44: Book Six (14 page)

***

As I drove to work I thought about what Dr. Krowe had said about April and abused women. I parked and grabbed my bag. And then I noticed something black on the passenger seat. My camera had fallen out.

I remembered the photos I had taken of the alley. I hadn’t even looked at them. There was no reason really. But I still had a few minutes before my shift started. I switched on the camera.

There was nothing unusual. Just the same details I now saw with my eyes closed.

And then my mouth fell open.

The row of theater seats was in the background. And the ghost was looking out at me from the camera. April was at her feet, her throat slashed. A chill rushed through me.

Here was the proof that I needed. The proof that would convince April that I was telling the truth.

The proof that would save her life.

CHAPTER 42

Angie and Sutter were standing just inside the door when I walked in.

“Hi, Abby,” she said. “Sutter here has something he would like to say. Sutter?”

“I’m sorry for losing it the other night,” he said. “It won’t happen again.”

“Okay,” I said, resisting the temptation to say something more polite.

Angie walked with me back to the kitchen.

“I’m sorry too,” she said. “He’s okay most of the time. But that kind of thing just isn’t acceptable. I’m giving him one more chance. I don’t care if we are shorthanded.”

I couldn’t think of anything to say.

“You can work in the kitchen tonight if you like,” she said.

“That’s fine.”

I was hoping to see April, but it didn’t really matter. I had her phone number and knew where she lived. I decided I would go over to her place afterwards.

As we were cleaning up, Sutter came back and helped himself to a piece of cake. It looked like a birthday cake with dark flowers on it.

“That which we call a rose,” he said, frosting smeared on his chin. “By any other name would smell as sweet.”

He was staring at me again with those eyes. They seemed to be dancing all over me to a waltz I couldn’t hear.

At least he wasn’t screaming. Or calling me “slim.”

On my way out the door the old man stopped me and gave me an update on his cat.

“It doesn’t look good,” he said. “She hasn’t eaten in four days. Looks like I’m going to have to put her down. Everyone leaves. My wife. My children. All I have left in the world is that cat. Now she’s leaving too.”

***

I drove over to the apartment building and parked on the street. I got out and saw the moon behind a tree. There was no ring around it. It wouldn’t be tonight. It wouldn’t snow tonight.

I walked up to the door and was about to knock when it opened.

“Hi,” I said.

“Hi,” she said slowly.

She was dressed up, wearing thick eye makeup. She towered over me, and then I realized it was the three inch heels she had on.

“What do you want?” she said, a cold look in her eye.

I held up a paper bag.

“I’m sorry about everything,” I said. “And I didn’t see you and Logan at the Center tonight. I was worried I had scared you off and that you were hungry. I stopped by and picked up a couple of sandwiches. Kind of as a peace offering.”

She took the bag and placed it on a table near the door.

“Logan’s not here, but I know he’ll appreciate it,” she said. “Thanks.”

Her eyes softened a bit.

“Look, I didn’t mean to go off on you the other day,” she said. “But I hear from everybody all the time about what a loser Logan is. From my mom. From my friends. How he won’t ever amount to much, how he’s a tweeker and will never pull out of it. But they don’t see what I see.”

I wasn’t sure where she was coming from. I hadn’t said anything to her about Logan. Maybe she just assumed that I was referring to him when I told her that in my vision someone slit her throat.

“They don’t see that he’s trying,” she said. “I know he’s not perfect. Anybody can see that. I mean, you met him, right?”

She smiled a little.

“But he’s really trying to turn it around. See, that’s why we don’t have any money. We’re in transition, kind of. I’m back at school and Logan stopped selling drugs. That’s why we go get those stupid free dinners. When he was a drug dealer, he was rolling in dough and would take me out all the time. But you know what? I like this better. I’ll eat at the soup kitchen any day. It’s honest.”

I nodded.

“He even found a regular job. His first paycheck is in three days. So we probably won’t be back over there.”

“I’m glad,” I said. “Where’s he working?”

