The blanket lands directly on Elias' head and drapes over him. That's when I notice Linzy attached to the other side, like she's on a magic carpet ride.
Eli jerks forward, but Linzy has such a strong grip on it, he can't fling it…her off.
She passes through everything, so how is she doing this?
It dawns on me that the coffin pose was her way of reserving her energy so she could perform this feat. She doesn't want me to talk to him. She really wants to kill him. She's obviously not into hyperbole.
"What's going on?" His voice is muffled, and if she wasn't trying to suffocate him, I'd laugh.
I jump up and step forward, not sure how to help. "Linzy, stop."
She doesn't listen to me though. She's determined to hold onto him.
He manages to stand and starts swinging his body back and forth, trying to dislodge the blanket.
Her arms are wound around his neck, but her legs flail about. She tries to wrap them around his waist, but he's moving too fast for her to get a grip.
I can't help but pull one of his moves and smirk. The whole scene is disturbingly comical. She's strong.
His movements slow down, and his knees buckle. "I can't breathe."
Panic rises in my chest. It's funny as long as she's not really hurting him.
I lean forward and grab a corner of the blanket and tug. "Linzy," I scream through clenched teeth.
We make eye contact, and her grip falters. She frowns then disappears.
Eli is on his knees, and the blanket slides down his back. He breathes deep.
Fear presses my tee to my back. I hand him his bottle of water. "Are you okay?"
He sips it and sits back in his seat. He looks behind him then down to the blanket that's innocently lying by his feet. "What happened? Why couldn't I get it loose? Were you holding it down?"
"Of course not. That's crazy."
He stands, wobbles, and steadies himself. "No, a blanket attacking me is crazy. You wanted me here so you could kill me."
"Why would I want that? I don't know you."
He takes a step back. Fear and disbelief covers every inch of his face. I don't blame him. It's all eerily freaky. Inanimate objects can't kill people on their own.
"I gotta go," he says and runs around the side of the house between my yard and Kinley's
Before I can say a word, he's gone.
Great. I learned nothing and almost saw my second dead body. I gather the blanket and waters and go inside. I toss the bottles into the trash and return the blanket to Dad's office. I close his door behind me and shout, "Linzy. Get over here and explain yourself."
Gosh, I sound like Dad.
The garage door sounds, and Dad's car pulls in. I'm just standing there when he steps into the house. He does a double take and grins. "Waiting for me?"
"I was going to the kitchen." Actually, I am kinda hungry.
I reach up on tip-toes and give him a peck on the cheek. There's a smudge on the collar of his light gray tee. It almost looks like blood, but I don't see any nicks from shaving. As I pass, I get a whiff of perfume. Not the gnarly musk he wears. Something floral and feminine. Is he sneaking around with someone?
* * *
I spend the rest of the day in my room, waiting for Linzy to return and for Eli to send the cops to my house. But neither shows up. Then after dark, my cell rings. That's when I remember I didn't get back to Kinley. Shoot. The caller ID says it's Eli. Double shoot. Is he going to curse me out?
I swipe to the right and press the phone to my ear. "Hello?"
"I wa-wasn't sure if you'd answer." His voice is hoarse. Gosh, I hope Linzy didn't actually damage him.
"I didn't think you'd call me."
"Yeah, well I have questions."
I let out a breath. "Me too."
We don't say anything for a minute, then he clears his throat. "Well, I'm not coming to your crazy house. Can you meet me?"
I bite my lower lip. "Where? My father won't let me leave. I'd have to sneak out, and if he finds me gone…"
"There's a small park near your house. It's the next block over. Take a left out of your house, a right at the corner, and then another right. It's about halfway down the street."
I didn't see that when I followed Linzy, but I wasn't exactly looking for landmarks either. "Okay, I'll try. How long will it take you to get here?"
"I'm already there. Meet me at the gazebo."
I jump up and grab my night shirt. "All right. I'll be there as soon as I can, and if I can't get out, I'll call you back."
