Uncertainty (35 page)

"There was a note under my windshield wipers," Henry said. I still had to read his lips to understand. He crumpled the handkerchief up and aimed for a garbage can with planks of wood sticking out of it. "I thought it was an old-fashioned touch. It claimed to be from you, but I'm guessing you didn't write it, huh? I thought the handwriting was a little off."

"No, I didn't leave any note. I was down at Erasmus, and I got a text message from you..." I said.

"When I came here, Warwick knocked me out about two steps into the room." He showed me a huge goose-egg on the top of his forehead, an ugly purple-black color. "He must have used my phone."

"That's what he said," I told him. "He told me he killed Jenna, and Ambrose. And that Ambrose helped him take Jenna last year."

"That's insane," Henry said. "I always had a feeling something was wrong with that dude. He's the kind that disembowels small animals in his garage."

The room was swaying a little, up and down. I'd only been aware of Henry and me in the room, but now I realized there were many others. Those incomprehensible shapes were people — policemen, crime scene investigators with cameras flashing.

I could see Hugh talking to the police, and remembered that he had already come over and hugged me. Callie was beside him, and I remembered faintly the adulterous drama from earlier, and how little any of it mattered now.

The police seemed to multiply like ants, communicating through walkie-talkies, standing around and observing, taking notes. Their sheild-shape badges shimmered on their chests.

Phillip Rhodes strode back in through the open doorway, accompanied by Cliff Ford, Lainey's father. Phillip's shadow stretched across the room, his very presence filling the space. Henry pulled me close to him, and whispered in my ear, a phrase that shocked me.

He pulled back, giving me a determined look. He was still trying to speak to me, but this time, just with his eyes. I bobbed my head as unobtrusively as I could, hoping I got the message.

"Why did you even come here?" Henry said, the angry tone of his voice jarring. I blinked. "You could have gotten killed. You know things are over between us."

"I came here to help you out." I said, my own voice rising. All the fear I had was instantly transferred into ire, rushing out of my lips, unable to be contained. "I thought you'd be grateful. Obviously I was wrong. I'm always wrong about you."

All of the adults had turned their heads in our direction and were watching us intently. Probably just dismissing us as a teenage soap opera. The bright lights of the room made me truly pay attention to the garish yellow curtains, the speckles of blood on the floor.

"Grateful for what?" Henry said, very close to a shout. "Grateful for causing trouble?"

"Like it's my fault that Wick was a psycho?" I clenched my fists.

"You made an easy target. Obviously you're incapable of thinking before you act." He had leaned forward, his speech firing rapidly. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Phillip strolling casually towards where we stood, his hands in his suit pockets. I could tell there was a little grin on his lips.

"I'm done with your insults. And you stomping all over me. You're a liar and a fake." Tears sprung into my eyes, but I wouldn't let them fall. "I wish you'd never moved here, and if I never have to see your face again it'll be the best thing that's ever happened to me!"

I had backed away now. This was too much, and after an already emotionally exhausting day, I was swaying on my feet, my legs about to give out.

"I was just using you anyway," Henry said bitterly. "You're not worth worrying over." His adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard on the last word. His irises darkened, an impossibly deep black.

Phillip tapped Henry on the shoulder. I had to turn away from the smug look on his face. "Now, now son. The police are done with their questions for now. We need to be getting back home."

"Yes, sir."

Phillip tilted his head in my direction, then put his arm around Henry's shoulder and led him away. Cool as a cucumber.

Hugh and Phillip exchanged a hate-filled glance as he guided Henry out of the crowd of blue police uniforms. Then my father excused himself from the officers who were taking his statement, and came over to me.

"How are you doing, kiddo?" he asked.

"How does it look like I'm doing?" Tears were still running out of my eyes, like blood from a deep cut that wouldn't heal.

"The police want to ask a few more questions. But then we'll be able to home and put this whole nightmare behind us."

They took my name, asked me questions. The same thing I'd been through the last time. Questions that I couldn't remember how I answered. Hugh fielded several hysterical phone calls from Claire, making sure that I was alright.

When they were satisfied, they finally released us.

On the ride home, Hugh looked very tired, despite a huge coffee that he had picked up at Dante's. The radio played quietly, the background of our thoughts.

The last song ended, and a new one began. I recognized it from the first few guitar chords.

You didn't have much time

before you left me

I didn't see the crime...

I took a very long, burning hot shower when I got home. I scrubbed my face and arms with a washcloth until my skin was raw. Even after, I washed my face again in the sink. It still felt like something lingered there, a drop of blood that had soaked in.

Jenna was in my room, combing her fingers through her hair with her back to me. She was humming the same song I had heard in the car.

"You met up with Warwick and a younger boy," I said, starting to speak gently. She stopped singing, but kept her back to me. "You thought you were going to a party with Ambrose, and you trusted Warwick because why wouldn't you? But instead of driving where you thought you were going to go, they brought you to the Dexter Orphanage, to the sacrificial chamber beneath the shed."

Taking the red lighter out of my pocket, I held it out and put it in her hand. That moment of electricity passed between us, and I gritted my teeth, trying to push the knowledge of what I knew into her.

