Entranced Page 10

  “Blink more often,” I responded, not taking mine from the computer screen.

  “Here.” She placed her notebook paper next to my chair and stood up, stretching her arms over her head. “I need a break. I only got the past two weeks done; sorry.”

  I cocked my head, looking at the twenty-some names she’d written. “That’s a lot of suicides. Is it only Forked River?”

  “No, I included the whole township. Is that a lot? I don’t even know. What’s normal?”

  “Good question,” I admitted. The township wasn’t huge, only twenty-five thousand people, give or take a few. “Thanks, this gives me something to go on. How do you know these were suicides?”

  “Some I guessed on,” she said. “Using my awesome journalist instincts. You might want to corroborate them with the morgue database and see if it lists cause of death.”

  “What we really need,” I said, tapping my pencil against my lip thoughtfully, “are the police records of the deaths. What they found at the suicide site.”

  “Yeah, well, good luck with that,” she said. “Unless you have an in, they’re not gonna talk to us.”

  I smiled to myself as she walked away. What Kate didn’t realize was that I did have an in.

  Lieutenant Bailey worked the serial killer case last spring. After I helped him and nearly died for it, he and I came to a truce, a kind of don’t-ask-don’t-tell as far as my abilities went. They made him uneasy, but he couldn’t question their validity. I still had his number in my phone, and I dialed it. I wasn’t too surprised when it went to voicemail.

  “Hi. It’s Jayne Lockwood,” I said softly. Unnecessarily, since no one else was in the work area with me. “I’m working on a theory in regards to these suicides. Please call me back.”

  Putting my phone down, I taped Kate’s piece of paper to the computer monitor and began typing each name into the morgue database search field. Autopsy results weren’t public record, but “cause of death” was. As Kate had expected, most were suicides. I crossed out three as having another unpleasant form of death, and circled two others that were inconclusive. (Drug overdose or suicide? Fatal one-car accident or suicide?)

  Then I distracted myself with a quick internet search to find out the average number of suicides in New Jersey. The results only raised more alarms. New Jersey was the lowest state in the U.S. for suicides, with less than seven hundred suicides annually. Twenty in a two-week time period? If this kept up, Lacey Township’s suicide rate would rival the state-wide statistics all on its own.

  I turned back to the information Kate had given me. It took another hour, but finally I sat back and studied my filled-in spreadsheet. I had names, birth dates, places of birth, places of death, city, and age at time of death.

  Now to see if I could find a pattern.

  Half a dozen questions flashed through my mind at once, and I grasped at them, jotting them down on my paper as quickly as I could. The first question I wrote down felt like the most important, and I stared at it, half-expecting someone to give me an answer.

  1. Is something compelling these people to commit suicide?

  Could something—or someone—be forcing these people to kill themselves? My coworkers and schoolmates suspected the occult. Some kind of ritual.

  So why did I feel like this somehow involved me?

  I had work to do. And I needed some guidance. I checked my phone to make sure I hadn’t missed anything from Laima. Nothing, of course. I was beginning to doubt her ability to help me, but I sent her a text anyway. She’d taken care of Carter, after all.

  I need to talk to you. And probably Karta. Can I get her contact info?

  Karta was a girl, human, just like me. A normal human who had been chosen to receive the powers of deity. She would live out her role as goddess until she decided it was time to pass those powers on to someone else. Which meant that, like me and Laima, she probably had a cell phone.

  Or maybe she used smoke signals to talk to Laima. At this point, I’d believe just about anything.

  *~*

  I’d forgotten my phone was on silent until I tried to find it after work. I even had Kate call me, but it wasn’t until I sat down in my car and dug through my purse that it turned up. I squinted as I scrolled through the four missed calls. Three different unknown numbers (I figured one was Kate) and Dana. I sent Aaron a quick text, asking if he wanted to meet up for coffee. At my house. Then I pressed the Recall button beside Dana’s name, hoping she had some light to shine on this situation.

