Unspoken: Shadow Falls: After Dark (35 page)

“Right there,” Steve said and pointed up. “Tenth floor. Second window to the right.” He looked around as if to make sure no one was watching. “I’ll meet you up there?”

Della nodded and flew up.

There was a ledge, about a foot wide, but it gave her just enough space to park her butt. She had just perched herself when she realized just how much pigeon poop she’d just sat on.

Oh, and it smelled.

Nasty.

Just as Steve had said, the window was left partially opened.

Della raised it another ten inches. The smell of old paper, reminding her of how an old library smelled, filled her nose. She turned her legs around and slipped inside. Her feet had barely hit the floor when Steve landed on the windowsill, looking regal as a peregrine falcon. Her heart did a little tug. She did almost love him.

But it still wasn’t love-love.

He swooped inside.

With his wings fluttering back and forth, the magic bubbles appeared around him as he transformed back into human form.

“I found a flashlight when I was here,” he whispered and turned to look around. “I thought I left it right—”

“There,” Della said, spotting in on the floor below the window.

He grabbed it and turned it on. He cupped his hand over it as if it were too bright. His nervousness made her antsy. She tilted her head to listen for anyone nearby. She didn’t hear a sound.

“Is someone else supposed to be in here?” she asked.

“There’s a laundry room next door. For all I know, people are there at all hours. And the place has like three security guards. So we need to be careful.”

She tilted her head to the side. “But I don’t hear anyone. So we can relax.”

He frowned. “We’re breaking and entering. We can’t relax.”

“Let’s find the file.” And when she turned around she realized just what a job that would be. Row upon row of metal racks filled the room. And each rack held boxes stacked on top of boxes, reaching almost to the ceiling, which was at least thirty feet high.

Her gaze shifted from one end of the room to the other.

“Are they marked?” Della asked.

“Some have dates on them,” Steve whispered.

They walked into the front of the room, stopping when she got to first row. She took the light from Steve and shined it at the stacked boxes.

She could barely make out the writing. She had to get closer to the box to see the year, nineteen sixty, scribbled in pencil.

“What year are we looking for?” he asked.

“Nineteen ninety-five,” Della said.

It took fifteen minutes to find the right year. Unfortunately, it appeared it had been a busy year, too. There were over forty boxes.

Talk about a needle in a haystack …

She climbed up the metal rack, and brought down a box. Steve took it from her. Frowning, she realized that if they didn’t get lucky, it could take forever.

Making it worse was that whoever had packaged the files hadn’t taken care to put them in any order. Some were alphabetized and others random.

They were on the last six when Della started to worry that it wouldn’t be here. That she’d dragged Steve out and forced him to help her break the law for nothing.

But then when she picked up one of the remaining boxes to open, she felt it. A chill.

“I think it’s in here,” she said. She pulled off the top. One file was standing up higher than the others.

The name of the file tab read:
CHAO TSANG
.

*   *   *

Chase paced. He took Baxter for a walk. Then he went for a run.

He wanted to see her. Just tell her he was sorry for acting like an ass. If she started asking questions again, he’d leave.

Running inside, he filled Baxter’s bowl. “I’ll be right back,” he told the dog.

A few minutes later, he walked through the Shadow Falls gate. Burnett looked at the window as he walked through. He just waved.

As he got closer to Della’s cabin, he heard voices. Taking the steps, Chase had already knocked before he took in a breath and tasted the air. He got some odd scent—probably the chameleon chick—and a witch. Miranda.

What he didn’t get was Della.

The door opened and Miranda stood there. She smiled. Then her smile faded. No, not faded; vanished. Like bam! There one second and gone the next.

“Chase?” she said. Panic filled her eyes. Then she looked back. “Kylie, look who’s here. Chase. Come talk to Chase.”

Kylie appeared at the witch’s side. “Hi, Chase,” she said, but like her friend she appeared … not herself.

“Do you know where Della is?”

“Nope. Don’t have a clue,” the witch blurted out. And her heart did a tumble.

His gaze shot to her wide hazel eyes.

Kylie cleared her throat, obviously trying to communicate to the witch not to lie. But it was too late.

