Page 70 of Waysider
In an effort to understand, and attach some reason to the world-shifting revelation he’d just given her, Cass put herself in Michael’s shoes. Would she have handled the situation any differently than he had?
She knew the answer pretty quickly. Cass probably would’ve handled it way, way worse.
As she sat there, something else occurred to her. Cass slowly raised her gaze back to Michael, her heart pounding faster. “That night at the bridge,” she said. “I lost consciousness in the water, I remember that. When I woke up, people kept asking me how I got to shore. Did you… were you the one who…”
Michael shook his head. “I felt your fear, but it all happened so quickly. When I got there a few seconds later, the bridge was empty. I looked over the edge and saw someone dragging you onto the shore.”
Cass’s eyes widened, and her heartbeat was deafening now. “Did you see who it was?”
To her disappointment, Michael shook his head again. “It was too dark, and they left immediately. I stayed with you until an ambulance arrived. It only took a few minutes. Whoever pulled you out must’ve been the one to call for help.”
“Any other secrets I should know about?” Cass was joking, mostly, but there may have been some seriousness in the question.
Michael made a soft, weary sound. “I think that’s it.”
This time, the quiet was less strained. The two of them stayed in their places, Cass on the bed, Michael in the chair. Their shadows stretched over the floorboards as if they were reaching for each other. In an abrupt movement, Cass folded her legs and held them against her body. Her mind latched onto that word—secrets. She remembered that Michael wasn’t the only one withholding information. If she didn’t bring it up now, she would officially be a hypocrite.
“There’s something I need to tell you, too,” Cass said.
Her tone made Michael’s brows furrow again. “What is it?”
Cass’s stomach flipped, but she forged ahead. “I kept that photograph of you, and I showed it to one of my professors. She’s spent her life learning the school’s history. She recognized you.”
From the way his expression shifted, Cass knew Michael understood what she was offering him. He only hesitated for a moment before he said, “Tell me.”
“Your name is Michael de Leon. You were murdered in 1926.” Cass paused, realizing that she didn’t want to say the rest. Michael was looking at her intently, and even though he tried to appear neutral, she could see the hope in his eyes. The hope that, after all these years, he might finally know his story. Cass hated that she was about to take it from him. Despite Michael’s reaction when she’d shown him the picture for the first time, he did want answers.
“By who?” Michael asked. She’d been quiet too long. Cass knew there was no avoiding it now.
“It’s a cold case,” she admitted. “Your body was found somewhere off campus. You’d been… beaten, and your throat was cut.”
Michael’s silence was awful. Cass held her legs tighter, wondering if she should’ve kept the information to herself. Seconds ticked by, and there wasn’t a single sound in the room. Dust motes floated serenely through the shaft of moonlight.
“It’s strange hearing about your death from someone else,” Michael said finally. He still didn’t look at her.
Cass could relate. But the biggest difference between them was that she had gotten to come back—her story hadn’t ended in the water, and she still had a chance to figure out why it all happened. Pain tightened in Cass’s chest, as if someone had reached inside and grasped her heart.
Michael’s story wasn’t over, either, she thought suddenly. He still had a chance to find answers, too. Michael may not have a body, but for some big, mysterious reason, he was connected to her.
And Cass was just getting started.
Excitement raced through her. Now that Cass knew Michael’s name, she could keep digging. She could go to the public library and talk to more professors. Maybe the local papers kept archives. But what if they didn’t go that far back? 1926 was an awfully long time ago…
You’re getting ahead of yourself, Cass realized, forcing her runaway thoughts to slow. She’d just dropped a bomb on Michael, and a few weeks ago, he’d told her to stop looking for information about his past. Her gaze went back to him, and her eagerness dimmed. “Was I right to tell you?” Cass asked.
“Yes.” Michael didn’t hesitate. He looked her in the eye and nodded. “Thank you, Cass.”
“You don’t have to thank me, but you’re welcome.” She cast a tired glance toward the clock on her nightstand. It was just past four a.m. now, and the devil’s hour was over—a time, according to her textbooks, that revenants were more powerful. It’s why Dad could hear Cal’s footsteps in the middle of the night, back when Cass was living at home. Maybe now Karen would leave her the fuck alone. Cass rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. The exhaustion had returned in a flood.
When her vision cleared again, Michael was standing. Cass didn’t try to stop him—they both knew he had to leave. Cal could be back any minute, and she needed more sleep if she was going to be remotely functional tomorrow.
“Good night,” Cass said. The words felt lame after the bizarre conversation they’d just had, but it was all she could come up with.
“Good night, Cass.” Michael began to turn away.
“Wait,” she blurted. Michael paused, looking at her. Cass pursed her lips and mustered the courage to ask one more question. She wasn’t sure if it was right, or if she even wanted to know the answer, but she might not get another chance for a while. The thought hardened Cass’s resolve. She met Michael’s gaze and forced herself to say it. “I know ghosts can’t see each other… but do you have any idea where my brother goes when he disappears?”
Although his expression didn’t change, Michael’s eyes softened. “All I know is that he leaves campus,” he answered.
