In the Arms of Stone Angels (21 page)

“What are you talking about?” Chloe's eyes got watery. “Knew about what?”

“You found out that Heather screwed your precious Lucas, didn't you?”

“What?” Chloe grimaced and walked away, but Jade followed. “Don't…say that.”

“As I recall, she said he was a really good lay, too, but you wouldn't know about that, would you? He doesn't even know
you exist.” Jade went on the offensive to get control and hit Chloe where she'd hurt the most.

“That's not true.” Chloe shook her head and kept her nose to the wall. She was too much of a coward to turn around. “And Lucas wouldn't have done that. He was too good for her.”

“No, you knew about them. That's why you can't look me in the eye.”

When the blonde didn't say anything, Jade knew she was right. It was hard for her to understand a girl like Chloe, except that if the girl admitted to knowing Heather had screwed Lucas, she'd have to admit that Lucas had “betrayed” her, too, her twisted version of betrayal, that is. And that was something Chloe would never do.

“You are in serious denial.” Jade softened her tone, all part of the Chloe game. “The minute she found out how you felt about Lucas, that put a target on his sweet ass. As far as Heather was concerned, he had ‘Fair Game' written on his forehead. Didn't you get that? She did that to me, too. You remember Ethan?”

Talking about Ethan brought back bad memories. Jade still hated Heather for what she did. Any chance she'd had with Ethan had been ruined. And Heather had done the same with Chloe, who had gotten real quiet, the way she always did when she didn't like what she heard. The blonde stuck a finger in her mouth and chewed a nail.

“That's why we have to stick together, Chloe.” Jade closed the gap between them and rubbed her hands on the girl's shoulders, pretending to be sympathetic. “Heather did that to both of us. That's why I hate talking about her.”

Chloe turned around and hugged her. The move took Jade
by surprise. She rolled her eyes and hugged her back until the girl quit crying.

“Why don't you light up? That'll chill you out. You'll feel better.”

Grass had become a crutch for Chloe. And Jade knew how to use it. The girl nodded and slumped on the couch to light up a joint. When the smell of marijuana filled the room, Jade waited until Chloe got real mellow before she grabbed her purse.

“I've gotta pee. And I'm calling Derek again.” Jade made a show of grabbing her cell phone and heading for the bathroom, but when she was down the hall, she went up the back stairs near the kitchen. She wanted a closer look at Chloe's secret drawer—and that damned journal.

She'd never thought about it before, but what if that idiot Chloe had stuff in her diary about the night Heather died. The girl was stupid like that.

And Jade had too much at stake not to find out what Chloe had written.

 

Without saying a word, Matt Logan drove his nephew out to the trailhead that led to the old bridge over Cry Baby Creek. Derek didn't say anything, especially after he saw where they were going. Matt parked the cruiser and turned off his headlights.

“Get out.” He glared at his nephew.

The boy did as he was told. He looked scared, but he kept his mouth shut. An innocent kid would have protested real loud by now. Matt kept his face stern, but inside he ached for his sister—and for Derek.

He took the kid to the bridge, where Heather's body had
been found. It was pitch black, except for the bluish haze of the moon. But even in the dark, Matt knew Derek was crying.

“This is where Heather died, Derek. I'm telling you this, but I think you already know.”

Derek kept his head down. He didn't bother to hide his sobs now. The grating chirp of crickets and the darkness closed in on both of them—and the truth could no longer be denied.

“Did you kill that girl, Derek?”

“What? Why'd you say that?
No!
” When his nephew raised his voice, the crickets stopped.

Matt had finally gotten a reaction from the kid.

“They found your watch at the crime scene. You know, the one I bought you. They're gonna trace it back to me. And too many people know I gave that damned thing to you. You'll be linked to the murder. You're a damned suspect now, Derek.”

His nephew had plenty of opportunity to deny that his watch had been found at a crime scene, but when he didn't, Matt knew he'd been right. And Will Tate might already know it, too.

“But I didn't do anything. Not really.”

The minute the kid said, “Not really,” he knew he'd said the wrong thing. He got real quiet.

“Don't you get it? You're about to be hauled in as a suspect in a murder. Your momma is gonna freak out. And the media and this whole damned town will tar and feather me, so I can't protect you.” Matt had his hands on his hips, yelling at the boy, who couldn't look him in the eye. “You've gotta tell me everything, so we can figure out what to do before all this goes down. This is your last chance to make things right.”