“Is she okay?” he asked the witch.

She nodded.

“Is she here at the school, or did she go out?”

Her head didn’t budge. But her eyes cut to the right to peer at Kylie. “It’s your turn.” Then the witch ran off. Disappearing into a bedroom.

Chase looked at Kylie.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“Oh, Miranda acts weird like that sometimes,” she said.

He studied her. “Where’s Della?”

“I’m not sure exactly where she is.”

Her heart didn’t skip.

“Is she with someone?” he asked.

She blinked. “She was alone when she left.”

Clever girl, but he knew a cover-up when he heard one.

“Thanks.” He walked off straight to cabin nine. To the cabin Perry, Steve, and a new were named Caleb were staying.

He knocked. Caleb opened the door.

“Is Steve here?”

“Nope,” he said, completely honest, and unconcerned.

“Do you know where he is?”

“Went out on a date, I think.”

*   *   *

Della stared at her father’s name on the file. That whisper of cold became a bone-chilling cold.

She reached down and pulled it out, but it was empty. Completely empty.

You keep looking for proof. It doesn’t exist. Why can’t you believe me?

Della looked up, frosty air hitched in her lungs when she spotted her dead aunt stretched out on the floor, a knife in her chest. Blood was slowly leaking out and turning the white nightgown red.

He did it. I see him over and over again. I feel the pain, the betrayal, and I see him pulling the knife out of my chest. I see him standing there with blood dripping from the blade.

“He would not do that,” Della snapped.

“What?” Steve asked.

Bao Yu jumped up.
Go ahead, look. Look in every box there is. You won’t find it because the proof doesn’t exist.

Her aunt climbed up the metal rack and started throwing the boxes. The sound echoed in the big room.

“What … what’s happening?” Steve asked.

“Shit,” Della said, realizing that wasn’t a vision, that the boxes really were moving. She climbed the rack. “Stop,” she said to her aunt as she picked up and tossed another box. It landed with a loud thump.

Della moved in front of her and tried to catch the box, but she couldn’t.

Steve yelled something from below, but Della was too busy trying to rein in an angry spirit to listen.

Then all of a sudden six or seven boxes floated up in the air. And they started flying across the room. They hit the walls with loud thumps and papers started raining down.

Steve yelled to her again. Della jumped down. Her heart raced as she watched her aunt send more boxes flying.

“We have to go,” Steve snapped.

But it was too late. She’d been so involved trying to stop her aunt that she hadn’t noticed they had company until now. She looked at the officer standing in the door, a gun and a flashlight pointing at her.

“Don’t move,” the guard said. “I swear to God I’ll shoot.”

Chapter Forty

Della’s heart pounded against her breast bone. The guard was a good fifty feet from her. She debated making a dive for the window, but how would that be explained? And while she was fast, she didn’t know if she could outrun a bullet.

She cut her eyes to the window where Steve stood, waving for her to come.

The tall shelves hid him from the officer’s line of vision.

“Go,” she whispered.

“What?” asked the guard.

“No,” Steve whispered.

“Go. Get help,” she said and watched as some more loose paper fell from the ceiling.

“Don’t move. I’ll shoot. I swear I will,” the guard yelled.

“Burnett?” Steve asked.

“Chase,” she said without thinking. And in the corner of her eyes, she watched Steve transform back into a bird and he took flight.

“Is someone else with you?” the guard asked.

“No one else,” Della said to the guard and raised her hands. “Just me. Little old me.” The ghost tossed another box from the top of the rack and it crashed at the guard’s feet.

“Who else is here?” the guard asked, looking at the top of the rack.

“Just me,” Della said again and glanced up at the ghost.
Please stop it. Please.

The next box that came down hit the guard on the head. Della saw him lose his footing as if slipping on a banana peel. His feet came out, his arms extended.

And right then the gun exploded.

*   *   *

Chase had fallen into bed, not that he planned to sleep, but to wait out the need to puke. The three ice cold beers and nasty-tasting bottle of wine didn’t sit well. Or maybe it was that damn soup.

