Unlocked (26 page)

The image pixelated again, and then the screen went black. The recording ended. We stood in stunned silence. No wonder Plug had neglected to tell me he'd watched this video.

“Well,” Nick said, “that complicates things.”

“Actually, it makes perfect sense,” Plug said.

My mouth dropped open, and so did Kyla's.

“Explain,” Kyla said.

“That video scared the crap out of me the first time I watched it,” Plug said, “especially when a few minutes later, the demon attacked Hannah in the bathroom. This supernatural stuff can be dangerous. It can mess with our minds, mess with our memories, and mess with our realities. I researched it even more and found a connection between hypnotism and demons.”

“And?” Kyla waved her hand in the air.

“Hannah, when the hypnotist unlocked your mind,” Plug said, “he opened it up to his suggestions—his influence—and he also opened it up to the influence of incorporeal beings.”

“Incorporeal?” Nick asked.

“Demons. Ghosts. Spirits,” Kyla said.

“So the black mist I've seen isn't the Angel of Death?” I asked.

“It could be. Sometimes. But not always,” Plug said. “That darkness can be any malevolent spirit.” Plug twisted a ring on his finger. “It seems we are dealing with two problems here: the hypnotist and the spirits.”

“Hey,” Nick said, “at least you're not schizophrenic.”

My cell phone rang. We spun around and watched it vibrate against the table.

“Don't!” Plug snagged my wrist.

I yanked away. “Stop making decisions for me.” I had to regain control of my life. Somehow. Even if that only meant deciding whether or not to answer my own phone.

Plug bit down on the stitches in his lip.

I read the caller ID and answered the call. “Manny?”

“Where are you?” he asked.

My eyes watered, and my chin drifted downward, letting tears fall to my chest. He'd been an absolute jerk yesterday, but I would never deliberately harm his family.

“I've been so worried,” I said.

Plug snatched a piece of paper and scribbled:

I faced the wall. “Manny, are you and your family okay?”

“We're fine,” he said, “but Hannah, the police think you set fire to our house—”

“I would never.” But my shoes were filthy, and I reeked of gasoline.

“Tell me where you are,” he said.

“I thought you never wanted to see me again,” I said and replayed yesterday's fight in my mind. I kicked some of the dried mud from the edge of my shoe. It crumbled onto the concrete. “Are you still there?” I asked.

“Yes,” Manny said. “I'm sorry about yesterday.” His tone of voice had changed.

“Really?” I asked, confused. I didn't know who to believe or trust anymore. I couldn't even trust my own instincts. But I needed Manny to understand what had happened, that I wasn't crazy.

“Manny, that hypnotist from the fair has been behind all of this.”

“Hannah, I need to know where you are.”

“Did you hear me?” I asked.

“Yes. I want to help you, but I need to know where you are first,” he said.

“I'm with—”

Plug clutched my shoulder and spun me around. “Don't tell him.”

“Who are you with?” Manny asked.

“I'm trying to help you,” Plug said.

What was I supposed to do? Who was I supposed to trust? I'd made so many mistakes already this week. I just wanted to make amends for all of it.

“I'm sorry,” I said and stared straight at Plug. I meant it for both him and Manny. I did not want to rekindle anything with Manny after the way he'd treated me yesterday, but I needed to see him for myself to know that he was unharmed in the fire. I couldn't stand the thought of anyone else being hurt because of me.

“I'm at the Eclectic Tattoo Gallery, downtown,” I said.

Plug punched the wall and bloodied his knuckles. Kyla scooped up her papers from the table and thrust them into her bag. Nick slammed the laptop shut.

“I'm coming over,” Manny said. “Wait for me.”

“I'll be here, but come to the back alley. I'll wait outside for you,” I said.

“I'll get there as fast as I can,” Manny said and disconnected.

I shoved the phone into my pocket.

“What were you thinking?” Kyla yelled at me. “We're trying to help you, and you told Manny where we are.”

“I need to see he's okay.” My eyes burned, and more tears spilled.

“Couldn't you tell he was okay from the phone call?” Nick asked.

“I need to see him in person and tell him what's happened,” I said.

Nick tugged his knit cap onto his head and tucked the laptop under his arm.

