Second Verse (18 page)

“No ideas. My son-in-law, he’s a workin’ down there for the sheriff’s department. He told me it was surely arson, but I don’t know if I believe him. He’s a bragger that way. Kinda a know it all, you know?” He spits again. “You know I knowed that woman a long time. We both lived here since the seventies.”

My stomach drops. Even though I didn’t want to see her today, I don’t want her to be gone. Especially not if it has to do with us. Because right now, and with the word arson floating around, I can’t think of any other reason for that fire. I feel as guilty as if I’d struck the match myself.

His watery eyes dart back and forth between us. “The firemans got her out, real fast, I hear, like theys trained to do. But the smoke was too much. She was an old lady, you know. She didn’t make it.” He wipes his nose with a yellowed handkerchief.

It’s like I’ve been punched in the chest, all the air sucked right out of the atmosphere. When I waver, Vaughn catches me with a quick arm around my waist.

“How you know her?” The man looks at me curiously. “You ain’t relations are you?”

“No.” Vaughn thrusts his arm out to shake hands. “We’re just friends of hers. Trying to find out what happened. Thanks for your time.”

“Yeah, thanks.” I manage, choking on the details as if I’m inhaling smoke myself.

“I’ll be seeing ya then.” The man nods.

Once we’re in the car, I let out a screech. “It’s because of us!”

“We don’t know that. Calm down.”

“No, it is. You know it is! How can this be coincidence? It’s like someone
knew
we’d go to her next. She was going to tell us what happened to Beau. She was going to help us reach the next step in this. She would have! And now she’s gone.”

“We don’t know that.” He bites his lip. “Not for sure. Come on, she was old. She could have left the stove on or forgot to blow out a candle. It could have been anything.” The flat tone of his voice tells me he doesn’t fully believe himself.

“Go back!” It comes to me suddenly.

He slams the brakes, looking at the old man’s house and then back to me like I’ve lost my mind. Maybe I have, but something nags at me.

“To Mrs. McDermott’s,” I say. “We didn’t look around enough. We were in shock. I want to see if we can find anything. It won’t take long.”

“Okay. But I don’t know what you think—”

“Please, just go.”

When we get there, I throw my door open and run toward the destruction. With a thick branch, I dig around in the ash. Canning jars, with T
OMATOES
hand written across the lids, lie in a half-shattered pile. It’s awful, clawing through pieces of walls and table legs, and half-knit afghans, as if it hadn’t been someone’s home. Someone’s life.

“What are you looking for?” Vaughn asks.

But I just wave him off. I can’t explain what I’m looking for. I’m just looking. My fingers itch, wishing for my sketchpad and pencils, to draw the house the way it had been. To make some sense of it.

Vaughn answers his ringing phone in an annoyed voice, but when I look up, he’s completely still, listening with his head bowed.

My stick butts up against something heavy. I push against it, accidentally shoving it further into the rubble. It takes me a minute to pry a wooden beam off the top of it, all while Vaughn listens silently to whoever’s on the phone.

Finally, I edge it toward me.

No.

It can’t be.

It’s an ornate candlestick, covered in dust and ash. But beneath all that is a silver finish. It looks like pewter. I lift it, shaking off the debris.

The design scrolls, wrapping thick leaves around the base and growing dainty as it reaches the top. I hold my breath as I turn it over.

And there it is, on the bottom. The edges are so singed, I can barely make it out. But it’s there, on the faded, charred felt. The letter V.

The candlesticks from my attic. From the séance. Here, at Ginny’s best friend’s house, decades after Ginny’s murder. How did it get here?

Did it start the fire?

I fall to my knees in the grass, the silence around me the perfect backdrop to the noisy accusations in my head.

“What’s up?” Beside me, Vaughn’s out of breath.

I wave the candlestick feebly toward him, staring at it like it’s a figment of my imagination. Vaughn’s pale, the color of milky tea, his eyes full of questions. But there’s urgency in them too.

“Bring it with us,” he says. “We have to go.”

“We can’t take it, it could be evidence. And where’re we going now?”

“That was Sharon. She developed our pictures and needs to see us right away.”

“W
HAT DOES THAT
even mean?”

“I have no idea!” His eyes dart around the site. “We gotta go now, though. She sounded urgent.”

