Beyond the Grave (15 page)

The next day I returned from walking Dante to discover that our dining room had been transformed into a bridal boutique. I stood in the entryway to the living room, baffled at first when I saw the normally blank walls covered with dozens of bright pictures. On closer inspection, I realized that they were all pages ripped from magazines. “Charlotte!” Trisha rushed into the room, her arms overflowing with a creamy-yellow fabric. “I'm so glad you're here. I've narrowed down the bridesmaid dresses to three possibilities.”

She draped the fabric over the back of a chair. “When Annalise gets here, you two can decide.”

“Annalise is coming?”

“She'll be here tomorrow afternoon.” Trisha began stacking her magazines on the table. “She's coming for the weekend to help me plan. I don't know how I can get everything done in two weeks, and your sister is so good at organizing.”

“I thought you had already decided on most of the details.”

“That was for a spring or summer wedding.” She pointed to a calendar page for October taped to the wall. It was already
the first of the month, and the fifteenth had been circled in bright green highlighter. “Now that we're having a fall wedding, I have to start over completely.”

I was barely paying attention as Trisha rambled about silk samples and dying our shoes the correct color. Instead, I mentally replayed my strange meeting with Noah the night before. His abrupt departure had worried me. I had called his cell phone half a dozen times since I'd woken up, but my calls went straight to voice mail. “Charlotte?”

“Sorry. I was distracted.”

Trisha nodded. “I'm sorry, too. I know I've been focused on the wedding, and I haven't had a chance to talk to you about it.”

“Isn't that what you were just doing?”

She smiled. “I mean that I understand that this is something you're struggling with. I respect your feelings about wanting your mom to be there.”

I did not want to get sucked into a conversation involving my mom. “It's okay. I know how important it is for Jeff and Ryan to be there.”

And in a way, I
was
okay with it. Everyone was so busy with the impending ceremony that I could work with Michael and no one would notice. Maybe we could prevent something from happening without my family ever finding out that we had come close to danger.

“Things still good with you and Noah?” Trisha asked.

The question caught me off guard, and I had no answer ready for it. “Yes,” I said. She picked up on the uncertainty in my voice.

“I'm not trying to pry, and I promise that anything you tell me stays between us.” She was smoothing out the fabric samples hanging over the chair. “He doesn't talk to me like
he used to. He's been so distant and quiet lately. All he ever seems to do is sleep.” She looked up. “Should I be worried?”

Now I really had no answer. I could tell her the truth and set her off into a frenzy, potentially ruining her wedding. Or I could lie and hope I didn't regret it later.

“He's having a hard time sleeping,” I said. It was a slice of the truth. “I think he has insomnia. I'm worried about it, too. Maybe he should see a doctor?”

“Insomnia.” Trisha sighed. “His dad had it, too. I know how sleep problems can affect a person.” She straightened her shoulders. “Thank you, Charlotte. That makes so much sense. I'll schedule an appointment for him.”

She gave me a quick hug before grabbing her MP3 player and returning to her work. I left the room feeling okay. I had not lied outright. And maybe seeing a doctor would be a good thing for Noah.

Although I had been hoping to get some private computer time so I could analyze the EVPs I had recorded, it would have to wait. My laptop didn't contain the software I needed. I resolved to return later that night, after Dad was asleep.

Anxious that I might get pulled into more wedding talk or questions about Noah, I decided to hang out in my room and try calling Avery. But when I reached the second-floor hallway, I heard a noise coming from my room. It sounded like the swivel chair I kept by my desk, which squeaked when it was moved.

I paused, waiting to hear something else. I took a hesitant step forward so that I could actually see my room. To my uncomfortable surprise, the door was shut. I never shut the door unless I was actually inside. My stomach twisted a little, one of the all-too-familiar symptoms of a burgeoning panic attack. I took a deep breath and willed myself to calm down and not overreact. It was nothing. Dad or Trisha had prob
ably closed it for some reason. Still, I felt apprehensive about taking another step forward and turning the handle.

