I slept, finally, sometime around midmorning, and my dreams were filled with fire and little creatures poking me with pitchforks, the skin burning off my hands and leaving only prosthetics that didn’t move, my hair falling out so blood could seep from my scalp as my friends watched, saying I deserved it.
In one dream, I came out in a clearing in the woods andsaw my own burned body staked in front of Forester House.
In another, Bach was kissing me, and my skin melted and sloughed away from every spot his lips touched.
In a third, I burst into flames and screamed, only to realize a moment later that I wasn’t burning because my arms and legs were short, thin, and black as pitch, tipped with claws and talons.
Norm brought me a hamburger and fries from the Fool that afternoon. I ate, but I didn’t taste it. The phone kept ringing. I stared at the ceiling and focused on my breathing. Worrying about the building catching on fire wouldn’t do me any good while I was stuck in here. Where was Ludwig now? Still with theDMWcrew or out patrolling the town? Was he going after Bach? Norm came again to bring me dinner, which I had even more trouble eating. When I asked what was going on, he gave me a closed-off look and said, “They ain’t happy about it.”
Shortly after dinner I fell into another restless sleep. No real dreams, not that I can remember, only a bad feeling deep in my chest every time I pulled myself back to consciousness. When I finally couldn’t make myself sleep anymore, when the lights were out again in the hallway, I sat up on the cot and held my pounding head.
Then I realized it was too dark. It wasn’t just the overhead lights that were off, buteverylight. The desk lamps in the main office. The soft illumination of the security light. The red eye ofthe camera by the exit. Only a little glow came through the small window on the door, and it must have been from the moonlight flooding into the main office. There was no hum of electronics.
I sat up, listening. Ludwig had cut the power to the building and he was coming for me, making sure there was no way for me to call for help, even if I did get out. Something moved outside my cell, and I stilled. There was breathing. Not my own.
“Zora.”
Chief Rivera. I stayed pressed to the cinder-block wall at the back of the cell.
“Why is the power out?” I said.
“So I can speak to you.”
“You don’t have a flashlight or something?”
She ignored me and said, “I know who Sam Forester is. So did your mother. So do you.”
I waited, breath held. My limbs felt like jelly, my urge to run overwhelming. “Are you... like us?”
“No. But twenty-eight years ago, I had two good friends.” Her voice was soft in the dark. “They were ghost hunters, like your cousin. They wanted so badly to uncover the truth of this town, and they thought they would find something the first time Forester House burned down. They were excited because they thought big events like that always meant an uptick in paranormal activity.
“Then the Foresters moved into town. The fires continued. People kept dying. Your mother and your aunt almost died when the Aberdeen house went down. My friends thought all of the fire, all of the destruction, would reveal secrets no one else knew. They were down in Maple Hills one night when their cabin caught on fire. It went up so fast they didn’t have a chance to get out. Can you imagine how fast it must have burned? For them not to have a chance to run? How hot it had to be?
“Sam went back to the woods. The fires stopped. The stories became myths, but I remember. I saw things that summer I’ve never told anyone, because I knew they wouldn’t believe me.”
I couldn’t see her face, but I could feel her gaze.
“I know you and your mom have something to do with all this. I know Dasree wanted to stop Sam as much as I did.” She paused. Keys rattled. “I can’t stop these fires now, and I can’t—I can’t relive it. I’m sorry. But I can at least do this.”
The key turned. The cell bars passed through the weak light as they slid open. “You’ll get fired,” I said. “You’ll lose your job; everyone will think you’re—”
I stopped. She knew I had no case against theDMWcrew. Against Ludwig. I was the lunatic who had tried to kill Tad Thompson, and it was only my word against his.
“You need to find a place to hide,” she said. “You need to run. Your dad and Sadie got held up in Harrisburg. It’s aboutten thirty now. Here’s your jacket. Your phone and keys are in the pocket. Buster still has the Chevelle; I suggest you leave it where it is. Find somewhere safe to go. You understand?”
I nodded, mute, then realized she couldn’t see me and choked out, “Yes.”
“Good girl. I’ll open up the back door.”
25
Behind the police station was a sparse stand of mulberry trees and a swath of grass. Past the mulberries stretched the Denfords’ cornfields. Grandpa Denford usually stood like a scarecrow out there, his flickering edges the only movement in the night. He wasn’t there now. I slid down a short slope and kneeled beside a tree, making sure the tall grass hid me.
An Addamsville without its ghosts was a house without people. Abandoned.
I flipped my phone open. Hit the power button. An empty battery icon flashed. I’d charged it two nights ago; a flip phone this old couldn’t hold a charge for two whole days, even when it wasn’t being used.
I had to call Dad and Sadie to warn them to stay away, andto do that, I had to get my phone charged. The fastest way to the bluffs meant a hard diagonal cut straight through town, crossing over both Handack Street and Valleywine Road. A lot of bright public parking lots, but no one would expect me to be walking in plain sight.
