"Do you know why the Long Cool Woman never came to you?" Rev Boscoe asked, removing her hand from his eyes and staring at Gibb. "You do know that the normal way this happens is that she comes to you, right?"
"I didn't know."
"Clearly. There's a reason why she didn't come to you."
"What's the reason?"
"Better let her explain." Rev Boscoe stood.
Gibb suddenly noticed that the Long Cool Woman's eyes were open. Her attention was fixed on him. Her face was unreadable, yet her eyes were alive.
"Take her hand," Rev Boscoe said.
Gibb stepped forward, took the hand into his own, and felt the grave. If possible, her skin was even colder than the Burned Man's. But he didn't have time to contemplate this. Her gaze held him as firm as the gripping hand and he was unable to look away.
"What do we do now?" he asked.
Then he watched the lips writhe upon the Long Cool Woman's face like two red worms. A hiss escaped as the eyes narrowed. Gibb felt the grip on his hand tighten. Her nails dug into the inside of his wrist.
"You are the one," the Long Cool Woman said, her voice low and mean.
Gibb tried to pull his hand free.
"You did this. You killed me."
Blood began to seep from where her nails had pierced his wrist. With his other hand, he tried to pry her fingers away. Then a hand fell on his shoulder and squeezed it.
"You wanted this, so stop fighting it," Rev Boscoe whispered.
Gibb shook his head, but knew the truth of the words. He could take a little pain. He should take a little pain; after all, he was the one still alive.
"Yes. I killed you," he said slowly, gritting his teeth so as not to cry out from the pain and the guilt.
The soul that had once been Stephen Jones hissed in reply. "Why?" asked the Long Cool Woman.
"I wanted to make sure that you made it to Heaven. After all that I did, I wanted to make sure you were—"
"No. Why did you kill me?" asked the voice. "Why did you run?"
"Because I was afraid."
"You were driving drunk," the Long Cool Woman stated matter-of-factly, the voice authoritarian and with a sudden mannish quality.
"Yes. I'd been at a party at the Dean's house and had a few too many martinis," Gibb said, remembering the event. He'd just been promoted to full professor and the Dean of the Humanities Department had thrown a party for Gibb at his resort home west of Phoenix. "I didn't know I was drunk until I hit the interstate and by then it was too late."
"Too late," mimicked the voice.
Gibb continued, but he was flustered by the sarcasm. "I should have stopped. I should have let you give me a ticket or take me in, or anything other than what happened," he said, stumbling over the words in his rush to get them out.
"Why were you afraid?"
"Because I would have been fired." Gibb looked into the Long Cool Woman's face. "I know. It's stupid. Incredibly stupid. I want you to know that I would have done anything, would do anything to erase that day."
"Why are you here?" the voice asked.
"To make sure you were released to Heaven," Gibb said, his eyes hopeful.
"Bullshit," spat the Long Cool Woman. "Who the hell are you trying to kid?"
Gibb jerked back as if he'd been slapped. He opened his mouth to say something, but he didn't have the chance.
"You came here to make yourself feel better," the Long Cool Woman said, drawing the words out into one long snarl.
"I did not," Gibb said. "I've been—"
"—keeping me here for seventeen years while you made yourself feel better. Don't think I didn't know what's going on. I felt you thinking about me every day. Each thought, each wish was a tug on my soul. Your pathetic conscience needed to be soothed because killing me made you feel bad."
"But that's not true."
"Boo fucking hoo! You felt bad and did all this to make yourself feel better."
After the accident, Gibb had high-tailed it home. It wasn't until the next day that he'd discovered that the police officer had died. He'd attended the funeral, but kept to the back. Seeing Stephen Jones' young wife weep as she was handed the flag had broken him inside. He'd felt responsible and knew that the responsible man would do something to make things right.
"That isn't fair," Gibb said. "I did this for you. I changed my life