Whispers (12 page)

She parked in front of the clinic and cracked the windows for the dogs, knowing the seats would be wet and the dogs even smellier when they got back. The entire trip could be summed up in the same way—one unpleasant thing to counteract a dozen worse. Together they raced to the front door, arriving drenched all the same. Dr. Graebel looked tired and drawn when he let them in.

“
How is he?” Gracie asked, glancing curiously at Analise who hung back in silence.

“
I think he’ll be fine.” He cleared his throat, indicating the room to the right with a nod. “He’s in there. You can take him home.”

Gracie thanked him and led Analise into the room. Brendan was a gangly young man, tall and rangy with corded muscles and sun-baked skin. His hair was beach blond and his eyes a clear sky blue. He was a product of harsh raising and hard outdoor work.

A white bandage circled the top of his head. It looked unnaturally bright against his deep tan. Bruising seeped out from beneath it, discoloring the skin around his temple and right eye. One arm was in a sling, but not a cast. He was dressed and sitting in the hard plastic chair next to the bed, deep in concentration. When he heard them enter, he looked up, frowning worriedly when he saw Gracie, but his face brightened when Analise stepped in behind her.

He reached out for her hand and she hurried to his side and took it. “I’ve been so worried about you,” he said, pulling her fingers to his lips.

The gesture seemed old-fashioned and for a minute Gracie wondered at it.

“
I was worried about you too. They wouldn’t let me stay.”

He gave Gracie an accusing glance, though the decision had been made before she’d arrived. She found herself defensive under his censure, a strange impulse wanting her to say as much, but she held it back. He’d brought her daughter here, knowing she’d lied to Gracie about her whereabouts. Injured or not, Brendan was on Gracie’s shit list.

“
Are you all right?” he asked Analise, looking deeply into her eyes with touching concern that softened Gracie’s outrage.

“
I’m fine, I guess. It was scary.”

“
I can’t really remember what happened,” he said.

“
Me neither. I guess we got turned around and almost drove into that pit out there.”

“
They should have filled it in a long time ago,” Dr. Graebel said.

Gracie had to agree.

“
You sure you’re okay?” Brendan asked Analise.

For a moment, Gracie was moved by the distress in his eyes. They were young, but he really did love her. She hadn’t been in favor of his dating Analise. He was two years older than she, already out of school, and making a living, though a hard one. Still, he was responsible and he treated Analise like a queen. And Analise, to her credit, was a bright young girl. She was an honor student who’d been a never-ending source of pride to Gracie. Forbidding her to see Brendan had become a trust issue between them, and faced with Analise’s steady dependability, Gracie hadn’t felt it was fair to deny her that faith.

To her knowledge, until last night, Analise had been true to her word. Her grades hadn’t been affected, Brendan returned her by curfew, and Gracie saw what Analise liked— loved—about him. He was good to her daughter. Until, that was, he’d absconded with her and brought her here, of all places. To the one town Gracie never wanted Analise to know about.

“
Turned around ...” Brendan was saying. “I remember thinking I saw the town.” He squinted, as if searching for the memory. It seemed he seized on some image, his eyes widening then narrowing again.

“
What’s wrong, Brendan?” Analise asked.

He shook his head, and the strange expression vanished. “I was just really worried about you.”

Again, Gracie thought of how much he cared, worried that such an intense relationship should come so early in Analise’s life, reassured herself that all young love was intense. And usually fleeting.

Brendan’s next words, though, sliced through the warm feeling and turned her blood cold.

He moved his hand to Analise’s abdomen and asked, “What about the baby? Is the baby okay?”

Chapter Twelve

REILLY sat on the front porch, notebook and pen in hand, his mind an absolute blank. On the first page he had several lines, begun but not completed. Scratched out in anger. He couldn’t string a sentence together to save his soul. Frustrated, he sat back and ran his fingers over his shaved hair. Christ, what was he doing here? He’d more than stirred up unsettled emotions in Gracie Beck. He’d resurrected his own beasts and they nipped and gnawed at his insides.

He should go upstairs, pack his bags, and get as far away from this place as he could. Matt wouldn’t have wanted Diablo Springs to be his final resting place, anyway. Their life here had been hellish. But even as he thought it, he knew it wasn’t true. It
had
been hell, but Matt had always yearned to fit in. Only in death would he be able to, and Reilly wouldn’t take that from him.

Frustrated, Reilly stared out at the gray world, his thoughts as dark and streaming as the weather.

Zach stepped onto the porch a few minutes later and broke the trance the rain had created. He wore grunge jeans and a T-shirt advertising some kind of sour drink with the slogan
suck this
across the chest. His blond hair was combed back and Reilly remembered the name of the actor he resembled. McConaughey. A young Matthew McConaughey.

He had a determined look on his face that told Reilly there would be no dodging his questions this morning, as he’d done last night. He wasn’t surprised. Honestly, Reilly had expected him to be more demanding sooner. Granted they’d been in Diablo Springs less than twelve hours, but it occurred to Reilly that Zach didn’t appear to be in any great hurry to get his interview and return to civilization. In fact, while Reilly had been sitting out on the porch
not
writing his book, a lot of things had occurred to him.

It could be that Zach was just one of those “go where the wind takes me” kind of people. But Reilly didn’t think so. There was something off about Zach Canning. Thinking about it now, Reilly realized he’d sensed it from the beginning. A smarter man would have listened to his instincts and stayed the hell away from the reporter. Reilly had invited him on a road trip. Jesus.

