Wraith (19 page)

“It’s not your fault.”

“Yes, it is.”

His chest pressed into my back and he sighed into my hair. A thrill passed through me, which was wrong. All of this was wrong. How could I think about Connor in the middle of this mess? “What do you want to do? You want to talk to her?”

“No!” I looked over my shoulder at him. “I can’t. Can we just go? Ava’s ready.”

“Okay.” He lifted his hands and circled them around my waist. Dropping his mouth to my ear he said, “We’ll fix this.” He sounded so sure. So determined, as always, but how could we? What could we do?

I wiped my fingers under my eyes, trying to clean up the mess on my face. Connor tightened his arms. “I’m serious. We’ll make this right.”

I turned and pressed my nose into his chest. “I hope we can.”

T
HE RIDE HOME WAS
uncomfortable. Connor was tense and stressed, giving me sympathetic glances every minute or two. His attention made me nervous. Ava was oblivious, other than the fact she knew I felt queasy, so she filled the quiet of the car with chatter about art class and upcoming assignments. I just prayed I wouldn’t puke again.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Ava asked from the cramped back seat. “You’re a little green. Should we pull over?”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m fine. But thanks for pointing it out.”

Connor’s tiny, but loud, car made my head hurt and all I wanted was to drop Ava off at home and go to bed. Luckily, Ava and her father lived in what used to be a high school that had been converted into lofts and it wasn’t too far away.

“Moron,” Connor said and banged his fist on the steering wheel. Other R-rated words followed.

I opened my eyes, “What?”

He looked into his rearview mirror and jerked a thumb at the back of the car. “This jackass is all up in my tailgate. I don’t know what his issue is.”

I sat up and leaned around the seat to get a better view, and Ava also turned to peek out the window.

“He
is
really close,” Ava said. All I could see was the front grill of a large truck.

Connor slowed the car at a traffic light and the truck pulled close behind us. His eyes flicked between his mirrors. I touched his arm. “Don’t let him get to you, and don’t drive too fast. Trust me.”

He slackened his grip on the steering wheel under my touch but his jaw remained tight while he waited out the light. When it finally changed, I exhaled, waiting for Connor to move. He didn’t move.

The truck revved its engine behind us and when I turned to question Connor, I saw the shades of a grin lingering on his mouth. Awesome. Connor the troublemaker decided to make an appearance. I sighed and rested my head on my hand. This day would never end. “You’ve got to be kidding me? Drop it.”

“Connor, go—this guy is freaking me out,” Ava said. “He looks pretty pissed.”

I turned again and ducked down to see through the back window. Again, I grabbed Connor by the arm. “Go. Now.”

The smirk faded. “What?”

“It’s him. Go.”

Connor released the brake and floored it, taking the corner faster than he should have. Ava gasped from the back seat, trying to maintain her balance after Connor’s sudden start. My nausea forgotten, I kept my eyes on the truck. The silver truck we’d seen in Ellen’s driveway—John followed us.

“Him? Who’s him?” Ava asked, her voice a little high.

Connor and I made eye contact. What should I tell her? I noticed the smallest shake of his head. “I cut this guy off the other day and he was angry,” he explained. “What’s the chance of me running into him again?”

Ava frowned. “Do you think he’s dangerous?”

I opened my mouth but Connor cut me off. “I don’t know. Tell me the best way to lose him and get to your house.”

Ava leaned up between the seats. “Turn left at the next street.”

Connor accelerated, his tiny car swerving into the turn. My fingers gripped around the edge of the seat and Ava spouted off directions to get us through the neighborhood. We flew past houses and businesses intermixed. Old homes converted into shops, and old warehouses transformed into apartments. I turned, hoping we’d lost him, only to find that he was still a few feet from the car.

“Okay, at the light turn left,” Ava directed, and we reached the light just as it turned yellow. Connor squeezed through the traffic light just as it turned red and we all sighed, thankful we’d made it. “Good.” Ava said, relaxing back in the seat.

“Dammit,” Connor said, banging a fist on the gearshift. Ava and I looked back and the truck had run the light and was making up the distance.

Ava sat up again. “Right! Here! Right!”

Connor barely made the turn, the back tire bounced off the curb, jostling the three of use in the car. I could see the school ahead. “Up there!”

