Believing (Lily Dale #2)(24)
“My mom,” she says, and pushes the book toward Calla. “I’ll be back in a couple of minutes. You can look over this page.”
She leaves the room.
Calla waits until her footsteps have reached the second floor before darting a hand toward the computer mouse, well within arm’s reach.
She clicks on the Internet icon, then swiftly types her own name and “Columbus Dispatch” into the search-engine window.
The results pop up almost instantly. Sure enough, at the top of the list is a link to an article from today’s newspaper.
LOCAL GIRL LAID TO REST; GRIEVING MOM CREDITS YOUNG MEDIUM
The air is squished right out of Calla’s lungs as she glances at the adjoining photo—a black-clad Elaine Riggs following a gleaming casket out of a church—and scans the article.
“My daughter might never have been found if it weren’t for a special girl her own age who happens to have an incredible gift,” Ms. Riggs said. According to her, the fledgling seventeen-year-old medium, a recent arrival in the spiritualist colony of Lily Dale, New York . . .
Footsteps overhead startle Calla, and she hears Willow call her name.
“Yeah?” Calla reaches for the mouse to click out of the screen.
“I’ve got to help my mom with something. I’ll be a few minutes.”
“Okay . . . do you mind if I check my e-mail for a second?” Calla calls impulsively.
“No, go ahead.”
Perfect.
Calla quickly goes to her screen name and signs in so that she can close out the other screen when Willow returns. She really should check her e-mail . . . but not until she’s read the rest of this article. Her grandmother is going to freak when she finds out about it.
She scrolls down the page and picks up reading the article where she left off.
. . . contacted her over the weekend with specific information that guided searchers to the location where Kaitlyn Riggs’s remains were discovered early Sunday. Elaine Riggs acknowledged having contacted the girl’s grandmother and guardian, a psychic medium who is registered with the Lily Dale Spiritualist Assembly, after her daughter was . . .
Without warning, the screen goes dark.
Calla frowns and looks around. It’s not a power outage, because the computer is still running and the lights are on.
So what hap—
Huh?
The screen is back up.
Only it no longer shows the article from the Columbus Dispatch.
Nor does it show Calla’s e-mail.
Somehow, it’s jumped to a completely different page. She must have accidentally hit something when she was scrolling down. Happens all the— Calla’s eyes widen as she realizes she’s looking at a Web site.
A Web site that was created for a missing person.
More specifically . . . a missing girl.
From Erie, Pennsylvania.
A girl named Erin Shannahan.
There’s a big photo of her on the Web site.
She has long blond hair and freckles that cover her face and her bare arms, and she’s smiling because she doesn’t know what’s going to happen to her.
No. But I know what happened to her.
Calla closes her eyes, seeing the bloodied figure facedown in the woods.
SEVEN
Calla takes a few deep breaths, trying to slow her racing heart.
Then she opens her eyes and forces herself to read the text accompanying Erin’s photo. She was last seen on Monday night, leaving a college party . . . wearing jeans, flip-flops, a pale pink tank top, and a silver— “Sorry about that,” a voice says nearby.
Startled, Calla looks up to see Willow sticking her head in from the kitchen.
“Did you check your e-mail?” she asks.
“I’m just finishing.” With a trembling hand, Calla hurriedly manages to click the X on the top right corner of the screen, praying the Web site will go away.
It does, giving way to her e-mail again.
“Are you sure you don’t want something to drink? I’m going to get a glass of pop. Want some?”
“Sure.”
Anything to buy time and pull herself back together. Calla mindlessly clicks on the mailbox icon at the top of the page and scans the list of addresses.
A familiar one jumps out at her.
[email protected].
Kevin.
When he first left for college at this time last year, her inbox would hold several e-mails from him every day. As the school year went on, they grew fewer and farther between, but Calla blamed that on his being busy with his classes and studying.
Then came the breakup, and finding out about Annie.
This is the first time in a while that [email protected] has shown up in her mailbox, and she’s so shocked to see it that everything else is momentarily forgotten.
She clicks on it and holds her breath.
Hey, Calla, it was really good to see you last week. I know you’ve been through a lot but it seems like you’re hanging in there. Crazy coincidence that we both ended up only two hundred miles away from each other in New York State, you know? It only took me a few hours to drive from Lily Dale back to Ithaca, so if you ever need anything or whatever, don’t forget I’m pretty close by. Write back when you have a chance and let me know what’s up, okay? xoxo Kevin
Whoa.
Out of the clear blue sky, he pops back into her life and signs his note the way he always did—with hugs and kisses? What’s that supposed to mean?