Brighter, a supernatural thriller (26 page)

"I think Blair killed Angelica," said Nick.

"Okay, Nick," said Olivia. "That's insane. I mean, sure she's a bitch, but a murderer?"

"I don't know," said Nick. "If she's nuts enough to lock Ramona in a basement, who's to say she isn't nuts enough to kill Angelica?"

"Well, look," said Tom. "It's obvious that she was lying about being raped by Garrett."

"Yeah," said Olivia. "That was a weird turn of events. One minute she hates Garrett, the next she's making out with him. And, guys, what the heck happened to Owen?"

"I bet Owen's dead too," said Nick. "She probably just hid his body better."

"Blair said Owen left town," said Ramona. "But he left awful quick. He didn't even tell Griff at The Grind that he was going."

"You think she murdered him too, don't you?" asked Nick.

Ramona and Heather exchanged a look. This was definitely interesting. Usually, Blair controlled the way everyone thought in town. But Ramona liked it. They were using the Elston rumor mill against the girl who used it as her primary weapon. It was awesome.

"It's all fine and good to turn Blair into a demoness," said Mark, "but you guys are acting like white-trash girlfriends, blaming this entire thing on Blair. I mean, Garrett left Ramona too. He's just as much at fault here."

"Garrett's different," said Ramona.

"No fucking kidding," said Olivia. "It's like he's a completely different person. You guys remember when he and Ramona hung out with us that one night, right?"

Tom nodded. Mark said, "He was really quiet."

"Yeah," said Tom. "He's not really quiet anymore, is he?"

The conversation continued for a while, eventually turning to other topics. But before it did, Olivia told Ramona, "Just wait. I'm going to get the entire town on your side. I've been spreading talk like this like a disease. Blair's got it coming."

Ramona appreciated Olivia's support, but she didn't think Olivia knew exactly what she was taking on. "Look," she said to Olivia. "That's really cool of you. But...you should be careful, okay? Blair isn't entirely what she seems."

Olivia laughed. "You do agree with Nick, don't you? God. You guys watch way too many detective TV shows."

* * *

Ramona pulled the covers over her head and turned over in bed. She and Heather had been out late the night before, and she wasn't going to get up until her alarm went off. She'd set it for eleven, which would give her an hour to get to the post office and get her applications mailed off. Her bed was so comfortable. She snuggled into her pillow. Idly, she wondered what time it was. She guessed it was probably around eight, because she had a hard time sleeping in much later than the time she normally had to get up for work, no matter how late she went to bed. But she wasn't sure, and she was seized with the burning desire to know if she'd guessed right. Knowing she wouldn't be able to go back to sleep if she didn't just look, Ramona pulled the covers off her face and opened one eye to look at her alarm clock.

Eleven forty-five?!

What the hell had happened to her alarm? Ramona threw her covers off and leaped out of bed, almost stepping on Heather, who was sleeping on an air mattress right next to Ramona's bed. Damn it. Ramona grabbed a pair of pants and a shirt and ran into the bathroom to get dressed. She hurriedly pulled her hair into a sloppy ponytail on top of her head. Grabbing her applications and her wallet, she rushed out of the apartment and down the steps to the front door of her building. She opened it into sheets of rain. It was pouring outside.

Fuck!

Ramona charged back up the steps to her apartment and began searching furiously for her umbrella. She overturned clothes, looked behind couches, in cabinets, anywhere she could think of. It was nowhere to be found. Stuffing the letters into her shirt, Ramona grabbed a hooded jacket and threw it over her head.

She darted back down the stairs and into the rain. The sidewalk was slippery, and she wasn't wearing shoes with good traction, just a pair of flip-flops. Water sloshed over her feet as she sprinted through the rain.

Ramona was forced to slow down as she headed up the block. If she didn't, she was going to fall down. She walked as fast as she possibly could.

She turned at Duke Street, right by the library, its windows glowing yellow light in the rain, looking so welcoming, and began walking the two blocks to the post office.

At the end of the first block, she had to wait for several cars to pass on the street. They splashed dirty water onto her pants.

Ramona was nearly soaked through when she arrived at the post office. She pulled open the door and braced herself as the frigid air conditioning bit into her wet skin.

