The Edge of Forever (24 page)

She doesn’t take it.

His eyes harden. “Please, sit,” he says and waits for us to do so. “I guess you’re wondering why I asked y’all to come down here.”

Aunt Grace leans back in her chair and crosses her arms. “Oh yes, that’s definitely crossed my mind.” I swear her voice could cut steel. She told me that he had the nerve to hit on her a few weeks after Darrel’s funeral, then he got angry because she rejected him.

So yeah, the chief is a douchebag, or at least used to be one.

“Well, let’s get started.” He turns his attention to me. “Now, Alora, when was the last time you saw Naomi Burton?”

And here it goes. I rub the side of my neck. “About three weeks ago. Friday after school, on the eleventh of April.” I remember the date because it was the day before Levi’s party. “I saw her going to the parking lot.”

“Did you talk to her?”

“No, sir. I was with . . . Sela. Sela Perkins.” A lump forms in my throat. I almost said my friend Sela.

Funny how so much can change in a few weeks.

“How did Naomi appear to you?”

“She was upset.”

“Upset? Like angry or sad?” He leans forward and props an arm on the edge of his desk.

I picture how Naomi looked that day. How she was crying. And I think about the day before that, when I heard her say something about following Trevor and needing him.

“She was definitely sad,” I say. “Her boyfriend broke up with her.”

“And you’re sure you didn’t have any direct contact with Naomi?”

Aunt Grace huffs. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, she just told you she didn’t talk to the girl.”

Chief Lloyd shoots a stony look at her. “I’m going to ask you to step outside if you don’t remain quiet.”

If Aunt Grace could shoot laser beams out of her eyes, the chief would be scorched right now. I answer his question and several more, all pertaining to Naomi’s whereabouts during the week before she disappeared. Even how she and Kate interrupted my so-called study session with Trevor.

“And you’re sure you and Miss Burton didn’t have a major altercation during that week? Something about fighting over Trevor Monroe.”

“No, I’ve already told you what happened.” My whole body tenses. I wish he’d let me go.

The chief raises an eyebrow as he studies me and he says, “That’s . . . interesting.”

“What is?” I ask.

“That’s not what Mr. Monroe said.”

“Whatever that little bastard said is a lie,” Aunt Grace says, gripping the armrests of her chair.

“I’m beginning to wonder that myself,” he replies.

To say I’m stunned is the understatement of the year.

Aunt Grace lets go of the chair. “Well, I’m glad you have enough sense to realize that.”

I give her a withering glare, wishing she’d tone down the bitter act, and then ask the chief, “What has he done?”

“I’m not at liberty to discuss Mr. Monroe’s actions.” He checks something on his computer before asking, “Do you have anything else to add before I let you go?”

I’m about to tell him no so I can leave, but I remember what Trevor said to me, just before he grabbed my arm at school.

Look, don’t worry about Naomi. I’ll take care of that problem.

The words are on the verge of spilling from my mouth, but I swallow them back. I’m afraid. I mean, look at the hell Trevor put me through when I didn’t want to go out with him. I don’t want to do anything to set him on me again. So that’s why I say, “No, sir. That’s all.”

“If you’re sure, I believe that’ll be all for now.” He stands and says to Aunt Grace, “Thank you for bringing her in. If I have any more questions, I’ll call you.”

“It was my pleasure,” she says, sarcasm dripping from her words as she snatches her purse off the floor. “By the way, have y’all had any luck finding Naomi?”

The chief’s jaw clenches. “We have.”

“That’s good news,” I say, casting a curious look at Aunt Grace.

She asks what I’m thinking. “So why did you want me to drag Alora down here if she’s been found?”

Suddenly, I know why. My heart slams in my chest before I even hear the chief’s words.

“Because Naomi’s body was discovered this morning. This is now officially a murder investigation and we have to follow up on every new lead.”

Oh my God.

Naomi’s dead.

Naomi’s dead.

Naomi’s dead.

The words flash like a neon sign in my head. I’m no fan of Naomi’s, but the news is still hard to take. I slump back in my seat, feeling nauseated.

“Oh no, sweetie. Are you okay?” Aunt Grace asks, her face pinched with worry.

