This is Your Afterlife Read online

  “Yep. She wandered around for a while, but kept coming back to my painting. On her fourth round, I walked up to her and we started talking about art.”

  I smile. “Grandie loved her time in Italy. She said she could’ve spent the rest of her life studying every square inch of the Sistine Chapel.”

  “That’s exactly what she said!” He laughs.

  “How did you know we were related?”

  “I told her I was a junior at Halverston and she asked me if I knew her ‘beautiful granddaughter Keira.’” His voice takes on a husky edge. “There’s only one Keira, so I knew exactly who she was talking about.”

  “And you told her about our history, right up until the closet fiasco,” I joke, and he laughs. I wish Grandie had mentioned meeting Dan. But I guess she soon became preoccupied by something much more earth-shattering.

  “No, I just said you were one of a kind.” He flashes a smile. “She told me I’d win. She was so sure. I thought she was just being nice at the time. Like, I was up against people twice my age.”

  “Grandie never said anything she didn’t mean,” I say softly. “And your painting was the best one. All the others were like cave drawings in comparison.”

  “Ha! I don’t know about that.” He reaches over and grips my shoulder for a second. “Anyway, when I won, I kind of wondered if she was psychic. I wanted to ask her, but...”

  “But then she passed away,” I whisper.

  He nods. After a while, he says, “I don’t even want to imagine what condition Jimmy might’ve been in if he’d been found days, weeks from now.”

  I shudder at the vivid memory of tiny fish grazing on Jimmy. “The main thing is he’s safe.”

  “Is he really? Shouldn’t he be somewhere...else?”

  “I think...Jimmy will get to heaven or wherever the good souls go, but first he’s got to resolve his death. I just wish he could remember what happened.”

  He gives a determined nod. “Jimmy wouldn’t commit suicide. I know it in my gut, so you can rule that out.”

  Hesitantly, I glance out at Jimmy and lower my voice. “But the football injury, the end of college scholarships—they would’ve had a huge effect on him.”

  “Enough to top himself? Jimmy’s no coward. Besides, he still could have gone to college with or without a football scholarship. He wasn’t your average, stereotypical dumb jock.”

  “No, I was an atypical smart jock.”

  “Jesus!” I scream. Sitting in the back seat, Jimmy pokes his head between the front seats. I didn’t even see him return to the car.

  “Nup, just good ol’ Jimmy.” He smiles and leans back.

  “What? What’s happening?” asks Dan, startled, and probably deafened by my shriek.

  “Your brother just ‘popped in’ unannounced,” I say when my heart stops galloping.

  Jimmy flicks at the seatbelt buckles. “I’ve been thinking. Dan didn’t want our folks to buy him a car. Which is nuts, by the way. Who would turn that down? But I guess that means he gets to drive Mom’s car whenever he wants.”

  I shrug. “You mean the Benz? I’d be happy with that.”

  Dan frowns in confusion while Jimmy continues. “Can you tell Dan I want him to keep my car?”

  “You want him to have your car?!”

  “Hell, I don’t need it anymore. Obviously.”

  When I tell Dan, I expect him to be elated. As elated as a guy who’s just lost his brother can be. Instead, he’s frozen and pale.

  “Dude, I’m giving you a car! Least you could do is say thanks.” Jimmy sighs and turns to me. “Tell him I’ve learned a new trick. Teleporting from A to B.”

  “That’s pretty cool.” I grin and relay the message to Dan, who looks bewildered. “Does that mean I don’t have to drive you everywhere, Jimmy?”

  “Like it’s been such a chore,” Jimmy says. His grin slips a little. “I’m not sure how far I can teleport away from you before I get sucked into the tunnel again.”

  I swivel to face him. “I’ve got an idea. Why don’t we do an experiment. Start walking away, when you start to feel like you’re near the tunnel, stop and we’ll get a rough idea of what the distance is.”

  “That tunnel’s like a vacuum,” he protests. “One second I’m standing around and the next I’m zooming away faster than that epic throw from my last game. Did you see that, by the way?”

  I chew my lip, deep in thought. “We know where you end up, though. So if that happens, we can come and get you.”