“I can’t. I promised my mom I’d be home on time tonight. And I don’t want her home alone. Especially before the alarm is set up.” I shake my head, trying not to look at the candlestick, which I’ve dropped on top of the ash. “Can’t Sharon tell us over the phone? Call her back.”

“No, she said she has to show us whatever it is.” He rakes a hand through his hair, his eyes avoiding mine. We look out at the purple and orange streaks of sunset until he finally stands with a sigh. “Fine. Tomorrow, then.”

“Come on,” I say, hooking my fingers in the front pocket of his hoodie. “You’re coming home with me for dinner.

“N
ICE OF YOU
to join us.” Mom smiles at Vaughn as she rinses lettuce.

“Thanks for inviting me,” he says, a nervous smile plastered to his face. “Where can I wash my hands?”

“Right down there.” I point down the hall. “Second door.”

“Cool, thanks.” With one last flash of a shy grin, he’s gone.

Mom looks at me from the corner of her eye. “So I get to officially get to know the mystery boy, huh? The reason you’ve been MIA lately?”

I stack plates on the table and busy myself folding napkins. “Mystery boy?”

“Don’t deny it Lange.” She frowns. “There’s quite a powerful energy around him, around the two of you together.”

My hands shake as I fill the glasses with ice, but I keep my voice even. “He’s just a boy, Mom.”

“Sure.” Mom places the salad bowl on the table. “But I do know a thing or two about love, you know.” She bows her head toward mine and whispers. “There’s something very strong happening here. It’s subtle, but powerful. Your auras are practically bursting with it. Almost like it was simply meant to be.”

Meant to be.

I need to change the subject before I blurt out the truth.

“Anyway,” I say. “There
is
something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“ADT alarms, perhaps?” She clucks her tongue.

Gulp.

“People have been talking at school about break-ins around town. It made me paranoid.”

She gives me a skeptical look. “You didn’t think you could talk to me
before
calling them?”

“Sure, I could. But, I don’t know. People were talking and I got nervous. I knew we had the thing.” I motion to the keypad by the back door. “I just figured I’d call and find out how to get it hooked up. Sorry. I really was trying to help.”

“Are you going to pay for it? These little costs add up.”

“Well, no. But the lady said it’s like a dollar a day,” I say. “I didn’t think our safety had a price.”

She rolls her eyes. “That’s a little melodramatic, don’t you think?”

Melodramatic? She doesn’t know the half of it. “Fine, I’m sorry. I should have waited to talk to you. I got spooked. Anyway, is it hooked up? I need the code.”

“Not yet. The guy’s coming out tomorrow. He has to update the wiring,” she says. “Don’t worry. We’ll be under lock and key tomorrow night.” She snorts a laugh and I want to scream. She has no idea how close we are to real danger.

“What’s up?” Vaughn slides into his seat.

“Nothing much.” Mom pats his hand. “Just trying to reign in Lange’s melodrama a bit this evening. Good luck to you, Vaughn.” She laughs. He grins along, playing the part of friendly guy meeting Mom and being cordial. But I see the questions in his eyes, and the concern that keeps his smile tight. He may be fooling Mom, but he isn’t fooling me.

A
FTER DINNER
, V
AUGHN
insists on doing the dishes. The way Mom’s mouth drops open is almost comical. I’m not sure she’s ever seen a member of the male species wash a dish. My father certainly never did.

I shoo her out of the kitchen. “We got this, Mom, why don’t you go hang out and relax or whatever?”

She looks back and forth between us with her arms crossed. “You two.” She points to us, one at a time. “No getting into trouble just because there’s no adults around. Got it?”

She doesn’t need to elaborate. From the heat on my face and the deep crimson on Vaughn’s, her point was not missed.

He flashes her one of his winning grins. “Of course not. And thanks again for dinner.”

She narrows her eyes, but she’s smirking. “I’ve got my eye on you. Are you a Libra, by chance?”

“Mom!”

“I’m just asking,” she says. “I was just thinking from the way he—”

“Okay, enough, Mom. Go relax! We got this!” I make an exaggerated show of pushing her out the door with a forced laugh.

