This is Your Afterlife (16 page)

He jerks his head toward the waterhole. “We couldn't find the car keys. Now, I'm guessing maybe whoever killed him threw the keys in the woods.”

One thing I know for sure, those keys aren't in Jimmy's pockets. What on earth could he have done with them?

“Do you have a description of them?”

“A Ford key and fob. Wolves keychain. You know what it looks like.”

A plastic carving of a wolf baring its teeth, with a full moon and stars in the background, it wasn't high art. But every Wolves fan worth their salt has one. Thousands have been sold over the decades.

“There are acres and acres of woodlands.” I gesture around me. “It could take years to find them.”

“Pardon my French, but no shit, Keira,” Charlie says wryly. He gives me sideways look. “I could do with some volunteers to search the woods. You in?”

“Of course. I'll do anything.” I tap my fingers against my chin. A tarot reading could provide some clues.
Then
I could conduct a physical search.

“Please. I've got Jimmy's dad calling me pretty much every half-hour, asking for updates.”

“And you've got nothing to tell him. I get it.” After my “success” with the séance and the vision of the car, maybe I can apply my skills and get to the bottom of Jimmy's demise.

The clearing is pretty much deserted now. Even Mara's backing away. She eyes me solemnly and gives a tiny farewell wave before hurrying after the stragglers.

“So it was party central up here,” Charlie says, frowning.

“Everyone really misses Jimmy,” I say. Come to think of it, where
is
Jimmy?

Oh, God, not again.

Frantically, I glance around. Whenever Jimmy gets lost, he ends up here at the falls, so where is he now?

Charlie's phone rings. “Excuse me. I've got to take this.”

I barely acknowledge him as he steps away. Dan, oblivious to the whole world, has wandered to the very spot where his brother was found entangled in the water. He kicks at a stone and crouches, deep in thought.

The other cops pick up trash and douse the bonfire. In the diminishing light, movement above the waterfall grabs my gaze. Standing high above, Jimmy surveys the drop. His body shimmers. He's dangerously close not only to the edge of the cliff, but to the very limit of our connection.

Without tearing my eyes from Jimmy, I call out, “Dan, can you come here?”

“Have you found something? Are you getting a vision?” He's with me in seconds, his feet sure against the rocky, uneven ground. Dan fixes his intense blue stare on me.

“You could say that.” I point at the top of the falls. “Jimmy's up there. Look. I mean...just trust me on that.”

“What are you waiting for? Let's get up there,” he says, pulling on my arm. I stall at the bottom of the natural staircase leading to the top.

It's dark, it's slippery, and there's no railing. I crane my neck. Jimmy's moved closer to the edge. Is he about to re-enact his death?

“No, wait,” I say. “We have to leave him alone. It might be important for his...process.”

“What if he gets hurt? That's a huge drop.” Worry oozes from every artistic pore. Then he pauses and shakes his head ruefully.

I can't stop a tiny snort of laughter from escaping. “If Jimmy jumps, I think he'll be okay.”

Fierceness overtakes his features. “My brother didn't jump in the first place. I know him better than anyone. That's just not who he is. So that leaves only two possibilities—an accident...or murder. Are you with me on that? 'Cause if you're not, then let's just go our separate ways.”

“I
am
with you. Jimmy, you and me, we're teammates now,” I insist. I bow my head and brush away a tear that somehow broke free. Warmth spreads over my shoulder, and it takes me a second to realize it's coming from Dan's hand.

“That sounds like something Jimmy would say.” He squeezes my shoulder and lets go.

“He's the team captain.” I give a wobbly smile. “Let's just wait and see what he does.”

I find a smooth plateau of rock where we can sit and get a better view. Whether Jimmy jumps or falls, I'm glad Dan won't be able to see it with his own eyes. He'll just have to take my word for it.

The bonfire's just a smoldering pile of glowing ashes now. Cool air weaves into the thin fibers of my T-shirt and jeans. I shiver involuntarily.

“Cold?” Dan scoots close to me before I can answer. He takes off his jacket and drapes it over my shoulders. I snuggle into it, my body tingling as I catch his scent, feel his warmth. It's almost as good as an embrace. Almost.

