Chapter 15

Alice

I am frozen as my bloodied dad staggers toward me.

He has one hand extended, staring at me from eyes so black, so sunken, they look like holes in his head. Crimson blood glistens on his face. It drips onto the carpet, leaving large black splotches. The air around me has turned to ice. My breath fogs, my teeth clatter. The ground feels unstable under my feet, like I'm standing in quicksand.

And then the room does a weird sort of wobble. I blink and my dad is gone. The carpet doesn't have any bloody splotches. It's just a normal bedroom, my bedsheets tousled, my shoes kicked across the floor, my books and homework scattered across the desk.

I am panting, my heart roaring.

Mel bursts into my bedroom.

"Are you okay?" She scans me, runs a hand over my hair. "I heard you scream! What happened? Are you hurt?"

I stare at her stupidly. What did happen? I don't understand it myself. My aunt isn't even wearing the same clothes as a few minutes ago.

Tears fill my eyes. Mel's face softens with compassion, and she wraps her bony arms around me, pulling me close. I feel her collarbones press against mine. She smells of lunch—pinot grigio—and the peppermint mouthwash she's used to cover it up. I know, like me, she's been struggling, but it's too much. Her scent will drown me.

What the hell is wrong with me?

The words are like a siren blaring in my head.

A gentle thudding sound drags my attention away from her. A woman is limping down the hallway, her cane clunking on the carpet. She's slim with eyes the strange ambery-gold of a lion's, sharp cheekbones, and dark hair escaping from beneath a maroon woolen hat.

It's the woman from my shrink's office yesterday. From the look on her face, she recognizes me, too.

Her eyes dart behind me, scanning my bedroom, but whatever she's looking for isn't there. Her mouth tightens. I wonder what she expected to find. A man in a Scream mask holding me at knifepoint? A Chucky doll that had slashed me to pieces?

"Alice Harper?" Her voice is calm, neutral.

I nod, suddenly mortified. I scrub at the tears on my cheeks.

"I'm Detective Jess Lambert. Is everything okay?"

I look between Mel's concerned face and Detective Lambert's curious one, and I know I can't tell them the truth. I can't tell Detective Lambert what's happening to me, these hallucinations or visions or whatever they are. She'll think I'm crazy. A freak.

A cold, floaty feeling hits me. I need to sit down. I slump onto the edge of my bed.

"I had a ... nightmare," I say.

The detective watches me for a moment, then says, "I'd like to ask you a few questions about the night your family went missing."

"No," Melanie replies firmly. "Alice is upset. As I told you, any questions should go through our lawyers."

Irritation fizzes in me. "Is that why I haven't heard from them? Nobody's told me anything!"

"Alice, I'm trying to protect you—"

"Really, this will only take a minute," the detective interjects.

I straighten my shoulders. I have a right to know. "I'll talk to you."

Just then, the sound of Finn crying floats down the hall. Mel looks torn.

"It's fine." I grit my teeth to cover my impatience. "Finn needs you."

What I want to say is Stop acting like you're my mother .

I try not to notice the hurt roll across her face. After a second, Mel nods and slips from the room.

I pull my knees into my chest and wrap my arms around them. Detective Lambert adjusts her weight, leaning on her cane as she watches me carefully. "That was some nightmare, hey?"

I nod, an ugly, gray panic tightening my chest.

"I used to have nightmares like that. Sometimes they felt so ... real , you know? I'd wake up, and it was almost confusing."

I don't answer, but she continues anyway.

"There's a word for it. It's called hypnagogia. It's a moment between sleep and waking when reality is just a bit ... warped. It happens when we're very sleep-deprived. Or traumatized. It can feel hard to tell the difference between what's real and what isn't."

The thought hits me hard, like suddenly bashing on a piano. Could it be as simple as that? I'm traumatized and, like a horse, I fell asleep standing up? That maybe all I need is a good night's sleep? "That's exactly what it's like."