He doesn't say good-bye, just hangs up.
I pull off my T-shirt and put on a black tank because it will be less conspicuous under my jammies, then struggle into the nightshirt. I look in the mirror, hoping my shorts don't make me look more bulky than usual. I slip my phone into my pocket and stuff Mr. Floppy and some clothes under my covers. Much more believable than pillows. I grab my flip-flops, turn off the light, and go downstairs.
I set the sandals on the bottom step and knock on Dad's door.
"Come in."
I put a smile on my face and slide the door open. "I'm going to bed."
A quick glance to the windows shows me his air is running. Good. He won't hear every little sound I make.
He glances at his watch. "It's kinda early, no?"
"Yeah, well I'm bored, and Kinley can't hang until morning. I really need a social life, Dad. This is pathetic." A twinge of guilt creeps up my back, but if I don't act normal, he might suspect.
One corner of his mouth lifts. "My poor deprived daughter. You should write to your state senator."
"You're hilarious." I walk around his desk and kiss his cheek while stealing a glance at what he's working on. There's a page of chicken-scrawl writing and a copy of Cameron's Google calendar. August 15, last year is marked at top. That's the day Cameron died.
It's all I can make out without obviously hovering. I stand upright and hope Dad doesn't want a hug. He'll feel my clothes for sure.
"Nice try, missy," he says.
I widen my eyes. My heart gallops against my chest. "What?"
He quirks a brow, but the half-smile is still there. "Don't 'what' me. I know you were trying to look at my work."
I let out a shaky breath and grin. "Fine, I'll just go to bed. One day you'll share with me though, and then you'll realize all the insight I have."
"Yes, I will, in about twenty years."
I walk to the door before he reaches out for me. "Funny. You're a comical man. You should do stand-up. 'Night."
He giggles. "'Night, sweetie."
I hurry to the other side of the door.
"Hey," he calls out.
I stop cold and glance over my shoulder. "Yeah?"
"Are you okay? No nightmares about Linzy or anything?"
I shake my head. "Nope. All good."
I shut the door and squeeze my eyes shut. With all the lies I tell it should get easier. I walk half-way upstairs then tip-toe back down. I grab the sandals and go to the back door. I shut and lock it behind me and slip the key back into my pocket. The same key that fits the front door works on the back too. Totally convenient. The only problem I'll have is if Dad decides to attach the chain. But I can't think of that. Hopefully I'll be back before he decides to get his night snack.
I pull off my nightshirt, fold it tiny, and place it on my chair from earlier. Then I hurry around the side of the house, between ours and Mrs. Jackson's. How am I supposed to get down the street with the media still out there?
When I hit the front of my house, there aren't as many reporters as earlier. Only one van and one car are parked on the street. Both on my side. Of course. Now, how to get by them without being seen?
I crouch down along the bushes that separate our property from Mrs. Jackson's. I can't see much in the van. It looks like no one is in the front seats. There are two heads in the car. Well, I'm sure they have bodies too. I just can't see them from my position. They're talking to one another. The motor runs, the windows are up. The A/C must be on.
One step after another at a snail's pace, sweat dots my forehead. Why couldn't they park someplace else? I make it to the edge and cross my fingers. All I have to do is make it into Mrs. Jackson's yard, and I should blend in with the shadows.
I press into the bush, making the leaves rustle. I'm so glad their windows are shut. I turn the corner, practically walking on my knees and, once I'm around, collapse onto my side, on the thin strip of lawn beside Mrs. Jackson's driveway. I inhale a lungful of air and a couple blades of grass. I cough them out then crawl several inches along the concrete before getting to my feet. Staying in the shadows, away from the street is my plan. Once I get past her house, I should be clear to use the sidewalks.
I pass her driveway and hit the walkway leading to her front steps, when growling sounds from my side. I turn as a small, white dog charges toward me. It takes a flying leap straight for my throat.