  “Huh. Easy for you to say.”

  “Jimmy, I promise.” Quickly, I connect join the dots for Dan, who’s looking left out.

  “We promise,” adds Dan. “We’re, what, fifteen minutes away from the forest.”

  Jimmy looks out the window. “All right, but if you don’t come get me, I’m gonna find a way to haunt you on dark and stormy nights.”

  We—or rather, I—watch him slip out and walk slowly, his back to us.

  “About Jimmy’s car...” Dan begins. “If I acted weird about it, it’s because the cops haven’t found it yet.”

  Alarm bells clang in my head. “What? Charlie didn’t mention that.”

  “They want to keep it quiet for now. If you ask me, they’re not telling us everything they know.”

  Because of my crime series devotion, I know cops—fictional ones anyway—always have to rule out those closest to the murder victim.

  “How far away is he now?” Dan asks, looking in the wrong direction.

  With two fingers, I move Dan’s chin toward my left. “See that bench? About twenty yards away?”

  He blows out a sigh. “God, I wish I could see what you can. How does he look?”

  “Thirty yards,” I murmur. “Huh? Oh, yeah, Jimmy’s looking good.”

  Keeping my gaze glued to the ghost, I tell Dan what Jimmy is wearing and that he hasn’t had a change of clothes since dying. I mention nothing of the cracked skull and exposed brain. That’s healing, anyway, so I see no need to burden Dan with all the gory details.

  At about fifty yards, Jimmy looks over his shoulder and gives me the thumbs up.

  “How is he emotionally? Is he messed up?” Dan asks.

  I take my eyes off Jimmy. “He’s up and down. At first he was completely confused about where he was. He was kind of angry about dying.”

  “Tell me about it,” Dan says in a soft, thoughtful tone.

  “Other times he seems like his regular, cheerful self. Not that I knew him all that well.”

  “Everyone knew Jimmy in some way.”

  “You knew him best, right?”

  Ruefully, Dan shakes his head. “There’s a little over a year between us. Growing up, we were tight. But then he got more involved in sports. Everyone wanted a part of him, you know? And Jimmy, he’d give his right arm to help a friend out.”

  I soften as tears start to well in Dan’s eyes. He swipes them away. “I’m sorry, Dan. About accusing you of murdering Jimmy, I’m really sorry. I only want justice for...”

  My gaze travels around the parking lot and school grounds.

  “For Jimmy,” Dan finishes. “Me too. And— What?”

  “He’s gone. Jimmy’s gone.”

  * * *

  I kick a pile of leaves around the waterhole. Night’s falling and it’s hard to see. “How could I have been so stupid?”

  “It’s not your fault.” Dan picks up a small branch and lobs it into the water. “I’m the stupid one. I distracted you.”

  “Don’t blame yourself.” Something tells me he’s going to keep on doing that anyway.

  There’s nothing but trees, water and a million bugs out here. No ghosts, no dead bodies. Why won’t Jimmy call out to me like he did before? Have we lost our connection?

  An unusually loud cricket chirps, making me jump a mile. It takes a few seconds to register that it’s Dan’s phone “ringing.”

  “Mom,” he says into the phone. He winces as she talks. “I’m with Keira.”

  I take
a few steps away to give him privacy. Jimmy’s clearly not here. Maybe he found his way home.

  “It’s okay, Mom. We’ve just been talking.” He listens. “No, I won’t do anything stupid. How’s Dad doing?”

  Judging by the tortured expression on Dan’s face, I gather Mr. Hawkins is not doing well at all. Understandably.

  “All right.” Dan looks torn. I’m sure he’s thinking the same thing I am—we can’t leave without finding his brother. “I’ll come home. Everything’s gonna be fine.”

  This is not good. Not good at all. I’ve lost my first ghost at a crucial time in his afterlife. My chest tightens and I pray, and pray hard, that he somehow stumbled into the Light, and that he’s in a really good place where he can play football all day and not worry about stupid things like a screwed-up ligament.

  “How’s your mom holding up?” I ask, not taking my eyes off the silvery landscape. The only movement comes from the gentle swaying of branches in the breeze.

