She rose, swinging her head back so her hair cascaded over the back of the couch.
“I didn’t know they were death omens. I just figured…” She threw up her hands. “I’m not sure what I figured. Other people in my life have died and I never sensed a thing, didn’t get a hint of anything and then… and then they died. I’m only saying it’s not a useful gift. Not really. It’s unpredictable and unreliable.”
“It’s also fascinating.”
He sat up and leaned between Crystal’s legs on the sofa, kissing her. “Tell me if you spot any shadows hovering around me. I want my last day on earth to be immersed in you.”
Crystal cupped his face in her palms.
“I see nothing but light surrounding you,” she whispered, nuzzling his cheek.
When he drew back, he wore a thoughtful expression.
“What?” she asked.
“I’m curious what your sister thought of me.” He cringed as if expecting bad news.
Crystal smiled. “She liked you.”
He cocked an eyebrow.
“Really? I get the feeling Bette is a little jaded about men,” he said. “Is she?”
Crystal turned over on the couch, propping her legs on the back and hanging her head down by the floor. Wes reached a hand out and caressed her scalp, leaning over to kiss her temple.
“Bette’s always had… sharp edges. That’s what Lilith, our mom’s best friend, called them. When we were younger, Lilith nicknamed Bette the porcupine and me the monkey. I’d walk up and climb into someone’s lap five minutes after I met them. Bette would keep a safe distance, and if anyone approached, she’d glare at them until they backed away. She’s had moments where she’s let her guard down and it hasn’t really gone well.”
“How so?” he asked.
“Well, she fell in love her freshman year at college. His name was Elijah. I never met him. My dad loved him, apparently. He and Bette were both in anthropology classes together. They dated for about a year and then—”
“He broke up with her?” Wes asked.
Crystal shook her head.
The blood rushing into her face felt too hot, and she scrambled back up, remembering the dream she’d had on the opposite side of the country all those years ago.
Except it hadn’t been a dream at all.
She’d been watching a car careen down a dark slippery road. Headlights splashed over the iron gates of a cemetery. It was as if she’d been looking out from the eyes of a bird perched in a tree. As she watched, the car came around the curve too fast; it left the road and smashed headlong into a tree.
The collision had detonated in Crystal’s head, as she slept soundly in her bed in California. Crunching metal and splashing glass, and the beginning of a scream cut off before it had even begun.
She’d woken next to Neal, the man she’d been sleeping with in the previous weeks. She’d been drenched in sweat and shaking so badly she almost fell when she stepped from the bed.
Crystal had run to the phone on wobbly legs and called Bette. Bette had been in that car because that was Elijah’s car. Crystal had never seen it, but she knew the car belonged to her sister’s boyfriend.
Except, at four a.m. on the other side of the United States, Bette’s groggy voice had come on the line. Crystal had stood in the kitchen, her sweat-slick feet glued to the warm linoleum floor, her breath gusting in terrified waves as her sister said “Hello? Hello?” And then there’d been a pause. “Crystal?” Bette had asked.
Crystal had set the phone in its cradle and walked to the little concrete porch that jutted out from the second-story apartment. She’d stood, naked except for Neal’s tank top, and gazed at the dark expanse of sky, the glow of the city lights in the distance.
She had known that Bette’s boyfriend was dead, but she’d been unable to say the words out loud.
All that dark morning and into the dawn, Crystal sat on the porch.
When the phone rang at noon, Crystal had known who was calling.
She’d let it ring a second time, staring at the yellow receiver with a heaviness that left her heart hanging sodden and weary in her chest.
The moment she picked it up, Bette’s wails boomed through the phone. Her sister had cried so hard and so loud, Crystal feared for Bette’s eyes and brain. Could those soft organs withstand such ferocious pressure as the sobs erupted into the world like gale-force winds?
Bette sobbed for more than two minutes without saying a word. Every time she started, barely croaking out Elijah’s name, a fresh peal of cries would overwhelm her.
“I’m here, I’m here,” Crystal had reassured her until Bette’s story finally poured forth.
Elijah had died the night before in a terrible car crash. He’d hit a tree going seventy miles an hour. But that hadn’t been all, and when Bette revealed the next part, Crystal’s stomach had clenched painfully.
Bette’s best friend since high school, Heather Stewart, had been in the car with Elijah.
Both had died instantly.
Bette had no explanation for their being together. Elijah had told her he was going out of town to visit his grandmother. She’d called Heather the night before thinking they might catch a movie, but Heather had complained of a migraine and said she was staying in.
Now they were both dead, together in those final moments, leaving a grief-stricken Bette with a flurry of questions and a shattered heart.
Crystal told Wes an abbreviated version of the story, leaving out her dream.
When she finished, Wes hung his head. “Poor Bette. No wonder she’s a porcupine.”
Crystal pulled her legs close to her body and rested her chin on her knees. “Bette never really got over that. She goes out once in a while, but she’s suspicious of men. She thinks you’re too good to be true.”
“Moi?” Wes pressed a hand against his chest.
He turned and fixed his stare on Crystal, and she felt a flutter in her belly. Looking into Wes’s eyes left her breathless every time.
“But I know the truth,” she murmured, sliding to the edge of the couch to pull him closer.
“Whatever I am,” he whispered, “I’m yours.”
19
Now
“Hi, are you Dan?” Bette asked the man who stood washing the Michigan Mayhem Tour Bus.
He turned and smiled, dropping a rag into a sudsy bucket.
A large German shepherd lay watching from the grass. It perked its ears as she approached.
“Dan I am,” he said, wiping his wet hand on his surf shorts and holding it out.
Bette shook it.
Dan reminded Bette of more than a few guys Crystal had dated over the years. Tan, blond, and forever looking as if they’d just run out of the waves after a totally gnarly surf session.
Crystal had two types, sexy surfer dude and brooding artist. Bette feared the latter had been her undoing.
“I’m Bette Childs. Crystal Childs is my sister.”
Recognition immediately flooded his face.
“Gosh, yeah. Nice to meet you, Bette. I called the police to let them know that Crystal came on the tour a few weeks ago. They said they might call back, but I haven’t heard from them.”
Bette frowned and bit back her complaints. The police weren’t doing enough as far as she was concerned, and though she liked Officer Hart, it frustrated her that she was the first to hear Dan’s story.
“Thanks for calling them,” she said. “I’m sure they’ll get back to you soon. In fact, I’m going to call them today and make sure they do. But I’d like to hear anything you have to say myself. Did everything seem okay with Crystal and Weston on that trip?”