The Enlightened (Mind Dimensions #3)(41)

“Is there any way to get us to Staten Island faster?” I ask. “I’ll double the fare.”

“I can take the next exit and go through city streets.” The cabby makes eye contact with me in the rearview mirror. “But other people might have the same idea, and reaching the exit, with the traffic as it is, will be pretty difficult.”

“Let’s try it.”

I phase into the Quiet and walk around in the frozen rain, making sure the other drivers around us don’t get the same idea to take the next exit. I then clear our path toward it. When I return to the real world, I let the driver handle the rest.

“That was very strange,” the cabby mumbles to himself as we turn off the highway after a half hour of driving at a snail’s pace.

I know what he means. As slow as our progress was, it must’ve been strange for him to see so many cars making stupid decisions by switching lanes in front of us. And it must’ve been even weirder when everyone forgot about the exit. Thanks to my meddling, even those who live off this exit missed their turn. I wonder how much they’ll be cursing themselves when this fact registers.

I pretend not to notice the cab driver’s confusion and doze off. After about an hour of driving through Brooklyn side streets, we finally get back on the same highway. Only here, it’s nearly empty as we’re clearly past the accident.

The rest of the way takes fifteen minutes as the cabby goes double the speed limit. He must be determined to get his double fare.

“Here, by this townhouse,” I instruct him. I give him three hundred, which is more than double the fare, but he earned it. “Keep the change.”

Only Lucy’s car is in the driveway, which makes sense. Sara would’ve already left for work. Which means Lucy is awake, since they always eat breakfast together.

Approaching the door, I ring the bell.

Nothing.

I ring it again.

Still no reply.

I try calling Lucy’s phone. It goes to voicemail.

This is odd.

I search my pockets for my keys. Once I locate them, I grab the door handle—which, to my surprise, turns in my hand.

Okay, this is even weirder. The door was already unlocked. Did Sara forget to lock it when she left for work?

Walking in, I yell, “Mom? It’s me. Don’t shoot.”

I don’t hear a response. In general, the house is very quiet.

Shit.

I have a bad feeling about this.





Chapter 15





As I make my way to the second floor of their three-story townhouse, I try to dispel my sense of foreboding. Lucy must be taking a nap, or maybe she’s in the shower.

When I get to the second floor, it’s still quiet. This is where the living room and kitchen are. I smell coffee and bacon, so I was right. They must’ve eaten breakfast together, and it wasn’t too long ago since the coffeemaker is still hot to the touch.

There’s another smell, the smell that every former pyromaniac kid such as me recognizes with ease. The smell of burned paper. I look around and find the source. The usually decorative fireplace has just been used. Ash and little bits of burned paper are inside it. What’s that about?

“Mom!” I yell as I run up to the third floor.

No response.

I approach the master bedroom and knock. “Mom, are you in here?”

Nothing.

I open the door.

Empty.

She can’t be far, though. The bed isn’t made, and Lucy’s OCD wouldn’t allow her to leave things in disarray for long. Leaving the bedroom, I go into the office across the hall.

No one here either. But there’s a note on the desk.

I am sorry, it says in Lucy’s super-neat handwriting.

My heart starts beating faster, and I run for the bathroom.

It’s closed.

I knock on the door. “Mom, are you in there?” She has to be. The door is locked, and it only locks from the inside.

No answer. When I put my ear to the door, I hear the trickle of running water. It’s not loud enough to muffle my voice the way a shower might.

“Mom,” I say again and bang on the door in earnest. Even if she had music on and was showering, the noise I’m making would be impossible to ignore. When I still don’t get an answer, I kick the bottom of the door. “Mom, let me in, or I’m breaking down this door!”

Still no response.

I don’t actually break down the door as I threatened, as doing that might just injure her or me. Instead, I run back into the office and grab the letter opener from the desk. Using the blunt top of the knife-like device, I manage to unscrew the bathroom’s door handle. Taking the thing apart, I push open the door.

The first thing that registers is that the bathtub is full of water—but something’s wrong with this water.

It’s red.

There’s also a razor covered in something red, lying on the white tiles of the bathroom floor.

Then I take in the figure in the water.

It’s Lucy. Dressed in her robe, she’s submerged in the tub. The right sleeve of the robe is rolled up, and there’s a red line on her exposed wrist. The water is redder around that line.

In stunned incomprehension, I notice the water faucet sound is gone. The water is frozen on its way into the bathtub. I must’ve phased into the Quiet without even realizing it.