My heels clicked over the pavement. The rhythmic beats echoed in the dimly lit garage. Recessed bulbs buzzed and flickered, casting moving shadows between the concrete pillars. A chill wormed its way down my back, and I clenched Jake’s keys until the jagged edges scored my palm. Supernatural or not, parking garages gave me the creeps.
A door closed in the distance.
Was that another set of footsteps?
I slowed, separating the sounds, and tried to pinpoint their location. A car skidded around the corner flashing its lights. I stumbled out of the way, feeling a little silly.Get a grip, Graves. It was a sedan, not a demonic killer.Releasing a shaky breath, I kept searching, walking along the back row of cars.
Jake’s van was backed into a corner spot. A little hula girl in a grass skirt hung from the rearview mirror. I hurried toward the vehicle and used the key, pulling on the side door to reveal the confines of Jake’s makeshift home.
A ball of light flared to life in my palm.
I looked over my shoulder and climbed inside.
Chapter 14
The inside of the van smelled like stale beer and cigarette smoke. I wrinkled my nose in distaste as I crawled over a lumpy, threadbare mattress and unmade sheets. A backpack and a cooler took up space beside the mattress, with fast-food wrappers rolled into balls stuck between them. Jake had screwed shelves into the wall to hold a stack of textbooks and other belongings. A deck of cards, a tin of cherry-flavored lozenges, and one of those bartender dictionaries listing the recipes of every mixed drink imaginable.
I started with the backpack, sifting through his clothes and not finding anything more incriminating than a few pairs of socks. Next, I lifted the lid on the cooler. Beer cans, a half sandwich wrapped in Saran Wrap, and pudding cups filled the bottom.
Not exactly a cache of demon paraphernalia or a note saying, “I killed Professor Roberts. Hope you don’t check my van.”
Of course it wouldn’t be that easy.
Standing on my knees, I pulled down his textbooks and laid them in my lap. They were used, with years of handwriting in the margins. I riffled through the pages, pausing when a series of photographs slid out. They were definitely taken at the historical society. Professor Roberts stood proudly in front of a glass case containing a few old books and odd-looking sculptures.
These must be the artifacts found at the dig site.
I scanned through the photos. They weren’t as incriminating as I would have liked. Jake could have taken them as part of his class trip. But the last picture made the back of my neck prickle. It was a group photo of the class standing around the glass case. Professor Roberts stood in the center, holding one of the ancient-looking books. Zoe stood on her left, but she wasn’t looking at the camera. Her gaze was fixed on the book.
So, Zoe was on the class trip and had lied about it. Well, “lied” may be a bit strong, but she’d definitely omitted the fact. And why was she so interested in the book while everyone else smiled at the camera?
I laid out the photos on the mattress and snapped a picture of the grouping with my phone. Slipping them back inside the pages, I returned the textbooks to the shelf, arranging them exactly the way they were.
A car alarm blared.
Startled, my shoulder bumped the shelf and knocked the objects to the floor. The tin of lozenges popped open, scattering little cherry discs everywhere.So much for being discrete.I hurried to collect the lozenges, hoping Jake wouldn’t notice if I missed a few. Fingers crossed he’d think it was just a fun, cherry-flavored surprise if he found one between his sheets.
I dropped a handful back into the tin. The red circles clinked against the aluminum. I was about to close the lid on the case, but I stopped. Using my index finger, I shifted the lozenges to the corner and peered at the series of numbers etched into the bottom of the tin. It looked like a phone number.
How odd.
The car alarm had stopped, and the garage settled back into an unnatural silence. I reached for my phone. Nerves made my palms damp as I tapped out the number and hovered my finger over the call button.
Did I dare?
The odds were that it was just the number for a pizza place, but then again, who carved a pizza number into the inside of a lozenge tin?
I pressed call.
A ring tone hummed in my ear. Once, twice . . .
The call connected, and silence filled the line. I heard a soft breath, then more silence, even though the line remained open.
“Hello?” I said weakly, spooked by the unsettling connection. “Hello, are you there? Who is this?”
Static crackled over the line, followed by more ominous breaths. Why didn’t they say anything? I held the phone steady, trying to listen for any sounds in the background. Maybe it would give me a clue as to who was on the other end of the line.
The van stereo flickered on, and an eerie tune filtered through the speakers. I went still, fear icing inside my veins. Jake’s keys were still right beside me and not in the ignition.
