Light of Day (20 page)

“PACK FOR A SLEEPOVER. WE'RE
picking you up at six thirty. And
don't
eat dinner.”

That was all Adriana would tell me.

My birthday plan was to spend Friday night celebrating with my friends, Saturday night with Jackson, and Sunday (my actual birthday) with my family.

From the passenger seat of Alistair's parents' SUV, I asked for the second time, “Where are we going?”

“You'll see. We have to pick up one more person,” Alistair said, making a left turn.

The SUV already contained Rory, Adriana, and Caro. I didn't know who else Alistair could be picking up. That is, until we reached Maria's street.

She was waiting on her doorstep in a bright pink dress, her
hair freshly bleached blond. “Birthday girl!” She came running, stumbling in her high heels, then threw open the door of the SUV. Perfume flooded in.

“Hey!” I blew her a kiss from the front seat.

Maria slid in next to the Paranormal Twins, who'd dressed as if we were going to a funeral. She looked momentarily puzzled, then shrugged.

I'd never gotten them together as a group before, since I knew Maria was freaked out by anything paranormal. But for my birthday, why not? There was no need to ask how my friends had tracked her down; they'd probably seen her comments on my Instagram.

“Do
you
know where we're going?” I asked Maria over my shoulder, hoping she'd give me a hint.

“Sorry, hon. I've been sworn to secrecy.”

After twenty minutes of stop-start traffic on the expressway, we arrived in North Miami. Alistair pulled into the underground parking lot of the Redmond Hotel. Soon after, we were entering the lobby.

We settled onto some yellow couches. “We have a room here?” I mouthed to Maria, looking over the glitzy lobby.

She made a sign indicating her lips were zipped.

“Stay here. I'll be right back.” Alistair walked away.

Five minutes later, he came back, holding an electronic room key. “Ready?”

Buzzing with excitement, we got into an elevator, where Alistair pressed the button for the fourteenth floor. A businessman came in after us. As he reached for the button, he saw that we were also on the fourteenth floor. He glanced upward, as if praying that we didn't have the room next to his.

Lucky for him, when we got out of the elevator, we went in opposite directions.

“Here we are,” Alistair said, opening up a room for us.

It was a posh suite with a comfy living room and a bedroom with two queen beds. We dumped all of our stuff in a corner of the bedroom.

Rory looked at Maria, his brows winking up. “This could be ours.” He bounced his butt on one of the beds.

Maria's mouth opened in horror.

Alistair cut in quickly. “Rory, you're on the pull-out in the living room. I've got a foam mattress with me. We're good.”

Rory heaved a sigh and brought his duffel bag to the living room.

“Guys, this is so sweet,” I said. “I don't know how much you paid, but I'm chipping in.”

Everybody shook their heads.

“It wasn't that much,” Alistair said. “We got a discount through my dad's corporate membership. Now, who's hungry? We have a reservation across the street.”

We headed across the street to Yolanda's, a loud, boisterous restaurant with cute waiters. According to Alistair, the place had the most authentic Mexican food in Miami. Trust Alistair to have done his research.

Wow. A fabulous restaurant and hotel room—my friends had gone all out for my birthday. For the Paranormal Twins, it was all very . . . normal. I'd half expected we'd be spending my birthday at a cemetery or a UFO convention.

We ordered, we ate, we laughed. I was forced to stand up on a chair wearing a sombrero and holding sparklers as my friends and the waitstaff sang “Happy Birthday.” Maria ogled the waiters, which was a good sign. She was back in her
moving on
phase. I hoped it would last.

When we finally returned to the hotel, we were happily stuffed. I figured we'd find a movie on TV and watch it until we conked out. But when we got back to the room, Adriana dimmed the lights.

“It's time, everyone,” she said.

I looked around. What was this about?

Everyone sat down in the living room.

“There's something we haven't told you, Gabby,” Caro said with barely contained excitement. “This isn't some ordinary hotel.”

Alistair was sitting next to her, holding her hand. “It's
known as the most haunted hotel in Miami. The Redmond has been on this land for more than a hundred years. Before that, it was a sanatorium.”