“Wait, there are still more videos to watch,” I said.

“I'll make backup files,” Nick said and headed out.

“Hannah, the police are with Manny,” Kyla said. “They probably instructed his every word.” She closed the space between us, and the scorn in her eyes made me wince. “You're the one who didn't want to go to the police with the information we have. And you're right. We don't have any real proof of anything, but they have your prints on the gas can, the sweatshirt in your closet, an eyewitness, and now, they're coming here to arrest you. Manny's leading the way.” She hoisted the strap of her bag over her shoulder and followed Nick toward the back.

“He wouldn't do that,” I said and wiped away my tears.

“He already has,” Nick shouted back to us and kept walking.

“You can leave,” I said, “but I'm waiting for Manny.”

Kyla turned back toward us. “Plug, we'll be at my house if you want to join us.”

Plug rubbed his jaw and grimaced.

“Wait!” I hollered after Nick. “We need to show Manny the videos.”

“Let Nick take it to make backup files,” Plug said.

“Manny wouldn't lie to me,” I said.

“If the police convinced him you started the fire,” Plug said, “or if your mom convinced him you're schizophrenic, he would think he's helping you by leading the police here.” He shrugged and moved to the kitchen sink. He rinsed the blood from his knuckles and dried his hands on a clean towel. I leaned against the wall and waited for him.

“I will never understand why you want to be with Manny,” Plug said. “What has he done to help you through this?”

“I don't want to be with him,” I said.

“Really?” Plug faced me. “Because you keep turning back to him.”

My mind worked over the details of the past week as I searched for an answer. Manny and I kissed for the first time at the fair. Jordan died. Lily just regained consciousness. Demons stalked me. Plug and I kissed. And the hypnotist had manipulated me. I recalled how Manny said in the hospital that he didn't want us to change and how he said at his house that I was confused and needed help. But Manny hadn't helped me at all.

I had to save myself from this mess I'd fallen into.

“After they arrest you,” Plug said, “they'll check you into a psychiatric facility for mandatory evaluation. They'll medicate you and keep you there. I won't be able to help you.”

Plug and I stood on opposite sides of the kitchen and stared at each other.

After a minute of silence, Plug moved toward the back door and flipped off lights as he went. I didn't want to be left in the dark, so I kept right on his heels.

“What do you suggest we do?” I asked.

“Leave before he gets here.”

“No. I need to explain to him what's been going on.”

We stepped out into the alley, and Plug locked the back door to the studio's warehouse. He leaned against the El Camino, hooked his thumbs into his jeans, and waited.

Manny wasn't bringing the cops. I was certain. He wanted to see I was okay.

An engine revved, and I recognized Manny's family SUV when it turned into the alley. Plug reached for my fingers, but I pulled away. I didn't want Manny to see Plug touching me. I didn't want to be the cause of another fight. Manny parked, but he remained seated and lowered his head. I walked toward him, and he shut off the engine. I opened his door, and he gazed at me. His cheek was bandaged, and his right hand was wrapped in gauze.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yes.”

He fidgeted with the collar of his shirt. It wasn't his usual polo shirt. Instead, it was an oversized dark blue police department T-shirt. He adjusted a loose edge of cotton gauze on his wrist, and then he stepped out of the SUV.

“Is your chest still taped?” I reached out to him, but he backed away from me. “Are your ribs worse?”

“No,” he said and blushed. I'd never seen him lie before, but I knew how he acted when he spoke the truth, and this wasn't it. Manny glanced down the alleyway and ripped a piece of gauze bandaging from his wrist.

“Hannah, did you set fire to my house?” Manny let the white piece of cotton fall to the asphalt.

“It's complicated,” I said.

“No. It's not,” Manny said. “You either did or didn't. Just tell me.”

I opened my mouth, but I struggled to start my explanation.

“Hannah,” Manny said, “why are you even here?”

Plug stepped next to me. “Why are you here?” Plug asked Manny.

Manny thrust a finger toward Plug's face, but Plug stood his ground.

