Mourning Moon (A Guinan Jones Paranormal Mystery #2) (15 page)

A group of freshman had taken over our lunch table. I slowed as I approached. A boy with a mop of blond hair grinned at me and waved me over.

"Thanks," I said. "But I think I'll eat outside.
Lovely out." Although it wasn't.

I
leaned on a column and watched rain pelting against the walkway. I'd had several chances to talk to Ione and wimped out every time. I found out through online research that peanut allergies could be hereditary. If Asher was allergic to peanuts, it was possible that Desmond was his father, and if Desmond was his father, Ione must be his mother. If that were the case, it meant she got pregnant shortly before she left for France and had the baby in the summer.

Having babies out of wedlock didn't hold the stigma it used to. Why pretend your
child was your sibling? And why would your parents go along with it? If Desmond intended to expose the scheme, that might be a motive to kill him.

From the corner of my eye, I saw someone approaching me.

"What's that people say about eating alone? Jones, you might have a problem."

I unscrewed my bottle of water, sipped, and replaced the cap
. "I think that pertains to drinking alone."

Luke
leaned beside me, our arms touching. "Same difference."

We watched the rain. I wanted to lean into him and loop my arm through his. But I kept still.
"Where's Gabby?"

"Some club meeting," he said, removing an orange from his bag.

We lapsed into a comfortable silence as he peeled the fruit. The rain began to let up. I hated to breach the moment with unpleasant things.

"I think Embry was the term paper writer."

He didn't react. "What makes you say that?"

"The day after I confronted him about it, the
Private Paper site went offline."

"What does that prove
?"

"It proves nothing," I said
. "Sinder told me Desmond bought a paper. He also told Mr. Howard who the writer was."

I waited for Luke to comment.
When he didn't, I cleared my throat. "If that person is Embry, then Embry had a motive to kill Desmond."

He slowly turned his head in my directio
n but still didn't look at me. "That same motive would apply to anybody who bought a paper."

A true statement. I changed directions.
"If Desmond wanted Ione back..." I trailed off, hoping Luke would expand on the idea. He didn't. My head throbbed. I rubbed my temple and sighed. "When Ione left for France, were there rumors that she might have been pregnant?"

That got him to look at me. "
Ione, pregnant?"

"So there were no rumors that she spent a year out of the country because she was pregnant?"

He dropped his gaze. "I just figured Desmond had broken her heart or something. I don't remember any rumors about a baby. But you might want to ask Gabby."

I furrowed my brow.

"You know how girls are," he said. "They tend to talk more about stuff like that. Drake never mentioned it to me."

I debated telling him about the Founders Day incident.
I should have said "off the record" when I mentioned the site going offline and Desmond's confession to Mr. Howard. "Luke, can I trust that our conversations won't turn up on that blog?"

His
cheeks reddened. "I won't share our conversation."

He listened intently as I told him everything I could remember and what I turned up searching online. "I also realized that Asher reminded me of Desmond.
The shape and color of his eyes. What?"

Luke was frowning. "There is something.
At the time, I thought it was kind of unusual that Ione's mother went with her to France."

"Her mother went with her?"

He nodded. "The story is, her mother was pregnant while she was there and had the baby last June. Look, let's stop speculating and go to the source."

I
stuffed my water bottle into my bag and followed Luke inside. Lunch period was over, and students began filling the halls on the way to their next class.

"There," Luke said, touching my arm and looking somewhere in the distance. "She's at her locker.
I think she's—"

"There you are!"

Gabby Meyerson intercepted us. She ignored me and spoke directly to Luke. "I tried to dash out early, but you know how it is."

I peered around
her. Ione glanced in our direction, slammed her locker shut, and ducked inside a classroom.

"No big deal," Luke said. "Jones and I ate outside."

Gabby peered down at me. I expected to sense jealousy, but all I got was fear. She was more worried that I'd expose her cheating.

"See you guys later," I said, walking off.

"Wait," Luke said. "What about—"

"We'll talk later," I said.

If our cryptic exchange bothered Gabby, she didn't show it. Before I turned to head in the opposite direction, Luke and I held eye contact. Though his expression had a casual air, I sensed his disappointment. I walked away with a big grin on my face.

"Miss Jones, may I see you for a moment?"

I stopped short. Mr. Howard stood in front of me sipping from a coffee mug.

"Right now?" I said. "I have English class."

He smiled. "I'll write you note."

My heart started to pound. "Okay." I followed him to his office,
wondering what was so important. My legs wobbled a little once we'd reached his office.

"Sit, please," Mr. Howard said, gesturing to the chair where I'd sat during my previous visit.
"I've been thinking about you."

"Oh?"

"About your dream," he said, setting his cup on the desk. He watched me intently, and I sensed a kind of cool curiosity emanating from him. It made me feel like a lab rat. "I'm going to tell you something that's probably irrelevant to what happened to Desmond, not to mention inappropriate for a counselor."

