The Dead and Buried (11 page)

I
cy fear encased my heart and my chest heaved with quickening breaths.
This isn’t happening
, I thought.
It’s a dream.

I dug my fingernails into the skin of my arm and winced in pain. But what hurt more was the sharp, terrifying realization: This was real.

“The door was opened,” Colby, but not Colby, said. “So I can do this now. Use him. Anytime I want.”

“Please,” I begged with a quivering voice. “Just leave him alone. He has nothing to do with any of this.”

Not Colby smiled, pleased with my reaction. “I’ve got your attention now, don’t I?”

I scrambled up to a sitting position and huddled back against the headboard, my legs pulled up to my chest. “You’re mad that I ignored you these last few days, I get that. I’ll … give you all the attention you want from now on. Just leave Colby alone.”

“It’s not attention I want.”

“I’ll never talk to Donovan again. I’ll stay away from your friends. They’re all still yours. They’re not mine.”

He cocked his head to the side. “You think this is as simple as jealousy? I know I’m dead. I know I can’t come back. They’re not what I want.”

“Then what
do
you want?”

Not Colby blinked once. “To know who killed me.”

“I — I don’t know that,” I stammered.

“You’d better figure it out, then. You’re my best chance. You’re in my house. Walking around with my friends.” The whites of Not Colby’s eyes glowed. “Wanting my boyfriend.”

“People think it was him,” I said.

“It wasn’t,” Not Colby snapped.

“How do you know?”

“Because Donovan left. I watched him walk out the door and then a second later someone came up behind me. Someone who’d already been there. Waiting.”

My body was trembling violently, teeth chattering. “I don’t know how to find out who did it.”

“You’d better figure it out. This will be unpleasant for him,” she said, gesturing down to Colby’s small frame. “But I’ll keep doing it until you get me what I want.”

I made myself speak. “Please, Kayla. I know you’re angry. You have every right to be. But he’s just a little boy.”

Not Colby made a mockingly sad face. “So very small, yes. It would be a shame if he … fell down the stairs in the middle of the night.”

I put my hands up. “Please! Don’t!”

“Promise me!” Not Colby demanded.

I was willing to say or do anything to make this stop. For her to take that gleaming stare and surreally terrible voice out of my sweet Colby.

“I’ll do it. I promise. I’ll figure out who did it.”

Not Colby smiled one last time. Then his eyes rolled up and he crumpled to the floor like a dropped doll.

I jumped out of bed and knelt down beside him. He was limp, asleep. I picked him up into my arms and carried him back to his room, trying not to panic. I laid him on his bed and put my hand on his chest. His heart beat quickly under my hand. His breathing seemed regular, if not a little fast.

I curled up in the rocking chair beside his bed.

I watched him breathe all night.

Marie came home from work at dawn, and I came up with a quick lie.

“He had a nightmare,” I whispered. “So I came in here. I must have fallen asleep in the chair.”

“Poor thing,” Marie said, exhaustion showing on her face. She still had her blue scrubs on. “Poor you, too,” she added. “I hope you’re not too sore today from sleeping in that chair.”

“I’ll be fine. And Colby … it was one of those night terrors, so he might not even remember it.”

Marie leaned down over Colby’s sleeping frame and gave him a kiss on the forehead. Then she gasped.

“What?” I stood up from the chair quickly, my knees and back cracking.

She placed the back of her hand on his forehead for a few seconds. Then she pulled the blanket down, pulled his pajama top up, and put her hand on his chest. “He’s got a fever. Possibly a very high one. Get the thermometer.”

I dashed into the bathroom and riffled through the medicine cabinet until I found it. When I got back to the room, she had Colby up on her lap. His eyes were open but the sheen of sleep was still on them.

“What time is it?” he asked sleepily.

Colby’s voice — so familiar, so vulnerable — made my heart cinch with both relief and worry.

“We’re going to take your temperature,” Marie said, grabbing the thermometer from my outstretched hand. “Open up. Under your tongue. Okay, keep it closed. Don’t bite it. Keep it under your tongue.”

A minute later, the thermometer beeped and Marie read it. “One-oh-three.”

“Is that …” I was going to say “dangerous,” but I didn’t want to alarm Colby.

“We’ll have to keep an eye on it,” Marie said. “Get some fever reducer into him.” She growled. “Those kids at school aren’t good about washing their hands. They share viruses like toys.”

