The Loveliest Dead (27 page)

“How come you’ve never asked me about my gift?” Lily said.

“Your gift?” Claudia put her hamburger down and dabbed a paper napkin over her mouth. “You mean ... your psychic ability?”

“You’ve never said a word about it. You’ve never even asked for a reading. I don’t even know if you think I’m for real or not.”
 

Claudia smiled. “Why wouldn’t I think you’re for real?”

“Some people don’t believe in that stuff.”

“I’ve heard the way your clients talk about you. I’ve seen the way they look after their readings. It doesn’t matter how many times they come, they always walk out looking like it was the first time and you just knocked their socks off.”
 

“Maybe I’m just a good con artist.”

Claudia shook her head. “You’re too insecure to be a con artist.”

Lily’s left eyebrow rose high on her forehead. “Oh. Well. Thank you.”

Claudia laughed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that in a bad way. I mean, like, when you asked me to tell you when you’re not handling people well, when you’re being rude—that’s not something a con artist would do.”
 

“You’ve got me there.”

“If I thought you were ripping people off, I wouldn’t work for you. Really.”

“But you’ve never mentioned it.”

Claudia said nothing. She took a bite of her hamburger, bit a few fries in half.

Lily was surprised by the discomfort she sensed from Claudia. She opened herself a bit more, reached out just enough, and discovered beneath Claudia’s discomfort a layer of mild fear.
 

“I’m sorry,” Lily said, “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Claudia’s eyes widened. “You didn’t frighten me.”

“Well... I made you uncomfortable. I’m sorry. I was just curious.”

“You want to know the truth?”

“Of course.”

“And you won’t be offended?”

“I can’t promise that.”

“Well, I don’t want to offend you.”

“Good grief, Claudia, I could probably find out myself in a second, so why don’t you just tell me.”

The pale freckles on Claudia’s forehead huddled together slowly as she frowned. “What do you mean, you could find out yourself?”

“Well, I
might
be able to find out myself. It’s probably right on the surface of your consciousness, because we’ve been talking about it.”
 

“You mean ...” Claudia’s head bobbed slightly as she swallowed hard. “You can read my mind?”

“See,
that’s
what I’m talking about.”
 

“What?”

“You just asked a question about it. That’s the first question you’ve asked in two years. I was just wondering why. Aren’t you curious?”
 

“So ...
can
you read my mind?”
 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Lily plucked a french fry from the cardboard carton and took a small bite. “I can sense feelings and moods, and I pick up on things that are, say, weighing heavily on people’s minds. For example, I can tell when you come to work right after having a fight with your mother. No matter how cheerful you might be, I always know. It’s on you like a scent, because it’s still foremost on your mind, it’s bothering you, and when something’s bothering you, or you’re ecstatically happy, or furious, it’s like a psychic broadcast. And I’m an antenna.”
 

“Then, in a way... you
can
read my mind.”
 

“I read mostly emotions, moods. I have no idea what you’re thinking right now. If I could read minds, I’d probably have my own TV show. But that doesn’t mean I don’t pick up information about you.”
 

“Information? What kind of information?” Before Lily could respond, Claudia held up a hand, palm out, and said, “Hold it. Don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.”
 

“Why not?”

“For the same reason I haven’t asked you about your... abilities. I’m sorry, Lily, but it gives me the creeps. That’s all. I don’t
want
to know, because it just gives me the creeps.”
 

Lily washed down the french fry with a drink of soda, then tilted her head back and laughed. “You thought that was going to offend me?”
 

“It doesn’t?”

“Are you kidding? Makes perfect sense to me. Hell, I’ve been living with it all my life, and sometimes it gives
me
the creeps.”
 

After filling the Beetle’s gas tank, they left Redding and headed west on 299. Lily put a Mozart CD into the player, tipped her seat back, and tried to get some sleep. But it was a steep and twisting mountain road, and when she closed her eyes, the motion made her feel nauseated, so she sat up in her seat. She was too preoccupied with the Kellars to sleep anyway.
 

“Are we going to be coming up on a gas station soon?” Claudia said.

“Not for a while. We just filled up.”

“No, it’s not that. I shouldn’t have had that soda.”

“Ah, I see,” Lily said. “Well, try to think about something else for a while.” Seconds later, her thoughts were interrupted by a clear image of Claudia’s mother—Lily had met her once, briefly—and the sound of a dry, hacking cough. It made her chest feel tight, made her feel suddenly tense. She turned to Claudia but did not say anything yet.
 

She had received impressions from and about Claudia before. Two years earlier, she knew Claudia was going to get a phone call from her ex-boyfriend in Sacramento, and she knew it was going to upset Claudia. Lily considered telling her not to answer her phone that night, but had thought better of it. Since Claudia had never asked Lily about the gift or asked for a reading, Lily felt uncomfortable offering information. She had not told her about the phone call, but had given her the next day off to make up for it. None of the impressions she’d received about Claudia had involved anything important—the phone call from her ex-boyfriend had been the most significant of them all. None of them had involved illness.
 

“Claudia, has your mother been coughing a lot?” Lily said.

“What? Coughing?” There was a quiet swelling of panic in Claudia’s voice. “Yes, she has. I told her she should see a doctor about it.”
 

“Please, don’t get upset.”

“Lily, when someone like
you
asks if my mother has been
coughing
—”
 

“I’m not getting any death feelings about her, not at all. But you need to insist that she see her doctor. That’s all. Just get her to the doctor, and I’m sure she’ll be fine. She doesn’t smoke, she’s a healthy woman—it could be an allergy. But she needs to see her doctor about it, or it’ll get worse. Please don’t panic.”
 