Now I wasn't just curious. I was intrigued.

"I have a cousin who calls herself a medium."

I furrowed my brow.
In a million years I wouldn't have expected to hear these words from Mr. Howard. "She believes she communicates with the dead?"

"That's what she believes, yes."

Is this really what he wanted to talk to me about? "I'm skeptical about mediums."

He laughed and slid his mug toward him
. "You claim to sense emotions and hear what a dead person thought before he died, yet you're skeptical about mediums?"

"What I mean is, I believe the communic
ation happens. I just doubt its source." His confused expression prompted me to continue. "I don't believe mediums actually communicate with dead people. I think it's...something else."

I expected him to laugh again, but he didn't. "Interesting.
What or who is this something else?"

I licked my lips.
I didn't like thinking about these things, let alone talking about them. "According to the Bible, the spirits mediums claim to communicate with are not the actual dead people, but deceiving spirits. And it warns against consulting with mediums."

"But isn't that what you do?"

I shook my head. "The dead person isn't communicating with me. What I hear are sort of residual thoughts."

"I
think I see the distinction," he said. "But doesn't the Bible also warn against people like you?"

My face
flushed. I'd read those Scriptures dozens of times. "I believe what you're referring to applies more to fortunetellers and conjurers."

"Your dreams," Mr. Howard said
, leaning forward. "Some might say they're a form of divination, which the Bible also condemns."

"Not exactly." I scratched my chin. "I dream of a possible future event, a death. I don't conjure up these things
or hold myself out as a fortuneteller." I made brief eye contact with him, but I couldn't tell whether he pitied me or empathized.

"
I'm concerned," he said. "I mentioned my cousin, because I believe if you had someone to talk to about this..." His voice trailed away as if he'd lost his train of thought. "Do you have someone to talk to?"

"You mean other clairvoyants?"

He nodded.

"I don't need to talk to anyone," I said, getting to my feet. "Especially someone who claims to be a medium."

Mr. Howard rose, his brow furrowed. "I hope I haven't offended you."

"You haven't," I said. "You can't help me. You think it's all in my head, that it's a form of mental illness. I know what I feel and see."

He gave a wan smile. "If I thought you were crazy, I wouldn't have called you in here and told you about my cousin. She's around your age, by the way. She started collge this fall."

I didn't respond.

"Have you told the police about the dream?" he said.

"
Detective Czarnecki."

Mr.
Howard raised his eyebrows. "Her reaction?"

"She
didn't seem much concerned."

I
waited while Mr. Howard wrote me a note for class, then left the office still wondering why he thought I'd be interested in talking to a medium.

Claire Capwell changed her mind about exposing the cheating scandal. As soon I entered the main building the next day, someone shoved a print copy of
The Grier Crier
in my face. I scanned it. Claire hadn't named names but quoted anonymous sources who said they'd bought term papers from Private Paper.

The hallway was buzzing. The only thing in my head were Mr. Howard's words.

Your dreams. Some might say they're a form of divination, which the Bible also condemns.

Was my clairv
oyance a form of divination—discovering hidden knowledge by supernatural means? By that definition, the answer was yes. Still, should I ignore that knowledge? What if I could save a life? I looked up just in time to see Gabby Meyerson approaching me, her lovely face red.

"If you're thinking about making a move on Luke, you better change your plans."

My eyes lingered on her thick, shining hair and exquisite features. "You're kidding, right?"

"Do I look like I'm kidding?" she said, nostrils flaring. "
I'm tired of seeing the two of you with your heads together like you're sharing secrets."

"Gabby," I said,
realizing I was caught in a situation similar to the one with Tamzen and Zeke, "Luke and I are trying to help Sinder. If she didn't kill Desmond, that means someone—"

"
Don't even go there," she said. "I know exactly what you're doing."

I took a step back
. "I can't believe you consider me a threat."

Gabby narrowed her eyes
. "You should know by now that looks aren't the only thing that attracts guys."

A backhanded compliment?
Her emotions let me know she was totally serious. A lot of jealousy, and a bit of fear. "You don't have to worry about me. I won't be here next semester, anyway."

The words tumbled from
my mouth as though they had minds of their own. Like my mother would send me back to Ridge Grove? I wish.

Gabby gazed
down at me imperiously. "I don't care that you hear dead people or solved a murder with freaking flowers. Just stay away from my boyfriend."

Without another word, she flounced off.
Flowers? What an odd thing to say. "Wait a second," I called out. She kept walking. "Do you know anything about a dead marigold and a note?"

I hoped she'd ask me what the heck I was talking about. Instead, she
turned and looked me in the face, her lips curving into a smile.

She
must have been worried about me stealing her boyfriend long before now, back to when they first started going out. As I watched her round a corner, I wished I had telekinesis.