He closed his eyes to stop the spinning, then heard a tap against his window. He shot up and saw the bird. Then he saw the bubbles popping against the window pane.

Two seconds later, he caught the shape-shifter’s scent. What the hell did Steve want?

Wasn’t it enough that he’d just taken Chase’s bondmate on a date? Did the guy want to gloat about it? Was he an idiot?

He grabbed his jeans and shirt and went to the door.

Steve stood there. Breathing hard.

Chase stood there. Breathing hard too, and trying not to throw up.

“What?” Chase asked and right then he caught it. Della’s scent.

He tightened his fist and fought the urge to hit the guy.

“Della,” Steve said, trying to catch his breath.

“Della what?” Chase asked, getting a bad feeling.

“She … she needs you.”

Chase ran to the porch rail and threw up all of the alcohol he’d spent the night consuming.

Then he turned back, wiped his mouth off with the back of his wrist, and asked, “Where is she?”

*   *   *

Della sat in front of a desk, at the hospital’s main office, trying as hard as she could to be supremely polite and perfectly poised. Not easy, because neither came naturally to her.

Especially when her little trip here had offered her nothing.

And now she couldn’t help but wonder if someone hadn’t already snagged her father’s files.

Was it the DA? Did they now have evidence in their hands to make sure her father went down for murder?

Della had refused to give anyone her name—hoping that alone would hold them off from calling the police.

Not that she had remained silent the whole time. She’d apologized profusely and explained that she’d wandered in earlier that day before closing hours and somehow found herself locked in the room upstairs.

The woman in charge, Mrs. Applebee, if the name tag was correct, kept asking Della if she was a runaway. She told her no. The woman didn’t actually believe her, but considering the guard’s story, she didn’t look all that bad.

“She can move things,” the guard started up again. “I’m telling you, she was throwing boxes at me with her mind. She’d look up and down would come a box. And that’s when my gun went off.”

Della wasn’t certain if that was actually what had happened, but she had seen the box hit. What she had been certain about was that the bullet had missed her by a few inches.

Right then she noticed that the guard had moved his chair another inch away from her. He’d probably pee himself if Della growled at him.

She might have felt sorry for him if she hadn’t smelled the whiskey on his breath. And from Mrs. Applebee’s expression, she’d gotten a whiff of the guy’s breath as well. That might even be why she was hesitant to call the police. That and the fact that he’d used his gun while intoxicated and shot at an unarmed teen.

Hell, maybe she could use that in her favor.

So far Della hadn’t tried to explain the mess of the upended boxes and files littering the floor. But if the guard kept talking crazy, maybe Della wouldn’t have to.

She glanced at the clock on the wall. How long would it take for Chase to get here? Any minute now, the woman would be calling the police.

Della had hidden her driver’s license, credit card, and phone in her bra, but if they searched her and found them … and, God forbid, attempted to call her mom … No way could Della let that happen. Her mom had enough problems to last a lifetime.

She looked at the door, wondering how much trouble she’d be in if she ran. And she could run: Mrs. Applebee had confiscated the guard’s gun and put it in her desk.

Just when the idea of running seemed like a real option, she recalled the cameras on the outside of the office. They had her face.

Where was her rescue?

Right then her left breast started vibrating. Well, her phone started vibrating. Luckily, she’d silenced it before breaking and entering.

She glanced again at the door. What was taking them so long? Crap. She suddenly remembered that Steve probably thought Chase was still at the school. Which meant Steve would have sought help elsewhere. Her chest tightened and she expected to see a very pissed off Burnett walking through the door any second.

But right now, she’d even take him.

“I’m telling you, she was throwing boxes at me using her mind. She has powers. I’ve seen shows about people who can do that.”

Mrs. Applebee frowned. “Mr. Kelley, just how much have you had to drink tonight?” Then the woman’s gaze shifted to Della. “Tell me your name or I’m calling the police, young lady!”

*   *   *

After Steve had finally spit out the words, Chase went inside and in less than thirty seconds dressed in his official black suit. Tasting his breath, he reached into the garbage can, grabbed the Lysol spray, and gave it a shot. It was mostly air, not disinfectant.