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“And because you thought we’d murdered him,” Fritz says, his bluntness tinged with understanding. If he harbors any hard feelings toward me over that, he doesn’t show it.
“Correct,” I say. “But now I think I misunderstood him, and I’d like—”
“To flat out ask him what he wants.”
I start to blush, for the idea continues to sound ridiculous. “Is that even possible?”
“If Ezra Hawthorne were here right now, I’m sure he’d suggest a dozen different ways in which you could attempt to contact Billy. Unfortunately, he isn’t. And there’s no way to reach him.”
“He’s firmly in the spirit realm?” I ask. “How do you know?”
Fritz gives me a sly smile. “Just because I don’t yet believe doesn’t mean I haven’t tried.”
“So I’m out of luck? My only option is to let Billy keep haunting me and try to figure out what he wants?”
“Maybe the hauntingiswhat he wants,” Fritz says. “Over the years, Ezra became convinced that some souls remain caught between the earthly and spirit realms by choice. His advice was always to leave them alone.”
But I can’t do that. God knows I tried. Running away as fast as I could, hoping the guilt and bad memories wouldn’t catch up to me. But they did. They always do. Now they’re always present, taking the form of insomnia, of The Dream, of Billy’s shadowlike figure tossing baseballs into the backyard.
“Why?”
“Because there’s something else that keeps a spirit bound to the earthly realm. Something stronger than unfinished business.”
“What’s that?” I say.
Fritz drops his second cigarette next to the first one. Extinguishing it with a mighty stomp, he says, “A grudge.”
Friday, July 15, 1994
3:37 p.m.
Ethan doesn’t stop running until both feet are firmly planted in the grass of his own backyard. He’s never run that far in his life, and now he worries about the toll it’s taking on his body. His legs feel like rubber bands, and his heart thumps so heavily in his chest he fears it’s going to explode. He collapses onto the lawn, unconcerned that his mother might see him like this and ask what he’s been up to. He’d gladly tell her. Because someone needs to know what happened to Billy.
Instead of his mother, the sight of Ethan splayed out on the grass draws Ashley, Russ, and Ragesh, who push through the hedge bordering Russ’s lawn.
“Where’s Billy?” Ashley says, peering into the woods as if he’s simply lagging behind.
“He—” Still breathless, Ethan can barely get the necessary words out. “He got caught.”
“Caught?” Ragesh says. “By that guy in the suit?”
Ethan nods, dizzy from the thought of it. He replays the image of the man in the black suit—so huge, so intimidating—reaching Billy, wondering what happened after that. Is Billy still trapped between thegate’s bars? Or is he in the clutches of the suited man? The idea that, right now, Billy might be getting roughed up makes him want to puke.
Ashley kneels beside Ethan and helps him sit up. Rubbing his back, she says, “Okay, tell us what happened.”
That’s something Ethan can’t do because it would mean admitting to the others not just that he left Billy behind, but his reasons for doing so. Instead, he gives them a hollow version of the truth.
“The guy got to him before Billy could get away.”
Ragesh starts pacing in the grass. “Do you think he’s going to tell on us?”
“That’swhat you’re worried about?” Ashley says. “Billy could be in big trouble.”
“And so could we,” Ragesh says. “You saw that place. It’s not somewhere we should have been trespassing.”
“Which is why I didn’t want you going through that goddamn wall.”
Afraid the two of them are going to exchange blows, Ethan pipes up. “We need to tell someone. My mom. Or Billy’s mom.”