“He’s one of the maintenance guys over at the nursery, you know, that big one over on the east side. He was just telling me earlier how he was working in the greenhouse today. He really likes it there.”

I shuddered.

Thinking of the roses.

The roses inside that greenhouse.With Logan.

“By the way, you look great,” I said.

“Thanks,” she said. “It’s a, a thing I have to go to. I better get going.”

She locked the door and I walked with her to her car.

“Was there something else?”

I pulled the camera out of my jacket pocket.

“I wanted you to see something,” I said. “It’s a photo I took. If you look at it and don’t believe me, I’ll go away and you’ll never see me again.”

I turned the camera on and held it out to her. She sighed loudly and ripped it from my hand. She stared at the photo for a moment. She didn’t seem to have a reaction.

“What?” she said. “What am I supposed to be looking at here, some chairs and bricks? It’s very artistic but—”

I took the camera back from her and looked at the photo. The ghost was gone. April’s body was gone. It was just the alley. I frantically flipped through the other shots, hoping I was looking at the wrong photo. But it was gone.

“I don’t understand,” I stuttered. “It was just here. You were dead.”

“That’s it,” she said, almost whispering it in my ear. “If you come near me or Logan again, I’m calling the police. In fact, if you weren’t so pathetic, I’d call them right now. Hurry home now before I change my mind,
psycho
.”

I backed away and headed over to the Jeep. Her words stung as much as the freezing air, but I was more determined than ever.

I was going to save April, whether she wanted me to or not.

CHAPTER 43

I didn’t want to end it like that with Ty. Drilling him in the head with a soccer ball and then breaking up.

I wanted to make him a dinner, to do my part to see that he was eating, but I didn’t have time. Instead I offered to buy him another breakfast.

“No, let me buy you breakfast,” he had said when I called him.

“Yeah, whatever,” I said. “I’ll see you there at 9:30.”

“Where?”

“How ’bout Chow?” I said.

“Well, yeah, of course, chow, but where will we eat this chow you speak of?”

“No, Chow on Newport.”

“Oh, okay,” he said. “See you there.”

Ty had bacon and thyme biscuits with chorizo gravy. I had coffee and watched him eat.

“I want to hear about the ghost you’ve been seeing,” he said suddenly.

“That doesn’t sound like you,” I said.

I didn’t see the point. I knew he didn’t really want to know. It was just more of that desperation talking. But David wasn’t back from Portland. And I could really use someone to bounce ideas off of. Instead of soccer balls.

So I told him, leaving nothing out.

And for the first time, he asked questions. A lot of questions. Some of them felt forced, but overall it was nice and he seemed sincere. I tried to stay in the moment and not let my mind start working overtime on what this meant for us, for the future. If he was finally coming around.

“So what’s your next move?” he said after I told him about April’s reaction to the photo.

“I don’t know,” I said. “A stakeout of the alley seems to be my only hope. To be there at the right time and stop it from happening.”

“That sounds nuts,” he said. “And you said it’s supposed to happen when it’s snowing?”

“Yeah, at night, the snow’s just starting to fall.”

“You know, I caught the end of the forecast on the radio as I was heading over here,” Ty said. “A big storm is supposed to be coming in tomorrow night and last through Christmas. They said we could get more than a foot.”

CHAPTER 44

I looked out the window every few minutes, checking for snow. Like Ty had said, the forecast called for more than a foot in the Bend area in the next few days. And it was supposed to start tonight.

But so far, nothing.

I had my jacket by the front door, just in case.

I grabbed the stack of cooking magazines and a couple of cookbooks off the coffee table, and I pulled a pad of paper from the kitchen drawer before sitting down at the counter.

I wanted Christmas dinner to not only be delicious, but also elegant. I wanted it to be a long evening filled with plenty of courses, wine, and good times for everyone. After taking the Italian cooking classes last month, I felt inspired by the way the Italians treated dinner, how the meal could last deep into the night with good food and good conversation. For the last class, the chef had us come to a typical Italian dinner with his family, and it was almost like being transported there. Through the food, I felt like I could almost see the hills of Tuscany and hear the ringing of the cathedral bells.