I backed up and stepped out into the hallway. Marie was busy blaming every other kid in town, when I knew the truth. But what was I supposed to say?
Colby’s sick and feverish because apparently those are the after-effects of being possessed by a dead girl. And, oh yeah, she can do it again anytime she wants to. But don’t worry, I vowed to find out who killed her. To keep Colby safe.

That would elicit more than a stern talking-to and getting
my phone taken away. Yeah, that was a one-way ticket to the closest nuthouse.

I retreated to my room. There was nothing I could do here for Colby. Sitting in his room and worrying wouldn’t help, long-term. Marie was best equipped to treat him today. But I’d be the one to make sure it didn’t happen again.

I grabbed my phone. It was time to confirm my plans with Kane and get this thing rolling. I had to insinuate myself even deeper into Kayla’s crowd.

I’d learned a lot about Kayla yesterday. She wasn’t the picture of perfection like I’d imagined. She may have been beautiful and smart and gifted, but she was also deeply flawed. Maybe because things came so easily to her, who knows. All I knew was that she’d been a mean girl in life. And now she was bullying me in death. I didn’t blame her for being vindictive. Getting murdered could bring that out in anyone. But she’d threatened the life of an innocent child.

I didn’t want to be Kayla’s puppet. But all I had to do was look at Colby and I knew I had no choice. I was committed. I would find out who pushed Kayla Sloane.

And then I’d put her to rest for good.

14 spent the afternoon sobbing in my room because she’s still upset 7 dumped her two freaking years ago. Every few months she does this. I don’t know what kicks it off — seeing 7 with someone else, probably. But get over it already. Seriously.

I told 14, “He’s a player. He only wanted you freshman year because you’d just moved to town and were fresh meat. Forget about him.”

But do you want the ugly truth, Diary? 7 DID like 14 her freshman year. Not in the temporary, surface way he’d felt about other girls. But in the real way. A little too real for my taste because I’d always enjoyed his puppy-dog-like attention.

So I got him to dump her.

Yep, here I was today patting her back and saying all the right things while I knew that I was the one who broke them up two years ago.

One day freshman year, I told 7 I’d gotten a Facebook message from an old summer camp friend. Someone who’d seen online that 14 and I had recently become friends.

“So?” 7 said.

“Well,” I said. “This person went to her old school and filled me in on something you should know …” I trailed off and buried my face in my hands as if I really didn’t want to tell.

“What, Kayla?” 7 said, nervous now.

I peeked between my fingers. “You have to promise to never tell. If you decide to break up with her, don’t mention this. Just say you’re not feeling it.”

“Fine, just tell me what it is!”

I had him basically panting for the news now.

“Well, she still has a boyfriend back in her old town. She hasn’t broken up with him. She’s planning on secretly dating you both. She’s playing you.”

I paused a moment to let that settle in, then added, “I didn’t know what to do when I found out. She’s my friend so I didn’t want to betray her, but I also didn’t want you to get hurt.” I traced a finger down his arm with a feathery touch. “I chose to tell you.”

In that split second, I saw that 7 and 14 were over. He’d soon be returned to the spot I kept for him in my back pocket. 14 would be fine. She’d find someone else. And just in case, before 7 left, I reminded him, “Remember, this stays between us. She can never know this is why you’re breaking up with her. Swear on it.”

His face darkened. “I swear on your life.”

C
olby was sleeping his fever off, and Marie was napping with him. Dad was due home in the afternoon, but for now the house was quiet and still. After realizing I hadn’t eaten in about twenty hours, I managed to make myself lunch and sat at the kitchen table to force it down.

The only way for me to deal with the trauma of Colby’s possession was to move forward with a plan. But that plan — getting in with Kayla’s crew, finding out who killed her — required Kane. And after he’d seen the Ouija board and fled last night, I didn’t know what to expect from him.

I sent him a text, asking if we were still on for tonight. He replied quickly with an Of course! Pick u up at 7.

I let out a sigh of relief. At least one thing was coming easily.

I cleaned up the mess I’d made cooking lunch and carried the trash outside. I opened the trash can, grimacing at the stench, and tossed the bag on top. The bag underneath crumpled easily under the weight. Mostly, as I knew, because it was full of plastic cups. The only physical evidence of my party. I was happy to be covering it up with more trash. The truck would come Monday and take it all away.

I was wrestling with the top of the can, trying to fit it back into the metal grooves, when a voice said, “Big party last night, huh?”

I whipped around, holding the metal lid in front of me like a shield.

