Blur (Blur Trilogy) (20 page)

CHAPTER
FORTY

Daniel led his father along the trail that skirted around the lake and eventuall
y
the
y
came to the stretch of beach where he’d brought Stac
y.

The storm from the previous night had cleared out, and in contrast to Saturda
y,
when it’d been cold, overcast, and rain
y
out here, toda
y
the sk
y
was stark blue with onl
y
a few tendrils of sparse clouds dragged in thin lines along the horizon.

It looked more like a summer da
y
than one in the heart of autumn.

Again, just like last night when it’d smelled springlike outside, the seasons seemed to be fluctuating in a random wa
y
around him.

“Right over here, Dad.”

His father joined him at the spot where he’d found the glasses.

He was silent as he studied the area, and Daniel had the sense that he was looking for something specific, though what it might have been he couldn’t sa
y.

His dad kicked some sand aside, noted the position of the campfire pit and the distance to the trail that led up the bluff to the top of Wind
y
Point.

As patientl
y
as he could, Daniel waited for him to sa
y
something, and finall
y,
when he didn’t, Daniel asked, “What are
yo
u thinking?”

“You were right about the distance from the bluff and about the water not rising this high up the beach. You’re sure
yo
u found them right here?”

“Positive.”

He knelt and dug through the sand near the spot, most likel
y
looking for the missing lens. A few minutes later, when he didn’t find an
yt
hing, he stood. “You told me
yo
u came out here for closure.”

“Yes.”

“Closure for what?”

“What do
yo
u mean?”

“I mean, what were
yo
u tr
yi
ng to settle in
yo
ur mind? What were
yo
u hoping to find?”

“It was about Emil
y’
s death. I was tr
yi
ng to figure out a wa
y
to deal with it.”

That was partl
y
true.

It was also true that he was tr
yi
ng to deal with the fact that after Emil
y
died she’d started appearing to him.

“And how would coming out here do that?” his dad asked. “Bring closure for
yo
u?”

Daniel struggled with deciding how much to tell him about what was happening. If he confessed what he’d been seeing, his dad would almost certainl
y
think he was going nut
s—e
speciall
y
after what had happened this morning with Akira.

He alread
y
knows something is up. I mean,
yo
u wander outside in the middle of a storm, dig up
yo
ur mom’s dead pupp
y
and la
y
it on the hood of the car . . . Seriousl
y?
And then
yo
u have no memor
y
of it ever happening?

His dad waited for him to answer.

“I’ve been seeing things.”

“Things?”

“Emil
y.
She appeared to me, twice. Asked me to find her glasses. Told me Trevor was in the car.”

“Trevor?”

“Her dog.”

Daniel expected his father to respond as K
yl
e had, with a comment about how Emil
y
was dead and couldn’t possibl
y
be talking to him.

But instead he was silent.

He had to be thinking that something serious was wrong with his son. Something ver
y
serious. He had to be.

Now that Daniel had brought up the hallucinations, he thought he might as well just la
y
ever
yt
hing out there. “I saw her sit up in the casket when we were at the funeral, and I saw her walking across the football field in the homecoming game.”

“And
yo
u thought that coming out here would make those visions stop?”

He studied his dad’s face to tr
y
to discern what he was thinking.

“I didn’t know,” Daniel said. “I was hoping it would.”

“You sa
y
she appeared to
yo
u before
yo
ur concussion at the football game?”

“Yes. That’s what made me hesitate. That’s wh
y
I got hit in the first place.”

There was a long pause.

“Do
yo
u think I’m going craz
y?
”

“No.” But he hadn’t answered immediatel
y,
and that made Daniel wonder how honest he was being.

“Are
yo
u thinking about that other doctor?” Daniel asked. “The ps
yc
hiatrist?”

This time he did repl
y
right awa
y.
“Regardless of what’s going on here, we need to make these vision
s—o
r whatever the
y
ar
e—s
top.”

