Connecting (Lily Dale #3)(41)

If it weren’t for Jacy beside her—and a whole lot of makeup caked around her eyes—she’d let herself have a good cry over the loss of her old, blessedly normal life.

“We’re almost there.”

She looks up and sees that the landscape, which had transitioned to more urban and suburban around Buffalo and Rochester, is back to rural, and much flatter here than around Lily Dale.

Geneseo is yet another little town in the middle of nowhere, from the looks of things.

Gazing out at the silos and barns outlined against the night sky, Calla tries to zero in on her mind’s voice, as Patsy taught them in class that morning.

“Listen to your psychic senses,” she advised. “Be receptive to the energy. Look for information and answers to come to you from within.”

Does Geneseo hold the key to what happened to Darrin Yates . . . and Mom?

Yes. It does.

She can feel it. Suddenly, her entire body is tense with apprehension.

“I feel like there’s something here,” she tells Jacy. “Like we’re not wasting our time. What about you?”

“Yeah.” He nods. “I feel the same way.”

They pass SUNY Geneseo campus on the edge of town, and a residential neighborhood lined with century-old houses, many of them now obviously occupied by college students.

Kids are everywhere—alive and dead, from this era and eras past—walking with backpacks, cigarettes, groups of friends.

Main Street, in the heart of town, is dotted with towering oak trees and stretches for a few picturesque blocks, lined with bars, pizza and wing places, cafés and diners, and a couple of small stores.

In the center of it all, smack in the middle of the street, is a large, old-fashioned fountain.

“There’s the bear!” Calla exclaims, pointing at the patinated figure towering on a lamppost pedestal in the middle of the basin. “Jacy, you have to stop!”

He pulls into a vacant spot and she jumps out of the car before it’s in park, barreling right over to the fountain, looking for . . .

What?

God only knows.

It’s not as though she thought Darrin Yates would be standing right here on the street, waiting for her.

Still . . .

“It’s just a fountain,” she tells Jacy when he catches up to her, pocketing the car keys.

“Looks that way.”

“I can’t believe it. I really expected . . .”

“What?”

“I don’t know . . . too much, I guess.”

Why did she have to go and drag Jacy into this?

“Calla, we just got here,” he points out.

Yeah, and he went to a lot of trouble to get her here. She has to at least try to see it through, hopeless as it seems.

“I know. It’s just . . . the way that guy Bob talked about the fountain, I thought it meant something.”

“It does. It got us to Geneseo, right?”

“Maybe we shouldn’t have come.”

In silence, Jacy reaches out and squeezes her hand.

Shoulder to shoulder, they gaze up at the bronze bear in the moonlight.

“What do you think we should do?” Calla asks Jacy, hoping he’ll suggest that they drive back to Lily Dale in time for the last dance at homecoming.

“What do you want to do?”

She hesitates. This seemed like such a good idea when they talked about it last night.

Now . . . not so much.

What does she want to do?

Go home, that’s what.

Her feet hurt in these shoes, and she’s cold, and . . .

And longing for normal.

Longing to be held in Jacy’s arms, swaying on a dance floor. That’s what a girl her age should be doing with a cute guy on a Saturday night, right? Not looking for her mother’s killer in the middle of nowhere.

Killer? You’re positive Darrin killed her, then?

It’s not something she’s allowed herself to really think about lately. It’s too painful to think of what happened to Mom on that awful day at the top of the stairs.

Now, she beckons the vision, tries with every ounce of concentration to focus on what her mind’s voice is telling her.

And it’s just not clear.

Logically, she should believe Darrin did it. Who else is there?

Every sign she’s been given points in his direction.

Maybe you just don’t want to believe it because it’s too horrible to think she was killed by someone she once loved.

Why would Calla even doubt, though, that he’s capable of murder?

Both Odelia and Ramona said Darrin was trouble. He was using a fake name when Calla met him in Florida, and there was something furtive about the way he and her mother were acting that day.

How difficult should it be for an intuitive person like Calla to put two and two together?

It shouldn’t be difficult at all, and yet . . .

I’m just not sure.

If only she could find Darrin, come face-to-face with him, she’d know for sure.

“Okay,” she tells Jacy decisively, “let’s go look for him.”

“Did you bring that snapshot of your mother and Darrin?” “It’s in my purse—I left it in the car.”

“Let’s go show the picture to some people. This is a small town. If he’s been here, or lives here, maybe someone will recognize him.”