He hurried over, perched on the edge of the couch, and leaned in. Dana took him through it all.
“Look,” she said, fighting to keep disgust and excitement out of her voice. “Every single one of them died in some way close to how Jesus or one of the apostles died.” She turned over a drawing and placed it on a page in the book that described the death of James, son of Zebedee, also known as James the Greater. “Jeffrey Watanabe was decapitated. So was James.”
“Right,” said Ethan, looking at the entry. “But this says that James the Greater was killed with a sword.”
“He was. The Romans cut his head off.”
“Oh.”
She turned over the page for Jennifer Hoffer. “She was impaled on the steering column of her car. Thomas—Doubting Thomas—the one who needed to touch Jesus’s wounds before he believed that he’d risen, was run through with a spear.”
Ethan said nothing.
The next was Connie Lucas. “She was thrown from her car down a rocky slope, and the coroner’s report said that she died from blunt force trauma resulting from multiple impacts with the rocky terrain. James, son of Alphaeus, known as James the Less, was beaten and then stoned to death.”
Ethan swallowed hard.
“We already know about Maisie,” said Dana. “Chuck Riley had the same crucifixion wounds, but he was found hanging upside down from his overturned car. When he was about to be executed, Saint Peter asked that he be crucified upside down because he didn’t think he was worthy to die in exactly the same way as Jesus.”
“We can’t be right about this,” said Ethan in a small, sick voice.
They went through it over and over again, with Ethan trying to knock it all down with logic. However, it was that very logical approach that reinforced Dana’s theory. Finally they sat on opposite ends of the couch, staring at each other. A big clock on the wall above them sliced cold seconds off and let them drop to the floor.
“We … we have to tell someone,” said Ethan.
“Who?” asked Dana.
“My uncle.”
“How do we explain how we know?”
Ethan looked bleak. “We tell the truth, I guess. Which means I get grounded until I’m in my forties.”
“Crap,” sighed Dana, and then she brightened. “We could tell Two-Suit and … wait … No, he’ll want to know how we know. Same if we tell the narcs at school or Mr. Sternholtz.”
“Or anyone,” said Ethan.
“No matter who we tell, we’re going to have to explain how we know. It’s all going to come back to the fact that you broke into your uncle’s desk. Which means he’ll probably get in trouble at work.”
“He could lose his job.” Ethan got up and walked a few steps away, then turned. “What choice do we have, though, Dana? If we don’t tell someone, then the killer gets to keep on doing this. If it’s us or someone’s life, we have to do what’s right. We can’t be cowards. I don’t want to live like that. Sneaking around and snooping is one thing, but I won’t be responsible for letting someone else die.”
Dana looked down at her hands, at her fingers twisting and knotting together in her lap. She could hear her father’s voice in her head; it was easy to imagine his anger and his disappointment. Telling him about this might snap that fragile line that tethered her to him. She twisted around and looked at the clock.
“Beyond Beyond is open,” she said. “Let’s go over there. We can have tea and talk about it.”
He shook his head. “No, that’s okay, you go on without me. I’m not much in the mood for an astral journey or a cup of stinkweed tea.”
“It’s not like that,” protested Dana, though she knew it pretty much was like that. “We should go talk to Corinda. And my sister is probably there, too. I need to tell them all this stuff.”
Ethan looked at his watch. “I … can’t,” he said. “I have a mountain of homework.”
“Are you serious?”
He looked wretched. “Yes, I am. I’ve got a paper to write for history that I should have started three days ago. If I don’t hand it in tomorrow, I could drop to an A-minus. Besides…”
“What?”
“This ESP stuff can’t put a criminal behind bars. I mean, I know that it’s a thing, but you can’t measure it or rely on it the way you can with hard science.” Ethan looked uncomfortable. “I don’t even know what to think about this, Dana. This is all so much, y’know? Mass murders and religious cults and psychic visions? It’s … it’s…” He stopped and shook his head.
“Believe me, Ethan, I understand. I’m weirded out, too. More than you because this is happening to me.”
“Hey, I know, and I didn’t mean to say that you were…”
He fished for the right word and couldn’t come up with it. Dana smiled and touched his arm. “No, I get it. It’s cool. I mean, it’s not cool, but we’re cool.”
He looked relieved. “Listen, I believe you even if I don’t understand it.”
Dana said, “Hmmm. That actually gives me an idea. I need to go ask someone who might understand this stuff.”