When I stepped back, Jenna was staring at me with wide, liquid eyes.

"I wasn't dead when they took me back up. But I didn't have much blood left. They transported me in the back of the van again, and then they dragged me to the lake, under that awful tree. They put me in this tiny little boat, a rowboat there wasn't even an engine. And then they put stones on my chest and dropped me... the water rushing up around me..."

She stood up, slowly coming towards me.

"They killed me," she said in a hushed whisper. "I really am dead."

I nodded. I knew she would be crying if she could, but I was enough for the both of us. She smashed her fists against her forehead.

I guess I had expected that a tunnel to Heaven would open up, the white light would come. That now that she knew how she died and who killed her, she'd be free. But she stayed in front of me, weeping with dry eyes.

"It's okay. I promise, we'll figure out exactly what happened to you. You died as a part of something big, much bigger than you or me. Something to do with at least some of the Thornhill people. I promise we'll find a way for you to have closure, and get out of Limbo."

Still gnawing at her lip, she nodded. She was making an awful choking sound. It reminded me of how my tears had been stuck in my chest for so long.

I sat down on the desk, and opened the top drawer. The bottle of benzos was sitting on top. I took it out and started unscrewing the cap.

"Just right now, I need to get some rest," I said. "I'm so tired. I won't leave you. I just need to be alone for a while."

I took the pills with a swig from the watered down pop Hugh had bought me. I watched as Jenna, standing clearing in the front of me, slowly faded from sight.

"Why does all the excitement happen when I'm gone?" Theo asked the next week at school. She, Alex and I were sitting at a table in the commons during lunch time.

"We wait for you to leave," I said dryly, pouring dressing on my salad. I had my appetite back.

She stuck her tongue out at me.

"I don't think you're kidding," she said.

"Do you feel better, now that it's all over?" Alex inquired, searching my expression. Theo was looking at me, too.

"Yeah. But it's hard to think of it that way. Part of me feels like it's just beginning." They didn't know how true that statement was. Soon I would tell Theo about my plans, and ask her for help. But not yet. I was taking a breather, a break, to gather up my willpower for whatever was coming next.

"What do you mean?" Theo asked.

"I still have this place to deal with," I joked.

"Henry's back to his preppy uniform," Theo observed.

"Hey!" Alex said, tossing a butter packet at her. "It's a style, okay? Sorry we don't all sew our own clothes."

Theo rolled her eyes.

"I don't really care what Henry wears," I said, digging at my salad.

"So you too are completely over and done with?" Theo asked. I could hear the note of skepticism in her voice, as much as I knew she was trying to conceal it.

"Yes."

I sneaked a glance at Henry. He was back at Lainey's table, sandwiched in between her and another boy. He was wearing a button-down blue Oxford shirt and khakis beneath the table, his hair gelled back to an almost absurd degree.

"He looks bored," Alex said, sounding sorry for him.

"Good."

After school, we gathered in the front. Alex slouched into one of the cubbies, leaning back against the wall.

"This is gonna be a long year," he said. "June can't come fast enough."

"Do you want to ride with us?" Theo asked. "We're going to go bowling and steal the shoes."

"I am not leaving my shoes with those people!" Alex said in horror.

"No, guys. I just feel like walking. Who knows how many sunny days we'll have left? Maybe I can make my parents feel guilty enough they'll buy me a car if I whine about my legs hurting. Since the bad guy is no more."

We said goodbye, and I strode out the doors into the autumn sunshine. With nearly all the birds gone, it was quiet out, just the low hum of electricity and the swish of cars.

I made my way down the sidewalk, around the low bushes in the front of the parking lot. Peering over my shoulder, I didn't see anyone I knew. I turned the corner.

Henry's car was idling a few yards away at the curb. I walked around to the passenger side and opened the door, slipping inside.

"Hello, dear," he said brightly. "How was your day?"

"Just fine," I said. "Why are you wearing sunglasses? You look like a really lame secret agent."

He whipped the sunglasses off dramatically and bit the eyestem. "This is my disguise."

"I hate to break it to you, but you're pretty obvious."

Leaning in to kiss him, he kissed me back, lips pressed gently against mine with growing urgency. I lost myself in the sensation of our mouths together. Then we broke apart. He reached down for my hand and kissed the closed fingers, running his lips across them.

"I just don't want us to get caught," Henry said, pulling back. His lips were flushed, a little from his ordeal with Warwick, a little from kissing me. "No one can know. Not even Theo. We have to keep safe."

"But keep safe from what?" I asked. He was stroking my arm gently, and I settled my hands on his shoulders.

"Whatever Thornhill really is."

As we drove away, him taking the back roads to bring me back home, I thought about what he had whispered to me before we staged our phony fight at the ballroom.

"Show me if you can act."

EPILOGUE

The dog had known nothing but power since its transformation. Since it shed the body-skin of the man called Dexter, and joined with the essence of Dark. But a new feeling had curled within its stomach, birthed by the first drop of blood on the symbol.

The feeling was unrecognizable at first, because that feeling was mortal. It hadn't felt mortal feelings in many years.

That feeling was hunger.