"Aaron," she whispers, looking down at him again. "My baby boy. We're going to be so happy."
"Is he breathing?" I ask. She doesn't answer. I raise my voice louder. "Is he breathing?"
"He's okay," she says. "He's going to be just fine. I just wish it didn't hurt. I don't want to see my baby in pain."
"He's not okay," I say. I drop down into a crouch. Rodney steps toward me, and I send a glare up to him until he steps back. "Laura, look at me."
She lifts sad, aching eyes to me.
"Please." The word creaks out of her, barely getting past her raw lips.
"You know, Laura. Look at him. You got friends for him. Toys. Everything he loves. Because you want your son to be happy. Look at Dean. Does he look happy?"
"He will be," she whispers.
Chapter Thirty-Five
“I have spent my entire life in my brother’s shadow. My entire life doing my mother’s bidding and bringing him things. Bringing him people. Bringing him friends, just to keep her happy. So much blood. So much blood,” he says, his voice trailing a bit. His eyes search the wood floor of the cabin as if he is seeing the faces of those he killed.
His mother puts her hand on his leg, and he flinches until she takes it away. My eyes keep darting down to the gun at his feet. I hope he is too distracted to notice I am doing it. Getting to the gun might be my only chance, and I need to get him distracted enough that I can get to it. But he’s standing between me and it.
“Rodney,” Laura starts, her voice returning to the elderly, sweet sound it had when I first met her. It seems like a year ago, and yet it was only a day.
“Mama, stay out of this,” he warns her.
“Rodney, you listen to Mama, now,” she says a little more sternly. “Let her go. She doesn’t need to be here. Let her go.”
“No, Mama. I can’t let him get away again.” Rodney says. “This woman wants to take him away. She wants to take him away from you, Mama. She wants to hurt our family.”
I keep my eyes on the gun. His feet shuffle as he paces the step or two between his mother and the gun. Dean is unconscious on the floor, blood still oozing from his wound. How much time does he have left?
“Shh, baby. No one is taking you away again,” she says, her focus back to Dean. “You’re such a good boy.”
“Rodney,” I say, my voice feeling like gravel in my throat. “Rodney, he is going to die. We need to put something on his wound at least, so he doesn’t bleed out.”
“Shut up!” he explodes at me. “You aren’t going to ruin this for us. I’ve spent too long. Too long! I almost had him that summer when he was thirteen. I was so close, but he got away. He slipped through my fingers. Mama was so sad! Too many people were there to try again. Always too many people. But not now. He’s finally home and Mama is happy. That’s all that matters.”
There is a sudden crackle of sound and everyone freezes. The sound is coming from my chest and I realize there is something on the inside pocket of my jacket. Something square and heavy. I slowly reach in, Rodney’s eyes watching my every move. I unzip the pocket and grab the metal case and pull it out.
It is one of the ghost hunting devices Xavier had been working on. He must have stuffed it down in my pocket at some point. A spinner dial in the center keeps rolling through numbers. I recognize the pattern as radio stations. It is scanning radio stations.
There are blips of sound as it catches something and moves on, but they are rare. Reception out here is so low that it’s mostly silent. Then, I nearly drop it when a voice comes through.
“Mama,” the voice says.
“Aaron?” Laura gasps, her breath hitching. “Aaron? How is that Aaron’s voice?” She turns her eyes back to Dean and then to the device in my hand. Then slowly, they come up to meet mine. “What is going on?”
I try to keep my nerves calm, but I can see the metal blade of a hunting knife in Rodney’s hand. He’s staring at the device with wide, empty eyes. Unbelieving eyes. Terrified eyes. I have one shot at this.
“It’s your son, Aaron. That’s his voice. Don’t you recognize it?”
Slowly, she nods. Then she looks back down to Dean, her face crinkling a bit like she is just noticing features of his face that don’t match. She turns back to me.
“Why is Aaron talking through that box? Who is this?” she asks.
“That’s Dean. He is my cousin. He knew Aaron a long time ago. Laura, I need you to listen to me. This is very important.”
“No,” Rodney whispers. “No, it can’t be.”
“Laura, Aaron is dead. You know that. He drowned,” I say.
Slowly, she nods again. “Of course. But he came back to me. He…”
Her voice trails off again as she looks at Dean.
“That’s not him,” I say. “That’s Dean. Not your son.”
“Shut up!” Rodney screams, his hands rising to cover his ears as he crumples into the wall, standing. “Shut up!”
“Dean?” Laura says. “Not Aaron. Dean. Where is Aaron?”
“He’s… he’s dead. But this box, it communicates with the spirit world. They can speak to us but only through a different frequency. This box picks it up,” I say. “Listen, we might hear him again.”
Hoping that whatever magic Xavier imbibed this thing with will work again, I hold it out to her. There is a sudden static sound and then a voice.
“Mama,” it says. “Mama, let me go.”
Laura’s face drains