***

Malcontent Rushes in Where Grier Crier Fears to Tread

The Malcontent commends the stunning Claire Capwell '15 for finally reporting on the rumored cheating scandal at Thomas Grier. We Grierdons have heard for some time that a student who walks these esteemed halls has aided several Ivy League-bound kids in making the grade. Miss Capwell's use of unnamed sources undermines the story's credibility, however.

The blogger will rush in where the Grier Crier fears to tread. The blogger suspects that Embry Sullivan '15 was the mastermind behind the now-defunct Private Paper. Such students as the accused manslaughteress, Sinder Gillespie '15, were among Mr. Sullivan's customers, as well as future supermodel Gabby Meyerson '15. The blogger has it on good authority that Bradley Woodgrove '14 and Pearson Davis '14 also bought papers.

The Malcontent also learned that the dearly departed Desmond Drake cheated. He bought a paper and somehow found out who wrote and sold it to him.

According to the time stamp, the blog post was published in the last thirty minutes. Luke not only gave up Embry and his girlfriend, he lied to me. But he hadn't mentioned Mr. Howard. How did he find out about Gabby? My mind reeled. I felt two parts betrayed and one part stunned. Embry was going to kill me, and Gabby was going to dig me up and kill me again. Then I remembered her prank and didn't feel as bad for her.

At the final bell, I raced through the halls and out to the school parking lot to catch
Luke. I spotted him leaning against a wall and flirting with a dark-haired sophomore. He looked up as I approached.

I grabbed his arm.
"Excuse us a moment?" I said to his companion, pulling him around a corner.

He looked amused.
"I like a woman who isn't afraid to take what she wants."

"Cut it out," I said.
"Why did you publicly accuse Embry?"

"I wanted to stir thi
ngs up."

"But I don't know if Embry wrote those papers. And you said our conversation wouldn't end up on that blog."

He folded his arms. "I said I wouldn't share our conversation, and I haven't. I didn't mention you."

I set my jaw.
I'm an idiot.
"Either I'm a fool, or you're a jackass. In fact, it's probably both."

Luke had the nerve to smirk at me. I called him a name so dirty, I knew I'd feel
guilty for a week.

He stopped smi
rking yet remained cool. "You said yourself that the term paper site disappeared after you asked Embry about it. Sinder admitted to buying a paper. The rest, well, I have my sources."

"You accused a close friend and your girlfriend of cheating.
Your
girlfriend
. You realize they'll both get kicked out of here if the school finds proof?"

He set his face in mock concern.
"Integrity is more important. Besides, Gabby's not my girlfriend."

I widened my eyes. "That's not what she thinks. She stopped me this morning and told me to stay away from you."

"And you just couldn't, right?"

I rolled my eyes. "
And I think she put the note and the dead flower in my locker."

His teasing expression faltered for a second or two.

This isn't a game, Luke. One person is dead, and another will be."

His expression changed again. This one betrayed barely concealed excitement.

"Another...what does that mean?"

I bit my tongue. "Nothing."

"Spill it, Jones. You had a dream, didn't you?" He grabbed my arms and held me against the wall. "Someone else is going to be murdered? Who?"

"I don't know," I said, trying to loosen his grip. "I didn't see who it was." I told h
im as much as I could remember, including the long fingernails.

"Holy crap," he said. He let go of me and ran a
hand through his hair. "Why didn't you tell me sooner? I thought we were working together?"

I scoffed. "Like you consulted me when you decided to name Embry
as the paper writer? Do you know what's going to happen to him if—"

"
Who cares about that?" he said. "Somebody killed Desmond, and you're worrying about Embry's college future?"

"I'm wo
rried about all of it," I said. My eyes stung with tears. "What you did might be the reason this unknown girl gets killed. That girl might be Gabby."

He took a step back and
heaved a steadying breath. His lips went white. He ran a hand through his hair again and began to pace. "You've got a lot a nerve preaching to me, Jones. I'm trying to smoke out a killer, and apparently it's working. He—or she—is going to kill again."

I
shook my head. "That doesn't make sense. If the killer is one of the people you named, what's the point in killing again now that the secret is exposed?"

He held up a finger and pointed at me. "W
hatever happens now is your fault."

I set my jaw to keep my lips
from trembling.
I will not cry.
"My fault?"

"
You dreamed that someone else is going to be snuffed out, and what do you focus on? Gabby and Embry getting kicked out of school."

"Luke?"

A few feet away, Gabby stood within earshot. She held up her phone. "You did this? You told everyone I cheated?"

He adopted an unconvincing
ly breezy air. "What are you talking about?"

"I heard you and Guinan," she said. "
You run that blog."

"Gabby, I didn't tell Luke about you.
I kept my promise, I don't know how—"

"Like it matters," she said, glancing at the cell.
She'd been reading the post on it. I looked at her fingernails. Long, but not as long as the ones in my dream. I brushed past both. Luke called after me, but I didn't turn around.