Page 95 of Waysider
Cass absorbed this silently, her eyes falling to the magazine in Sinister’s hands. His words made her think of Michael and what he’d told her on the night she had summoned Karen. The dead are unpredictable. We’re not fully human anymore. We don’t have to fear consequences, and we don’t get to experience things like kindness or love. We are alone.
After a moment, Cass turned and gazed out the window. A gray sky churned above, and rivulets of rain quivered down the glass. Shadows shifted and moved on her face. “Then why not move on?” she murmured.
Sinister’s response floated over to her. “I guess there’s something making them stay.”
Cass just made a soft, thoughtful sound. “Guess so,” she said.
Seconds later, the plane began to move, and the captain’s voice sounded overhead. His words were background noise to Cass. She’d spotted Patrick Doyle’s face in the clouds, and then she heard him. Heard his furious disbelief as he growled, You already love him.
Cass closed the window.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
He waited until his sister was asleep.
It didn’t sit well with Cal, leaving Cass after so much had happened. After he’d vanished for almost an entire day, gone to even he didn’t know where. One second, Cal had been in that creepy hospital, watching Patrick Doyle change before his eyes, and the next… nothing. There was an instant of terrible pain, as if someone were jerking out his intestines. Then darkness rushed in.
When Cal opened his eyes again, he’d been here, in Cass’s room at Else & Bellows. It had taken exactly three seconds to see that she was in rough shape, so he’d stayed by her side the rest of the evening. Cass had another day of finals. She was already convinced she’d failed all the ones today—she didn’t say it, but Cal knew it was because of him. Because she’d been so worried. So Cal helped her study, and the normalcy of it calmed both of them down, he thought.
But now there was someone Cal needed to pay a visit to. For the first time since he’d begun his search, he actually knew where to go, since Laura was able to pinpoint her location in the spirit world just by putting her hand on a map. Cal had pretended not to notice how she hesitated, just for a moment, a shadow of doubt in Laura’s eyes as she glanced back at him.
He couldn’t wait anymore, not when his family’s safety depended on it.
The bus ride had taken longer than he thought it would, but it could’ve been far worse. Ricky had been hiding right beneath Cal’s nose, in Las Vegas. Maybe he’d thought a big city would help him blend in… or maybe it just never occurred to him that Cal would come looking.
Guess again, asshole, Cal thought. Hot anticipation surged through his veins. He kept his gaze on the landscape outside the window, even though it was too dark to make out anything. His mind was elsewhere, anyway.
But despite Cal’s distraction, his excitement, he was anxious to get back to Cass. The feeling made his eight-hour bus ride seem endless.
Eventually it did pull up to his stop. A single streetlight shone down, brightening the numbers on the mailbox. Cal confirmed this was the right place before he slid out of his seat. He walked past the few remaining passengers and got off the bus. The engine rumbled as it drove away, revealing the house on the other side of the street. Cal shoved his hands in his pockets and stood there for a moment, studying the place where Ramirez had been hiding all this time.
It was exactly what Cal had expected. Small, rundown. It was also in a neighborhood he wouldn’t have risked going to if he was alive. A place of chain link fences, dirt roads, and faces peeking behind thin, stained curtains. As Cal started toward the front door of Ricky Ramirez’s house, the neighbor’s dog sensed his presence and started barking frantically, spittle and foam flying from its mouth. Cal ignored it and went up the cracked, weedy path. He stopped in front of the door and tried to control the reaction coursing through him.
This was it. The moment he’d been waiting for since that black, terrible night when he’d lost everything. Cal knew he didn’t have a heartbeat, but he swore he could feel it racing. Slamming against the wall of his chest. Suddenly Cal couldn’t wait another second, and he went inside without any more hesitation.
The room was dark. Everything was covered in the glow from the TV, which blared against the far wall. A single armchair rested in front of it, and a familiar figure sat there, all his focus on the video game he was playing. Cal started walking toward him, his steps slow and deliberate. The boy in the chair went still, and slowly, he turned his head. The game kept going, flickering over half of his face.
And as familiar brown eyes met Cal’s, he discovered something else.
Ricky Ramierz was a powerful voyant.
“I remember you. You’re her brother.” His voice was soft, and there was no surprise in his expression. Ramirez had been expecting this.
Cal’s hands clenched. Rage simmered in his chest, and he struggled to contain it. “So you did target Cassie.”
Ricky’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. Cal hadn’t said it like a question, but Ricky still answered. “I was just doing what I was told,” he said.
Cal’s voice sharpened. “What do you mean? Someone else told you to hurt Cass?”
“I wasn’t supposed to live. That was never part of the plan. But then I was in the water, and… I got scared.” The boy whispered this last part, as if it were a shameful secret. Fat tears rolled down his cheeks now, and he didn’t try to wipe them away.
If he’d been hoping to make Cal feel sorry for him, Ricky had failed miserably. Cal watched him cry and all he felt was disgust. He could see the truth written all over Ricky’s tearstained face. He didn’t regret what he’d done to them—he regretted that he hadn’t had the guts to die with them.
And that was when Cal Ryan made his decision.
A strange calm stole over him. He scanned the rest of the room, noting every detail with cool efficiency. Ricky Ramirez had been living like a rat. The air smelled stale. A small basket in the corner spilled over with garbage. Piles of clothing littered the floor, along with empty beer cans and crumpled pizza boxes. Every surface was completely covered in food-crusted dishes, balled-up paper bags, and empty wrappers. It was as if Ricky had been too afraid to leave the room.
Or let anyone else in.