When Derek hesitated, Matt didn't hold anything back.

“Didn't that poor girl mean anything to you? She died right
here, drowning in her own blood.” He grabbed the kid by his arm and hauled him to the spot where Heather took her last breath. “Someone stabbed her to death and I gotta know everything about that night. For your mother's sake, do the right thing now, boy, before it's out of our hands. You owe your mother that much.”

Derek finally broke down. He didn't admit to killing Heather. He didn't go that far, but he did tell his uncle about the others. He had gone with Heather, Jade and Chloe to track Isaac Henry into the woods to his sweat lodge. They had heard the Indian had bought peyote for some ritual he was doing. The whole thing had been Jade's idea. At first, they only intended to scare the kid and mess with him by stealing his peyote, but when Heather took over, things got nasty and out of control.

They had attacked the Indian kid while he was under the influence. He was stronger than Derek figured and they'd scuffled by the fire pit. That's where Derek lost his watch, although he'd never been sure. He had his hands full with Isaac Henry, who was beating the crap out of him. And afterward they all split up and ran.

“What happened to Heather?” Matt demanded. He grabbed Derek's arm and shook him. “Who was with Heather, damn it?”

“I don't know. Ask Brenna. She was the one that called you, right? She saw that Indian kill Heather, didn't she?”

Not exactly,
Matt thought. With what Derek told him, he had more pieces to the puzzle, but something was still missing. He needed everyone who was there that night to tell what they saw.

“Where's Jade and Chloe?”

“They're at Chloe's house. I was gonna meet them when
you pulled me over.” Derek wiped his face. “What's gonna happen now, Uncle Matt?”

It hadn't been an accident that Derek now called him uncle. The kid was already playing on his sympathies, but it was too little too late.

“We're going to the Seavers' place. And I'm taking all three of you in for questioning,” he said. “We're getting to the bottom of this. Now get going.” He grabbed Derek by the shoulder and hauled him back up the trail.

Matt had a pretty good idea what would happen now. Soon it would be out of his hands and he'd have no say. But getting at the truth was the right thing to do—for all of them. And when his nephew's back was turned, he made the sign of the cross and prayed for Heather.

The girl had deserved better.

 

Jade crept down the dark hallway to Chloe's bedroom. She hadn't flipped the lights on. She was afraid Chloe would notice. When she got to the room, Jade turned the knob and slowly closed the door so she wouldn't make a sound. Once she got inside, she grabbed a jacket Chloe had hanging over a chair and stuffed it at the base of the door. She didn't want light shining through, a dead giveaway that she was snooping.

Jade flicked on a lamp and a pale glow washed over the room. It was bright enough for her to see. She knelt at the base of the armoire and felt in the back for the little key. When she found it, she unlocked the drawer and looked over Chloe's prized possessions.

Everything was exactly as she had seen it before. Lucas Quinn's number one fan had been stalking him for years. Jade smiled as she knelt in front of the glitter-filled drawer. A
stalker's tribute to a boy Chloe would never have. But Jade's smile faded fast when she didn't see the journal.

What the hell?
She fumbled through the bags of hair, old ticket stubs and sparkling pictures of Lucas's smiling face. Jade was losing it. She knew that stupid Chloe had written everything down in her damned journal. That idiot was the weak link. And dumb, lovesick Chloe would tell. She should have taken the journal the first time—and burned the damned thing, sight unseen. Now it might be too late. Chloe would ruin everything.

Jade was so obsessed with rummaging through the drawer that she didn't hear the bedroom door open.

“Is this what you're looking for?”

Jade yelped at the sound of a voice behind her. When she turned, she saw Chloe holding the journal in her hand. Lucas's smiling face was on the cover that was trimmed in absurd lace. The blonde cocked her head and blinked her blue eyes. Her pink glossed lips curved into a faint smile.

Jade thought about denying she'd been looking for the damned thing, but that was before Chloe made it easy. Before Jade could say anything, Chloe held out her diary and walked it over to her.

“I would've let you read it if you'd asked me. I've got nothing to hide.”

Jade reached for the journal with trembling fingers. Her heart was still racing and her breathing was shallow and fast. She didn't want Chloe to see how scared she'd been after she got caught.