“Back off, Eugene,” Manny said. “I came to talk to Hannah.” Plug narrowed his eyes at Manny. Manny looked away first and jerked his head toward me. “He's ruined you, Hannah. You reek, as if you haven't showered in days. Plus, you smell like smoke and gasoline. I bet Eugene convinced you to start it—”

“He hasn't done anything to me. He's tried to help—”

“No, Hannah. He hasn't. Your mom has tried to help you. Your doctor wants to help you. You need to let them help you—”

“We have evidence,” I said, “that shows the hypnotist from the fair has been behind everything.”

“You think the hypnotist set fire to my house?” Manny choked out an awkward laugh. “The police say they have evidence against you. They say you started the fire.” He raked his fingers through his thick hair. “Hannah, do you have any idea how terrifying it was to have all the smoke detectors blaring and know that the house was on fire?”

Yes, I did know, but when it happened to me, it was apparently all in my mind. I suffered no real injuries. I had no bandages like Manny had now. But whatever I did to the Santos house, it was the result of a posthypnotic suggestion. I had to make Manny understand that.

“It was the hypnotist,” I said and reached for Manny, but he pulled away. “He's Chelsea's father, and she's taunted me all week—”

“You're losing it, Hannah,” Manny said. “Can't you hear how ridiculous you sound? Chelsea's your friend, and she didn't even know that hypnotist at the fair. Eugene is trying to turn you against me and isolate you.”

“Hannah, that's crap.” Plug set his hand on my shoulder. “I've tried to help you. I love you.”

“You can't love her,” Manny said.

“I love her,” Plug said, “and unlike you, I've stood by her when she needed it most.”

“I'm here now.” Manny kicked a pebble on the ground, and then he focused on me. “And I've loved you longer.” Tears welled in Manny's eyes. “Let us get you the help you need.”

“Us?” Plug asked.

I checked up and down the alley to see if anyone else was there.

“Who's us?” Plug asked again. Then he lunged forward and seized Manny's T-shirt. Plug yanked it up and exposed black wires and a small black box taped to Manny's waist.

“Why would you be wearing a wire?” I asked.

“You set fire to my house!” Manny yelled. “The police said your recorded confession plus Chelsea's testimony—”

“Chelsea was the eyewitness?” I asked.

Plug shoved Manny hard. He stumbled backward and clutched his ribs but then regained his footing. He charged forward and tackled Plug to the ground. Plug struck Manny in the throat with his right hand and smashed his left elbow into Manny's face. Plug wrenched him sideways and rolled on top. Manny poked his fingers into Plug's swollen eye, but Plug batted his arm away. Then Plug landed punches over and over again to Manny's face. Plug held nothing back this time. A siren screamed at the end of the alley behind Manny's SUV.

“Plug!” I screamed.

He jumped off Manny as two police officers stepped out of the cruiser.

We ran to the El Camino.

“Stop!” one of the officers yelled, but we kept moving.

Plug shoved the car into reverse and nearly ran over Manny in the process. Then Plug accelerated down to the other end of the alley. We had almost escaped when another police cruiser skidded into view. Plug pressed the pedal to the floor and slammed into the front fender of the cruiser. The tires of the El Camino spun. We were wedged between the bumper of the cop car and the corner of the brick building. Plug gunned the engine. The tires smoked. Metal scraped against metal on Plug's side. Bricks snapped the mirror from the car on my side. The El Camino broke free and blasted down the street. A loud thud echoed behind us.

I gawked back at them. The cruiser jerked forward and then stalled. Two other officers staggered to the sidewalk's edge. One lifted a radio from his shoulder harness and spoke into it.

“They're going to follow us,” I said.

Plug drove faster and ran a stop sign as he turned north onto Eighth Street. He barreled past smaller, older homes in the north end of Boise and headed toward the foothills.

“Grab my phone,” Plug said. “Call Kyla and tell her we're coming.”

• • •

Plug whipped into a newer, upscale neighborhood in the foothills and skidded around a corner. With one hand I gripped the belt across my chest, and with the other I dug my nails into the upholstered seat. The tires fought for traction on the asphalt as Plug took another corner too fast. Then he suddenly slowed and pulled into the driveway of a two-story house with manicured landscaping and a pillared porch. The garage door was up, and Plug drove straight in. Kyla waited at the interior door and pressed a button to close the garage behind us. Plug killed the engine and leaned his head against the steering wheel.