Why do I keep finding out more gross information? Next I'll learn they have their own song.

the one near my house?

yep

I redial Dad's number and wait for the beep. "Dad, I found the charm. The one I told you about. I'm home. I…never mind. I'm coming to you."

I end the call and turn. Shayla's standing in my open doorway. I must not have shut the door all the way. The streetlamp casts an amber glow along the left side of her body. Her face is in the shadows, so I can't see her expression.

"You scared me," I say.

She doesn't respond.

I step closer. Did she hear me? "Shayla?"

She's still silent. Motionless. Creepy.

My stomach twists. I stop moving. "What's wrong?"

My phone vibrates in my hand. I flinch and look down at it. It's a text from Troy.

everything cool?

I glance up, and Shayla's gone.

Weird.

I slip into my flip-flops, rush outside, and slam the door behind me, totally forgetting my key. I don't want to take the time to go back in, though. Hopefully there aren't many robberies around here.

I run down the street, not caring about how I'll be soaked in sweat in a few seconds, not flinching at Cujo's barking, and not turning back to see whose front door I just heard slam shut also. I'm on a mission, and nothing will stop me. I turn the corner, veer out of the way of the Elm tree, and suck in a lungful of air. Running is not my thing.

I slow down to a brisk walk. My lungs burn, and I feel like I'm going to die. Maybe I should try that Couch to 5K thing 'cause detectives need to be able to move fast.

Just a few feet from the next corner, a car behind me puts on their brights. I glance back, but the glare is too strong for me to make anything out. It doesn't matter anyway. A car is definitely faster than me, and it'll soon past.

But it doesn't.

The engine revs, and I'm reminded of my nightmares. Any chance I'm asleep and this is one now?

Despite my panting, I pick up my speed.

The car's tires hit something. I glance back. It's driving on the edge of the sidewalk coming straight at me.

What the…?

I try to leap out of the way by throwing myself into the closest yard, but the car nips me in the hip, and sends me flying. I land on my back.

White lights burst in front of my eyes, like popping soap bubbles. I can't tell if I'm breathing. Everything feels so tight and compressed. Pain rolls into my limbs, to every inch of my body.

Then someone is over me.

Yes, please help me. I try to focus on the face, but it's a blur. I feel like I'm floating.

The person grabs my hand, probably looking for a pulse. Is the ambulance here?

There's something familiar, something…

But the person's fingers aren't on my pulse. He pries open my fingers and takes the charm.

No, you can't have that. I need it. It's proof.

I want to fight back, tell my body to move, but the pain pounds harder and harder until…

 

I rouse and hear beeping. It takes a moment to pull from sleep. I'm cozy and don't want to stir, but the closer I get to opening my eyes the sharper I feel. My entire body is sore, but my right hip feels like it went through a meat grinder.

I reach out to feel it, and something tugs at my hand. I open my eyes and wince at the headache.

"Piper?" It's Dad's voice.

I groan and realize there's tape and a tube attached to my hand. An I.V. I'm in the hospital.

Dad's by my side and grabs my other hand.

I turn to face him and notice the fear drawn all over his down-turned mouth, like a magic-marker mustache. "Hey," I say and cough. My throat is dry.

He lets go of me and pours a glass of water from a pitcher. He puts a straw into it and holds it up to my mouth. "Here. Drink."

I take a sip, cough again, and take more. Despite it being flavorless water, it tastes great. Cool, crisp, and so awesome.

"How do you feel?" he asks.

"Like crap." I dig my hands into the mattress and wiggle into a sitting position.

"Let me help." He fluffs the pillows behind me and presses a button on the side of the bed to raise the top half.

"How long have I been here?" I reach for the water.

"Several hours. They've taken you for tests. Your head, everything is fine. No broken bones. You'll just be sore for a few days." From the scared look in his eyes, I must have worried him bad.

"I don't remember tests. Was I asleep the whole time?"

He shakes his head. "You passed out from the pain, but then they gave you medication. You've been groggy but awake and asleep through it all."

There's a knock at the door, and it swings open. The chief walks in, holding a stuffed bear clutching a puffy, red heart. She hands it to me. "Hi. It's nice to see you fully awake."

"You've been here the whole time?" I squish the bear against my chest.

She smiles. "Absolutely. Your father's been so worried. And you left your father that message."

Message? Everything feels fuzzy. But of course she's worried about Dad and work.

She pats my leg. "Besides Troy would kill me if I came home without an update. But most importantly, I needed to make sure you're okay."

I grin. Maybe she's not selfish. "What happened?" I ask Dad.

He glances to Olivia then says, "Don't you remember?"

I rub my forehead trying to put the pieces together. "I-I found the charm."

"That's what you said in the message, but the paramedics didn't find it on you," he says.

I pick through the bits of my memory. "The driver took it out of my hand. Wait, paramedics? Who called an ambulance? How'd you find me?"

"We saw the ambulance at the corner. We were at the park." He looks to her again, like he's unsure if he should tell me the truth, like he feels guilt.

I can't deny that feels nice. At least it means he cares about how I feel. "That's right. When I couldn't find you, I texted Troy to see if you were together. He said to try the park, which is where I was headed."

"A neighbor saw you on their lawn and called 911," says the chief.

"Did they see who hit me?"

She shakes her head. "No, the car had already driven off. What do you remember about it?"

"It was dark—the night, the car. And the headlights were blinding. I couldn't make it out."

There's some piece that wants to come to the surface, but it won't. It's just out of my grasp.

"Did you see the driver?" the chief asks.

I shake my head. "No. But he wanted that charm. It was the same person who killed Linzy and Cameron."