She was too late. The door to the office was closed. Locked. She wasn't wearing a watch, but she didn't think it could be that much past twelve. Ramona pounded on the door to the office. Nothing happened.

Fucking postal workers. Couldn't cut a girl a break, could they? Ramona surveyed the open part of the post office, numbered boxes lining its walls.

And then, she saw the stamp machine!

Aha! Success! They actually had an automated machine that sold stamps. She could put money in it, and it would give her stamps. And she could mail out her applications after all.

Ramona dug her wallet out of her pocket and opened it up. She didn't have any cash. She'd planned to purchase her stamps with her debit card. Of course, the machine didn't take debit cards.

Ramona dug all the change she had out of her change compartment. Twelve cents. Seven cents of it in pennies. Damn it all to hell.

There was an ATM two blocks down at the bank, but it only gave twenties. The machine took twenties, but it would probably give her change in quarters.

She could walk another block to the convenience store and get five dollars cash back. Or she could just wait until Monday to send her letters.

Ramona looked out at the blinding sheets of rain. Either way, she was just going to get wetter. She squared her shoulders and went back out into the rain.

On the way to the convenience store, she had to walk through a puddle the size of Lake Eerie. At this point, her pants were soaked up her knees. Her hair was falling in wet strands into her eyes. The only place that did seem to be somewhat dry was the place in her shirt where her letters were. Ramona was thankful for that at least.

At the convenience store, she had to wait in a line for what seemed like five hours. The guy ahead of her bought at least forty-five lottery tickets. Finally, she got to the register and bought a pack of cigarettes. She got her five dollars cash back and stepped out into the rain once more.

She dragged herself back to the post office, shivering the entire way. The rain was cold rain, and there was heavy wind that was kicking up, blowing right in Ramona's face. The rain was now raining sideways, hitting right at the place in which her letters were stored in her shirt. Ramona tried to adjust them so that they were under her armpit.

She struggled against the gusts of wind, which were so strong, they threatened to knock her over. Her teeth chattered.

When she got back to the post office, she took the letters out of her shirt. They were a little damp, but none of the writing seemed to have smeared. Ramona bought her stamps, affixed them on her letters, and dropped the letters into the appropriate mail slot.

Then she walked back to the door, prepared to trudge back through the rain to her apartment. To her astonishment, the rainstorm had passed. Outside, it was bright and sunny. As she swung open the door to the post office, she heard a cacophony of birds chirping their heads off. To Ramona, it sounded as if they were taunting her.

* * *

Heather was ushering the last of the patrons at the bar out of Applebee's. She and the bartender, Regina, were the last people still working. She'd sent everyone else home once they finished their cleanup. Heather was tired, and she didn't relish the twenty-minute drive back to Elston. One thing was for sure. It had been a heck of a lot easier to get home from Applebee's when she lived here in Freeburg with Rick. She wondered what was going on in her house. She hadn't been back, even though she'd left everything she owned there. Luckily, she and Ramona were about the same size, so she'd been borrowing Ramona's clothes. And she had been able to salvage some money from the joint checking account she and Rick had. Plus, she still had a savings account in her name. She was glad she'd never switched that over to a joint savings account. She and Rick had talked about it a couple of times, but she'd never actually done it. It had been a good idea, it seemed.

"You want a drink?" asked Regina.

"No thanks," said Heather. "I'm driving."

She and Regina were friends, not just because they worked together, but also because they shared an interest in the supernatural. Regina was Wiccan. Heather had studied the religion but ultimately didn't think that it was for her. Still, she respected other people's religious choices, and Regina was pretty cool. So far, she hadn't told Heather about trying to do any spells or anything like that. It wasn't that Heather didn't have an open mind about those kinds of things. She believed in the possibility of magic, but she had to admit, she was pretty skeptical about it. Anyway, Wiccans weren't the kind of religious where they were always and forever trying to recruit people. Heather liked Regina, and she had no problems whatsoever with her religious choice.

"We're both driving," said Regina. "I thought you just lived up on Orchard Ave, anyway?"

"I did," said Heather.

"But not anymore?" asked Regina.

"No," said Heather.

"How come?"

Heather debated. Regina was pretty cool and open minded. She might be able to tell her what actually happened. But she wasn't sure. If she freaked Regina out too badly, it could undermine her authority as manager. "My husband...got really different," she said finally.

