metal and rotting wood reached back from the opposite bank of the river, but the two halves of the old bridge, like two groping hands, had lost touch.
When Ivy saw the parallel bridges clearly in the sunlight, when she saw the seven-foot gap between them and the long fall down to the water and rocks below, she realized the kind of risk Eric had taken when he pretended to leap from the new bridge. What went on inside Eric's head? she wondered.
Either he was totally insane or he just didn't care whether he lived or died.
Eric's Harley was not in sight, but there were plenty of trees and brush to hide it in. Ivy glanced around, then picked her way carefully down the steep bank next to the bridges, sliding part of the way until she reached a narrow path that ran along the river. She walked as quietly as possible, alert to every sound around her. When the trees rustled she looked up quickly, half expecting to see Eric and Gregory ready to swoop down on their prey.
'Get a grip, Ivy,' she chided herself, but she continued to tread softly.
If she could surprise Eric, she might see what he was up to before she walked into a trap.
Ivy glanced at her watch several times, and at five minutes past five she wondered if she had passed the car. But after a few more feet, something flashed in her eyes-sunlight glinting off metal. Fifteen feet ahead, she saw an overgrown path that led from the river to a metal heap.
Ivy worked her way into the brush, keeping herself hidden as she crept closer. Once she thought she heard something behind her, a soft crunch of leaves beneath someone's foot. She turned quickly.
Nothing. Nothing but a few leaves drifting in the breeze.
Ivy pushed aside some long branches and took two steps forward, then drew in her breath sharply. The car was just as Beth had described it, its sunk into the earth, its rear buried beneath vines. The car's hood was ripped off, and its vinyl roof had decayed into papery black flakes. Its scarred doors shone blue-exactly as Beth had said.
The back door was open. Was there a blanket on the seat inside? Ivy wondered. What was under the blanket?
Again she heard rustling behind her and turned quickly around, searching the trees. Her eyes ached from focusing and refocusing on every shadow and flutter of leaf, searching for the shape of a person watching her. No one.
She glanced at her watch. Ten after five. Eric wouldn't have given up on her this soon, she thought. Either he's late or he's waiting for me to make the first move. Well, two can play the waiting game, Ivy reasoned, and crouched down quietly.
A few minutes later her legs began to ache with the tension of holding still. She rubbed them and looked at her watch again: quarter after. She waited five more minutes. Maybe Eric has lost his nerve, she thought.
Ivy stood up slowly, but something kept her from moving any further. She heard Beth's warning as if her friend were standing next to her, whispering in her ear.
'Angels, help me,' Ivy prayed. Part of her wanted to find out what was in the car. But part of her wanted to run away. 'Angels, are you there?
Tristan, I need you. I need you now!'
She walked tentatively toward the car. When she reached the clearing she paused for just a moment, waiting to see if anyone had followed. Then she bent down and looked in the back seat.
Ivy blinked, unsure for a moment that what she saw was real-not another nightmare, not one more of Eric's jokes. Then she screamed, screamed until her throat was raw. She knew without touching him-he was too pale, too still, his blue eyes open and staring at nothing-that Eric was dead.
Ivy jumped when someone touched her from behind. She started screaming again. Arms wrapped around her, pulling her back, holding her tight. She thought she'd shriek her brains out. He didn't try to stop her, just held her till she went limp, her whole body sagging against him. His face brushed hers.
'Will,' she said. She could feel his body shaking.
He turned her toward him and held her face against his chest, his hand shielding her eyes. But in her mind Ivy could still see Eric staring upward, his eyes wide, as if he were quietly amazed by what had happened.
Will shifted his weight, and Ivy knew he was looking over her shoulder at Eric. 'I–I don't see any signs of trouble,' he said. 'No bruising. No blood.'
Ivy's stomach suddenly rose up against her ribs. She gritted her teeth and forced it back down. 'Maybe drugs,' she said. 'An overdose,' Will nodded. His breath was short and quick against her cheek. 'We have to call the police.'
Then Ivy pulled away from him. She bent down and forced herself to look long and hard at Eric. She should memorize the scene, she thought. She should collect clues. What had happened to him could be a warning to her.
But as she looked at Eric all she felt was the loss; all she could see was a wasted life.
Ivy reached into the car. Will caught her hand. 'Don't. Don't touch him,' he said. 'Leave his body just as it is so that the police can examine it.'
Ivy nodded, then picked up an old blanket from the car floor and gently laid it on top of Eric. 'Angels-' she began, but she did not know what to ask for. 'Help him,' she said, and left the prayer at that. As she walked away she knew that a merciful angel of the dead was looking down on Eric, weeping-just as Beth had said.
'Despite what you say, Lacey, I'm glad I missed my own funeral,' Tristan observed as the mourners gathered at Eric's graveside. Some of them stood solitary and stiff as soldiers; others leaned against each other for support and comfort.
Friday had dawned pale and drizzly. Several people raised umbrellas now, like bright nylon flowers blooming against the gray stones and misty trees. Ivy and Beth stood on either side of Will, bareheaded, letting the rain and tears run together. Suzanne stood with one arm around Gregory, staring down at the bristling grass.
Three times in five months the four of them had stood together at River stone Rise, and still the police asked only routine questions about the deaths.
'No luck?' Lacey called down from her perch in a tree.
Tristan grunted. 'Gregory's built a wall around himself,' he replied, and walked in frustrated circles around the elm. He had tried several times during the church service to get inside Gregory's head.
'Sometimes I think that the moment I approach him, he senses me. I think he knows something's up as soon as I get near him.'
'Could be,' Lacey said. Materializing her fingers, she swung from a branch, dropping down neatly beside him. 'In angel matters, you're not exactly a smooth operator.'
'What do you mean?'
'Well, let's put it this way. If you were stealing TVs instead of thoughts,' she told him, 'you'd have been caught by a half-deaf, mostly blind, fifteen-year-old dog three robberies ago.'
Tristan was stung. 'Well, give me two years to procrastinate,' he retorted, 'excuse me, I meant two years to practice, and I'll be as good as you.'
'Maybe,' Lacey said, then added with a smile, 'I tried getting inside him, too. Impossible.'
Tristan studied Gregory's face. He gave away nothing, his mouth an even line, his eyes focused straight ahead.
'You know,' Lacey said, materializing the palm of her hand and holding it up to catch raindrops, 'Gregory doesn't have to be responsible for everything bad that happens. You saw the report. The police found no signs of a struggle.'
The coroner had listed Eric's death as a drug overdose. Eric's parents insisted it was an accident. At school it was rumored to be suicide.
Tristan believed it was murder.
'The report doesn't prove anything,' he argued, pacing back and forth.
'Gregory didn't have to force-feed Eric. He could have bought him a heavy dose without telling him how powerful it was. He could have waited till Eric was too high to know better, then given him more. The reason the police aren't thinking murder, Lacey, is because they have no motive for it.'
'And you do.'
'Eric was ready to talk. He was ready to tell Ivy something.'