  “I know she needs me, but...so does Jimmy. Can you think of any other way to call him?”

  “There is one way, but...”

  A séance.

  Grandie would hate for me to attempt one. She and a couple of her friends tried to call on Grandpa’s spirit with a Ouija board not long after he died. I was seven years old then. I snuck into the room when everyone’s eyes were shut and sat in a dark corner.

  My grandmother started a weird chant. It was almost like she was talking backwards. Then the room got icy-cold. In the middle of summer. She’d contacted a spirit on the “other side,” and from the look of absolute terror on her face, I knew it wasn’t Grandpa. The board jumped an inch or two off the table and then slammed into Grandie. Like the others, I screamed. Grandie finally noticed I was in the room.

  She ordered me to leave, but not before performing a cleansing ritual in case the spirit tried to latch onto me. The whole thing scared the living crap out of both of us.

  “But what?” Dan prods.

  “It’s dangerous. You could invite the wrong type of ghosts. The kind that messes with people’s heads.”

  “You’re talking about a séance, aren’t you?” he asks. I’m worried about the obvious eagerness in his voice, in his face.

  “Yes,” I say reluctantly. “Like I said, it can be dangerous. I’ve never performed one before. I’m not about to start now.”

  “What about my brother? Don’t you care?” He steps closer, near enough for me to feel his hot, angry breath on my chilled skin.

  “You know I do,” I say indignantly, but I’m struck by the tears hiding in his eyelashes.

  “We’ve gotta keep looking for him, keep fighting for him, keep...” Dan breaks down. He sinks to the rocks, lands hard onto his knees and sobs his heart out.

  In a flash, I crouch beside him, cradling him. He’s tall and lean, but in my arms he feels like a scared little kid. Damn these Hawkins brothers. Who knew they could be so vulnerable? My heart aches for both of them.

  “I’ll find Jimmy, Dan.” I don’t know how, but I will. “Right now, your mom and dad need you. They’ve just lost one son. They don’t want to worry about another.”

  Dan settles and extricates himself from me. “You’re right.”

  “I’m always right.”

  He leans over and splashes water over his face. “I really didn’t mean to lose it like that.”

  Tentatively, I place a hand on his trembling shoulder. “It’s okay. I’ll cut you a break.”

  “Thanks,” he says, but he still looks more sheepish than grateful that I’m giving him a pass. He pats my hand and I take that as a sign to let go.

  Standing up, I say, “Why don’t I drive you home. I’ll come back later and look for him.”

  His jaw clenches. “No. I say we go to my house and do a séance. Just you and me.”

  “Dan...”

  “Keira,” he counters in a firm voice. “It’s the easiest, fastest way, right?”

  “I don’t know about easiest.”

  “I’m happy with fastest.”

  He really doesn’t understand what he’s asking of me.

  Eyes flashing, he says, “If you don’t help me, then I’ll do it myself! We are going to find him and then we’re going to give him peace by finding out how he died, no matter what it takes.”

  “Including a séance.”

  “You’ll do it?” Dan’s voice is so full of hope, I can’t bear to say no. If the séance doesn’t work, then at least we can say we tried.

  “All right,” I agree with obvious distaste. “First thing we need to do is find the nearest Catholic church.”

  He eyes me skeptically. “But I’m Anglican. Not that I’ve been to church in a while.”

  “I don’t care if you’re Buddhist, Muslim or an atheist.” I wave him off. “Evil spirits are what I’m worried about. And to counteract them, we need a whole lot of holy water.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Cars line the entire meandering street outside the Hawkins house. Dan instructs me to pull into the driveway. A procession of solemn people head into the house carrying platters of food and no doubt casseroles, that staple for the grief-stricken. After Grandie passed, we had enough casseroles given to us by friends and neighbors to feed the whole Bay Area for six months. Mom and I took it all gratefully.

  Now I feel rude for going into the house with hands as empty as my heart.

  “Wow,” Dan says, not making a move from my passenger seat. “Mom didn’t mention all these people.”

  “Last thing you want to do right now is entertain, right?”

  He nods. “Come on, let’s sneak in through the side gate.”