“I’m your neighbor, Mr. Tucker.”

I knew who he was, though we’d never spoken or stood this close. I usually only caught glimpses of him through his window. And he’d obviously been standing by that window last night, watching the comings and goings. I was toast.

But then I looked again. At his hunched-over frame, the hand he dragged through his scraggly white hair, the forlorn look on his acne-scarred face. He didn’t seem like an angry neighbor. Just a sad man. He was probably in his fifties, though from a distance you’d think he was older.

For some reason, I felt a tiny sting of pity. But I pushed it away. He was creepy, always watching from that window of his. And now he’d startled me and was obviously playing with my head, trying to scare me.

I figured I’d get to the point. “Are you going to tell my parents about the party?”

He hesitated, then answered with a firm, “No.” But before I could relax, he added, “Be careful, though, who you befriend.”

Um, okay.
I was pretty much done with this awkward conversation, but he stood, waiting, as if he needed something.

“I will,” I said, my sweaty hands gripping the lid tightly. “Thank you, Mr. Tucker.”

He nodded then and lumbered over the landscaping that divided our yards.

I tossed the lid on the trash, not even caring anymore if it was perfectly closed, and hurried back inside.

If being creepy was enough to make someone a murder suspect, I’d just filled in number one on my list.

Marie and Colby were both awake by the time Dad got home. Colby’s fever had broken, but his face was still pasty. The bags under Marie’s eyes were so dark it looked like she’d been sucker punched. Dad had his usual stunned, jet-lagged look to him. And I radiated guilt. Combined, we must have looked like four circles of hell.

I was in my room, searching my closet for clothes for my non-date, when a knock came on the door.

“Come in,” I called.

Dad bent over as he cleared the doorway, then straightened when he was safely in my tall-ceilinged room.

“What are you up to?”

“Finding something to wear,” I said as I pushed a few hangers to the side.

“Are you going out with new friends tonight?” His voice was filled with hope, as if me having friends was the answer to all our problems.

“One friend. He’s going to show me around town.”

“A boy?” Less hope in his voice now. “Like a date?”

I smirked. I complained about his protectiveness to his face,
but inside I actually didn’t mind. That’s what dads were for. To worry about boys and proclaim each one unworthy of his daughter.

“No. It’s a non-date,” I said, and I could practically see the relief in his neck and shoulders.

“Oh. Good.” He pulled my desk chair out and sat down, though he looked kind of silly. The small wooden chair was definitely made for someone of my size, not his. “So how are things?”

Oh no. I didn’t expect a talk. I didn’t want a talk. Not now. Not after the last twenty-four hours I’d had.

“They’re fine, Dad. But I have to figure out what to wear.”

“Is something going on?” he blurted.

I gripped a shirt tightly in my fist. “No … why?”

“You don’t seem like yourself. I know it can’t just be that story about the girl dying in the house. You’ve been avoiding me all afternoon and I barely saw you all week.”

“You’re busy. I’m busy.” I faced my closet again so he wouldn’t see the lie on my face. Even Faye’s makeup trick that I used to cover my dark circles couldn’t cover that.

“How’s the new school?”

“It’s great. Much better than my old one.”

“And the kids? They’re treating you okay?”

“I’m fitting right in.”

He paused, as if the next question was harder to ask. “Did you and Marie argue about anything?”

“Dad, Colby’s sick. You should really be with him.”

“I know he’s sick. But right now I’m worried about
you
.”

My heart squeezed. I never doubted my father’s love for me.
I never once thought that he’d forgotten about me or anything like that. But still … it was nice to be reminded.

Even if I didn’t want to talk.

I turned around slowly, with a smile I hoped looked real enough. “I appreciate it, Dad, but I really have to get ready.”

“For your non-date.”

I smirked again. “Yeah.”

He rose from the chair and hiked his chinos up. “I’ll leave you alone now, on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“We have one of our Daddy-Daughter outings some night this week. I’ve been traveling so much and I really want to hear about school and your new friends. We can go out to dinner, just the two of us, and catch up. How’s that?”

We used to do that all the time when I was little. A Daddy-Daughter outing could be the movies, bowling, ice cream, my favorite pizza place back home. I’d always loved it.

“Deal.”

Satisfied, Dad smiled and left the room, watching his head on the doorway.

I hoped I’d have the answers Kayla wanted by then, so this nightmare would be over and I wouldn’t have to spend the dinner lying to him.