I wanted to recreate that feeling for my guests and make it an evening that they would remember for years to come.

All my cookbooks had been ruined by Clyde. I hadn’t gotten around to rebuilding my collection, but Ellen had been nice enough to let me borrow some of her magazines and cookbooks.

I just about had the menu finalized when Kate walked in.

“Hey, Abby,” she said, putting her bag down and taking off her coat.

“Hey, Kate. Man, those meetings are getting longer and longer. Seems like you would have less to talk about now that half the staff is gone.”

“I stopped off for a beer,” she said.

“Where did you guys go?” I asked.

“Goodlife Brewery. But it wasn’t with anyone from the paper,” she said, looking at the pile of opened magazines in front of me. “Hey, what’s for dinner?”

“Good stuff,” I said, smiling. “It’s going to be a night to remember. I just have to find some music to go with it. You know, some elegant, classy stuff.”

“Sounds good,” she said. “Opera would be a natural choice if you’re sticking with Italian.”

I felt a cold wind blow through me as she said it. I liked opera, and she was right, it would go perfectly with the meal. But ever since I was held captive on that island by Nathaniel, in that giant house where he would blare opera from the speakers, I just couldn’t stomach that kind of music. It brought back images of him, standing by the fire, drinking sherry, and talking about all the horrible experiments they were going to conduct on me.

Kate didn’t know the part about the opera music, and I didn’t feel like getting into it now.

“Maybe,” I said. “But maybe something a little more like Louis Prima or Dean Martin. Or maybe Chet Baker. Even though I don’t think he was Italian.”

Kate looked at me and raised her eyebrows.

“Really?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I guess Lyle’s been rubbing off on me,” I said. “All he’s been talking about lately is opening up a jazz biscuit bar.”

She laughed.

“That definitely sounds like him,” she said.

Kate left and returned 10 minutes later while I was putting together the ingredients list. I double checked everything. The list was long. It would take me at least an hour, maybe longer, to get it all. I was hoping I could count on some of the guests to bring wine.

Kate pulled out the stool next to me and sat down.

“So who’s on the guest list?”

“Well, Erin and your four friends from
The Bugler
. David and Lyle. Paloma and her sister. I invited Mo, but I don’t think she’ll show. And Dr. Krowe, too. I invited him.”

“Oh, remember Tony’s having his Christmas Eve party tomorrow night. I hope you can make it.”

“I might be a little late,” I said. “But I’ll be there.”

“Good,” Kate said. “I think the party could go one of two ways. With all the layoffs and everything it might turn into people just crying in their beer. Or it could go in the opposite direction, a chance for people to have a good time and forget about their troubles for a few hours. And this is probably the last of Tony’s parties. If he’s going to find another job in journalism, it’s not going to be in Bend.”

“That’s so sad.”

I waited for Kate to say something else about it, but she was quiet. I wasn’t planning on saying what had been on my mind since she first told me about the layoffs until after Christmas, but the opening presented itself.

I took a deep breath.

“Kate, since you brought that up, I’ve been thinking about something.”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve made a couple of resolutions for the new year,” I said, pacing back and forth behind the counter. “But they involve you, so I need your help.”

She turned and looked at me.

“I’ve been thinking that you need to get on with your life and not live chained to me and my problems. You need to go after your dream. Life’s too short. It’s time to update your resume and get that job you’ve always wanted. Maybe the problems at
The Bugler
are really a good thing. Like a blessing in disguise. I know it’s probably not that way for Tony and those others who lost their jobs. But maybe it’s the push you needed. That I needed. It’s not where you should be anyway. Not anymore.”

Kate stood up.

She started to say something but I held up my hand.

“I don’t want to hear it if you’re going to argue with me,” I said.

She smiled, a tear forming under her left eye.

“No,” she said. “I’ve been thinking about it too. But you’re wrong about one thing. You’re not a chain. You’re my baby sister.”