Read Online Forty-Four Box Set, Books 1-10 (44) by Jools Sinclair - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jools Sinclair
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pretty easy to break into the empty houses that were for sale around town and sleep in them at night. I wondered if that’s what Matt was doing.
“Where did Dr. Mortimer go, by the way?” I asked, remembering that he had disappeared in my vision.
“We said goodbye right after we got there. I had interviews to do and since there weren’t any victims in the house, he got a ride back home from the paramedics.”
Kate cleared her throat.
“You never see him? His face, I mean. The killer?”
“No,” I said.
I looked down at my hands. They were shaking. I couldn’t tell if I was cold or scared, but that familiar fear was churning around inside me like a washing machine. I was suddenly exhausted. It was late and these visions took it out of me, like I used to feel the night after a real tough soccer game. Maybe Jesse and Kate were right. Maybe I shouldn’t be so caught up in any of this. Maybe I really needed to focus on myself.
“You okay, Abby?” Kate said, her gray eyes big.
“It’s a terrible thing to watch people die,” I said, releasing more tears. “Please, Kate, help me stop it.”
“I will,” she said. “Promise.”
CHAPTER 18
As I walked to class, I wondered why I had never seen his face.
As Kate had pointed out, the visions had become sharper and in this last one I saw so many details. I had seen Kate and Dr. Mortimer, the smug arsonist soon-to-be murder victim, the raging fire. But I never saw the killer’s face. Was it because I was too scared to look, or was it something else?
Amanda and her friends were standing next to their lockers, backs glued to metal as they eyed the kids walking by. They got all quiet as I passed, but I heard their hissing whispers soon after. My stomach dropped as I felt those sharp comments sting like darts on my back.
Amanda seemed to hate me more and more as the year moved along and I still had no idea why. From what I was able to piece together through pictures and old soccer videos, at one time we were really good friends. In fact, it looked like we were best friends. But since the accident, she hated me. She never came to the hospital and had stopped by the house just one time to see me with the coach and team. She called a few times, but it was forced. I could tell even back then.
The only logical reason I could think of was that it must have had something to do with me not being able to play anymore, that I had let the team down. I had not only ruined my own chances for a soccer scholarship, but ruined her shot as well. It made no sense though. I wasn’t up for dealing with it, but I knew that I’d have to confront her eventually.
In history, Mr. Collins gave me back my test, a C+, and that was okay lately. I’d take it. Actually, it was an improvement.
“Better! Keep it going!” was written at the top and circled.
I sighed. I was pretty sure that was the kind of note teachers wrote to the idiots in class.
I made it through the day. None of it was too exciting. But I was pleased with myself that I was able to do it, sit and pay attention, take tests, get Cs. That would be enough to pass, to graduate in June and get my diploma. It was afterwards that made my blood run cold. I had no idea what I was going to do.
Jesse was absent again. Dude was flipping out, I concluded as I dropped off my English paper. It made me kind of mad, actually. Here he was, super jock, grades that put the honor students to shame. He had everything and his future was golden, laid out perfectly. But he didn’t seem to care about any of that anymore.
Jesse didn’t like to talk about serious things and I knew that me nearly dying last year had hurt him. Maybe he felt like he couldn’t leave me next year, that I would fall to pieces if he went off to school, that my recovery would take a nose dive.
And maybe he was right.
But just as I was heading out the double doors and had written him off, there he was, walking to the gym with the team. He ran up to me,
“Where did Dr. Mortimer go, by the way?” I asked, remembering that he had disappeared in my vision.
“We said goodbye right after we got there. I had interviews to do and since there weren’t any victims in the house, he got a ride back home from the paramedics.”
Kate cleared her throat.
“You never see him? His face, I mean. The killer?”
“No,” I said.
I looked down at my hands. They were shaking. I couldn’t tell if I was cold or scared, but that familiar fear was churning around inside me like a washing machine. I was suddenly exhausted. It was late and these visions took it out of me, like I used to feel the night after a real tough soccer game. Maybe Jesse and Kate were right. Maybe I shouldn’t be so caught up in any of this. Maybe I really needed to focus on myself.
“You okay, Abby?” Kate said, her gray eyes big.
“It’s a terrible thing to watch people die,” I said, releasing more tears. “Please, Kate, help me stop it.”
“I will,” she said. “Promise.”
CHAPTER 18
As I walked to class, I wondered why I had never seen his face.
As Kate had pointed out, the visions had become sharper and in this last one I saw so many details. I had seen Kate and Dr. Mortimer, the smug arsonist soon-to-be murder victim, the raging fire. But I never saw the killer’s face. Was it because I was too scared to look, or was it something else?
Amanda and her friends were standing next to their lockers, backs glued to metal as they eyed the kids walking by. They got all quiet as I passed, but I heard their hissing whispers soon after. My stomach dropped as I felt those sharp comments sting like darts on my back.
Amanda seemed to hate me more and more as the year moved along and I still had no idea why. From what I was able to piece together through pictures and old soccer videos, at one time we were really good friends. In fact, it looked like we were best friends. But since the accident, she hated me. She never came to the hospital and had stopped by the house just one time to see me with the coach and team. She called a few times, but it was forced. I could tell even back then.
The only logical reason I could think of was that it must have had something to do with me not being able to play anymore, that I had let the team down. I had not only ruined my own chances for a soccer scholarship, but ruined her shot as well. It made no sense though. I wasn’t up for dealing with it, but I knew that I’d have to confront her eventually.
In history, Mr. Collins gave me back my test, a C+, and that was okay lately. I’d take it. Actually, it was an improvement.
“Better! Keep it going!” was written at the top and circled.
I sighed. I was pretty sure that was the kind of note teachers wrote to the idiots in class.
I made it through the day. None of it was too exciting. But I was pleased with myself that I was able to do it, sit and pay attention, take tests, get Cs. That would be enough to pass, to graduate in June and get my diploma. It was afterwards that made my blood run cold. I had no idea what I was going to do.
Jesse was absent again. Dude was flipping out, I concluded as I dropped off my English paper. It made me kind of mad, actually. Here he was, super jock, grades that put the honor students to shame. He had everything and his future was golden, laid out perfectly. But he didn’t seem to care about any of that anymore.
Jesse didn’t like to talk about serious things and I knew that me nearly dying last year had hurt him. Maybe he felt like he couldn’t leave me next year, that I would fall to pieces if he went off to school, that my recovery would take a nose dive.
And maybe he was right.
But just as I was heading out the double doors and had written him off, there he was, walking to the gym with the team. He ran up to me,
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