Inevitable (20 page)

Radio crackled on the other side, though I couldn’t make out the words. “Stay on the phone with me, Jayne. There’s a patrol two minutes from your house. They’ll be right there.”

“Okay,” I whispered. I didn’t say another word, just breathed into the phone, ears perked for footsteps on the stairs. So far, nothing. But it wouldn’t take long. If he was looking for me, he would correctly assume the bedrooms were on the second floor.

I heard a knock at the front door.

“Jayne, I’ve been notified that the patrol is at your house. Now I need you to go downstairs and open the door.”

The thought of moving petrified me. “Really? What if he attacks me when I do?”

“The police aren’t leaving until the door opens. I can have them announce themselves. Or I can tell them to force an entry, though it might damage your door.”

I imagined my mom being more upset over the damaged door than a dead daughter. No, that was unfair. “Have them say who they are and I’ll open the door.”

“Fair enough.”

A moment later a voice outside shouted, “This is the police. Open the door or we have permission to force an entry.”

I gathered my courage and stood up. Then I ran down the stairs, phone still clutched in one hand, and opened the door.

Two officers stood there, weapons drawn. I blinked in the sunlight, unable to focus on their features.

“Jayne?” one asked.

I nodded.

“Stay out here with me while we search the house.”

His partner ducked inside, weaving around corners with his gun just like in a cop show. I took gulping breaths of air, trying to calm my heart.

A moment later the man returned. “I didn’t find anyone. Why don’t you come in with me and we’ll all look again, together?”

I nodded. Now that the mind-numbing panic had passed, I felt tears burning behind my eyes. I’d heard a door slam shut. Had he snuck out the back door?

We combed through the house, checking every closet, pantry, under the beds, behind doors. My terror subsided bit by bit.

“Ma’am?” The officer who had searched my house motioned me over to the laundry room. A cool breeze blew in from a cracked-open window. “I opened this door when I came through the first time, but just now it was shut again. Do you think the wind might have blown the door closed, and that’s what you heard?”

As soon as he said it, I knew that’s what it was. I closed my eyes, feeling like the biggest idiot on earth. “Yeah. That could’ve been it.”

He looked over my shoulder at his partner.

“Premises are secure,” his partner confirmed.

“We’re going to leave you now,” the first officer said to me, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Keep the doors locked and don’t hesitate to call if you hear anything else.”

“Right,” I murmured. I escorted them to the front door and fastened all the locks. Then I sank down onto the tile floor, wrapping my arms around myself.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

I
sat on the cold tile floor until the fear washed out of me. Why me? Why did I have to See that girl's death and then meet the killer at a stupid high school game? Why did I have to See, anyway?

When had I started Seeing? How old was I when my life spun away from me? I clearly remembered Seeing when I was thirteen. I was twelve when I saw Joshua’s death. I could remember as far back as when I was eleven. Before that, though—I couldn’t recall.

The phone in my hand rang, startling me back to present day. Immediately my heart started a staccato pounding, and I held my breath when I picked it up. Aaron. I exhaled. Running a hand through my wildly wavy hair, I pulled my legs up and hugged my knees. “Hello?”

“Jayne, thank goodness.” His British accent danced across the air waves, bringing a warm feeling of comfort and security to my chest. “You never called me last night. I’ve been calling all morning. You aren’t at school. Are you ill? I’ve been so concerned.”

“Oh, Aaron, I’m sorry. It’s been... a bit of a rough morning.”

“I’m coming over.”

I could think of nothing I would like more than someone else here in the house with me. “Um.” I stood up and worked my way into the hall bathroom. I shot an alarmed glance at my reflection. “That’s all right. I’m fine, really. Just tired.”

“Are you sure? I’ve got half an hour.”

“No, really.” I kept my voice calm. “By the time you got here you, school will have started.”

“Well... if you’re sure.”

I wasn’t at all, but I couldn’t let him know that. “You made it to school, huh? No problems waking up?”

“Not to say I wasn’t tired, but I had hoped to see someone.”

Did I detect a note of teasing? “Oh? I’m sure Ms. Siegfried was happy to see you, too, but she probably didn’t jump out of bed over it.”

“I’m sure she was quite happy to see me.”

My thoughts jumped away from my current dilemma, remembering I had a life outside of my paranoia. “What about Dana? Is she there?”

“Definitely not. I doubt she has recovered yet.”

I nodded. She had been pretty drunk. “Yeah. True that.”

My phone beeped at me, and I pulled it away from my ear. Uh-oh. Mom was calling. “Hey, Aaron, I have to go. So sorry.”

“Not a problem. I’ll call you later.”

Taking a deep breath, I clicked over. This was not going to be good. “Mom?”

“Jayne, I just got a call from the police. Are you okay?”

I exhaled, hoping to stay on her concerned side. “Yeah. Yeah, it was nothing. I heard a noise and got scared.”

I shouldn’t have said that. Her tone changed immediately. “What were you doing home? When you said you were going to school late, did you really mean not at all?”

I winced. Mom sounded really angry, an emotion I usually saw displayed toward my sister. “Mom, I’m so sorry. I was really tired, I couldn’t get myself moving—”

“Is that because you’re hungover? Or was it only Dana who landed herself at the police station?”

Whoa. Now how on earth did she know that?