We're not quite touching. Millimeters apart. But there's undeniable heat pulsating off his body and into mine. Adorably, he keeps watch over the falls, even though I'm certain he can't see his brother. I wish he'd make a move. Maybe it's up to me to take his hand now?

“Not anymore. Thanks.” The sound of the water is mesmerizing. It could well seduce me into a trance. A gentle mist of water sprays us, calms down my rapid pulse.

“Keira? Dan?” Charlie says, his voice rough. “We've got to get to a car accident in Emerson.”

“Anyone hurt?” Dan asks, on full alert. Emerson's tiny population can't justify a school, so their kids are included in our school district. The last thing we need is another tragedy close to home—or another ghost with issues.

“Minor injuries. You guys hanging around here for a while?”

I nod. “Yeah.”

“All right, then don't stay out too late.”

“Mom knows. I texted her.” I wave him away and focus on the shadows above the waterfall. When Charlie's and the other officers' footsteps fade to nothing, I call up to Jimmy. “What's going on, Jimmy? What are you doing up there? You're in the danger zone, you know.”

After a beat, he takes his eyes off whatever's caught his attention and looks at me. “It's pretty fucking amazing up here. If you could see what I see...”

My chest constricts as he trails off. He seems enthralled, ecstatic. Which can only mean one thing. “Do you see the Light?”

“A
lot
of lights,” he replies. “Ever see those pictures of the universe in the science labs? With the nebula and stuff? It's just like that. And I'm standing right in the middle of it. Fucking amazing.”

I relay to Dan what he says, profanities and all. Dan squeezes my hand and doesn't let go. “He's describing my Milky Way mural.”

“Sorry, Dan, it's even better. Even better.” Jimmy treads further along the ledge, further from us. “Oh, hey!” he exclaims, like he's talking to a friend. He murmurs something I can't hear, and then laughs.

“Is someone up there with you?” I call out. He doesn't answer, but he laughs again. I'm glad one of us is having a good time. Me? My heart rate's taking off like a champion sprinter. He takes another step away. “Careful, Jimmy, don't go too far. You know what happens when—”

“It's cool. I've got something I need to do. Look after my little brother. And don't try to find me. I'll be back. I think...” He steps away from the edge, out of view. At the same time, it feels like a guillotine shears down and severs the connection between us. I reel back onto the rocks.

“Keira!” Dan leans over me, his hand still clenching mine. “What just happened? Tell me!”

Dazed, I say, “He...he's gone.”

“Into the Light? To heaven? Talk to me!”

I beg my muscles to stop shaking. “He's gone, and I'm not sure he wants to come back.”

“What happens now?” Dan paces my bedroom. He downs the last of his Coke and pitches the can into my wastebasket with a clang. It's lucky Mom's at work, or all the noise he's making would wake her.

“Please, that rug is threadbare as it is. Can you sit still for one minute?” I scowl, but inside, I'm in knots about Dan being in my room past midnight on a school night. Being in my room, period. It was okay having Jimmy as a roommate. He's just a buddy now, my imaginary friend.

But Dan? I'm starting to feel like we're in Becky's closet again. Hot and bothered and way too close to each other.

Close enough to kiss.

He plops onto my bed, but he doesn't lose the deep frown. His feet tap restlessly on the floor. He folds up my pillow and puts it behind his head.

I stroke my tarot cards for comfort, but it's times like these I wish I had a cat. Something warm to cuddle.

Better still—Dan.

I gasp involuntarily. Dan gives me an odd look.

Jesus, Keira. Get a grip.

In a business-like voice, I say, “We have to respect his wishes and do nothing. For now. If he's gone into the Light, then that's exactly the right place for Jimmy. It's not our place to bring him back.”

But if he's gone into the darkness...I'm not going to twiddle my thumbs. I'm going in there to save his soul.

“Tell me again what he said.” Dan grabs a pencil from my nightstand and twists it repeatedly. I swipe paper from my printer tray and hand it to him, along with a binder. He looks at me in amazement. “You knew? I was itching to draw something, calm me down.”

