“That’s what Joe said. He showed me the spot where our creepy cop friend buried her. Joe thinks he’s going to move her the night of the concert.”
“Why would he do that? Even if someone found her, there probably isn’t much in the way of evidence left.”
“To prevent an investigation. I bet people had their suspicions about Olgilvie. In a small town like this, everybody knows everyone else. Even if nothing came of it, you can bet there were people who thought he did something to her. People who knew he wanted her for himself.”
“Damn.” Mace was silent for a second. “I know some of the guys who are working the night of the concert. If we can find out when Olgilvie’s going to do it, I can probably make sure he’s found. It takes time to dig up a corpse.”
“Yeah,” I said drily. “I know.” I’d dug up more graves than I would ever admit.
After making as much of a plan as we could—which basically hinged on Joe watching Olgilvie, his being able to contact me and Mace’s credibility with his father’s men—we hung up. I snuggled under the covers and waited for sleep to come.
I lay awake most of the night, worrying about Ben, my friends, the concert, Halloween, Noah and—most of all—Wren. I hadn’t seen her since she’d gone off to ask Noah about being related to Kevin. I knew she was fine, because I could feel it.
The next morning I forced myself out of bed. My skin was itchy and tight—like it was stretched over my bones. I was exhausted, and had to use way more under-eye concealer than normal to make myself look half-presentable.
Ben had Roxi and Gage with him when he came by to pick me up for school. Roxi took one look at me and gave me a hug. I almost cried.
I was just about to get into the car when I felt my sister’s arrival.
“Lark,” she said, from behind me.
Gage’s eyes went wide as he stared over my shoulder. I knew right then and there that this wasn’t going to go well. Wren was manifesting.
I set my bag aside. “You guys should leave,” I said.
Ben—who had gotten out of the car—shook his head. “I’m not leaving you.”
I think I loved him at that moment, the idiot. I gave him a shaky smile before turning to face my sister.
God, she was scary. I’d seen her angry before, but it had always been directed toward someone else—not me. Her dark red hair stood out all around her head, caught in the static-charged breeze generated by her rage. Her eyes were entirely black, with dark smudges on the surrounding skin. There was darkness around her mouth as well, and her lips were dark gray, her face stark white. She was dressed in what looked to be layers of shadow—moving tendrils of darkness that swirled around her form like gossamer silk. There was nothing even vaguely human about her.
She was terrifying.
“Lark?” came Roxi’s voice—high and soft. Scared.
“It’s okay, Rox,” I said, not taking my eyes off my sister. “Wren, what are you doing?”
She stood a couple of feet away from me—close enough that her energy nipped at me like tiny electric shocks. “Where are Noah’s bones?”
Noah’s bones? Not hers? What the hell?
Wren moved closer. My hair lifted in the breeze she created—like a blast of summer in the cold morning. “I saw your footprint in the dirt at the crypt. You shouldn’t wear Fluevogs when you go looking to burn remains—it gives you away.”
That fucker.
He’d known I’d go after him. He’d moved his own freaking bones and then made Wren believe it had been me.
“I don’t have Noah’s remains,” I told her.
Wren reared up, stretching a foot above me. “Don’t lie to me!”
My fists clenched. “You calm the hell down. I’m not lying.”
“You were in the crypt.”
“Yes, I was. But his bones were already gone.”
Her energy came at me like a hot wind now—crackling like the approach of lightning. “Liar! You were going to burn him!”
“Yes, I was,” I shouted. “And if his bones had been there I would have! But they weren’t there!”
“Where are they?”
“I don’t know. Ask your boyfriend. He’s the one who possessed Kevin and used him to move his bones.”
“What?” Gage asked. Behind me I heard him turn to either Ben or Roxi. “Did she say a ghost possessed Kev?”
Wren shot him a glare that spoke of torment and everlasting cold. “Shut up.”
“Hey!” I stepped in front of her. “You don’t talk to him like that. You’re the one going full-on Amityville right now.”
She turned that glare on me. It didn’t have the same effect—I was surprisingly unmoved. I stared back—she actually flinched. “You don’t want me to be happy. You went behind my back, Lark.”
I scowled. “Oh, get off it. Of course I want you to be happy. What I don’t want is for you to be involved with a psycho.”
“You haven’t even given him a chance. He makes me happy.”
“He’s using you.”
“For what?”
I was not going to tell her that I didn’t know. “Emily says he’s the one that imprisoned her.”