My silence was telling, and Mom said in a rather smug voice, “Dana’s father called me. Right before the police did, actually. He thought I should know what happened last night.”

Thanks, Mr. Sparks. I decided now wasn’t the time for belligerence. “Mom, I didn’t have anything to drink. I swear. I just went to hang out and have some fun.”

“Jayne! You could’ve been arrested! You could’ve been killed! What if you had been in the car with Dana?”

“But I wasn’t, Mother. Calm down. No one was going to arrest me. I didn’t do anything wrong—”

“You were in the wrong place, Jayne, and that’s enough. You’re not going in to work tonight. Just sit your tiny butt down and wait for me to get home. We’re going to discuss this.”

I hung up on her, a sick feeling in my stomach all over again. Discussing things was never a good thing with my mother.  And I hated it when she called my butt tiny. I didn’t care what she said. I was going in to work.

No, I wasn’t. I exhaled and called JT’s. Tom didn’t handle it all that well, and I worried I wouldn’t have a job when I walked in again.

I went up to my room and tried to sort through my feelings. Sometimes it helped if I wrote them down. I pulled out a notepad and jotted:

Anger

That was the first thing I felt. I added:

Mom. Not understanding, bossing

But beneath that anger was another current of emotion, strong enough to keep my leg bouncing up and down even when I was angry. I wrote:

Fear

No reason to expound upon that one.

It wasn’t the last emotion, either. I felt one more that refused to be smothered even by my fear. In fact, the juxtaposition of the two other emotions made this one even more poignant.

Excitement

I paused, my pen hovering over the paper. It was more than excitement. It was giddiness, anticipation, hope.

Writing helped. Feeling significantly calmer, I pulled out my green file folder. My people folder. Hesitantly, I opened it. My eyes scanned down the rows of names, visions, and deaths, for the occasions when I could verify the death had occurred.

Aaron. Murdered by ex-wife.

I paused, looking over my words. I never forgot the face behind the names, but I knew this one would haunt me for a long time.

Harold. Dies in fire.

That was the last one I’d updated. Memories of the heated house, of him trying to protect his little sister, brought a sob to my throat. I shook my head and started writing on the next line. “Hank. Dies in car accident, drunk driving.” I closed the file and put it back in the bottom of my desk drawer. I felt a little guilty for not being more upset about the guy’s death, but honestly, I was just happy that he hadn’t taken Dana with him.

Downstairs the front door opened, and I put my hand on my desk, forcing myself to take several deep breaths. Nobody should be home right now. Was it the wind? Had I left the door unlocked?

“Jayne?” My mom’s voice carried up the stairs, followed by her footsteps.

I closed my eyes and admitted to myself that I was paranoid. “I’m here.” I stepped out of my room and waited on the landing. Mom’s eyes were clear but her nose was red, a sure sign that she had had an emotional episode. “You’re home early.”

“I wanted to talk to you now.”

“Mom, I—” I took another deep breath. I needed to stay calm if we were going to work this out like adults. “I know you’re mad. But grounding me from work? Come on.”

“You can go back tomorrow. Today, however, you’re grounded from everything. We’ve always trusted you, Jayne. And this is how you repay us? Skipping school, going to a bonfire on the beach where
alcohol
is being served—”

“But I didn’t drink any,” I interrupted.

“How can I believe you?” The tears were welling up in her eyes again. “Your best friend was drinking. She was in a car accident. It could’ve been you, Jayne. You could’ve been killed!”

Her tears made me feel even worse. “But Mom, I wasn’t. I didn’t get in the car with a drunk driver. I’m smarter than that.”

“You shouldn’t have even been there, Jayne! Avoid the appearance of evil! Now go on back in your room. We’ll discuss this again when your father gets home.”

I pushed myself away from the banister, rolling my eyes. She was being irrational. I’d have to try to reason with Dad.

“Oh, and give me your phone. You’re grounded from friends.”

“Fine.” I pulled my phone out from my pocket and slapped it into her hand. Then I stepped back into my room and closed the door tight.



My father was much more understanding. While Mom cried and wailed about what could have happened, trying to get me the death sentence, Dad pointed out all the negative things that I didn’t do.

“But in the end,” he finished, “Jayne, you shouldn’t have skipped school. And as soon as you saw there was alcohol at that party, you should’ve left.”

I leaned back in my chair, folding my arms across my chest and staring at them. I was in high school, for goodness sake. Did they not know what went on in the sanctity of the school hallway during daylight hours? “Right. I’ll keep that in mind for the future.”

“Good.”

Mom opened her mouth, and I knew she was trying to think up a way to make Dad’s verdict more threatening.

“However,” Dad continued, “since you did break the law and violate our trust, there’s going to be a punishment.”

Oh boy. “Yes?” I arched an eyebrow. No point in mentioning that I didn’t actually break the law. I’d already been sentenced.

Dad glanced at Mom. “I have a project for you.”

“A project? For real, Dad?” No way. I felt my mouth drop open. When Beth and I were young, Dad always had a list of “projects” that he used as punishments for us. Something he wanted tackled but didn’t feel like tackling. Thus he would give the job to us. But I hadn’t been assigned a project since I was, like, thirteen!

He lifted a hand. “Jayne, this is very serious. I understand that you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, but you need to think very hard about what you do. Your first wrong choice was to skip school. That one bad decision led you down this path, and here’s your stop.”