“Safe?” Hernandez peered at me. “Why not?”
“I don’t know—it’s just—” I shook my head harder now, my vision seeming to blur. Suddenly, I could see another person in front of me, another scene. Rabbi Mordechai, yelling at me. Only instead of telling me to run, to get away, his words were much more specific. “Go!” he’d yelled.Go!
Darkness exploded in the back of my brain.
“…Delia?”
I blinked my eyes open. Everything looked out of whack, upside down and off-center. In less than a second, I realized I must have fainted. I was on the carpet, next to the couch. Claire and Officer Hernandez stood over me, their faces tight. Hernandez had her hand on her phone, lifting it to her ear.
“No! God, sorry, I’m fine.” I sat up quickly, but not too quickly—the room didn’t spin. “I’m good. I…I’m sorry. Please—don’t call anyone. I don’t have insurance. And I’m okay.”
Looking unhappy, Hernandez pocketed her phone. “You eat anything today?”
“She’s sobadabout that.” Claire harumphed as they helped me back up onto the couch. “Here, there are all these cookies, and—” She picked one up, but when I waved her off, she scowled at me. “Why didn’t you tell me you were hungry?”
“I’m sorry.” I put my hand on my belly, where something still writhed and twitched inside me, even as the darkness bled away. Not hunger, though. Not even close. “I just got busy. Sorry to freak you guys out, I sort of freaked myself out too, I guess.” I laughed shakily.
“Do you have someone who can check up on you?” Hernandez asked. “Your housemate—Steve, right? Is he around?”
“Oh. No. He moved out.” I steadied myself. “I’ll just get something to eat.”
“We’ll get something to eat. Besides cookies.” Claire sat down next to me.
Hernandez seemed satisfied. She said more words, inconsequential words, but not the one word that hovered just on the edge of my awareness, taunting and teasing me before slipping back into the dark.
Still, I didn’t really start breathing normally again until long after she left.
It wasn’tuntil another week after I called that I finally got a text from Max—fully twenty-four days since I’d been to his place the first time.
When it popped up, I was working at the deli. I’d planned on quitting after the influx of his ten thousand dollars, but I’d found I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I couldn’t bring myself to thinking of the money as real, as final. That the job was finished.
So I was in the middle of filling a tub with chicken salad when I heard the breathy chirping of my phone, and I somehow just knew. Knew it wasn’t Claire, though she’d shown up every day at the deli to have chummy “business planning” lunches with me like she was some venture capitalist and not a pill pusher. Knew it wasn’t Steve, telling me he wanted to come back to my couch.It wasn’t even Officer Hernandez, who now had her own ring tone. Which meant it had to be Max.
Unfortunately, Max didn’t have much to say.
I can send a car tomorrow—Saturday. Time?
I texted back as soon as the lunch line died down.Any time after nine. What happened? Are you okay?
His next text took a long time to come. And when it did, it was only four words.I’m fine. Joe’s dead.
Chapter
Twenty-Two
The car Max sent was a rental, with a stout, gray-haired driver whose smile was kind and his eyes direct. He smelled like ginger tea and sourdough toast, worn couches and a comfortable wife. He asked no questions and needed no conversation. I liked him on the spot.
More importantly, he wasn’t Claire, who miraculously had not been around to hear Max’s ping, which meant I hadn’t had to explain where I was going or why. As far as Claire knew, I was spending the weekend at home, safe and snug ‘til my next deli shift. I was glad for that. Never mind her insistence that she help me launch an exorcism business; she didn’t need to clock this level of crazy with me.
The car Max had sent for me wasn’t a full-on limo—more like a nice sedan—but I knew I was giving the Soos a show as I walked outside with my backpack and black overnight bag. I looked like I was being taken off for questioning by the CIA.
I got in the car. The driver confirmed our destination, and I agreed, then we both shut the hell up. I found myself retracing streets that I couldn’t quite remember, finally reaching countryside that I didn’t quite recognize. I’d been driving and pre-occupied, but shouldn’t some of this look familiar?
None of it did.
The closer we got to Hooperton, the more nervous I became. I’d left the house with nothing but a change of clothes to come out to the middle of nowhere, where no one knew where I was? Had I completely lost my mind?
I pulled out my phone, unsure of what to send to whom. If I told Claire Bickwell where I was, she and her shiny blonde hair and earnest face would probably call the national guard—or come out here and appoint herself as my deputy. And while the idea of anyone I knew besides me being possessed used to amuse me quite a bit, now, after Steve, not so much. There was only so much therapy I wanted to be held accountable for.