I figured as much, him being a tortured artist and all. But I wasn't going to tell him he's an open book. Some people get defensive about that. I sit next to him and tease, “No, I want you to write down what I say this time so I don't have to repeat it.”

A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, the first one in hours. My breath catches as he drapes himself over my bed. I decide I much prefer him happy rather than dark and broody. Not that dark and broody isn't sexy on him.

“Sorry,” he says. “I'm not the most patient guy around.”

I give him a sidelong glance. “Really? I thought art takes time and that you
have
to be patient.”

“Not me. I usually paint when I'm angry. Comes out faster.”

“What are you angry about?” I wriggle backwards on the bed so my back is against the wall. My bare arm bumps his accidentally. I half-expect him to draw away fast, but instead he holds his arm steady. Touching mine. My heart flutters. Can he feel that electricity between us? Or am I oversensitive?

He shrugs, and his arm rubs against mine deliciously. I can barely focus.

“Being stuck in this town. Being the only non-jock in the family. I mean, even my mom's in a soccer league.”

I force myself to say something, but it's hard because all I can think about is how damn close he is. On my bed. “You play baseball. I've seen you. Weren't you on the JV team?”

“Art's my thing. Team sports? Not so much.” His blue eyes illuminate with some kind of inner light. Even if I had half of Da Vinci's skill, it's something I couldn't replicate. Art is what he loves, what makes him feel alive. He doesn't just talk the talk.

“Wait here a second.” I jump up and collect the flipbook out of my desk drawer. When I come back to the bed I sit even closer to him than before. “Remember this?”

Dan laughs and flicks the pages, making the giraffe gallop. “You kept this?”

“Of course I did. It's a Dan Hawkins original. You'll be famous one day.”

“I don't need fame. Just art.” He smiles and puts the book aside. “Mom suggested I send a portfolio to an agent as well as colleges.”

“You should totally do that. You'll be picked up right away.” I admire the fact that he's got his life mapped out. Unlike me. Ironically, this tarot hotline mogul doesn't know what's in her future.

“Jimmy said the same thing.” He smiles sadly. “He was my biggest fan. I used to think he was glad I didn't follow in his jockstraps. One champion athlete in the family is enough. There isn't enough real estate in the trophy case for the both of us.”

“Wait, I'm still stuck on you following in Jimmy's jockstraps. Do you know how disgusting that sounds?” I bat him over the head with a pillow.

“Huh. Must be a guy thing.”

I smirk. “I can live with footsteps but not jockstraps.”

“All right, I'll rephrase,” he says, grinning. “I didn't follow in Jimmy's
footsteps.
Which I've gotta tell you were pretty damn smelly, too. You thought he was perfect, didn't you? Hate to destroy things for you, but his feet smelled like a pack of monkeys' asses.”

“Boy, you're full of vivid imagery tonight.”

“Too much?” He smiles again, and despite his completely gross analogies, I can't help but grin back.

“We were talking about your art. And your anger.”

Dan starts sketching. His long, paint-stained fingers draw an oval shape, then scratch out fluid lines. Sensing my gaze on the page, he brings the paper closer to his chest and winks. “What about it?”

“Elusive, huh?”

“Nosy, huh?” He stares at me for so long I wonder if he's counting the freckles on my face. Embarrassed, I look away. “I had a nightmare. About a month ago. I started painting what I saw. As much as I could remember, anyway.”

“What was the nightmare about?”

He gulps, sending his Adam's apple bobbing rapidly. “Water. I was drowning.”

Air sucks into my lungs at full force.

His voice has a pained husk to it when he continues. “I keep thinking...that if I didn't start that painting, if we didn't have that stupid argument, Jimmy wouldn't have died. I'm gonna burn that painting the first chance I get.”

“No! Don't blame yourself. Ever. Maybe it was a premonition.”

He shakes his head. “I'm not special like you.”

A zing of pleasure shoots through me. “Special? Huh.”

“Very.” He places one very warm finger under my chin and gently compels me to face him. “Hold still.”

“You're drawing my portrait?” I hide my face with another pillow.

He sketches a few more shapes. “Nope. I'm drawing
you
.”