Recalled (15 page)

The GPS in my car directed me back to where Mr. Burns lived. The man at the front gate waved me through without question, probably because he recognized the car. When I got to the house, I parked and jogged up the stairs to ring the bell. When Mr. Burns himself greeted me, I stood there gaping like an idiot because I really thought he wasn’t the type of man to open his own door.

He smiled when I stared. “The staff has the night off.”

That seemed to shake me out of my stupor. “You gave me a defective body,” I said. “I want a new one.”

He opened the door wider and motioned me inside. “It’s cold, come in.” Once inside, he turned to me, looking rather amused. “What is wrong with your body, Dex?”

“I think it’s rejecting me.”

He laughed. “Rejecting you? That’s impossible.”

I didn’t like being laughed at. “My stomach always hurts. There’s this weird tugging right here,” I said, pressing my palm beneath my ribs. “And sometimes I feel shaky and dizzy. So, either this body doesn’t like me, or there’s something wrong with it.”

“I can assure you there is nothing wrong with your body,” Mr. Burns said smoothly. “Would you care for a nightcap?”

I didn’t know what that was, but I was pretty sure I didn’t want it. “I want answers.”

“You’re body is merely doing what it’s programmed to do.”

“You programmed it to be sick?” Maybe being a Ghost Escort and not having a body wasn’t that bad if all the bodies this guy handed out were damaged.

Mr. Burns laughed, his thin lips pulling into a smile. “I programmed it to kill.”

Of all the things he could’ve said, that was the last thing I imagined. “You what?”

“Tell me, do you mostly feel the way you described when you’re near your Target?”

“Yes.”

“That’s because it’s your body’s way of reminding you to do your job.”

“I don’t need a reminder.” And if I did, I’d set the alarm on my iPhone.

“It isn’t just you; it’s all the Death Escorts. You all have a physical reaction when you are around your assigned Target. That tugging sensation you described is your body’s way of urging you closer, telling you it’s time to kill.”

He was serious.

“Do you not trust us to get the job done without your reminder?”

“It isn’t a matter of trust. All my Escorts do their job because the alternative is far worse.”

Once again, I wondered why going to hell was that terrible.

Mr. Burns continued. “I’ve found that programming the bodies this way makes it easier for the Escorts. At least for their first few kills, and then they pretty much ignore the internal signals and complete the job on their own.”

“Why would feeling like I want to barf make my job easier?”

“Because instead of focusing on what you must do, you focus on feeling sick and making that feeling go away.”

He used it as a distraction. Almost as a trick.

“Have you always programmed the bodies?” I asked, already guessing the answer was no.

“When I first started out in the Escort business I did not. But there were too many Escorts failing and my losses were great. So I started this and now not nearly as many fail.”

“But some still do.”

“Yes.” He looked at me levelly. “Some fight their own bodies. Some end up warring against themselves. It’s such a shame because they will never ever win.” His voice held a note of warning and I knew it was for me.

Did he know I’d already failed to kill Piper twice?

“Well, now that I know that there isn’t anything wrong with my body, I can focus on my work.”

Mr. Burns smiled. “Wonderful! Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“No,” I said, turning back to pull open the front door. Snowflakes swirled inside and landed on my shoe.

“I’ll walk you out,” he said, motioning for me to wait. I watched as he grabbed a long black coat and put it on. Then he reached toward a bowl on a slim table against the wall. The bowl was filled with light-colored stones, just like the ones in his office.

“What are those?” I asked as he chose two and slid them into his pocket.

“Just a little token I like to give people I visit,” he replied and ushered me out the door.

We stepped out into the snow. The big white flakes fell steadily from the dark sky. Snow had a way of blanketing everything, making everything quiet. But tonight, even the heavy white flurry couldn’t silence everything.

“And Dex?” Mr. Burns said as we stepped onto the driveway and headed to our separate cars. I glanced over my shoulder. “Time’s a wasting.”

As I walked to my car, I could’ve sworn I heard the ticking of a clock.

Chapter Eighteen

“Found -
come upon unexpectedly or after searching.”

Piper

Alarm clocks are evil and vile. They make constant noise, disrupting sleep and making it hard to stay buried under the covers away from the world.

I don’t know how many times I hit the snooze button, but I do know I didn’t become fully conscious until the shrill ringing of my phone finally had me throwing back my covers and searching for my bag. I didn’t really care who it was, but I wanted the ringing to stop.