I want to tell her I’m not. I can’t believe this is real. I want to curl up somewhere and cry.

Chief Lloyd clears his throat. “Can I get you something?” He seems like he’d rather be anywhere than here with me.

“No . . . I’ll be fine,” I lie. My tongue feels sluggish in my mouth. Water would be nice, but I’d rather get out of here, fast.

“Are you sure?” Aunt Grace asks. “I don’t want you passing out before we get back to the truck.”

“I’m fine. Really.” I make my voice sound stronger, more sure.

Aunt Grace helps me stand and I force my legs to stiffen, wishing my stomach would stop doing crazy flips. I can’t believe it. A girl is dead. What if Trevor is the killer? Sure, I don’t have any proof except those words he said to me about Naomi.

A few minutes ago, they didn’t seem so important. Now, they make all the difference in the world.

“Well, then, let’s go. You need some rest,” Aunt Grace says.

“Thanks for coming in,” the chief says, following us to the doorway. “And remember, if you think of anything else, call me.”

I want to tell him right then what Trevor said. I know I should tell him. But I hesitate. If Trevor really did kill Naomi, what would he do to me if he found out what I said? Do I want to take that risk?

Or do I let a possible murderer get away?

We make it out of the chief’s office and it hits me that I’m running away. Like I’d been running away from my fears for so many years. I listened to Aunt Grace and ignored searching for answers to my past because deep down I was afraid of what I’d find out.

I’m sick of being afraid.

Before I can change my mind, I pull my arm away and stride back to the chief’s office. Aunt Grace calls my name, but I ignore her.

The chief looks up from some papers he was sorting through, startled. “Did you forget something?”

My voice trembles as I say, “Yes, sir.”

29

BRIDGER

MAY 6, 2013

I
flop back on my bed and rub my eyes. I’ve just wasted two hours searching the Internet. I don’t know why I keep looking for more info about Alora’s parents. But I keep trying, anything to keep myself busy.

I try to figure out something else I can do, but I can’t focus. My skin starts to feel clammy. I close my eyes and think about Alora and everything I know about her. And suddenly I start to feel a little better. But no matter how many times I go through the facts, I can’t work out why my dad wanted to save her. What would tie a man from 2146 to a ghost from 2013?

What am I missing?

I’ve got to get out of this room before I wild out. I step into the hallway, thinking I should go downstairs, but an idea creeps into my mind. It’s something I thought about doing before—sneak into Alora’s room.

She could have something in there that would help me. Something she may not know about. Or I could see if she left the Jewill home today. She shouldn’t have future tech in her possession. But she’s worn it every day since we opened Grace’s safe. It’s a miracle she hasn’t activated the cloak.

If I’m going to do it, I need to go now while Grace is still gone. She received an urgent phone call a few hours ago and had to leave in a hurry. Before I change my mind, I stride down the hallway to Alora’s door and turn the handle. “Fure,” I mutter, slamming the palm of my hand against the door. It’s locked.

I rush into Grace and Alora’s bathroom and rummage through the drawers. They’re full of girl stuff. Makeup, goop to fix hair, and things I don’t even recognize. Why do they need so much stuff? Finally, in the very bottom drawer, I find a few bobby pins.

It doesn’t take long to pick the lock. Still, I have this twitchy feeling all over by the time I enter her room. Alora’s lavender scent is everywhere, and I get an overwhelming urge to just leave. I don’t understand that. I’ve made hundreds of trips to the past. I’ve gone through personal belongings of other ghosts. I’ve listened in on private conversations and recorded them. And it’s never bothered me until today. Now I feel like a perv.

I push the feeling aside. It’s stupid of me to even feel like that. Not when I have a mission to complete.

I study the room. Everything is still neat, just like it was when I was here before. I remember how it felt when she hugged me. The memory of her body pressed against mine sends a jolt of longing through me.

Fure! I’ve got to stop doing that.

I decide to start with her desk. I spend a few minutes searching through the drawers. They’re full of normal things. In the bottom drawer, there’s a small wooden box. I open it, and lying on a velvet surface are the pictures of Alora’s dad. I study them, thinking how much Alora resembles him. She has the same dark blond hair. Same shaped face. Same eye color.

