The Trouble with Twelfth Grave (Charley Davidson #12)(50)

I slammed on the brakes. “What? Who? Which friend?” Was she assuming I had only one?

“She wrote your name and number on a piece of paper. I don’t usually do this, but she was insistent.”

“Who?” I asked, dread seizing my lungs. “Who’s there?”

“Oh, of course.” I heard the shuffling of paper. “Okay, according to her license, her name is Nicolette Lemay.”

I gasped. A horn honked behind me, as I’d only pulled out of my parking spot halfway, but I couldn’t move. I could barely breathe. “I don’t understand. I just saw her a few hours ago.” Could something we did be the cause of her hospitalization? Did she get into an accident on her way home?

“I’m sorry. That’s all I know. She’s in intensive care, but I believe she can receive visitors.”

“Wait, was it … did she get into a car accident?”

“I’m sorry—”

“Kathryn,” I said, pleading.

After a hesitant sigh, she said, “From what I heard, no. I believe she was attacked. The police are here.”

I couldn’t tear out of that parking lot fast enough. I called Cookie on the way and told her what I knew. Then I hung up amid her protests, just barely catching her insistence upon meeting me there before the call disconnected

I slammed on the brakes under the Emergency Entrance Only sign and shoved Misery into park before bolting out the door and into the emergency room. After a series of unhelpful encounters, I made my way to the intensive care unit. Two patrolmen stood outside one of the glass rooms with a detective—it was Uncle Bob—talking to a doctor inside.

I sprinted to the room, but the patrolmen blocked my entrance.

“Uncle Bob!” I shouted, despite the glares I knew I’d receive.

He turned and came out to me. “Pumpkin, how did you get here so fast?”

“A volunteer called me. What happened? Is she okay?”

“Do you know her?” he asked, incredulous.

“Yes. That’s why I’m here. Wait, why are you here?”

He cursed under his breath, then led me to the side to talk in private. “Sweetheart, she was attacked like the others. She barely survived.”

“The others?” I stood there stunned, the truth staring me in the face yet my mind unable to grasp it. To get a firm hold. I swallowed hard, then asked, “The others? Like the one at the gas station yesterday?”

He nodded, and my hands flew to my mouth.

“Did she … will she…?”

“They think she’ll be fine, but her wounds are extensive. We can only wait.”

I swallowed again and drew in a deep breath. “Uncle Bob, was she burned like the others?”

“Charley,” he began, but I held up a hand.

“I need to know.”

“Yes, pumpkin. She was. Her wounds are identical to the ones on all three bodies. The scratches. The bruises. The strange burn marks.”

My knees weakened, and Uncle Bob helped me to a chair. He grabbed a cup of water just as Cookie ran up to us, panting and half-hysterical.

“How is she?”

“Do you know her, too, hon?” Uncle Bob asked.

She nodded, and he pulled her into his arms.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t know.”

“Is she…?”

“They’re hopeful. They said all we can do is wait.”

“I need to talk to her, Uncle Bob.”

“Pumpkin, she’s unconscious.”

“Uncle Bob,” I said, injecting meaning into my tone. “I need to try.”

He nodded and walked me into the room. I almost passed out when I saw her, and he had to guide me to a chair once again.

It was at that moment I realized Reyes was in the room. Why? Did my distress summon him as it had in the past? But that had been Reyes. Why would Rey’azikeen care if I were distressed?

I stood again, refusing to let him see me so, well, distressed.

Nicolette’s dark hair had been partially shaved where a long gash on her scalp had to be stitched up. Her face was swollen, completely unrecognizable, and covered in scratches. But just like Uncle Bob had said, she had burn marks on her arms and feet.

My breath hitched in my chest as I walked up to her. Put a hand over hers. Closed my eyes.

“It’s okay,” she said from behind me.

I whirled around to see her standing in a corner, and panic set in. “No way.” I walked over to her. “You get back in there. I can save you if you’re still inside your body.”

“Charley, it’s okay. It’s—” She stopped and gave me a once-over. “My God, you’re beautiful.”

“Nicolette,” I began, but an alarm on her monitor blared, and a team of medical staff rushed inside.

After being ushered out, I searched the area for Nicolette and found her looking in from the outside of her room.

I hurried over to her. “Nicolette Lemay, get back in your body this instant.”

“Okay,” she said with a grin, “but you need to know.”

“Right.” I nodded. “Who did this, hon? What happened?”

“It’s not what you think. It’s … he…” She looked down as though confused. As though she was searching her memory. Just as she looked up, just as she opened her mouth to explain, she vanished.