“Fine,” she said, hoisting herself up on the counter. “I was just wondering if you were still free today? My dad said we could go track down that information on Mike Hastings, and maybe even pay him a visit – that is, if you’re still up for it?” She held her breath, hoping he hadn’t heard her voice crack. She’d never been very good at lying, and today she’d told not one, but three lies. She could feel breakfast churning around in her stomach.
“Absolutely,” Jace replied.
“Really?” Lilah asked, trying to keep her voice nonchalant. She bit her knuckle to keep herself from squeaking.
“I can be there in twenty minutes. Is that okay?”
“Yes!” Suddenly a thought occurred to her. “Wait – don’t you have to check with your parents first? We might have to drive pretty far.”
“Nah, they won’t care. Frank will just be glad to have me out of the house. Anyway, I’ll see you soon, okay?”
“Okay,” she replied, biting her lip as she did. “See you soon.”
She felt a pang of sadness as she hung up the phone. Her father’s constant hovering and worrying had been a source of countless arguments between them. But hearing Jace say that his parents just wanted him out of the house made her realize that there were, perhaps, worse things than an overprotective father. And that made her feel even worse about lying to her own father.
He hovers because he cares, she thought, feeling more than a hint of chagrin. It’s the only way he knows how to show it. She hopped down from the counter, feeling somewhat less resolute about her plan than she had a few minutes ago. I’ll make Dad a pot roast tonight, she told herself. He’ll love that. I can even ask Jace to stop at the grocery store on the way home. And after today, no more lying.
She really did mean it, and she felt slightly better for having settled on that last part in particular.
With a quick glance at her watch, she hurried to her room where she emptied the contents of her school bag onto her unmade bed. In place of a pile of textbooks and a crumpled-up lunch sack, she added a spiral notebook, her library card, a handful of sparkly gel pens, a fold-up map of Montana that she’d borrowed from her father’s glove box, the newspaper clippings from beside her bed, a flashlight (unnecessary, perhaps, since they’d be home by dinner, but it added a nice touch of “sleuthery”), the torn phonebook page with home addresses for all eight Mike Hastings, and two different kinds of lip balm – just in case she lost one. She also double-checked to make sure her lucky penny was still safely tucked in its secret inside pocket. With all that, she slung her bag over her shoulder and made her way to the front door, where she waited nervously for Jace to arrive.
As she tapped her foot impatiently, a flutter of movement next to her eye made her gasp. A furry gray moth landed on the wall a few inches away. Lilah took a shuddering breath; moths had always frightened her for some reason, and this one was big, with strange black markings on its wings. They reminded her of eyes. Gray, wistful eyes. As Lilah continued to stare at the moth, its wings became very still, almost frozen. After a moment, the wings drooped and the insect tumbled to the ground.
“Oh!” Lilah exclaimed, taking a step backwards. The moth was lying on its back beside the front door, its unmoving legs frozen in the air.
Did I do that? she wondered. As she knelt beside the moth, as close as her mounting dread would allow, she tried to focus her concentration on it, the way she had with the dried flowers. But as she did, the moth’s body and papery wings abruptly crumbled apart, leaving behind a tiny pile of gray dust that vaguely reminded her of Marie’s ashes.
“Oh no!” she began to lament, just as a sharp pain cut through her head. As she cried out, her breath scattered the dust across the floor.
Clutching her forehead with one hand, she tried to scoop the powder back into a small pile, but the more flustered she got, the grainier and rougher the surface of the hardwood floor became. Within moments, the polished floor had become dry and craggy, and the moth dust had disappeared into the deep grooves of the wood grain. She stared as the rickety planks beneath the crumbling welcome mat began to splinter and crack, feeling panic creep into her chest. She looked around her helplessly; the hallway was covered in cobwebs and a thick layer of dust; the wallpaper was peeling away from the crumbling drywall, exposing hundreds of beady-eyed termites underneath. The checkered drapes in the front window were raining down upon the deteriorating floor in tatters.
The sound of heavy tires driving over snow made Lilah’s head snap up. All at once, the throbbing in her forehead stopped, and the hallway returned to normal. She let out a sharp gasp as a furry, gray moth fluttered past her face, landing on the unspoiled, checkered drapes that hung from the window. It slowly opened and closed its wings in the narrow stripe of yellow sunlight that spilled across the fabric. The vehicle – a white moving truck – made a wide U-turn in the cul-de-sac, passing by the house without stopping.
Meanwhile, Lilah sat on the floor, feet splayed out in front of her, doing everything she could to get her shallow, raspy breathing back to normal.
Still, when Jace’s rust-colored truck appeared in the driveway ten minutes later, her heart felt as though it might leap out of her chest. With one final glance at the moth, which was still sunning its gray wings in the windowsill, she zipped up her powder-blue down jacket and stepped into the cold, crisp air outside. The sun was low on the flat, icy horizon, but bright, and even though the blue sky was cloudless, the wind was frigid and warned of impending snow. She hugged her body as she jogged over to Jace’s truck, glad that the heat was already on full-blast when she hoisted herself into the cabin.
“Hi,” she said breathlessly.
“Hey,” he smiled. “You ready for our big library adventure?”
“Definitely.”
“Alright,” he said, putting the truck in gear. “Let’s go.”
Lilah watched her shrinking house in the sideview mirror as they pulled away, trying her best not to think about what had just happened inside. It was hard enough to stay calm, sitting less than a foot away from the boy she’d caught herself fantasizing about on far too many occasions. But as she settled into the seat of Jace’s truck, thereby fulfilling the start of every fantasy she’d ever had while staring at the back of his head in homeroom, she was filled not with elation, but worry. She could feel Willow’s ashen eyes watching her from inside her backpack, urging her to hurry. If only she knew where it was that she was hurrying to. And what she would find when she got there.
Chapter 18
Road Trip
The small county library was situated in the center of town, just between Town Hall and the fire station, which made Lilah more than a little nervous. Luckily, the parking lot was around the back, where Jace’s ostentatiously-colored truck couldn’t be readily seen from Chief Quinn’s second-story office. Still, Lilah pulled her blue hood over her head as they walked around to the front entrance, too nervous to even glance up at his window. She didn’t take it off until they stepped through the sliding glass doors, where the gray-haired librarian sitting at the front desk shot them an annoyed look.
“Hi,” Jace said, approaching the librarian’s desk. “Is Trish working today?”