breaths deafening. In the distance, the sound of the others drifts toward us, coming from the direction of the house. I turn my head to look over the treetops and I can see the roof and second floor of Josh’s mansion.
Lights are coming on around the house and lawn, not like the show Rex put on for me when he went into the garage, but like someone is home. The party must have moved back there.
Does Josh wonder where I am? Does Rex? Does … Jarvis?
The roar of the four-wheeler rumbles closer now, almost under us. The light is moving slowly, in a circular pattern. Searching for us. At one point it shines right up to the platform and only the planks of wood nailed together hide us.
But they do hide us, and after a few minutes, whoever is in that four-wheeler continues his search in the rest of the woods. We stay perfectly still, turning only our faces to each other.
“They want to hurt you,” I whisper.
“I heard.”
“They want to pin the accidents on you. They think it will stop the curse.”
He nods.
“I won’t let them.”
Closing his eyes, he inches his face forward so that our foreheads touch. “I won’t let them hurt you, either, Mack.”
“Oh, and there’s one other thing,” I say, tipping my head so I can see his reaction. “I’m pretty sure I saw Jarvis Collier.”
His eyes widen.
The woods are quiet now, the four-wheeler far enough away that we don’t hear the engine, and the kids are back at the house.
“We can’t stay out here all night,” I finally say.
“It’s safer than anywhere else.”
That’s not true. “Can we get to your bike?”
“Yeah.”
“Then I know where to go,” I tell him. “The safest place I know to spend the night. And you have the added benefit of another witness.”
“Where’s that?”
“My home. And you’re staying there all night.”
CHAPTER XXVI
I’m grateful we’re on a motorcycle, because I don’t want to talk on the way home. I want to replay everything, every word, every image that is burned into my brain.
But I fail; all I can do is remember one face, one sentence, one life-changing piece of information.
Of course, he talked quite a bit more than you. Right up to the very end.
Over and over the words play in my head until we’re pulling into my driveway. I’m relieved that the house is dark and there’s no sign of Mom’s car, but she’d texted me that she was still with Dad. That’s good because she probably wouldn’t be thrilled that I brought Levi home—on a motorcycle, no less.
“So tell me everything this guy said to you,” Levi says as he pulls out a kitchen chair.
“He talked about … my brother.”
“What?”
I didn’t reply right away, knowing that if I share anything with Levi, I have to share everything.
I take a shaky breath. “Jarvis … or whoever that man was …”
“Yeah?”
“He knew my brother.”
He waits for me to continue, but I’m still battling how much I want to reveal. I’ve never told anyone my role in Conner’s death, but I’ve carried the weight of it for two years, and it’s getting heavier by the day. But what if that accident wasn’t my fault? What if it wasn’t even an accident?
I reach for Levi’s hand and tug him toward the stairs, something inexplicable drawing me to that room where we never go. “You didn’t live in Vienna two years ago,” I say softly. “So you didn’t know my brother.” I add a smile. “He called me Mack.”
Levi angles his head in a silent apology for using the nickname. “I’ve heard about him,” he says, coming with me. “I’ve heard he was a force to be reckoned with.”
That makes me smile. “He was that and more.” We climb the stairs. “Did you hear how he died?”
“An accident at a store where he worked?”
I’m not surprised he knows that much; it had been huge news at the time and was still talked about. I come to a stop at the top of the stairs, feeling unnatural next to Conner’s door. Normally, I breeze right by it and go into my room.
“I’ve always thought it was an accident.” I look up at him and hold his gaze.
I feel his hand on my shoulder, comforting and strong. On a low, slow exhale, I turn the handle and push the door, the paint sticking a little in the jamb.
For a moment, I don’t breathe, but then I do, inhaling the musty, stale smell of a room that hasn’t