"Different? Like he told you he was gay?"

Heather laughed. "No. Like, he started acting like a different person. He, um, tried to strangle me. I left and didn't go back."

"Jesus," breathed Regina. "I don't care what you say, you need a drink." She began concocting something behind the bar that involved multiple bottles. Heather started to protest but then gave up. She guessed one drink couldn't hurt. She hadn't had anything else to drink that night. She'd probably be fine. "So, where are you staying now?"

"With a friend. In Elston."

"Elston," said Regina. "I hate that place. People think it's so cute and quaint and everything, but it's got a really dark energy. Like if a town had an aura, that place would be black." She handed Heather the drink she'd mixed. It was bright green.

"What's this?" asked Heather.

"Try it," said Regina.

Heather took a tentative sip. It was excellent! "That's really good."

"You don't have to sound so surprised. It's the melon liqueur. That's what makes it so tasty."

"Well, it's really good. Thank you."

"Do you like living in Elston?"

"Not really. I'm planning on moving soon."

"And going where?"

"Virginia, I think," said Heather. "It depends on where my friend gets a job. But you're right about Elston. It's...dark there. Like evil."

"You might think I'm crazy," said Regina, "but sometimes I get these sort of...like mental images that sort of superimpose over what I'm actually seeing. Most people don't believe me when I tell them this..."

"No, no," said Heather. "I believe you. I mean, that kind of thing is definitely possible."

"Well, I've seen this kind of stuff ever since I was a little girl. I used to tell my mom about it, and, at first, she thought it was my imagination, but then once I saw an image of my grandmother lying down dead when I saw her. I was upset, and I told my mom. My grandmother died the next day. My mother suddenly didn't think it was my imagination. From then on, anytime I'd mention it, she'd just yell at me. I learned to keep my mouth shut."

"But you have a gift," said Heather. She was pretty sure she believed Regina. Pretty sure.

"Or a curse, depending on how you look at it. It's not always bad stuff, like death. Sometimes it's good. Like love or children or money. But a lot of times, it's bad. I used to try to tell people when I saw something. I guess I thought maybe they could change things if they knew. But people never thanked me for it and nothing ever changed. So, I usually don't say anything about it at all. But I like you, Heather. You seem to be pretty open to the universe."

"Thanks. I try."

"I wouldn't stay in Elston any longer than you had to. Something about that place is just...evil. It's like rotted death. You know the creepiest place in Elston?"

"What?"

"The library. The first time I saw that place, I was driving through Elston with some friends, and I got one of my images. Really clear, crystal clear. And there was sound. I never hear things that aren't there. I just see things. But when I drove past that library, I saw this throng of people, all gathered together in a tiny room, and they were all screaming these really shrill, chilling screams. I still have nightmares about it. Just be careful while you're there, okay, Heather? Be careful."

* * *

Ramona was already asleep when Heather got home, so she quietly got ready for bed in the dark, and slipped between the sheets on the air mattress. Ramona had suggested they switch off, each taking the air mattress for a night, but Heather felt guilty. She didn't want to impose on Ramona anymore than she already had. It was enough that she was staying in Ramona's house and wearing her clothes. She didn't have to take Ramona's bed too. But as she settled into the mattress tonight, she realized it was losing air. It wasn't the most comfortable bed. She could get up and put some more air into it, but she was too tired, so she just got as comfortable as she could and tried to let sleep wash over her like a tidal wave.

But as tired as Heather was, she couldn't go to sleep. She kept thinking about things she needed to do at work. She had lists and lists of things she was trying to juggle in her head. She also wanted to research some of the places where Ramona had applied for a job. Look at houses for rent, restaurants where she could work, things like that. There was just too much to do. She half-felt like getting out of bed now and turning on Ramona's computer. But she knew that was probably a lost cause. The internet almost never worked up here anymore. Ramona claimed it had been fine before Heather moved in, and she'd seemed almost accusatory, as if it were Heather's fault or something. She hoped that Ramona didn’t feel put out. The two of them were moving away together. They were going to have to get used to living together. Heather rolled onto her back, adjusting for the lack of support in the mattress. She looked up at the ceiling and then firmly closed her eyes. With sheer force of will, she willed herself to sleep.