“A
what
?” Maria gripped my arm.

“Sanatorium,” Alistair explained. “It's where they locked away patients with tuberculosis. Those poor people never saw the outside world again.”

“There have been dozens of reports of ghostly patients walking the thirteenth floor late at night,” Caro said.

Maria's hold on my arm relaxed a bit. “Let's hope they don't make it up to the fourteenth floor.”

Caro and Alistair glanced at each other. “Actually, we're on the thirteenth floor,” Alistair said. “Some hotels call the thirteenth floor the fourteenth because so many of their guests are superstitious. In this case, they have reason to be. Didn't you notice that there was no thirteen button in the elevator?”

“No.” Maria turned to me. “Being attacked by a ghost is not on my bucket list.”

“I can tell us if a ghost is present.” Alistair picked up his backpack, and took out a handheld device that looked like the meter the gas guy used. “This is an EVP reader. It detects changes in the electromagnetic field.” There was a small click as he switched it on.

“That is so cool,” Rory said. “Where'd you get it?”

“eBay.” Alistair moved the EVP meter around the room.
“The reading is completely normal. Should we attempt to make contact?”

“Yes!” said everyone but Maria.

Adriana and Caro closed their eyes and started to hum.

“Loving God and all-powerful angels, please protect us with the white light of your love as we seek to communicate with the spirits,” Adriana prayed. “Everybody, visualize white light around us.”

Maria whispered to me, “I'm having trouble visualizing it.”

“It's okay, I'll visualize it around both of us,” I said.

Caro cleared her throat. “Are there any spirits who would like to communicate with us? Only spirits who mean us no harm are welcome.”

Alistair lifted his eyes. “The meter spiked. There must be something in the room with us.”

Maria shivered.

“Now, somebody ask the spirit a question,” Alistair said. “Let's see if we can get the meter to spike again.”

Rory asked, “Did you suffer a slow and heinous death?”

“No change,” Alistair said.

“Is your soul trapped between here and the light?” Adriana asked.

Alistair's eyes went big. “It moved. Keep talking.”

“Don't be afraid of the light, whoever you are,” Adriana said. “You'll find happiness and peace there.”

Rory huffed. “Hey, don't tell it to go the light yet! We gotta ask it more questions first.”

“It obviously wants to move on, Rory,” Adriana said. “We should be thinking about the spirit's well-being, not our own entertainment.”

“But—”

“Quiet,” Adriana snapped. “Spirit, is there something holding you back from the light? Something you've done that you can't forget?”

Alistair nodded, looking down at the reader. “Major response to that one.”

“This is freaking me out,” Maria whispered, holding my arm too tight.

It freaked me out a little too, but I didn't want to admit it. “Adriana and Caro do this stuff all the time. It's not a big deal.”

“Ahhh!” Maria jumped to her feet, waving her hands.

I stood up. “What's wrong?”

“A c-cold hand touched my back! It slid up and down. . . .” She hugged herself, hyperventilating.

Alistair got up and put the lights on.

“Holy shattering eardrums,” Rory said, hands over his ears. “That was
my
hand, okay? No need to freak out about a friendly pat on the back.”

“That was more than a friendly pat on the back!” Maria said.

I had to laugh. Trust Rory to use a séance as a chance to make his move.

“How about we see if there's a movie on?” I suggested. “Maybe a comedy?” I figured we'd let the spirits rest tonight.

Everybody agreed. We grabbed the duvets and pillows off the beds to snuggle with, then settled down and turned on the TV. Looking around at my friends, I couldn't help smiling.

Happy birthday to me.

Saturday night. My too-high heels were squeezing my toes. I didn't know where Jackson was taking me, or why he'd parked several blocks from our destination.

“Are we almost there? My shoes are pinching.”

“Two more blocks.” He slowed his pace, his mouth curving up at one corner. “Want a piggyback?”

“Nah, I'll manage.”