“So ... you’re not saying she’s seriously ill.”

“No, that’s not what I’m feeling.”

“Okay. As soon as we stop, I’ll call her. Maybe if I tell her
you
said so, she’ll make an appointment.”
 

“I didn’t mean to scare you. But I thought I should say something.”

After a moment, Claudia said, “Thank you.” They drove in silence for a few minutes before Claudia said, “What are ... death feelings like?”
 

“Oh, they’re awful. Awful. Before I met Annabelle— I’ve told you about Annabelle Youngblood before, haven’t I?”

“You’ve mentioned her.”

“Well, before I met Annabelle, I had no idea how to manage this gift. Before she taught me how to deal with it, I had this constant flow of information coming at me all the time. It kept me in a pretty steady state of depression for a long time. I didn’t know it then, but I understand now that the death feelings were the cause of that depression. They were everywhere. Because we’re all dying. It’s just a matter of time.”
 

“Can we not get morbid?”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to. But when I was a kid, it was pretty—”

It happened quickly—the peripheral flashing, the smell of bananas, then she slipped away.

Two minutes later, Lily sat forward suddenly and put both hands flat on the dashboard as she caught her breath. The screams of a little boy still reverberated in her mind. Her head throbbed, and for a moment she was afraid what little she’d eaten for dinner was going to come back up. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths before saying, “We’re not moving.”
 

“No. When I noticed something was wrong, I pulled over on this turnout.”

“Oh, God,” Lily said with a groan. “Something horrible is going to happen in that house if we don’t get there’ in time.” The engine idled as passing headlights swept over them. Lily reached behind her seat for her purse and prodded around in it for her pills. She realized she had nothing to drink. “Let’s get going. I need to get to that gas station, too.”
 

They stopped briefly at a 76 station. Lily took a pill, and Claudia relieved herself, then called her mother on her cell phone. They arrived in Eureka two hours and forty-five minutes later, bought two different maps of the area and a six-pack of Mountain Dew at a convenience store, then got a room at a Motel 6.
 

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Friday, 3:17 A.M.

Jenna woke to the plinking sound of Brahms’s “Lullaby.” She rolled over to find David’s side of the bed empty, the covers thrown back. His robe lay across the foot of the bed. She sat up and rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. The music continued to play. The filthy teddy bear Jenna had rescued from the basement lay faceup at the foot of the bed.
 

There were two small walk-in closets in the bedroom, each with a chest of drawers. Jenna had put the bear in the bottom drawer of the chest in her closet, along with a few flip-flop sandals and a stack of old sweatshirts. David did not know where she had put it, or even that she had brought it up from the basement.
 

She reached over and turned on the lamp on her bed-stand, squinted against the light. Standing, she took her robe from the chair against the wall and slipped it on, stepped into her slippers. She yawned, still trying to wake up fully. The lullaby began to slow down as she picked up the bear. Across the room in the closet, the bottom drawer of the chest had been pulled almost all the way out.
 

Jenna took the bear to the closet, put it back in the drawer, and closed it. The muffled music wound down to a few final plunks as she pulled her bowling ball in its black-and-white vinyl bag from the corner beneath her hanging clothes. She and David had last gone bowling the year Josh died. They used to bowl regularly with friends back in Redding. It seemed ages ago now, like another lifetime. Jenna placed the bowling ball in front of the bottom drawer and left it there.
 

She left the bedroom and went down the hall. Miles’s bedroom door was open and light spilled out into the hall. The night before, she’d asked Miles to help her clean up after dinner. While she washed dishes and he dried, she’d told him Grandma would be sleeping on the couch, but if he wanted, he could sleep with the overhead light on in his bedroom, with the door all the way open. It would send the electric bill up, but Jenna planned to start looking for a job right away.
 

At the foot of the stairs, Jenna turned left and went down the hall. Dim light spilled from the kitchen doorway at the end of the hall. The floor creaked and popped beneath her feet, loud in the silence of the house.
 

The two fluorescents beneath the cupboards over the counters were the only lights on in the kitchen. Jenna turned on the overhead fluorescent. David was nowhere in sight, but a crumpled plastic grocery bag lay in a heap on the counter beside the sink. The bag bore the 7-Eleven logo. Jenna knew it had not been there when she’d gone to bed—she’d passed the nearby 7-Eleven many times, but had not yet stopped there. Had David gotten in the car and driven down the street to the 7-Eleven to get something? In the living room, she could hear Martha snoring quietly on the couch in the dark. She checked the front door, made sure it was locked.
 

Back in the kitchen, Jenna wondered if he had gone outside. The Mag-Lite was not standing in its usual position beside the back door, but the door was locked.
 

Was it possible David had been in the upstairs bathroom and she hadn’t noticed on her way to the stairs? She decided she would have heard something—David urinating, the toilet flushing, the faucet running, something, but the house had been dead silent, as it was now. She was about to go back down the hall to the stairs when she heard a muffled thump, then another. It was followed by a murmuring voice, unintelligible but distinct, and it came from—
 

With the kitchen’s overhead light on, Jenna could see into the dark laundry room. The basement door stood open a few inches. She went into the laundry room, turned on the light, and pulled the door open, looked down the stairs and saw light at the bottom. Going down a few steps, she ducked low and peered down into the basement.