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I do three more passes, making it all the way to the door of the refrigerator when the hair on the back of my neck stands up and gooseflesh that has nothing to do with the cool room breaks out over my skin.
Before I can turn around to scold Jacob for scaring the shit out of me again, a train crashes into my skull. Sharp pain explodes in my head, stealing my vision and turning everything black with colorful sparkles.
I stumble, or I think I do, but my brain isn’t working any better than my feet. The floor is cold and wet against my cheek, unforgiving beneath my body. From far away, I hear a furious voice snarl, “You should’ve let it go. This is all your fault.”
Was that real or in my head?
I’m not sure, and it seems less important as I sink into the darkness.
Chapter 24
Blake
I leave the morgue after talking to Jeff, rushing straight to Zoey’s trailer. Like she said, if she’s not at work, she’s home, and vice versa. Sliding into the dirt driveway, I run up the stairs and bang on the door.
“Zoey? Let me in.”
No answer.
My heart climbs up in my throat, and I hit the door harder, using the side of my fist to make it louder. The door shakes in its frame. “C’mon, Zo. This is all one big misunderstanding.”
No answer.
I peek in the window, begging. “Please, Zoey. Let’s talk about this.”
“Quit your bellowing, boy!” Thelma yells louder than I am as she leans out her front door. “She ain’t there, anyway.”
I look at Zoey’s door again, then back to Thelma, trying to make sense of what she’s saying, no matter how illogical. “What do you mean she’s not here? Where is she?”
Thelma takes a long drag off her cigarette, her eyes narrowing as she inhales. Lifting her bony shoulder, she says, “How would I know?”
I want to shake her, rattle whatever information her nosiness might’ve earned out of her brain because I need it now. I have to find Zoey and set her straight because she has things all wrong.
Exponentially wrong.
“Thelma,” I warn harshly. “Where is she?”
Thelma balks, softer than I’ve seen her, but waves her cigarette around. “I told you . . . I don’t know. Haven’t seen her since she left this morning. All dressed up, though I don’t know where she was going.” She takes another drag. “Maybe she had another fellow?”
I growl, knowing Thelma is trying to rile me up and I’m letting her get to me.
But I don’t have any other option.
“What about Jacob? You seen him?”
“He’s got late school tonight. Boy takes some night classes since he can’t get up like a normal person in the mornin’.”
For someone who doesn’t know much, she sure knows a lot. Except where my Zoey is. “Thanks.”
I climb back in my car and text Jacob.
You talked to Zoey?
Jacob replies quickly. No. Why?
We had a misunderstanding. I’m trying to find her.
Jacob’s reply is just as fast. You check work? Home?
I grip my phone and roll my eyes skyward to pray for patience. Yes. Where else would she go?
Holly’s. The funeral home or her house.
He sends me the address for Holly’s house while I look up the funeral home. Thanks. If you hear from her, let me know.
Jacob sends me back a thumbs-up.
Based on the addresses, I decide to check the funeral home first, but as I drive up, the building is dark and I quickly dismiss it. Further on, Holly’s house is a small one-story with a chain-link fence around the swing set in the yard.
I park haphazardly, hop the fence, and run to the door, trying to restrain myself from banging on it as hard as I’m compelled to do. It’s late and Holly’s daughter is probably asleep, but the longer it takes me to find Zoey, the faster and harder my heart is beating.
How could she have thought I was using her?
How could she dismiss everything we’ve been through and done together that easily?
My knock is slightly less booming, but still frantic.
Holly opens the door holding a fleece robe tightly around her waist, her eyes wide. Until she sees me, and then they narrow sharply.
“What the fuck do you want?” she snarls. If eyes could shoot laser beams, I’d be a pile of ash on her front stoop.
I hold up my hands peacefully when she takes a lunging step toward me. “Wait! Whatever Zoey told you . . . she’s got it all wrong.”
Holly punches my hands as though we’re sparring, combining a right jab and left cross that would make Trey proud. Not listening to me in the slightest, Holly’s still on the warpath.
“Thanks for coming over. It’ll make killing you that much easier. Keep it down, though, because if you wake up my daughter, I’ll bring you back to life just to kill you again.”