I wondered where we could possibly be going. Since this was a quiet, residential part of Kendall, I didn't expect to see any restaurants or cafés. The narrow streets were lined with small, tidy houses, their yards decorated with garden gnomes, American flags, and bird feeders.

“Can I find out where we're going?”

“Sorry, it's a surprise.”

Another birthday surprise. Not that I was complaining, although I was still tired from last night. We'd stayed up late
watching movies, and Maria had slept restlessly beside me. I didn't know if it was our contact with a ghost or Rory's creepy-crawly hands that had bothered her—both were equally terrifying.

“So I went out for coffee today with an older woman,” Jackson said, sliding me a look. “She's a dead ringer for that Kardashian lady, can't remember her name.”

My jaw could've hit the sidewalk. “You took Sergeant Monchetta up on her offer?”

“I figured I should get a sense of what I was up against.”

“Up against?” I'd hoped Monchetta could be an ally for the Destinos. With her background in sex crimes, she seemed to have a unique respect for what they did.

He looked at me. “Monchetta knows what really happened that night. She knows it was Destinos who busted in there, that it was Destino bullets that killed Milo and his guys.”

My eyes widened. “Did she say that?”

“She didn't have to. I just wanted to get a sense of whether she planned to do anything about it.”

“And?” I bit my lip. Was Monchetta holding a trump card against the Destinos, to play whenever she wished?

“She made it clear that she's not interested in locking me up. Reading between the lines, I'd say that another unsolved gang murder isn't her top priority. Bree's back home, and the
heat is off. Going forward, Monchetta's goal is to help as many girls out there as possible.”

“Sounds like the same goal as the Destinos.”

He nodded. “I get the feeling Sergeant Monchetta's a realist. She knows that playing by the book doesn't work when the system itself is screwed up. She's more about the endgame than policies and paperwork.” He slanted me a look. “That's the kind of cop I could see working with.”

I smiled. This was good news for the Destinos, and mostly for the girls who needed them.

A few minutes later, we arrived at the surprise destination: a tiny blue stucco house. It sat farther back from the street than the other houses, fronted by an overgrown lawn and a chipped white picket fence.

We went through the gate and approached the door. Jackson did a rhythmic knock. Manny answered, beer in hand. “Hey hey! C'mon in!”

As we walked inside, Jackson said, “Since I met your people, I thought it was time you met mine.”

There had to be ten or twelve guys there.
The Destinos unmasked
, I thought. They all appeared strong and tough, like an elite sports team. Some had tattoos from gangs they used to be in; others looked clean-cut. I recognized Matador, the scarred guy who'd steered me to safety during the shootout.

These were Jackson's people. And now they were my people too.

He introduced me, one by one. Several of them must've come to my rescue that night, but they'd worn black bandannas over their faces. I shook their hands, resisting the urge to hug them all.

“Good to see you again,” I said to Matador. “Thanks for . . . that night.”

He waved a hand, like it wasn't a big deal that he'd shielded me from bullets, or that Bree had shot at him. Like it was an everyday sort of thing.

The Destinos were watching a basketball game. As I'd suspected, guy-only gatherings centered more around sports-watching than conversation. Two of them moved to the floor so we could sit on the love seat. While the guys concentrated on the game, I looked at them, wondering what drew each of them to the Destinos.

“Who owns this place?” I asked Jackson.

“It's rented. We keep a place for a few months, then we move on to another one. We use it as a safehouse for girls when we need to. No one's here now, though. We also use it for meetings.”

“Thanks for bringing me here.”

Our hands locked together.

“We won't stay long. I made a dinner reservation for us. A nice little bistro. You'll see.”

There was a knock at the door, the same beat of knocks that Jackson had used. He stood up immediately, looking around.

“Is something wrong?” I asked.

“Hope not. Thing is, everybody's already here.” He headed for the door. Manny butted in front of him, peering through the peephole.

“No worries, X. I invited some old friends.” Before Jackson could ask who, Manny swung open the door.

It was a good-looking, dark-haired couple about our age. Manny grabbed the girl into a bear hug. “Diaz! I missed you!” Without releasing her, he turned to the guy. “You better be taking good care of her.”