“Hello?” I said in relief when I finally silenced the ring. I carried the phone back to my room and climbed back into bed, pulling the covers up over me.

“May I please speak with Piper McCall?” asked the woman on the other end.

“This is her,” I replied, trying to think up something evil to do to the telemarketer that would dare call this early.

“This is Nancy Holland calling from Fairbanks Memorial Hospital.” I pushed the covers back and listened a little more closely. “You called a few days ago about a man who was brought into the morgue.”

“Yes, that’s me,” I said, fully alert now.

“I have Doctor Patricks here and he would like to speak with you.”

“Okay,” I said, wondering if it was the same doctor I saw in the morgue.

The line was silent for a moment and then I heard someone pick it up and a man with a familiar voice came on the line. “Ma’am, I’m Doctor Patricks.”

“Yes, I remember,” I said, thinking of the little card still tucked in the frame of my mirror.

“I wanted to call and let you know the status of the body we discussed.”

I was surprised he called to tell me anything. “Go ahead.”

“It seems that…” He cleared his throat. “The body hadn’t been taken… It was more misplaced.”

“What do you mean misplaced?” I said, my voice rising.

“I was here the night the body was brought in, but then I left and another doctor arrived. He sent the body to be cremated. The paperwork was buried under more paperwork on my desk and I only just found it.”

“The body was cremated,” I said, hollow.

“Yes. Someone came forward and identified him and so the cremation was ordered.”

“Who came forward? Who was it?”

“I can’t divulge that information.”

“But you can tell me all this,” I snapped.

“I didn’t want you to keep thinking someone had stolen a body from the morgue.”

He didn’t want the hospital to get sued and he figured this would keep me from blabbing to the press about a missing body.

“I see,” I said, my mind still spinning. Then I blurted, “You can’t have the picture back.”

“I don’t want it back. I just wanted you to know he wasn’t missing.”

“Thank you,” I said, leaning back against my headboard.

“Have a nice day,” the doctor said and then he hung up.

I laid the phone in my lap, still trying to decide how I felt. On one hand, I was happy someone claimed him and his body wasn’t really missing. On the other hand, I was disappointed. Because now that I knew the body really hadn’t been stolen, my whole theory that Dex knew more about it than he would admit was pretty weak. Still, what about my vision? Was it a coincidence? A fluke?

Or was it something more?

Chapter Nineteen

“Spying -
secretly keeps watch on another or others.”

Dex

The one good thing about never having a phone was that it could never ring and wake me up. When my iPhone wouldn’t stop making noise, I dragged myself out of bed to answer it.

“What?” I demanded.

“Morning sunshine,” said a vaguely familiar voice.

I was still half asleep and I didn’t feel like trying to figure out who it was. “Who is this?” I demanded.

“Storm.”

“How’d you get this number?” I said, falling back into the bed face first.

“I’m a Ghost Escort. Finding things out is what I do.”

“I thought spying on people is what you do,” I said, rolling over and pulling the covers up to block out the morning cold.

“Well, my spying saved your ass.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I took care of the problem you had with the Target.”

“What did you do?” I said, sitting up and throwing off the covers. My fingers tightened around the phone and my palms became slick with sweat. I sat there frozen while images of Piper lying dead inside her apartment tormented my brain.

“I fixed it up so the hospital found your body. They called her and told her it was all a mix-up.”

“Oh. How did you pull that off?” I asked, relief turning my spine to jelly as I slumped backwards into the headboard.

“Don’t sound too grateful.” Storm snorted.

“Tell me what you want for this favor; then I’ll decide if I’m grateful.” People don’t do things just to help out other people.

“I don’t want anything other than for you to finish this job so we can go chill on a beach somewhere.”

A beach.

His words brought to mind the perfect image of the faded card I used to carry in my pocket. I snatched it years ago from some store. I never took things I couldn’t use (like clothes), eat, or trade for money or other stuff I wanted. But this… this was different. It had been one of the coldest days of the year that day. The ice was inches thick on the sidewalks and the snow banks were so high I thought they would never melt. It was impossible to stay warm no matter how many blankets I stole, where I huddled, or how much coffee I drank. Then I saw the image of the crystal-clear water, the sun, and the warm, welcoming sand, and I knew that was the place I wanted to be. That was the place I was going to leave this arctic prison for. And once I got there, I would never leave.

I took the little card and slid it into my jacket, and all winter long I would look at it every day and plan how I’d get there.
Some day,
I used to tell myself.
Some day I’ll make it there.