I agree.

“So
yo
u think I should see him?”

“I won’t lie to
yo
u. After what happened last night I’m . . .
Well, it can’t hurt an
yt
hing. Talking things through with
someone.”

“In Superior
yo
u didn’t like the idea.”

“In Superior I didn’t know a dead girl was talking to
yo
u.”

Daniel didn’t bring up the mark that’d appeared on his arm. “Oka
y.
I’ll talk to him.”

“I’ll give him a call in the morning.”

“You threw out the business card.”

“I remember his name.” He started down the trail. “Dr. Fromke.”

“And his number?”

“And his number.”

You have to be pa
yi
ng prett
y
close attention to memorize a phone number when
yo
u just glance at a business card. So, ma
yb
e his dad had considered having Daniel see the shrink back when the
y
were leaving the doctor’s office that morning after all.

Daniel was deep in thought all the wa
y
home.

When the
y
arrived his father told him that he would take care of Akira, that he didn’t need to worr
y
about it.

Daniel wondered if he was bur
yi
ng the dog b
y
himself so his son wouldn’t know where the remains were and wouldn’t be able to find them if he did happen to get up in the middle of the night again.

It seemed like the trust the
y’
d established over the last few months was beginning to erode. And it was all because of things that were out of Daniel’s control.

After supper he realized he still hadn’t spoken with K
yl
e, Stac
y,
or Nicole, and he felt like he needed to touch base with all three of them.

He evaluated things.

K
yl
e. Nicole. Stac
y.

He decided to tr
y
Nicole first.

CHAPTER
FORTY-ONE

“Hello?” she said.

“He
y,
it’s Daniel.”

“He
y.
Where were
yo
u toda
y?
”

He’d informed her last night that he would be gone from school toda
y,
but hadn’t told her where he was going to be. “I had a doctor’s appointment.”

“Ever
yt
hing oka
y?
”

“Yeah. It’s good. I’m good.”

“I took down the assignments for
yo
u,” Nicole told him. “I mean for the classes we have together.”

“Thanks.”

“Miss Fl
yn
n was asking about
yo
u. I thought that was a little odd, I mean, kids get sick or miss class all the time. But she asked me where
yo
u were.”

“Huh.”

Wh
y
did she ask Nicole? She knows
yo
u’re best friends with K
yl
e. Wh
y
wouldn’t she have asked him?

At last he got to the reason for his call. “I wanted to make sure we met up tomorrow so I can give
yo
u
yo
ur earring.”

“Oh. Sure, whenever, that’d be great.” Then she said, “Daniel, I need to tell
yo
u something.”

“Yeah?”

She took a deep breath. “So, about the other night. When
yo
u were taking me home. When I was in the car and T
y
pulled out that knife and those gu
ys
were surrounding me, pounding on the windows . . . I was . . . Well, I was reall
y
scared.”

“I can understand.”

“Were
yo
u?”

“Yes.”

“I couldn’t tell.”

“Sometimes I’m good at hiding things.”

“Oh.” She didn’t seem to know what to make of that. “But also,
yo
u made me feel safe. I trusted
yo
u. I mean, when
yo
u were read
y
to fight off all four of ’em to protect me. It was prett
y
awesome.”

“I wouldn’t have let an
yt
hing happen to
yo
u.”

“I know.”

And I won’t let an
yt
hing happen to
yo
u.

“An
yw
a
y,
thanks.”

“Of course.”

“See
yo
u tomorrow.”

“Meet
yo
u after fourth hour?”

“After fourth hour,” Nicole said. “Perfect.”

Next, K
yl
e.

Emil
y
had written his name all over her notebook, and Daniel hadn’t had a chance to talk to him about it
ye
t. He’d been hoping to discuss it with him in person, but he didn’t want to wait an
y
longer, so he called his friend.

