Recalled (11 page)

“Not until you promise me that what I saw back there wasn’t you having some kind of psychotic break.”

“Said the girl with a piece of pie, a cinnamon roll, and a caramel coffee sitting in front of her.”

“Hey, there’s a salad too. Didn’t you see my salad?” She pointed to the lettuce and carrots covered in dressing being ignored in favor of the cinnamon roll. “Besides, the craziest people I know are the ones who don’t eat sugar.” She stared pointedly at me.

I saluted her with my cup full of honey.

“I just want to be sure you’re okay,” she said seriously.

“I am. Really. I just thought I saw something that wasn’t there.” I sighed. “It’s just been a long few days. I’ve been waiting desperately to hear what you would find out.”

I hoped the reminder would finally get her to spill the beans about what she learned about the guy from the diner.

“You eat; I talk,” she said, pointing to my turkey on wheat. I dutifully took a bite and she dug out a slip of paper from the pocket of her coat hanging on the back of her chair.

“You probably aren’t going to like what I’m about to tell you,”

“He’s married,” I said, a hard knot forming in my stomach.

Frankie looked at me strangely. “I find it very telling that the worst news you could get from me is that this guy is married. I think you’re interested in him more than just because of”—she wagged her eyebrows and leaned in—“you know.”

I just stared at her. She sighed dramatically. “Because of your vision.”

I leaned in and whispered, “Yes, I know.” Then I straightened. “And I am
not
interested in him that way. I’m not interested in men that way at all right now. I’m too busy with school and trying to get my life together.” I didn’t want to live in a tiny apartment in the worst part of town all my life and since I had no family to help me, giving myself a better life was solely on me.

“Then why do you care if he’s married?”

I really didn’t have an answer for that.

“Just give me the paper already,” I said, flustered, and snatched it out of her hand.

I looked down at it, then back up at her. “Dexter Allen Roth.” I read and then looked back up.

Frankie nodded sagely. “I told you it wasn’t good.”

I burst out laughing. “It’s not that bad.”

Dexter Allen Roth.
So that was his name.

“Only a girl with a massive crush would think that name was anything but a mouthful.”

I suppressed a smile and looked at the paper in my hand again. “Is this his address?”

“Assuming that’s really his car and his name…,” Frankie said, sipping her latte.

“You think the car is stolen.” I said, flat.

Frankie sighed. “I did, but I checked the stolen car list we have. None match that make or model.”

“The address is in a nice neighborhood,” I said.

Frankie nodded. “Yeah, maybe the guy is loaded.”

“I don’t care how much money he has,” I said, still looking at the address.

“Yeah, I know,” Frankie said, setting her coffee down. “So what are you gonna do with that information?”

 I thought about that as I gathered up my tray and cup. “I’m going to go see him.”

“You’re going to just knock on his door?”

I shrugged. “Yeah. Why not?”

“You got guts.” Frankie grinned, but then the grin fell away. “I just hope he isn’t some weird car-stealing stalker,” she replied as we threw all our trash away.

My eyes wandered toward the stairs and toward the tapestry where I could’ve sworn I saw someone. Then I thought about the figure I saw hurrying away from the building. It could’ve been a student rushing to class.

It could have been someone else.

I really hoped Frankie wasn’t right.

Chapter Fifteen

“Anaphylactic shock -
a severe, sometimes fatal, reaction to a substance to which a person has an extreme sensitivity, often involving respiratory difficulty and circulation failure.”

Dex

I looked up “ways to die” on the internet. I didn’t find any ways to possibly kill a Target, but I did learn I wasn’t the stupidest guy on the planet. Apparently there was a waiting list for that and it was very, very long. According to one site, one of the manliest ways to die was by lighting yourself on fire. It seemed to me the manliest way to die would be to not die at all. Self-preservation is a lot harder than most people realize. Probably because more people live closer to the way I do now than the way I did before I died.

I clicked through the videos and articles, searching for something that might actually give me some ideas. I never thought in a million years as I was living on the violent streets of the city that I would need ideas on how to kill someone. And I guess I really didn’t need ideas… It was just that the ideas I had weren’t something I cared to live again.

I was looking through an article about asphyxiation when the doorbell rang. I glanced up past the computer screen and into the kitchen where Hobbs was cooking up some dinner.

 “I will see who that is, sir,” he said, grabbing his cane and going to the front door.

I returned my attention to the computer screen. “Tell them to go away.” I didn’t have any friends so I knew it wasn’t anyone I wanted to see.

A few moments later Hobbs came back into the room, clearing his throat. “You have a visitor.”

“I’m busy, Hobbs,” I said, annoyed.