  “Jayne, I’m so glad you called,” she said, sounding out of breath. “I’m on my way to a night class, so I can’t really talk.”

  “You have a night class?”

  “It’s a dance class.” There was a definite smile to her voice.

  My mind tumbled over the possibilities. Something told me there was a boy involved.

  “Are you running?” I asked, fastening my seatbelt and settling back to talk. I preferred to not drive while on the phone, if possible. I wasn’t the most observant driver.

  “I’m trying not to be late,” she huffed.

  “I thought they didn’t give tardies in college.”

  “Think again. It’s called ‘the teacher’s black book.’”

  “Ah. The unofficial tardy system.”

  “Get this,” she said, “the wildest thing happened to me yesterday.”

  I doubted it. My mind wandered as she launched into a detailed play-by-play of double-dog dares at the frat house. “Dana,” I said, interrupting her diatribe, “I just got off work and I need to concentrate on driving.”

  “Oh,” she said, faltering slightly in her lengthy story. “Is that my hint to go?”

  “Probably,” I said with a sigh, chewing on one fingernail. Dana would always, always be my very best friend, as she had been since the eighth grade. But the distance between us was more than just miles now. I wasn’t a part of her every-day life anymore, and she didn’t really know what was happening with mine either. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “Sure. Anyway, I found something that might help you. Check your email. Love ya, Jayne.”

  “You too.” I hung up and frowned. How come I couldn’t say that to Aaron?

  More importantly, why couldn’t he say it to me?

  Of course, Stephen had said those words to me, right before he cheated on me. Perhaps they were overrated.

  Shrugging it off, I listened to the first voice message.

  “Hi, Jayne, it’s Meredith. I was wondering if you wanted to get together tonight or tomorrow to study for the psych test? I could use the help. Anyway, call if you want. Bye.”

  I called her back, checking first to see if Aaron had responded. Nope.

  “Hi, Jayne!” Meredith answered.

  “Hi, Meredith. Sure, I’ll help you study. I’ll be home in half an hour; come on over.”

  “Oh, thank you, Jayne! I’m so nervous about this test. I’ve heard the questions are so ambiguous. Like, you could choose different answers, depending on how you interpret it.”

  I nodded my head in tune to her rapid-fire speech. “Right. I know what ambiguous is.”

  “Of course you do, I’m such an idiot.” She sounded embarrassed.

  “Hey, I know. Bring over some pajamas and a toothbrush and you can spend the night.”

  “Yeah? Your mom will be okay with that, on a school night?”

  I laughed. “First, she’s not likely to notice. Second, I think I only slept in my bed half the school year last year. The other half was at Dana’s.”

  “That sounds like so much fun! Are you sure? I don’t want to interrupt your plans, if you had something going on—”

  “Meredith,” I said. “It’s fine. Come on over.”

  “I’ll be right there! Where do you live?”

  I spouted off my address and hung up, shaking my head with a rueful smile on my face. Returning to my voicemail, I pressed the button to hear the other message.

  “Jayne, this is Lieutenant Bai
ley. If you’re available tomorrow, come to the station and we can talk. I’ll be there until six in the evening.”

  I put the phone down and shifted the car into Drive, my heart beating a little faster. Now I had somewhere to be after work tomorrow.

  A blue sedan was already sitting in my driveway by the time I got home.

  “You got here fast,” I said to Meredith as I got out. She climbed out too, shouldering her backpack.

  “I just live around the corner.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. We moved into town over the summer. We used to live out in the boonies.”

  “Oh,” I said. We walked down the sidewalk to the front door. “What made you guys move?”

  “My dad. He wanted to be in town.”

  “Huh. Is it working out for you?”

  “Sure.” She followed me inside. “It doesn’t take forty minutes to get to school anymore.”

  “I don’t know,” I said, thinking about my drive that morning with Beth. “Sometimes it does.” Raising my voice, I called out, “Mom? I’m home.”

  Beth poked her head out of her upstairs room and peered at me from the landing. “She’s not here. Some work meeting. Dinner’s in the fridge.”