When K
yl
e picked up, the
y
whipped through some filler talk, the kind of stuff that gives
yo
u the context for a conversation about the things that reall
y
matter:

“Wh
y
were
yo
u gone toda
y?
”

“I was at the doctor’s.”

“What for?”

“M
y
head.”

And so on.

Daniel concluded b
y
sharing about his sleepwalking and what he’d done to Akira’s bod
y.

“Oka
y,
I have to sa
y,
dude, that’s ver
y
disturbing. You know that, right?”

“Here’s the scariest thing: I did all tha
t—p
ut on m
y
clothes, dug up the grave, moved Akira’s bod
y,
then climbed back into be
d—a
nd I don’t remember an
y
of it. I was wondering if I did it because of what we’d talked about the other da
y
when
yo
u mentioned visiting the grave
ya
rd.”

“Yeah, I don’t know. I guess that makes sens
e—I
mean, if that’s what was on
yo
ur mind. Or ma
yb
e
yo
u dug up
yo
ur mom’s dog because
yo
u’ve been thinking of that other dog, Trevor.”

Daniel hadn’t considered that.

“He
y,
listen,” K
yl
e said, “when I was watching Michele
ye
sterda
y
I was thinking about what we were talking abou
t—g
hosts and ever
yt
hing. She has this imaginar
y
pet kitten, Toni, that she talks to all the time and it got me wondering about stuff people see that isn’t there,
yo
u know, what’s real and what’s not. I’m still not sure I believe in ghosts, but I went online
ye
sterda
y
and did some research. Have
yo
u ever heard of da
ym
ares?”

“Da
ym
ares?”

“The
y’
re like nightmares, onl
y yo
u have
’e
m during the da
y—
o
bviousl
y.
The
y’
re like da
yd
reams, onl
y
horrif
yi
ng. Similar to nightmares, but
yo
u have them while
yo
u’re awake.”

“So, hallucinations?”

“I guess; I’m not sure what the difference is. I’m wondering if ma
yb
e that’s what’s going on with
yo
u.”

“I’ll read up on
’e
m. Tomorrow m
y
dad’s calling a shrink to see if we can figure out what’s wrong.”

“A shrink?”

“Yeah.”

Ask him about Emil
y.
Tell him about her notebook.

But K
yl
e spoke before Daniel could: “So
yo
u told
yo
ur dad? About the visions and ever
yt
hing?”

“Well, finding Akira’s bod
y
on the hood of the car was a prett
y
good indicator that whatever’s going on with me is not good.”

“And it sounds like it’s getting worse.”

“Thanks for that little reminder.”

“An
yt
ime, bro.”

Daniel stared at the journal on the edge of the desk in front of him. “Remember how I wrote that blog entr
y
for Teach on how m
y
thoughts were wandering out of formation?”

“Yes.”

“Another image came to me when we were driving home from the doctor’s toda
y.
”

“What’s that?”

“Well, it’s like flakes of paint breaking off when I rub m
y
hand against what appears to be real, and I end up rubbing one la
ye
r of realit
y
awa
y.
”

“Did
yo
u just sa
y
‘flakes of pain’?”

“Paint.”

“Gotcha.”

Daniel thought back to the headaches he’d been having.

Flakes of pain.

That might not be such a bad description after all.

“You seem to be coming up with all sorts of wild image
s—f
lakes of realit
y
rubbing off, vultures picking awa
y
at the corpse of
yo
ur dreams. Where do
yo
u think all this is coming from?”

“I honestl
y
don’t know.”

“It’s like a part of
yo
ur brain that’s never reall
y
been active is waking up.”

Ma
yb
e that’s wh
y yo
u’re seeing things, sleepwalking, all of that.

Ma
yb
e that has something to do with the headaches.

“That’s possible.”

But wh
y?

And wh
y
now?

K
yl
e asked, “So how did the meeting with Ronnie go
ye
sterda
y?
”

“Oka
y.
He told me Emil
y’
s cell phone was never found.”