Zach took the only dry chair and pulled out a pocket-sized tape recorder. “You going to make up another bullshit excuse or are you going to talk to me?” he asked, turning it on.

“
That depends,” Reilly said, willingly setting his writing and knotted frustration aside. “Are you going to tell me what the hell you’re really doing here or are you going to keep playing me for a fool?”

Zach grinned, giving his recorder a pointed look. “What? You think you’re on
Punk’d
or something?”

“
No, but I don’t think you work for
Spin
either.”

“
Freelance, dude. I work for no one.”

“
Right.”

The two stared at one another for a long moment. Zach’s expression didn’t change a bit.

“
Look, man,” Zach said. “You don’t want to answer my questions, that’s okay. But why’d you drag my ass across the desert if you were going to say no?”

“
You
begged
me to bring you,” Reilly said.

“
For an interview. For a story. Not because I like cactus and old women.”

Reilly took a deep breath and nodded. Maybe the kid was on the level. Maybe Reilly had been keeping secrets for so long, he was suspicious of anyone asking questions. “What do you want to know?” he said at last.

“
Let’s start with the freak show. What was it Chloe said that hooked you in? Was it the broad she mentioned that locked the deal?”

“
She wasn’t a broad.”

“
Whatever.”

“
She was Gracie’s grandmother.”

“
So what’s she to Creepy Chloe?”

“
I don’t know. But when she wakes up, I plan to find out.”

“
There’s got to be a connection.”

Reilly nodded. He’d been dwelling on that for most of the night.

“
What about the granddaughter?” Zach asked.

“
Gracie?”

Zach nodded, raising his brows in a suggestive manner that Reilly didn’t like.

“
You stay away from her.”

Zach gave a short bark of laughter. “What are you? Her father?”

“
She’s a decent woman,” Reilly said.

“
My mother is a decent woman. Gracie’s nothing like her. So why do you think her kid was out there?”

Zach jutted his chin in the direction of the old springs, abruptly changing the subject.

“
I don’t know. Sounded like a freak accident.”

“
Shit, yeah,” Zach said. He looked at Reilly with a dark stare. “Lot of that going around.”

“
Meaning?”

“
First Madam Madness and the Ghouls show up at your book signing with a message from the dead—at a book signing for chrissake—and then we find out the old lady here got struck by lightning while her grandkid and boyfriend were sucked into a hole. That’s about as freak accident as they come.”

“
How do you know about that?”

“
I listened, man. You think I really went to bed when you told me to?”

“
You’re a dick, you know that?”

Zach shrugged. “Better than being a pussy.”

Reilly narrowed his eyes and thought it might feel good to break Zach’s nose. Zach’s grin faltered and Reilly had the satisfaction of seeing a glimmer of fear in the cocky reporter’s eyes.

Zach made another abrupt subject change. “So what do you think she wants?”

“
Chloe?”

“
Yeah. She’s gotta want something out of this. And I’d bet my balls it ain’t a message from the other side.”

Gracie thought Chloe wanted something too. Reilly glanced at the house, where Chloe still slept, and then back at Zach.

“
What do
you
think she wants?”

“
Money.”

“
Money?” Reilly repeated blankly. “There’s no money. Did you look at the town when we drove through? Poor is a step up for the people who live here.”

Zach shrugged. “Old places like this, they have secrets.” He gave Reilly a knowing look. “Don’t they?”

“
You seem to have all the answers. You tell me.”

Zach shrugged. “You said it yourself, the Diablo used to be a happening place. Maybe there’s a buried treasure or some shit like that.”

Reilly laughed. “You think Carolina Beck would have been taking in boarders if she was sitting on a treasure?”

“
Maybe. Old people are weird that way.”

Reilly just shook his head. Zach was an idiot.

“
Is that why
you
are here? Because you think there’s a fortune buried in the backyard?”

Zach shrugged. “Maybe there is, maybe there isn’t. What I do know is something’s going down here. I can feel it. My instincts tell me it’s going to be good and I’m the only reporter in a hundred mile radius.”

“
So you’re waiting to exploit it, whatever it is?”

“
You got it.” Zach sat back, a self-satisfied smile on his face. “So tell me, what was sweet Gracie so upset about this morning?”

“
What is it you do? Lurk in every shadow?”

“
It’s my job.”

“
Bullshit.”

Zach grinned again. “She doesn’t like you much, does she?”

“
You know what? This interview is over. Take your fucking questions and shove them up your ass.”

“
Oh, hit a nerve.”

Reilly was on his feet when a sound howled across the rain-drenched distance and pierced the tension on the porch. High-pitched, inhuman, it seemed to moan and keen at the same time. The unnatural wail halted his rush of anger and iced down his temper in a split-second.

“
Holy shit,” Zach said. “What was that?”

It came again, this time louder, more insistent, echoing in the stormy murk. Both men turned in place, as if searching for the source. But Reilly knew where it came from. He’d heard it before.

“
What the hell is that?” Zach demanded again.

Just on the horizon, a faint glowing began. It hovered for an instant over the gaping black of the dried-up springs and then it split twice, until there were three lights that throbbed with a sickly brightness. The eerie keening vibrated with the pulsing lights until watching them, hearing them, was like having something hot and acrid smoking inside his head.

Zach clamped his hands over his ears and clenched his eyes. “What the fuck?” he shouted. “What is it?”

“
Dead Lights,” Reilly murmured. “It’s the Dead Lights.”

The shrieking intensified, coiling a tension into the air that tightened with each painful second. Then, as suddenly as it started, the shrill moaning simply stopped. An instant later the pulsating lights vanished.