Whispers from the Dead (20 page)

Adam made a quiet, chuckling sound. “When you see him coming, you call out to him that I’m here, and you tell him to throw you his car keys. Then you’ll drive away with his car. He won’t use the gun. He couldn’t take a chance on hitting you, and he won’t know if I’ll make good my threat with the knife.”

In the rearview mirror I could see the two officers in the surveillance car heading cautiously, with guns drawn, toward the back of the sergeant’s car. From the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of Sergeant Hardison as he moved slowly across the Pritchards’ front porch.

When Adam spoke again, his voice was so low and soft that I shivered, remembering its spell over me. “Sarah,” he said, “don’t try to think of a way out of this. Your ‘spirits’ can’t help you now.”

“I can help myself,” I told him.

Maybe I sounded too confident. Something warned Adam. He rose behind me, just high enough to see the three policemen approaching. There was a flash of sunlight on metal as his knife appeared next to my face. I couldn’t help flinching.

“That’s it,” he muttered. “Reach over slowly and roll down the window. Tell your sergeant to throw his keys inside the car.”

“Give up, Adam,” I said, “because I won’t do it.”

“If you don’t, I’ll kill you,” he snapped.

“If I do drive away with you, it’s a sure thing that you’ll kill me. My chances are better here. Look at the police officers. Their guns are aimed at you. If you do kill
me here, you’ll be caught immediately … or shot. And this time there’ll be witnesses.”

“Witnesses,” he mumbled. I could almost hear him thinking.

Suddenly he made a quick movement, and I braced myself, trying not to scream, but the pressure was lifted from my shoulder, and the knife fell to the seat beside me. I twisted just in time to see Adam, his hands raised, before the police descended on the car.

I was jerked out in one direction, Adam in the other. I stood alone on the driveway, watching Tony—Adam—being led to the police car. His hands were cuffed behind his back, but his head was high, and there was even a slight smile on his face. I hated him for what he’d done, yet I remembered his kiss with a desire that shivered through my body.

“Why does he fascinate me?”

I wasn’t aware that I’d said the words aloud until Sergeant Hardison, who had come up beside me, answered my question. “Evil is often fascinating.”

“Why?” It came out like a sob.

“It has to be or it wouldn’t exist.”

“Sarah!” Mom came running from the Pritchard house, and I rushed to meet her. Right now I didn’t want to think about Tony. Just like a little kid, I needed my mother.

They found Rosa’s body in the clearing near the lake, just where I told them it would be. The murder weapon—the kitchen knife—was with her, and it matched the set that had belonged to the Holts.

“Rosa wants to be buried in consecrated ground,” I told Mom and Dad. “Please, could we do this for her?”

Mom looked at me in near desperation. “Has she told you this? Has she appeared to you again?”

“No,” I said. “It’s just something I know she would want.”

“We can do whatever you wish for Rosa,” Dad reassured me. “The poor young woman. She had no one.”

“She had me.”

Mom patted my hand. “When you talk to Dr. Fulton—” she began, but I interrupted her.

“Cancel the appointment,” I said. “It’s over now, Mom. No more visits from the other world, no more visions. I feel sure of it. I don’t need Dr. Fulton.”

“But—” Mom began, then abruptly stopped. From the corner of my eye I had seen Dad touch her arm.

I walked to the window, held back the curtain, and watched the streetlights blink bright passages through the thickening dusk.

For just an instant, with a great wave of sorrow, a jumble of faces appeared in my mind—Rosa’s, Tony’s, Marcie’s, Andy’s. Faces from the past.

I took a deep breath. That’s all they were—part of the past. And the past was where they’d stay.

But dwelling on the past wasn’t for me.

I turned back to my parents, stepping into the brightness and warmth of the room, and smiled.

“See you later,” I said. “I’m going to call Dee Dee.”

JOAN LOWERY NIXON has been called the grande dame of young adult mysteries. She is the author of more than 130 books for young readers and is the only four-time winner of the Edgar Allan Poe Award for Best Young Adult Novel. She received the award for
The Kidnapping of Christina Lattimore
,
The Séance
,
The Name of the Game Is Murder
, and
The Other Side of Dark
, which also won the California Young Reader Medal.