From the looks on their faces, I doubt they're as convinced as I am.

"But how would this person know you were on your way to give your father the charm?" the chief asks.

I think hard, but my head hurts, and I don't want to push my memories anymore. Maybe later. "I don't know. But it's too much of a coincidence for that not to be the truth."

 

*  *  *

 

The next morning I wake early. Between the nurses in and out to check my vitals and Dad snoring in the chair, I didn't get much sleep. Luckily the bed next to me stayed unoccupied all night. Now, the blinds are drawn, sunlight spills across the room like a golden blanket, and Dad is off finding coffee and lots of it. They already served me breakfast, a boring plate of Corn Flakes, milk, dry toast and rubbery scrambled eggs, and word is the doctor will be releasing me this afternoon.

When the door opens I expect it to be a nurse or Dad, but instead it's Troy.

My grin stretches my mouth so wide I'm almost certain my skin will crack. "Hey."

He walks in, trailing a bouquet of helium "Get Well Soon" balloons behind him. "I hope this isn't too much."

The dorky look on his face makes me giggle. "It's perfect."

He wraps their ribbons around the end of the bed then sits in the chair. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better. My headache's gone, and I'll be leaving later."

"That's great."

We sit in this awkward silence, just smiling at one another and glancing around the room like hospital equipment is so entertaining. Why aren't we talking about last night or our parents? Why are we acting as if we're strangers who didn't make out?

I bite the inside of my cheek. Maybe he regrets it. Maybe our parents' lip-locking made him change his mind about us. I need to ask. But when I open my mouth, the words do not follow. Gosh, why am I such a wuss?

After a few more minutes of brain-numbing silence, he stands. "I need to get the car back to Mom. I'll call you later."

I widen my plastic smile. "Great. Thanks for the balloons."

"No problem." Then he hurries to the door and dashes out.

I lean back against the pillows and sigh.

 

When Dad returns, I'm flipping channels.

"The coffee here is disgusting." He sticks out his tongue, as if the air will scrub away his spoiled taste buds.

"Then go home, make a big pot of it, and work."

He widens his eyes. "I can't leave you."

I chuckle. "Of course you can. The nurse said I won't be leaving before noon, probably closer to two. You can leave. And you can figure out who mowed me down last night."

He sits on the edge of the bed and stares into my eyes. "Who are you, and what have you done with my daughter?"

I laugh. "What are you talking about?"

He places the back of his hand across my forehead, checking for a fever. "My daughter wants to solve her own mystery. She'd never tell me to do it for her."

I sigh. He's right. Under different circumstances I wouldn't. "I thought solving a case meant searching for clues on paper, talking to witnesses, that kinda thing. Not getting hit by a car." My voice cracks at the end.

He squeezes my hands. "I can't believe that happened. I'm so sorry I wasn't there to protect you."

"It's not your fault." It happened so fast, I don't remember being scared, but thinking back on it now, I was terrified. They wanted the charm so badly, they drove their car into me. On purpose. They didn't know I'd be fine. I could've died.

"And I think the only important thing is finding out who did it. Even if I'm not the one to do that."

He smiles. "You've matured."

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, well, metal on flesh will do that to a person."

I giggle and try to make it sound lighter than it is, but Dad frowns and gets up.

"I'll be back in a couple of hours. Try to rest. Take a nap."

"I just woke up."

He walks to the door and opens it. "Hey," he says to someone on the other side. Then he looks at me. "Guess I'm leaving you in good hands."

As he steps out, Kinley steps in. She rushes to my bedside. "Are you okay?"

I am now. "Yeah. How'd you find out?"

She sits on the bed. "Are you kidding? The entire block knows. Maybe the whole town."

"Wow."

"I know. So tell me everything."

I repeat the deets one more time, and afterwards we're silent in thought. It's the last thing I want to think about anymore, though, so I change the subject. "What about camp?"

"My parents have already paid, so I can't get out of it. I leave tomorrow."

I squeeze my eyes shut. The headache's returning. "This sucks."

"I know. But we can text every day, and when I get back, we'll still have a week before school starts. Then the whole school year."

And then I'll move and never see her again. I seriously have to work on Dad.

"I wish we talked all this out sooner. Maybe I could've convinced my parents if I asked before they paid. I just…I thought you didn't care if I left. You never asked me to stay or even looked upset."

"Because you made it sound like you wanted to go."

She leans over and throws her arms around me. "I'm sorry about the Eli stuff. I know you like Troy. I was just jealous."

"Of me and Eli?"

She pulls back. "No, of you spending more time with them than me. I even saw you with Shayla a few times. I didn't want to lose your friendship."

She likes me that much? Cool. "All of it was about Linzy. I didn't mean to put her case before our friendship, either. I didn't know where you and I stood, and the case was in front of me."

She nods. "I get it. Sorta." She holds out her hand. "No more secrets, okay?"

I stare at her long, bony fingers. Gosh, I can't make that promise, but I also can't leave her hanging. I press my hand against hers. "Right."

 

*  *  *

 

Just as an orderly drops off a boring tray of chicken noodle soup, salad with a packet of Italian dressing, and a tuna sandwich that looks like it's been dead longer than I've been alive, my door opens, and Eli walks in.

My mouth hangs open from surprise, but I play it off and stare at the bag in his hand. "Is that what I think it is?"

It's hard to mistake the delicious aroma of
empanadas
.

He hands it to me. "Mine and
Aubela's
get-well-soon gift."

"Thanks." I push the cafeteria lunch aside and tear into the bag.

He flops into the chair and grabs the remote. "Daytime television sucks."