  “Did you eat already?” I called up to her.

  Beth's response was a one-shoulder shrug before she disappeared into her room.

  “Whatever that means,” I muttered. I started up the stairs, eager to change my clothes and dispose of my backpack.

  Meredith stayed a few feet behind me all the way up. She paused in my bedroom doorway, watching as I tossed my backpack on my bed.

  “Thanks so much for having me over, Jayne.”

  “Please.” I turned back to face her. “Don’t thank me again. It’ll be fun.”

  She nodded, her cheeks reddening a bit.

  “Well, let’s get started.” I slipped into my Mickey Mouse pajamas and headed back down the stairs. “What shall we eat while we study? Popcorn? Chocolate? Cookies?”

  She followed me into the kitchen, pushing her glasses back up her nose with one finger. “Popcorn sounds great.”

  I opened the fridge and checked the contents. I found the glass casserole dish of enchiladas, covered with tin foil. “Enchiladas. Game?”

  “Game?” Meredith echoed, and I realized I’d spoken to her as if she were Dana, capable of reading my mind.

  “As in, are you game to eat enchiladas?”I asked. She blinked, and I amended, “Do you want enchiladas?”

  “Oh, no, popcorn’s great.”

  “Sure.” I tossed a bag into the microwave, ignoring the sudden ache in my chest. I put the enchiladas in the oven to warm up.

  We sat at the kitchen table going over Meredith’s study sheet. She knew more than she thought. By the time the popcorn was gone, we’d finished studying.

  “How do you feel?” I asked, retrieving the warmed enchiladas from the oven. “Prepared?”

  “Definitely. It wasn’t as bad as I thought.”

  “You were just psyching yourself out.” I piled some enchiladas on a plate and sat down next to her. She folded up her notebook. As she started to put it away, a white piece of paper fluttered to the kitchen floor.

  “I’ll get it,” she said, but I was closer.

  I bent over and retrieved the paper, noting the odd formation of the words. “What’s this? Another poem?”

  “Yeah.” Meredith tapped her pencil eraser on the table, cupping her chin with the other hand and resting her elbow on the wood. “I wrote that one a few months ago. I really like it.”

  I read through it, images of mothers holding sweet-smelling babies and flowers popping out of the grassy soil filling my mind as the words poured through my head. I handed it back, feeling a profound sense of contentment and peace. “That’s pretty amazing, Meredith. You definitely have a gift.”

  She brightened, her whole face lighting up. “What did you like about it?”

  I narrowed my eyes, trying to pinpoint my favorite part. Something about grass… or was it babies? The harder I tried to pinpoint it, the more it drifted away, like trying to remember a dream after you wake up. I felt like an idiot, not being able to remember anything definite. “It had very nice words. I could see it in my head. I like how it felt.”

  She studied me closely, blinking her blue eyes behind the glasses. “Did you have a favorite line?”

  “Um…” I floundered, unable to think of a single thing.

  “Maybe a favorite word?”

  I struggled, but even the images were slipping away. “Babies?”

  She laughed, though her laughter sounded forced. “The poem is about seasons. How one turns into another.”

  “No mention of babies?” I tried one last time.

  “None. But don’t worry. My poems just aren’t very memorable. Nobody can ever remember them afterward.”

  I felt bad for being yet another failed reader. “I’m really bad with poetry, Meredith. It’s not your fault. The poem was beautiful. I still remember the feeling.”

  “Thanks.” She lifted one shoulder. “It’s no big deal. Someday I’ll write something that sticks in people’s heads. Something that makes them remember me.”

  “That’s the spirit.” I shoved my plate aside. “Movie time. What are you in the mood for?”

  We were halfway through 13 Going on 30, a hilarious chick flick starring Jennifer Garner, one of my favorites, when my phone beeped. I’d left it in the kitchen, and I tensed on the couch, wanting to get up and grab it. What if it was Aaron?

  “This movie is so funny,” Meredith said, her eyes tearing up from so much laughter. Jennifer's character complained to a young girl about how men were so stupid, they didn’t even have board games in their closets. “How have I never seen this before?”