  Dan ducks his head as we lope across the grass. No one takes any notice, least of all Aimee Barton whose loud wails attract the attention of the other mourners.

  “Why? Why did it have to be my Jimmy? Why?” she moans. In the distance, dogs bark in response.

  Dan grips my hand and squeezes hard. Sometimes the worst thing about losing someone is dealing with other people’s expressions of grief. Especially when you’re trying so hard to keep it together.

  We steal into the shadows and stick close to a hedge planted along the fence line. Dan uses a key to unlock a tall side gate and ushers me through. The house is lit up brilliantly. All anyone needs to do is throw a casual glance out the immense plate-glass windows and they’ll see us.

  Mrs. Hawkins sits numbly on a long cream-colored couch. She strokes a white terrier while listening to someone trying to give comforting words. Her expression blank, she stares at the floor. Mr. Hawkins is nowhere in sight. Near the couch, Mara hands out drinks and snacks. Nice of her to help the family.

  “Hurry,” Dan whispers. We come to a redwood-framed window, one of the few that isn’t blazing with light. Working his key along the edge of the frame, he flicks it wide open. Problem is the window’s five feet off the ground.

  I look around for a backyard shed. “Got a ladder?”

  “Step right up.” He stoops and laces his hands together to form a stirrup. His grip is warm, comforting. Yet...confusingly, it sends a shiver of pleasure all the way up my leg. I’m about to conduct a séance and all I can think about is how good Dan’s hand feels on me.

  “Something tells me this isn’t the first time you’ve snuck girls into your room,” I joke, but my stomach twinges at the thought of Dan with another girl.

  “There haven’t been any other girls. No one special, anyway.”

  Our gazes lock. Just for a split second. But it’s enough to make me feel like I’m the special one.

  In one swift motion, he hoists me and I scramble through the window, landing heavily on a polished timber floor. I check my bag to make sure the holy water bottle is intact.

  “You okay, Keira?”

  “Yeah.” I lean on the sill. “But how are you gonna get—”

  “Move aside.” He grins up at me. Before I know it, he’s up and over the sill and standing inches from me.

  “
Th...that was close,” I say, wondering why I’m feeling flustered. I step back. My foot connects with a skateboard. “Whoa!”

  Dan grabs me by the waist and saves us from crashing through a wall. He drags me to his chest and holds me there for a moment. Our hearts seem to thrash in time. In the darkness, it’s impossible to see his expression. But I can feel it. The bruising intensity. Memories of the closet encounter bounce around my head. I want to run away.

  I want to stay.

  A glass shatters somewhere, followed by a yelp of “I’m so sorry!”

  Dan’s hands drop from my waist. He clears his throat and turns on a bedside lamp. “So where do you want to do this?”

  My mouth feels drier than Death Valley. Of course, the only water I have immediate access to has a greater purpose than quenching thirst. I glance around Dan’s bedroom, avoiding his gaze. There isn’t a lack of space in here, that’s for sure. He could easily rent it out to a dance school and still have room for the easel facing the wall of windows. Fitness equipment lies abandoned around a yoga mat. A rumpled queen-sized bed stands alongside a mural of the Milky Way. That’s what Jimmy was talking about that night when he said he saw stars.

  The mural was a reminder that he hadn’t made it to heaven.

  That’s something I need to fix. I straighten my spine and head for his desk. “Can I use this paper?”

  “Sure.” He moves aside books and a laptop. “So...I take it you know what to do from here?”

  “Not really.” I rip a sheet of paper in two, then write “Yes” and “No” on them. A red plastic pencil sharpener will stand in as a planchette for my improvised Ouija board. “Damn. I wonder if I should use my tarot cards. I left them at home.”

  “Should we go and get them?” The impatience in his voice tells me he’d rather forget about driving ten minutes to my house so we can get on with “calling” Jimmy.

  “No, I’ll manage. When Jimmy showed up the first time, I didn’t need the cards. He just arrived.” I motion for him to sit on the other side of the desk and splash holy water all over the room. In my head I pray frantically. “We need to surround ourselves with white light. Imagine a pure, white protective bubble. This is going to stop evil spirits from entering our space.”