“Okay, see that white mailbox? Turn into that driveway.”

“Ava…” Connor’s voice was wary.

“Trust me.”

Connor sighed but downshifted and turned at the mailbox. Ahead of us was a long, narrow driveway and he had to slow down to make the turn. The truck lurched as it followed us. It would definitely be a tight fit for the truck.

“What now?” Connor asked, his eyes on the road.

“See that break in the bushes over there? Your car should fit.”

Connor had no choice. He slowed further and slid through the overgrown brush. Vines and leaves scraped down the car as we passed through the narrow space. On the other side we found ourselves on a dirt road, littered with debris and trash.

“He won’t make it,” I realized, keeping an eye out the back window.

Ava nodded. “Okay, keep going and loop around to the right.” Connor followed her directions, his small car bobbed up and down the dirt path. When I looked back, the truck was nowhere to be found.

Connor did as Ava said and we found ourselves at her building—in the former back parking lot of the school. He edged the car to the curb and stopped. Facing Ava, he asked, “How did you know that?”

Ava adjusted her glasses and smiled smugly. “I have two brothers. I follow them around a lot. The houses in this neighborhood didn’t have driveways so they used these little alleys behind the houses. My brothers ride their bikes back there.” Her smile turned smug. “Among other things.”

Connor unlatched his door and hopped out, helping Ava from the low seat in the back. “Thanks,” he said.

Before she left she ducked down and cast a worried look me. “Be careful.”

“We will.” I promised.

Ava turned her back and Connor slid back his seat. Without speaking, he shifted in gear and drove out into the streets of the city.

T
WENTY MINUTES LATER, AFTER
weaving back and forth through the neighborhood, Connor pulled his car into a brick lined driveway. From what I could see through the window, the house was old and huge. The front porch was wide and long, wrapping around the side. A landscaped yard, lush and pristine, surrounded the house and I could only think how it was a far cry from our eclectic wild flowers and yard art. Everything was immaculate, and I’d seen it all before in the painting Emma had displayed at the museum. Connor had taken me to his house. I cocked my head toward him in question as we parked in the back.

He killed the engine. “I’m worried about taking you home right now. I don’t want to risk him following us there.”

“It’s better to have him here? I don’t want to involve your family. It’s not your problem.” I felt sick to my stomach. Again.

Connor brushed a piece of hair over my shoulder, grazing my neck. His warm fingers caused my heart to flutter, which under the circumstances seemed inappropriate. “I’m not talking about this again,” he said, leaning over and opening my door. “Come on, you can meet my mom.”

My mouth dropped. “What?”

“My mom, she’s home.” He pointed to her car poking out of the carriage house across from us. He got out of the car and walked around to my side, offering me a hand.

“Connor, I just puked in a public bathroom and rode along in a high speed chase with an abuser and murderer and you think we should go meet your mom?”

“I think we need to calm down and figure out what we want to do. And we need to be safe. I’m not taking you home yet.” His fingers tightened around mine. “Plus, my mom’s nice.”

All the nerves from the shelter and then being followed by John amplified upon entering Connor’s gorgeous home, not to mention the idea of meeting his mother. I had a feeling he wanted to distract me from the larger issue at hand, and it worked. Had we progressed to the place to meet one another’s family? He had met mine, of course, but that wasn’t intentional. Connor led me up the back steps and into the mudroom where he hung up his coat and took mine.

“Thanks,” I said in a low voice. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe no one was home.

His hand clasped mine and he tugged me into the next room. “You want something to drink?” He asked the minute we entered the kitchen. I nodded, needing something to get the bitter taste out of my mouth. I watched as he opened the large refrigerator door and pulled out two bottles of water.

My head reeled from the events of the afternoon.

“How do you think he found us?” I asked, unscrewing the cap.

Connor shook his head and leaned against the large granite counter top in the middle of the spacious kitchen. “I’m not sure. He may have been following us all along.”

I had a terrifying thought. “Do you think he knows where the shelter is?” Goosebumps rose and I ran my hands up and down my arms.