And I can’t get over how much Alora and her father look so similar to Vika. I close my eyes for a moment. I’ve got to stop comparing Vika and Alora.

I check the box for hidden compartments before slipping it back into the desk. I start to search her dresser next, but then I spot a small backpack propped against the desk. The dark purple book I saw before on Alora’s desk sticks out of the top. Alora was sketching in it last week. She never offered to let me look in it.

So I have to shut out the stab of guilt as I flip through the pages. It’s full of drawings. The sketches at the front of the book are really good. They’re dated from a little over a year ago in small, neat numbers.

The later pictures are even better. There are a lot of scenes of the river and the dock. Even some of Grace and Sela. I also recognize Alora’s father.

Two in particular catch my attention. Drawings of two women. My jaw drops. The dark-haired woman looks familiar.

But the other woman—the blonde—is the one that stuns me. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear Alora sketched Vika’s mother, Colonel Fairbanks.

30

ALORA

MAY 6, 2013

A
unt Grace parks the truck behind the inn and I slide out, staring at the puffy white clouds dotting the sky. They’ve always reminded me of cotton candy, so light and carefree. But standing here, watching them float by while a breeze blows, I can’t help but think how wrong they look. There should be thunder and lightning and darkness.

“Come on, sweetie,” Aunt Grace says. She’s holding the back door open for me. “Maybe you should lie down for a while. You’ve had a shock.”

I slip past her, relieved she’s relaxed since we left the police station. She was horrified when she realized I almost walked out without telling Chief Lloyd what Trevor had said to me, but after I confessed that Trevor followed me to the river, she understood. And she was furious. She talked to the chief about possibly taking out a restraining order against Trevor, which made me feel better and worse at the same time. There’s no telling how he’ll react when he finds out what I’ve told them.

I walk in a daze down the hallway, not sure of what I want to do. It’s like I’m in a bad dream. I hope things don’t get any worse.

“Do you want something to eat?” Aunt Grace asks. I turn around and find her standing in the kitchen doorway, with a too-bright smile on her face. That’s how she copes with bad stuff—paint a pretty picture for everyone and hope real life will follow suit. It’s what I’ve done too.

And I’m sick of it.

Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the life she’s given me. But now it feels so false. I don’t want to pretend anymore.

“No, I’m going to my room. I want to be alone for a while.”

“Well, okay,” she says, her smile faltering. “I’ll be here if you need me.”

It’s a relief to get away from her. Then I find Bridger waiting for me in the hallway upstairs. Normally my pulse would speed up from seeing him. For the past few weeks, I’ve grown to depend on his friendship, especially since I’m so alone in that department now.

But even the sight of him doesn’t help. I’m hollow. “Hey, is everything okay?” he asks, falling into step beside me.

For a moment, the old instinct flares and I almost say yes. “No.”

“What’s wrong?”

The thought of talking about Naomi again nauseates me. “I just got back from the police station. The girl who’s been missing for the past few weeks was found dead this morning. A jogger found her body in some woods down in Walton County.”

“That’s the girl Trevor broke up with before he started harassing you, right?” I nod, and Bridger runs his hands through his hair. “Why did the police want to see you?”

My voice sounds flat as I explain what Trevor said to me.

We stop in front of my bedroom, and Bridger places his hand on my shoulder. His touch sends a wave of warmth through my body. “Listen, I know you’re blaming yourself, but you can’t do that.”

“But what if I’d said something sooner?” I ask, putting voice to another fear that crossed my mind on the way home. “Trevor told me he was going to take care of the problem with Naomi on Thursday, before she disappeared. She might still be alive if I’d told somebody.”

Bridger shakes his head. “I don’t think so. Maybe it was her time to go.”

I give him an incredulous look. “How can you say that? She was murdered. I could’ve prevented her death if I hadn’t been so stupid.”

“Nobody can predict the future.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Please, try to stop worrying. There’s nothing you can do about it,” he whispers.

His gaze is so intense, almost anguished. I can’t look him in the eye anymore. I don’t understand why he’s being so nice, especially since I’m partially to blame.

“Alora, look at me,” he says.

I have to pry my gaze from my feet to meet his steady stare. He seems to be searching for some kind of answer, one that I’m sure I don’t have.