As I put my hand on the doorknob, I heard a soft thump. Trisha hadn't mentioned anyone else being home, and Shane and Dad never entered my space without asking. Again, my stomach clenched and again, I breathed in deeply. There was a logical explanation for this.

And then I realized the simple truth: it was Noah. It had to be. School wasn't out yet, but maybe he had skipped AV and was hiding in my room so his mom wouldn't find out. I felt silly for my brief lapse into dread. There wasn't a burglar hiding in my room, and demonic forces like the Watcher didn't sit in swivel chairs.

I opened the door, prepared to hug Noah and figure out what was going on. The scene that greeted me was not at all what I had expected to find.

No one was in my room.

But someone
had
been there, and whoever it was had left behind a trail of destruction. I felt dizzy and had to lean against the bed frame. My cell phone rang. I opened it without looking at the caller ID, my eyes still sweeping the bedroom.

“Charlotte? It's Michael. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I'm fine.” I looked over to my desk, where my laptop lay split in two pieces, as if it had been sliced in half. “My room is another story.”

“I had a weird feeling, like something angry was near you.”

Streaks of dirt marked the carpet and my shredded comforter was bleeding tufts of white batting. “I think you're right. And I think it was in my room.” I looked at the window, which was wide open. No, not wide open—it was gone. “You should probably come over,” I whispered, overcome by a wave of nausea. “I think I need your help.”

“I'm on my way.”

I held the phone to my ear long after Michael had hung up. It felt safer that way, for some reason, as if I wasn't exactly alone in the mangled space. I went to touch my bracelet, then realized it wasn't there. I had left it on my nightstand that morning. I looked over. The lamp had been knocked to the floor and my clock blinked noon even though it wasn't. The bracelet was gone. I stepped closer, and felt something beneath my shoe. It was a single Apache tear. I bent down to pick it up and saw more scattered on the floor.

I stood up, relieved that at least the pieces of the bracelet were still there. The comforter could be replaced, the carpet cleaned. Maybe the computer could be repaired. But there would be no way to hide the missing window from my dad.

The window frame had suffered only minimal damage. Chipped paint dotted the sides and a few splinters of wood stood out like jagged fingers. Leaning forward, I tried to get a better look at the glass below. The heavy window looked as if it was intact, somehow. What had happened? Someone—or something—had entered and exited through the gaping, square hole. But how had the window been removed so completely? And why hadn't Trisha heard anything?

Slowly, I closed my phone and placed it in my pocket. Then I left my room, careful to shut the door behind me. Downstairs, Trisha was still in the dining room. “Trisha?” Her back was to me and she was humming. “Trish?”

I tapped her on the shoulder and she spun around. “Charlotte!” She removed two earbuds, and I heard a blast of bass emanating from them. “Sorry. I had my music on.”

No wonder she hadn't heard anything upstairs.

“Um, have you seen Noah today?”

She looked at her watch. “He's still in school. Oh!” She
smiled. “I forgot to tell you. He left me a note saying he doesn't need a ride home today. Some AV project.”

I thanked Trisha and decided to wait on the front porch for Michael to arrive. My hands were shaking, my heart pounding with relentless fear. I remembered Beth's words from the week before, about how nothing had happened yet but we had to be prepared.

Well, something had happened.

And I definitely did not feel prepared.

 

T
RISHA WAS STILL HAPPILY
humming when Michael's black car drove down our street. I watched from the porch as he kept going and parked halfway down the hill. I appreciated his discretion: if Shane came home and saw an unfamiliar car parked in front of our house, he would get suspicious.

I walked down the steps to meet Michael—and was surprised to see that he was not alone.

“Bliss?”

“Hey, Charlotte.”

I looked from Michael to Bliss. “You two know each other?”

“Sort of.” Michael's gaze was fixed on my house. “Let's go inside. We'll fill you in.”

“Sure.” After what had happened in my room, I didn't know why seeing the two of them together should have unsettled me, but it had. As soon as we entered the foyer, though, I remembered what was waiting for us upstairs.