“
Sir,
” he said again, with more emphasis, and I looked up.

 I was so shocked I almost fell out of my chair.

Piper was standing a few feet behind him and she was looking at me. “Piper,” I said, getting up from the chair. “I-I… How did you know where I lived?”

Her eyes narrowed and she glanced back toward the front door. “How did you know my name?”

“It was on your nametag… at the diner.”

“Oh. Right,” she said, looking a little less alarmed.

Hobbs mumbled something about leaving us alone and then left the room.

“How did you know where I lived?” It was my turn to act suspicious. When, really, I was thrilled she was here.

She winced. “I had my friend run your license plate number.”

I digested that. So the car was registered to me and not to Mr. Burns. He must be pretty confident I would finish the job.

I grinned, ignoring the queasiness once again building in my stomach. “You must have really wanted to see me again,” I said, enjoying the way her face flushed.

“Actually, I wanted to ask you about something.”

I adjusted the glasses on my nose as a wave of dizziness passed over me. My eyes darted around the room, looking for something, but I didn’t know what.

“Are you okay?” she asked and came closer, her eyes wandering toward my computer screen.

I reached out and slammed the lid of the laptop closed, not wanting her to see what I’d been looking at, and then turned back to her. “Yeah, I’m fine.” I lied.

 Why was I feeling sick again all of a sudden?

“You don’t look too good. Have you been sick?”

“Me? No. I’m just hungry. Hobbs is cooking dinner. Would you like to stay and join me?” I glanced into the empty kitchen where Hobbs had been. “Hobbs!” I yelled.

“I really just came to ask you something.”

“You can ask me while we eat,” I said as Hobbs came into the room.

“You bellowed, sir?”

“Piper is going to be joining me for dinner,” I told him.

“Certainly. It will be ready shortly.” He went back into the kitchen to finish frying some chicken. My eyes zeroed in on the bottle of peanut oil by the big pot on the stove. I could hardly believe my good luck. It was almost too easy.

 Here I was trying to come up with ways to catch my prey when my prey came right to me. And to top it off, my butler just happened to be cooking with something that she was allergic to. With any luck, this job would be completed by tonight.

“Come, sit down,” I told Piper and headed toward the living room. “We can talk while Hobbs finishes dinner.”

Piper followed as I plopped down on the couch. She stood beside it and lifted her eyebrow. “You have a butler?”

I shrugged. “A guy’s gotta eat.”

“You seem kind of young to be able to afford that car and a butler.”

I liked the way she crossed her arms over her chest, like she’d somehow caught me in a lie.

“Trust fund,” I said with a shrug and picked up the remote control to the flat screen.

“Figures,” she muttered.

I suppressed a grin. “Have a seat.” I motioned to the couch with the remote.

She sat down on the end and I channel surfed. Really, I wasn’t paying any attention at all to the TV. I was too busy wondering about the way my hand shook and trying not to stare at her when everything in me was demanding I look at only her.

I finally gave in and shifted my gaze. Her dark hair was long and framed her face; her brown eyes seemed to take in everything around the room. When they settled on me, the twisting of my stomach seemed to quiet.

“So what do you want to ask me?” I said.

She nodded. “I just got this feeling the other night that you maybe knew more about the accident I was telling you about.”

I tried not to outwardly react. I knew I’d said too much. This girl was far too perceptive. “Why would you think that?”

“Well,” she replied. “Right after I told you about what happened to me, you seemed to get upset.” She paused before she went on. “I thought maybe you might have known the guy who died and me bringing it up bothered you.”

“I told you I hadn’t heard about the accident.” In my mind I replayed everything from that night. She’d caught me off guard by bringing it all up, and then I started to feel sick… She must have thought that was because I knew more than I let on.

“I know you said that, but…” Her voice trailed away.

“You thought I lied.” I finished for her, slightly annoyed.

I didn’t really like being accused of lying. Even if I was.

“No,” she began, but Hobbs interrupted.

“Dinner is served,” he said. “If you should require anything else, please call.”

“Thank you, Hobbs,” I said, grateful he cut in when he did. He nodded and then went upstairs.

“I’m starving,” I said, getting up from the couch. “I hope you like chicken.”

“Yes, I do.” Piper agreed, following me into the kitchen where Hobbs had set out several dishes full of food on the island. I grabbed a plate and piled it high with fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans.

Piper followed, her plate not looking nearly as full as mine. I casually glanced behind me where Hobbs had been frying the chicken to see if the oil was still out, but thankfully it wasn’t.

I went and sat down and tore into a piece of chicken. I made a sound of appreciation. “This is really good,” I said around a mouthful.

“What were you doing at the diner that night if you have such a wonderful cook here at home?”