In Your Dreams (Blue Heron #4)(122)

“This is a really pretty room. Do you have your own bathroom?”

“Um...yes?”

“Can I see it?” Because that tingling was getting stronger. The room was too neat, and those gift bags...

“No! Um, it’s kind of messy.”

“Oh, I don’t care. Through here?” She put her hand on the doorknob, and Alyssa jumped.

“Please don’t go in there,” she said, covering Em’s hand with her own.

Em looked at the girl. “Sweetheart, are you planning to hurt yourself?”

Alyssa bit her lip hard. Her eyes filled with tears once more. “I—yes.”

Emmaline put her arms around her. “Oh, honey,” she said. “Please don’t. I know you feel alone right now, but you’re not. I’ll help you however I can.”

Alyssa shook with sobs. “I’m just so tired of being sad.” She wept. “I can’t do it anymore.”

“I know it feels that way. I really do. But it’s not always going to be this bad.” She kissed the top of the girl’s head. “I promise.”

* * *

TURNED OUT ALYSSA had swiped some sleeping pills from her aunt and was planning to swallow them that night. The pills were lined up on the bathroom counter, along with a bottle of wine. The pink paper on the desk was a note to her parents, and the gift bags on the bureau were her favorite pieces of jewelry for her two best friends and two cousins.

Em called Alyssa’s parents and told them their daughter was safe, then explained the situation. Both of them screeched into the driveway within seconds of each other, raced through the door and hugged their daughter against them. Lots of tears. Alyssa had been seeing a psychologist, though she’d skipped her last two appointments, and because she was eighteen, the doctor hadn’t been able to tell Mr. and Mrs. Pierson. They called the doctor and put Alyssa on with her, watching and wringing their hands. But the girl promised not to hurt herself and made an appointment to see her first thing in the morning. Her dad called Jeremy Lyon to see if he could prescribe an antidepressant.

By the time Em was preparing to go, Alyssa looked relieved, if exhausted, bundled up on the couch, sipping a cup of cocoa.

Mrs. Pierson walked her to the front door. “I can’t thank you enough,” she said, her hands still shaking. “We knew she was struggling, but we didn’t know how bad it was.”

“I’m glad she’s getting help. It’s not easy to get through something like this on your own.”

“Officer Neal?” Alyssa said, appearing in the foyer.

“Honey, go sit down,” her mother said. “You look as weak as a newborn kitten.”

“This will just take a minute, Mom. Maybe you could make me a grilled cheese?”

“Of course, angel.” She kissed her daughter on the cheek and went into the kitchen.

“What is it, honey?” Em asked.

“I, uh...I did some things to Jack Holland.”

“I know.”

Alyssa blinked. “You do?”

“The note, leaving his lights on, the possum?”

The girl flushed, and her eyes welled again. “I was just so...mad that he couldn’t save Josh, too. Am I in trouble for that?”

“Of course not, honey.”

“He might press charges and stuff.”

“He won’t. I can guarantee that. Now go sit down and let your mom take care of you.”

“Thanks for coming over,” Alyssa whispered, and much to Em’s surprise, the girl hugged her. “Thanks for guessing.”

* * *

WHEN EM GOT to the car, she found that her heart was clattering like an old tractor. Her hands were shaking, and her face felt flushed. She couldn’t tell if she was exhilarated or terrified or both.

What if she hadn’t gone over? What if she hadn’t asked to see the bathroom?

But she had. She’d listened to that prickling sense of warning, and Alyssa was going to be okay. She started the car and drove to the cow path by the old barn where the Manningsport police held their Memorial Day speed trap, turned off the engine and reached for her phone to call Jack.

Oh. Right. She couldn’t do that anymore. She dumped him. Or he dumped her. Either way, he was with Hadley again.

Tonight, she’d saved a girl’s life, and you know what? That mattered more. She called Levi. “Hi. It’s Em,” she said the second he answered. “I just left the Piersons’ house.” In a rush of blathering, she told him what happened.

Levi was quiet when she finally stopped talking. “Excellent job, Deputy,” he said.

Emmaline smiled. Typical chief. “That’s it?”

“Why? You want a gold sticker? You deserve one. Write it up and we’ll talk tomorrow. And Em...”

“Yeah?”

“Remember this. This was a good day.”

“Thanks, Chief.”

She called Jamie next, and her hostage instructor was thrilled. “I knew you had the stuff, Em! You have to come work for us. Think about it.”

“I’m happy here. But thanks, Jamie. It means a lot.”

She drove home, the adrenaline still pumping through her limbs. Too bad Angela was still in Ithaca—Em suspected she might be having dinner with Frankie Boudreau. She’d call her later, but for now, a nice glass of wine was called for. Slippers. Pajamas. A Gerard Butler movie.