Worry creased his forehead. “I don’t know. I hope not.” He opened his mouth to speak again but we heard voices coming down the hallway and he stopped. Butterflies filled my stomach. I smoothed my hair and shirt. I could taste the bitterness from puking earlier and I really didn’t like to meet new people, especially adults.

“Connor, I didn’t hear you come in,” a woman’s voice said, and I saw Connor nod easily as a pretty, dark haired woman appeared around the corner. Her eyes swept between her son and me. “Oh, hello,” she greeted, but looked back at Connor expectantly.

“Um, this is Jane,” he said, a little shy. Oh. This was new, shy Connor.

I plastered a smile on my face and offered a hello. Emma was hiding behind her, and I gave her a small wave.

“Nice to meet you,” she said. She walked past Connor, tugging on the back of his hair before she put a stack of papers on the desk across the room, but he ducked and swatted her hand. “What have you been up to today?”

Biggest loaded question ever.
Nothing much, Jane hurled cake, we got in a high-speed chase with a murderer. Same old shit
. This conversation was on him.

He cleared his throat. “Oh, Jane had to do this service project thing over at the women’s shelter the school works with. I went with her.”

“Are you a volunteer?”

“Sometimes. Over the holidays my friend and I taught an art class together for the children living there. I enjoyed working with the kids.”

“You’re an artist, also?” she asked. She had on the most beautiful rings made of wide bands of gold and an enormous square diamond was on her left hand. The house, the jewelry…I was seeing a different side of Connor. The scruffy, vandalizing boy I knew seemed out of place. Except his mother had the same dark and wavy hair and they shared the same long, artistic hands. Pieces of the Connor puzzle fit together. He was a square peg.

“We’re in the same art class,” Connor answered for me. He tapped his fist on the counter and flashed me a grin. “And English.”

Disturbed by the attention, I studied the kitchen, which was a piece of art itself. Modern, yet retaining its historic appeal. My mother would kill for this house. I realized everyone was waiting for me to contribute to the conversation. I blushed. “Your house is beautiful. My mother would love your kitchen.”

“We finished renovating it last year. It was the last room we worked on. Connor still can’t find where everything goes.” She winked at her son. “I would love to have your mother over to see it—anytime. Do you live in the neighborhood?”

“Yes, we moved here last year,” I said. Connor nudged my foot with his and I followed his line of sight. His attention was on Emma, or over her to be exact. Evan hovered in the doorway.

“I, I…” the words clung to my throat. Evan’s expression was desperate. He knew what happened.

“So, yeah, I think we’re going to head upstairs.” Connor jumped in and backed out the door, gesturing for me to follow.

His mother didn’t seem concerned about where we were going, which made me wonder if having girls up to his room was a common occurrence, but before I could dwell on it, Connor waved me over again with a false calm on his face. I passed Emma, who had no idea a dead boy stood behind her. Connor poked her side, gaining a laugh, but it was all muted noise in the background because I couldn’t keep my eyes off Evan. He never appeared like this. And he’d never appeared in front of me and Connor at the same time—not since that first day.

We exited the kitchen and I kept my eyes trained on Evan’s back—he led us down the hallway and spun around the banister leading upstairs. I ducked behind Connor, allowing him to wrap his hand in mine, and we followed Evan up the glossy hardwood stairs to the second floor. Evan stopped outside a door and he and Connor shared some kind of “man” nod.

I sighed at the absurdity of it all, but continued to follow Connor until he gestured for me to go ahead of him into the room. The manners on this boy were stellar even in a time of pressure. When I stepped over the threshold, I could tell it was his room, and despite the circumstances that brought me here I couldn’t help but be curious.

The sheer and utter destruction that lay before me spoke volumes. In one word, his room could be called a disaster.

My nose wrinkled at the smell. It wasn’t foul, but a familiar chemical odor lingered in the air. Piles of books and papers covered his desk. Posters, paintings, sketches, and photographs lined the walls. I could barely make out the color of the paint underneath everything. One wall was covered in graffiti tags, a paint splattered sheet protecting the floor. Spray paint cans lined the walls, organized by color, explaining the smell.

I glanced around the room, my eyes skimming past the dirty laundry and empty soda bottles and discarded shoes strewn about, until I stopped at his bed. Oh my God, his bed.