“B
y yo
ur tone of voice I can tell
yo
u’re thinking that’s suspicious.”

“He said she normall
y
carried it in her pocket, not her purse. I doubt the current would have been able to snatch a cell phone from her pocket.”

And based on the location of the broken glasses, it doesn’t look like she fell off the cliff an
yw
a
y,
he thought, but didn’t bring that up.

“I wonder,” K
yl
e reflected, “who the last person was who she talked to or texted?”

“No kidding. If she was killed, it might tell us who she was with out at the lake.”

As the conversation paused, Daniel decided it was time to get to the reason he’d called.

“K
yl
e, did
yo
u know that Emil
y
had a crush on
yo
u?”

“What are
yo
u talking about? Ronnie told
yo
u that?”

“No. I saw her notebook while I was at their house. She wrote
yo
ur name over and over in it. Drew hearts next to it,
yo
u know, like girls do.”

Silence. “I had no idea it was that serious.”

“So
yo
u knew?”

“I mean, I’d heard she liked me, but I’m with Mia. Besides, Emil
y
was a freshman and it wasn’t like I would’ve asked her out.”

Those were the same things Daniel had thought of earlier. “But
yo
u told me
yo
u didn’t know her.”

“Yeah, no, I mean, I said hi to her a few times in the hall. That’s all. Her locker was just down from mine. I was just tr
yi
ng to be polite.” He paused. “She must have gotten the wrong idea.”

“She must have. I think T
y
might have seen the notebook.”

“That’s wh
y
he brought it up with
yo
u on Saturda
y?
”

“Yeah, and also wh
y
he said that he knew about
yo
u and Emil
y—
b
ack when we first met up with Ronnie when the
y
were bull
yi
ng him.”

“So
yo
u reall
y
think someone might’ve killed Emil
y?
”

“Yes.”

K
yl
e reflected for a moment. “You think it might have been T
y?
”

So far Daniel had simpl
y
been entertaining the possibilit
y
that Emil
y
had been killed. He hadn’t thought of an
yo
ne in particular doing it. “I don’t know.”

“It would explain how he knew what was in her notebook.”

“There could be a lot of explanations for that.”

“Ma
yb
e.”

“M
y
dad doesn’t want me looking into her death an
ym
ore. He thinks I’m snooping around. He wants me to leave it all to him.”

“So what did
yo
u tell him?”

“I promised I wouldn’t keep investigating things.”

“Aha. So no trip to the cemeter
y?
”

“Well, we’ll see. I’ve started seeing and doing reall
y
scar
y
thing
s—d
igging up Akira is just the latest one. I need to find some answers, and I need to find them fast before I go off the deep end and do something dangerous or that I would reall
y
regret.”

“And
yo
u think solving this will do that?”

“I sure hope so.”

“Well, I’ll help in an
y
wa
y
I can, but for now, if she reall
y
was murdered, it could have been just about an
yb
od
y.
I don’t think
yo
u should trus
t—”

“Please don’t tell me not to trust an
yo
ne,” Daniel said.

“Wh
y
not?”

“In the movies, it’s alwa
ys
the gu
y
who warns the main character not to trust an
yo
ne who turns out betra
yi
ng him in the end.”

For a moment K
yl
e didn’t repl
y.
“Oka
y.
The last thing I’d want is for
yo
u to get suspicious of me.”

“Or
yo
u of me.”

“I’ll see
yo
u tomorrow, man.”

“I’ll see
yo
u then.”

Flakes of pain.

Reall
y,
not such a bad image.

Daniel turned to the journal and wrote down the impressions about the flakes of realit
y,
then went on:

The bo
y
was not alwa
ys
this wa
y,
not alwa
ys
slipping into gra
yl
and.

He could remember the wa
y
it used to be. That was the hardest par
t—k
nowing that once he hadn’t been losing his grip on realit
y.
Back then he used to think he was normal, well, as normal as normal is.