“I was just curious what you wrote about the night Heather died. That's all.” Jade grabbed the diary and flipped through the pages, looking for the date she'd never forget. She didn't hear Chloe inch closer.

“How did you know I kept a journal…especially in
that
drawer?”

She realized too late that Chloe had figured out that she'd been in her secret drawer before. The bitch had set her up.

“You shouldn't have looked in there,” Chloe whispered in her ear.

It was the last thing Jade heard. She never even got a chance to look up. A jolt of pain shot through her skull and dark splatter hit the armoire.
Again and again.
When she hit the carpet, she felt her body spasm and she couldn't move. She wanted to scream, but she couldn't do that, either.

Chloe leaned over her and whispered, “Now look what you made me do.”

That's all Jade remembered before everything went black.

With the rest of Grams's house dark after Mom had gone to bed, Joe and I worked at the kitchen table under a soft light, surrounded by shadows. It was late and I was exhausted, but I forced myself to work. Joe had been pleased to hear that a grizzly bear had been my guide for part of the journey. White Bird had claimed the bear clan as his, so maybe the bear had chosen him, too.

But the mutant menagerie of animals in my vision was what had interested Joe the most.

Since he had a theory that White Bird had been a potential witness to Heather's murder—and not the killer—Joe thought that his mind might have projected the images in my vision as a way of communicating with me. White Bird might have been trying to tell me what he'd seen.

“Do you think he'd remember what happened now?” I asked. “I mean, he's not zoned out anymore. Why can't he just tell the sheriff what he saw?”

“He was under the influence of peyote. He wouldn't make
a reliable witness anyway.” Joe shook his head. “The symbols you described might have been buried deep in his mind or maybe they came from you and your experiences. You gotta remember that he's been trapped in his vision for two years. If his experience was anything like mine, he'll have holes in his memory that he'll never get back,” he explained. “Visions don't work like a video. They're only suggestions to be interpreted.”

I got what he meant. I couldn't go to the cops and report a giant spider attack without taking a serious Breathalyzer test or being checked for Mad Cow. What I saw had been some form of communication, from White Bird or from my subconscious. So we peeled back the layers of my vision and focused on the images that were most dangerous to me—the horse, the jackal and the spider that was too big for me to squash.

Joe told me that the stallion in a dream or vision symbolized power and male sexuality. And the fact that the horse was breathing fire and glowed red was also a sign of aggression or danger or blood.

“The horse was definitely aggressive. It barged in like it had the right. A real…” I stopped before I said it.

“A real what?” Joe asked. “Say the first thing that comes to your mind.”

“A real bully, was what I was going to say.” When I nodded, he didn't need to make his point. He knew I got it.

“What else?” he prompted.

“The jackal I saw in my vision had gray eyes. It reminded me of someone.”

He nodded and smiled. “The jackal is a scavenger,” he said. “It eats other animals to live. In Egypt, Anubis was the jackal god. He was the guardian to the underworld. But no matter
how well the Egyptians sealed their tombs, those damned jackals always found their way in for takeout.”

“Thanks for the history lesson, but I have a hard enough time sleeping.” I grinned. “So tell me about that damned spider. If Jade is the jackal, which I totally get, seeing the way she feeds on other people. And Derek is that stud stallion. Who is the spider? I'm having trouble with that one.”

“The spider weaves a pretty web of illusion that's a trap for its prey,” he said, but when I still didn't come up with anything, he asked, “Any other distinguishing marks on that spider? If the jackal had gray eyes, maybe you're leaving something out about the bug.”

I ran a hand through my hair and nodded.

“Yeah, you're right. The spider had red on its back. It looked like a splatter of paint, but I remembered flashing back to that field of red flowers, 'cause they stank like blood. And come to think of it, that spider had green eyes, too.”

When I looked up, I saw movement in the shadows behind Joe. At first, I thought Mom had come back downstairs, but when the room got chillier, I knew it wasn't my mother creeping around in the dark.

It was Heather.

She drifted through the gloom, weaving in and out of the dark like she was playing a macabre game of hide-and-seek. Joe didn't react to the dead girl in the room. Guess he didn't see or sense her.

“You know who it is, don't you?” he said, like he had read my mind. He was getting vibes off me, not the spirit that had joined us.