I knew then and there, no self respecting female would set a finger on that, much less the rest of her. Yuck. My concerns about Allison eased…

The door latched and I spun, facing the two boys. Evan’s shoulders hunched and his fists bulged in the fabric at his thighs. Connor realized the state of his room and began an irrational, half-hearted attempt to tidy up the disaster surrounding us. After a couple seconds he gave up and ran his hands through his hair.

“Sorry about the mess.”

I ignored him. “What do you know?” I asked Evan.

“I saw her and the girls. I saw what he did to her.”

I stepped forward, Connor forgotten. I longed to hug him and willed him to take comfort in hugging me. He kept his distance. “I’m so sorry. It’s my fault. I’m so, so sorry.”

“I told you not to go.” The tone of his voice stunned me. It was hard and cold.

“I know but—”

He grabbed my shoulders. “There are no ‘buts’ here, Jane. I told you. Not. To. Go.”

I twisted under the pressure of his hands. “Evan…” I tried to apologize but nothing coherent came out.

“Evan,” Connor jumped in. “Come on, man, don’t do this.” His hand was on my back, warm and firm, pulling me away from Evan’s grip.

Evan’s face twisted in pain. “Do what? Get angry? Upset? Mad? Why not? Your mother is in the kitchen with her fat diamonds and perfect hair. And her mother,” he swung and pointed at me, “she’s there every day, happy and content with her family and life. Mine? She lost me and lives each day in fear. Don’t tell me what to do.”

My heart broke to see Evan crack before me. He was so helpless and so angry. He slumped even more and dropped his head into his hands. “There’s nothing I can do. I can’t help her. Next time, he’ll kill her.”

“Evan,” Connor said “Let us help. Come on. It’s why we’re here.”

Evan looked at me. “What would I do if he hurt you, too? I’d be stuck here forever dealing with the guilt and pain of that as well. I can’t handle any more. I was sent here as punishment for not helping my mom and sisters in the first place. I failed then and I’ll fail now.”

I couldn’t understand why he thought this way.

“This isn’t your fault. None of it is! You were sent here for me, to help me. Was that a punishment, too?” Once again, I moved toward him, but Connor’s hand stayed firm on my back and he twisted his fingers in my shirt, holding me in place.

I struggled to pull away but he held tight and moved his body in front of mine. “Evan, we’re here for you and we plan on helping you through this when we figure out how to do it safely,” Connor said, and taking time to give me a pointed look. “I know you’re angry and upset but don’t talk to Jane like that—it’s not fair. She doesn’t deserve it.”

Evan’s eyes flashed. “Don’t talk to me about fair, just…” he grappled for words. He took a deep breath, “Just stay away from them and I’ll stay away from you.” With that he disappeared from the room.

What? No, no, no, no.
“Evan!” I hoped he would hear me and come back, but after a moment of silence I knew he was gone. Upset, I shoved Connor away from me. “Why’d you push him?”

Connor’s hand moved to the back of his neck, rubbing furiously. “Because I didn’t like him talking to you like that! You have a job to do and his interference will make it impossible. Making you feel guilty was a new low.”

“You don’t understand. He’s my best friend and you just ran him off!” Useless tears rolled down my cheeks. I wiped them off with the back of my hand. “Plus, he’s right. This is my fault.”

The reality of Evan’s accusations sunk in and I searched for a place to sit. It was impossible though, because there was clutter everywhere. Connor caught on to my distress and shoved books and papers and video game controllers off an armchair next to his bed. Connor claimed the seat before I could, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulled me onto his lap.

I landed without grace, heavy and hard, squirming a little as I shifted my legs to hang over the side of his. Connor’s hands moved to my hips and held me still.

“Stop moving around.” His voice was low and right in my ear. I did as he said and he removed his hands from my waist and rubbed my arms instead. His actions met what I wanted from and for Evan, but we couldn’t give it to each other. No matter how hard we tried, we were doomed to fail one another. I sniffed back another wave of tears, but gave up and smashed my face in Connor’s shoulder. “I don’t know what to do.”

“I know.”

“I mean, everything I do seems to make it worse.” I wiped my nose on my sleeve. Disgusting. I didn’t even try to look at his face. I could only imagine what he thought about me sitting on him, blubbering and whining. Again.