  “We were in junior high when it came out,” I said, inching toward the edge of the couch. “And it hasn’t exactly made the popularity charts since.”

  “It’s timeless,” she said. “This movie should make a comeback.”

  “It’s good, but I don’t know about timeless,” I teased. “Timeless would be like Star Wars or Lord of the Rings. This movie doesn’t come close.”

  “Oh, it does in my book,” she said.

  The phone beeped again. I hopped off the couch, giving into temptation. “Be right back.”

  “Want me to pause it for you?” Her hand reached for the remote control.

  “No, no. I’ve seen this before. Be right back.” I leapt up the two steps connecting the den to the living room, then hurried to the kitchen. My phone sat like a silent sentinel on the table. I pressed a button, turning the screen back on.

  DO NOT ATTEMPT TO CONTACT KARTA.

  I jumped back as if the sender had audibly yelled at me. I didn’t need to check to know it was from Laima. But why would she send me such a message? Karta and I were supposed to be a team. Sister goddesses. I kept waiting for her to give me direct contact info so Laima didn’t have to be the go-between.

  Judging from this message, though, maybe she preferred it that way? Maybe Laima didn’t want us talking to each other. But why?

  Why was she being so elusive?

  I couldn’t let it be. Why?

  I watched the phone for a moment and then stuffed it into my pocket. I’d barely taken two steps toward the den when it dinged. Really? Laima never came back that quickly. I pulled it back out and read the message.

  Something is wrong. Do not contact Karta.

  Something is wrong.

  I caught my breath, thinking of the string of suicides. My skin fairly hummed with the certainty that the two were connected. What was going on? Was it our powers? And why couldn’t I contact Karta?

  “Jayne?” Meredith called. “You coming back?”

  “Yeah. On my way.” I scrolled through the messages just to make sure I hadn’t missed any. Then I went back to Meredith, my head full of more questions than answers.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Meredith and I stayed up
too late watching movies. Eventually I must’ve fallen asleep on the floor of the den, because that’s where I was when Beth jumped on me. Somewhere close by an alarm wouldn’t stop going off.

  “What is it?” I groaned.

  “School,” she said, snatching my phone from beside me on the carpet. “That’s your wake-up call. And it’s been going off for twenty minutes.”

  I glanced toward Meredith, swaddled in blankets on the couch. One arm dangled over the side, and her glasses sat askew on her nose. I reached over and poked her arm. “Hello. Wake up.”

  “Why?” she murmured, turning away from me.

  “Well, school, for one,” I said. I glanced toward the kitchen. Mom was fine with mid-week sleepovers—as long as I didn’t miss school. “If you’re skipping, you’ll have to go home. But I gotta go.”

  “And soon,” Beth added, her lips curving smugly.

  Somehow, we made it out the door for school, Meredith in her car and Beth and me in mine. By now it was seriously bugging me that Aaron hadn’t responded. How hard was it to send a quick hello?

  Halfway through second hour, I remembered my appointment with the police after work. Suddenly it consumed my thoughts, and as the time slipped closer, I became more and more anxious. What if Lieutenant Bailey didn’t believe me? Or what if I really didn’t have anything to offer?

  Better just to get this over with. I barely even returned Stephen’s smile in fourth hour and rushed out to my car as soon as it ended. I called Mr. Edwards’ office number twice before he answered.

  “Hello?” he said.

  “Hi, it’s Jayne,” I said. Inspiration struck, and instead of asking for the afternoon off, I said, “I have an interview at the police station that might shed some light on this case. I don’t know if I’ll make it in.”

  “Fantastic,” he said, a note of surprise in his voice. “Can’t wait to see what you learn. Oh, how did your library research go last week? I never did see it.”

  I’d completely forgotten about that. “I found a few things, not much. Spent Saturday there too. I’ll type it up.”

  “Go ahead and take Friday off since you worked Saturday. I’ll clock your hours.”