“Yeah…and I'm looking at her, right now.” I looked past Joe and glared at Heather.

After Joe glanced over his shoulder and didn't seem to know
where to look, he turned back around and said, “Guess I need 3-D glasses. Now you know what to get me for Christmas. Tell me about her.”

Heather had been the clacking spider that almost killed me. I stared her straight in those green eyes of hers, and I knew it had been her in my vision. And from the expression on her face, she wasn't denying it. Although ghosts didn't talk, they also didn't have reason to lie.

“You little…” When I glared at her, a sad smile nudged her lips and she shrugged.

Guess that was her way of saying sorry. Heather was as nasty dead as she was alive. Some things never change.

“The spider was Heather,” I said. “But if White Bird didn't kill her, does that mean Jade or Derek did it?” I was asking Joe, but I kept my eyes on Heather.

“Don't jump to conclusions. We may not have all the moving parts to this thing.”

I could tell by Heather's reaction that Joe was right. She had turned her attention to the stash of DVDs we hadn't packed yet. But when we had talked about Jade and Derek, I got nothing from her. If one or both of them had killed her, I thought she would've responded. It made no sense that she ignored us. I was missing something, but I was too fried to think anymore.

“You look tired,” Joe said.

I smiled at him. He had read my mind and always seemed a step ahead. Hanging with this guy was like wearing my favorite jeans, the kind that stretched when I ate too much and never felt too tight or made my butt look too big. We were so in sync that it was seriously crazy.

“Yeah, guess I am. We can hit this tomorrow.” I didn't
even have to ask if he'd be up for another day at this. I knew he would be. Joe was rock steady.

Heather had cleared out. At least for now. I felt her presence in the room, even though she didn't show me where she was. Sometimes the dead got off on playing head games with the living. And that would have gone double for somebody cruel like Heather.

I walked Joe to the door and gave him a hug under the porch light. I don't think hugging came naturally for him. And it never had for me, either. But today, I needed one from him and it felt right, like we'd done it a million times. And would do it a million more times, in the lives that stretched ahead of us.

Since I'd met White Bird and Joe, I'd become a firm believer that anything was possible. “Hey, Joe…”

After he'd headed for his truck, I called out to him and he turned back.

“You were the thunder. And the owl, right?” I grinned. Joe had been watching over me in my vision. And a part of me always knew he'd be there.

But Joe never really answered me. He only gave me his lazy smile and said, “People like you and me, we may share a vision, but it's never the same one. Each journey is personal and filtered through our experiences.” He winked. “Like I said, you're strong, Brenna. You'll figure this out. It'll hit you when you least expect it.”

I watched Joe drive away as I sat on the porch under the gazillion winks of light in the night sky. I didn't feel like playing hide-and-seek with Heather. Sometimes the dead cheated, because they could. But when I thought about Jade and Derek
and Heather, my mind automatically pictured someone else in that pitiful bunch.

Chloe Seaver.

She'd been the puppet everyone played. If Jade and Derek had been with Heather the night she was killed, where had Chloe been?

“That's it.”

I rushed off the porch and headed inside, without a sideways glance to see if Heather was still hanging out. If anyone knew what had happened that night, Chloe would. I had to talk to her. She was always the quiet one, the one who had been manipulated by the popular crowd, but she'd also been a friend once. Maybe I could appeal to the nice girl that had been buried underneath the caustic influence of Heather and Jade. She went along with those two, but she never seemed to buy in completely.

I went to my bedroom to grab my new cell phone before I headed to the garage to get my bike. If White Bird's vision was real, then Jade and Derek were there the night Heather died. But what if they weren't the only ones?

Maybe Chloe had been there, too.

 

When I got to Chloe's house, the place had no lights on, except for a few security fixtures on the lawn. Those were probably on timers and would make it harder to avoid being seen. But with all the windows dark, the Seavers were probably asleep, including Chloe. Her bedroom was dark, too, or maybe she had her drapes shut.

When we used to be friends as kids, I not only knew where her room was, I knew how she got in and out at night without her parents knowing.

“Let's hope some things stayed the same,” I whispered. “Otherwise I'll be SOL.”

I ditched my bike in some bushes and crept around to the side of the house. I didn't want her parents to see me. At this hour, they'd call the cops first and ask questions later.