Detective Lambert pins me with her golden gaze. "Except, once you're awake, you can tell the difference. Right?"

I pull my knees tighter to my chest and nod.

Detective Lambert points next to me with her cane. "Mind if I sit? My leg ..."

"Sure." I move over a little, and her weight dips the mattress. She pulls her bad leg in with her hand and leans her cane against the bed, making that groaning sound old people make when their joints are stiff, even though she doesn't look that old. I want to ask her what happened to her leg, but I think it might be rude, so I stay quiet.

"Alice, are you okay to talk about the night your family went missing?"

Hot tears spring into my eyes. I hate talking about it. Hate raking over those memories.

"Because of the body?" I ask.

She doesn't look surprised that I know. Things don't stay secret for long in a town like Black Lake. "I heard it at school."

"Oh. Well, yes. About the body we found."

My head is reeling, and I feel like I'm going to fall over, even though I'm already sitting. I press my forehead into my knees, closing my eyes.

It's over.

"Is it one of them?" I ask. "My family?"

"No. It doesn't appear to be."

My eyes pop open. I should've known. It's never going to be over.

"Who is it?"

"We're still working on identifying the body."

Melanie slips back into my bedroom, this time with Finn clinging to her leg, cheeks flushed, eyes damp. He lets go of her leg, moving toward me, but Mel pulls him back.

"Not now, Finn," Mel whispers. "Alice is busy."

Finn scowls and folds his arms over his chest.

"He's not feeling well today," she explains to the detective. "I'll take him downstairs." She turns to me. "Are you sure you're okay, Alice? You don't have to do anything you don't want to."

"It's fine."

"Okay." Her eyes dart between us. "Let me know if you need anything."

She hovers outside the door for a second, then disappears downstairs.

I turn to Detective Lambert. "So if it isn't anybody in my family, why are you here?"

She digs her phone out of her pocket, taps the screen, and hands it to me. "Do you recognize this item?"

I'd tried to convince myself it wasn't really hers. That there were a million backpacks like this. That I hadn't seen it well enough before Maya took it away. But I feel the bottom fall out of my world as the worst thing is confirmed.

The picture is undoubtedly of Ella's backpack, black, with a large white daisy on the front. The daisy is saturated with something dark, the color of blackened rust. Blood. I know it instantly. At the very bottom of the left side is a small GirlzRule badge, the same badge Ella's friends all had sewn on at the beginning of the year.

"Yes," I whisper. Nausea swirls in my stomach. "It's my sister's backpack."

"Can you walk me through finding it in the basement?"

I flash back to Maya pulling it out of the trunk all casual, like it wasn't even a surprise. "Maya found it inside a steamer trunk. She was looking for ..." I hesitate, not sure if I should tell her. "Things to sell. I mean, nobody lives there, the stuff is abandoned, so she thought, I mean, we thought—"

"Relax, Alice." She cuts me off. "You're not in trouble."

"It was just ... suddenly in her hands."

She tilts her head, curious. "Did Maya know it was there?"

"What? No! I ... I don't think so." I shake my head, a sandpaper fist squeezing my heart. "I swear, we didn't see a body. We would've told you that."

"I'm sure you would've." The detective gives me a small, reassuring smile.

She used to be pretty, I think. Maybe when she was younger. Now her eyes are too serious. Her body is filled with too much pent-up energy. I feel it vibrating off her, like she's teetering on the edge of a diving board, ready to jump. It unfurls in me, this feeling. A tightness in my chest, a driving need to ... what?

This sixth sense I get about people means I can read their energy, their emotions. Their lies. It's like reading braille, something you learn and become aware of. I can feel a sadness behind Detective Jess Lambert's smile. Until her face shifts. A mask drops. And then ... nothing. She's closed herself off.

"Are you reopening their case?" I ask.

"It was never closed; we just haven't had any new evidence."

I look out my window at the swirl of snowflakes fluttering against a Q-tip-white sky. "Well, you have new evidence now."

But I don't know if it makes me feel better or worse.