As soon as she’s gone, I sigh, wishing I could apologize for how embarrassing she can be. Vaughn wraps his arm around me and pulls me to him, but when I turn my face to his, he doesn’t kiss me. His eyes flash with mischief and before I can move, he douses me with water from the sink.

I shriek, pulling away from him, grabbing a placemat from the table for defense. On the counter, I find a rolling pin to use against him.

“Ow!” He grabs his arm where I hit him and tries to block me. I let him take my weapon, bumping his hip with mine.

“You won her over, you know. I can tell she likes you. You had her smiling
and
laughing. Definitely not like my mom at all.”

“Well that’s good. Because I’m not going anywhere for a while.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes,” he whispers in my ear. “Starting with tonight. I heard what she said. And as long as that alarm is not turned on, there is no way I’m leaving you here alone.”

W
E LIE ON
top of the covers, staring at my ceiling. Mom’s on the third floor, walking back and forth above us. We listen to the creak of the attic stairs as she climbs up and down and up again.

“What exactly is she doing up there?” Vaughn absently strums his guitar, which leans against the bed.

“I already told you, it’s hard to explain. She’s a photographer.” I nuzzle further into the nook of his arm. Underneath the faded scent of ash and burnt things, he smells like grass and the Japanese cherry blossom soap my mom keeps stocked in the kitchen. “Then again,” I say. “Not much about her makes sense.”

“Aw, she doesn’t seem that bad.” His voice is soft and deep, vibrating against my cheek.

“She’s pretty out there, but mostly harmless, I guess. Just embarrassing sometimes.” I roll into him, forcing his strumming hand to leave the guitar and circle my torso. His hand is warm against my ribs and I’m acutely aware of how close we are, with just my thin shirt between his hand and my skin. “Anyway,” I say, ignoring the screaming way my heart thuds. “What about you? Your family? I know nothing about them. You know all about how I come from all over. What about you?”

“Not exactly sure. I’m adopted, born in upstate New York somewhere. My parents got me as an infant. They’re cool. They believe in being upfront, and told me I was adopted as soon as I could understand what that meant. Plus, they’re very laid back.”

“Obviously. Hence you being here at,” I look at the clock, “Eleven o’clock at night.”

“I already told you, I’m not leaving.” He kisses my forehead for the millionth time tonight.

“Not sure we’re pulling that one off.” I motion upstairs.

“Figure out a way. After those pictures in your locker, and the thought of someone breaking in here, I can guarantee you I am not leaving you here alone. Besides, your mom likes me, right?”

“Maybe, but she won’t like you if she finds you here in the morning.”

“Details, details.”

“What about your parents? I know they’re cool and all, but can you just not come home? Won’t they care?”

“Nah, they care. But I can call and tell them something came up. They trust me.” He shrugs.

I listen to the floor creak above me. Mom’s room is on the third floor. That means someone broke in, crept up not one, but two flights of stairs and into her room to take that photo. The gloved hand that reached out toward her. The shots of the back door and dark staircase.

I try not to, but I picture what they could have done if they wanted. With me sound asleep downstairs.

It makes me wonder if they walked down my hallway too.

I look around my room. Had they been in here? While I was right here, asleep in my bed?

He’s right. There’s no way I can sleep here alone.

“Fine,” I say. “You can stay. But you have to at least move your car out of the driveway.”

“No problem.” He jumps up, reaching for his keys.

“Whoa—a little over excited, aren’t you?”

“Just glad you came to your senses is all. As if you had a choice.” He grins before leaning down for a lingering kiss. Stopping
at my door, he nods upstairs. “Should I make a show of leaving?”

“May as well. I’ll walk you out to
say goodbye
.”

I
TRIPLE CHECK
all the deadbolts and promise myself I’ll check on Mom in the morning.

Sneaking Vaughn back into my room isn’t hard. Mom’s upstairs when I turn off my bedroom light. I lock the door just in case, but I think we’re safe from her finding out. She hardly ever comes down here and I’m banking on her sleeping in as usual tomorrow so we can escape before school, unnoticed.

He sits on the edge of my bed. I watch his silhouette, staring out the window, toward the barn.

Of course.

“You know,” I say. “I hate that everything from that night in the barn has taken over and become our life.”

“Come on. It’s not everything,” he says quietly.