I stayed close to the shrub line and dodged from shadow to shadow until I made it to the trellis and tested it before I climbed. When it took my weight, I scaled the sturdy lattice to Chloe's window and tapped on the glass.

“Chloe,” I whispered. “It's me. Brenna.”

I waited for her to flick on the lights and pull the drapes open, but she never did.

“Chloe.” I tried again, but nothing happened. This time I wedged my finger under the window and it slid open an inch.

For a split second, I thought about staying put and not going in. But when I imagined White Bird going to prison, I had to do something, even if it meant Chloe would scream and call her parents.

“Screw it.” I opened the window and crawled in.

Chloe's room was dark. It took a while for my night vision to kick in, but when I saw her under the blankets on her bed, I crawled toward her on all fours.

“Chloe? Don't scream, okay?” I whispered again. “It's me. Brenna.”

I listened for her breathing, but didn't hear anything. She hadn't moved or made a sound. I crawled closer. And when I went past her dresser, my hands knocked into stuff she had on the floor. I had to be more careful. I ran my fingers ahead of me, feeling as I went along. She had plastic bags all over the floor, maybe an arts and craft project. I shoved everything aside to get at her bed.

When I was close enough, I got to my knees and clamped a hand over her mouth.

“Don't scream.” I raised my voice, enough for her to hear. “It's only me.”

My fingers felt something wet and sticky. And when I smelled something metallic, I yanked my hand back and gasped.

“Chloe?” Without thinking, I got to my feet and reached for the lamp on her nightstand. When I flipped on the switch, the light flooded the room and I squinted, holding up my hand to shield my eyes. When I looked down, I screamed and nearly jumped out of my skin. It wasn't Chloe in that bed.

I was staring into the bloody face of Jade DeLuca.

“Holy shit!”
I screamed again.
“Shit, shit, shit!”
I didn't care if anyone heard me now.

Jade had her hands tied on the bedposts. And her face was so covered in blood that I barely recognized her.

“Jade?” I choked when I called out her name. And I swear to God, she wasn't breathing.

I looked down at my hands and they were covered in blood. This couldn't be happening. Not again. I wiped my hands down my clothes and stared at Jade. Her red hair glistened with blood. That was scary enough, but she had something strange stuck to the top of her head. Long strands of brown hair hung down her neck, longer than the length of her own hair.

It looked like she wore a weird hair extension, something from an old Halloween costume. And the top part of the hair-piece wasn't pinned down. I leaned closer and lifted it with my fingers. The strand of hair had brown shriveled gunk holding it together. And it stank real bad. I dropped it quick.

“Jade? Wake up….” I tried touching her, but she didn't move.

When I backed away from the bed, I kicked something with my foot. It was an empty plastic bag with a label on it that read
4 LUCAS
in caps. And Chloe's armoire was open with stuff tossed all over the carpet. What was going on?

And where was Chloe? Why hadn't her parents come running when I screamed? With every question, my stomach twisted into a knot and my body shook all over. I wanted to run, but when I turned to haul ass out the window, I stopped.

Chloe stood at the bedroom door, with a hand behind her back. Her dark smoky eyes were ringed in red, making her look crazed. And in the dim light, her skin was a ghostly white. She looked dead.

“What do you think of the new Heather?” She smiled down at Jade, proud of her handiwork. And her voice was childlike and unemotional, like nothing was wrong.

“What did you do, Chloe? That's not Heather. It's Jade. Is she dead?” I inched closer to the window, my only way out with Chloe blocking the bedroom door.

“I don't know, but she may as well be Heather, don't you think?” When I didn't answer, she stepped into the room. “I saved that piece of hair. Couldn't get rid of it. I didn't know it would come in so handy.”

“Saved it from what?”

“That was Heather's hair. She always loved how long and shiny it was. She bragged about it all the time. I got sick of hearing it, but you know how she was, right?” Chloe smiled and came closer to me. “So I took it from her. I did it for Lucas. I
had
to. She would have ruined him if I had let it go on.”

Suddenly I remembered what Deputy Tate had said at the sweat lodge. And I knew what Chloe had been talking
about. Jade was wearing Heather's scalp. The brown goop was Heather's dead skin with dried blood on it. Chloe had murdered Heather and scalped her with the knife.