I led the way, feeling anxious but also stronger now that I had two people with me. I opened the door to my room and let the others go in first.

“Whoa,” Bliss said. “It looks like a wild animal attacked your bed.”

“And computer,” Michael pointed out.

“And window,” I added, stepping inside.

“Mind if I take some pictures?” Bliss held up a digital camera.

“Sure.” Was she working as Michael's assistant?

He was studying the window frame. “Could you get some shots of this?”

Bliss immediately went over to him. He said something softly and she nodded. He knelt down to get a better look at the dirty marks lining the carpet. “Doesn't look like footsteps,” he mused. “It's almost as if he was dragging something.”

“He?” I asked.

Michael looked up. “Yes.”

Bliss knelt down next to him and took a few pictures. “I'm definitely getting something.”

“Getting what?” I was losing patience. “What's going on with you two? How do you know each other?”

Michael stood up, but Bliss remained where she was and continued to take pictures. It was like watching one of the investigations my family normally organized, but this time I was the distressed subject looking for assistance.

“I met Bliss a couple days ago,” he said. “I ran into her on campus when you were visiting your mom. That's why I was late.”

“You were late because you were socializing?”

“It's not like that,” Bliss said. She was still on the floor but had moved closer to my bed. “He was helping me with something.” She frowned. “What were you keeping under your bed?”

I froze. “No.” I got down on the floor next to Bliss and peered under the frame. My box of cameras and paranormal tools was gone. I reached around, hoping that maybe the large box had been pushed aside, but I knew deep down that
it was gone. Then I checked the rest of my room. It was a futile search.

“What was under there?” Bliss asked again. She pointed to the streaks. “It must have been heavy, because it looks like it was dragged across the floor.”

I pushed back frustrated tears. “It was a box of investigative equipment. Thousands of dollars' worth.”

It wasn't the monetary value of the tools that bothered me, although I knew Dad would be upset by the expensive loss. I was more concerned by the fact that it would be nearly impossible now to conduct my late-night work. At least, I thought, I still had the recorder from last night's EVP session tucked inside my purse. We had other equipment, but Dad had stored it somewhere and there was no way I could ask for it without serious questioning.

Unless it was time to tell him about what was going on. The thought had occurred to me before, but I didn't feel ready. Maybe when Annalise arrived. If I could tell Annalise everything first, we could both break the news to Dad.

“Charlotte, let's try to straighten up this room a little,” Michael suggested. “Can you find some garbage bags? We'll get this comforter out of here.”

I nodded, grateful for an excuse to leave my room. Downstairs, I could hear Trisha still humming in the dining room, completely oblivious to me as I went into the kitchen. As I grabbed the box of garbage bags from under the sink, I heard her phone ring. It was sitting on the counter, so I picked it up, intending to hand it to her. But when I saw the number on the screen, I answered it.

“Is this Mrs. Elliot?”

“Yes,” I said, trying to make my voice sound lower and more mature.

“I'm calling from the attendance office at Lincoln High.
Noah was absent from classes today.” I could hear her typing at a keyboard. “And yesterday, as well.”

The night before, Noah had told me that he had been in class.
I was there editing footage.
He hadn't hesitated when he'd said it. My boyfriend was either the world's greatest liar or he truly believed he had been at school. An instinct to cover for him kicked in.

“I'm so sorry. He has the flu and I forgot to call.”

“There's a lot of that going around,” the secretary said in a flat voice. “I hope he gets well soon.”

I deleted the call from Trisha's phone history and placed it back on the counter, then returned upstairs with the box of garbage bags. Michael was placing my broken laptop in a duffel bag. “I might be able to fix this.”

Bliss took the garbage bags from me. “I'll start cleaning up your bed.”

“Noah hasn't been in school for the past two days.”

They stopped working. “You sure?” Michael asked.

I told him about the call from the secretary and Noah's visit the night before. “We have to find him. I'm really worried.”