Where One Goes(65)

“Do you know who killed her?” Mrs. Purcell asks timidly.

“Are you sure you want to know the details?”

The Purcells look to one another again before looking back to me. Mr. Purcell nods once.

“It was a Friday,” I begin, my stomach clenching as I remember Casey’s version of the events that transpired that night. “She was out with her roommate and her roommate’s boyfriend. They’d left her; they were drunk and got caught up in each other. They knew other people there, so they figured she’d be okay if they left. Casey mentioned an older guy asked her to dance. She thought he was cute, so she agreed. They had a few drinks and she started feeling woozy so she told him she was leaving. She was going to try and walk back to her apartment.”

Mr. Purcell shakes his head. “I told her never to walk alone at night.”

“Not now, Leonard,” Mrs. Purcell scolds. “Please, go on, dear,” she encourages.

“She blacked out at some point on the way home and when she came to he was . . .” I can’t say it. Not to them. It’s too horrific to think, let alone say out loud. Casey woke up in the back of a van, her face plastered to the floor as he raped her. Even she couldn’t finish without tearing up when she told me about it. My stomach is in knots but I know must continue. “He was . . . on top of her,” I manage, and the Parcells immediately keel over; crying.

“I should stop,” I say to Henry, who is rubbing circles on my back.

“No, we want to know,” Mrs. Purcell pipes up; her voice shaky. “If she endured it, I can at least endure hearing it.”

I nod once in understanding. “She screamed as loud as she could. She tried to fight him but he was too strong. She said her throat burned she screamed so loud, but he started bashing her in the head with something . . . she thought it was a flashlight. That was the last thing she remembered.”

“Was it the man at the bar she danced with?” Detective Andrews asks, and I’m shocked he’s entertaining the thought that he may actually believe me. “Another girl went missing a week ago,” he informs me. “We think her disappearance could be connected to Casey’s.” My heart sinks. I should’ve gone to the police and tried to help. If it was the same guy, maybe I could’ve stopped it. The look of horror on the Purcells’ faces is too much to bear and tears stream down my face as guilt slithers through me. I’ve been so busy running from my gift, only using it because I absolutely had to, when I could have been helping, really helping.

“His name is Jeremy. At least that’s what he told her.”

“Is she still here?” Mr. Purcell asks; his voice hopeful.

“No, sir. I’m sorry. But she rode with me from Vermont to here and told me some stories about you, both of you. You guys used to take a road trip to Montana once a year, right?” They both gasp, their eyes lighting with hope.

“She couldn’t tell you where he went?” Andrews asks.

“It doesn’t work like that. They’re only tied to this world to the people they have to help. She needed to help her family. Nothing mattered more than that to her.”

Mrs. Purcell sniffles. Taking her husband’s hand, she gazes at him with tear-filled eyes. “It was killing us not knowing. Now, it hurts, but at least we know she’s really gone.”

We talk for a bit longer, and I give the Purcells all of the information I can. When they leave, they both hug me and Detective Andrews leads them out. “You’re not leaving town anytime soon, are you?” he asks me.

“My father wants me to leave with him tomorrow.”

“I may have more questions,” he says, as if that will make me stay.

“He junked my truck, and I just lost my job at the restaurant. I’m not sure I have much of a choice at this point.”

“We have plenty of room for you, Charlotte,” Henry says. “You don’t have to go anywhere. You can sleep in Ike’s old room.” My eyes clench closed as an ache forms in my chest. Ike will go soon.

“I’ll be in touch first thing tomorrow,” Detective Andrews says to Henry before leaving, noting my emotional state.

“Ike’s a special man, isn’t he?” Henry says, as he leads me back in and shuts the door.

“Yes, he is,” I agree, wiping at my face with my arm. “One of the best men I’ve ever known.”

“And George is pretty special, too, huh?” He gives me a knowing smirk. Is it that obvious I love them both?

“Ike saved me,” I explain. “He came out of nowhere and changed my life. He’s everything good in the world.”

Henry smiles as he nods. “That’s a good way to describe him.”

“And George, there’s a lot of love in there, ya know? He seems so . . . tough, but he has such a soft heart. I’m in love with both of your sons, Henry,” I admit, and although I’m scared of what he’ll say, it feels so good to say it to someone, and get it off my chest.

“So when Ike leaves, to you, it will feel like he’s died,” he says, grimly, with sympathy in his eyes.

“It’ll feel like half of my heart is going with him,” I weep, wiping at my face.

“Will you stay? I mean . . . after he goes?”

An image of George flickers through my mind, his dark eyes and easy smile—he’s really beautiful when he shows the real him. When Ike leaves, if I leave George behind, I think I’ll only be a shell of a person. But he’s so angry with me, what else can I do? “I love George, Henry, but . . .”