CHAPTER TWENTY

I fell to my knees and doubled over, screaming until my throat was raw, every muscle shaking as I crouched there.

I heard Gabriel shout my name and footsteps pounding toward me. I staggered up and stumbled into the library as he came through the door, breathing hard.

“I was looking for you,” he said. “I heard you scream. What—?”

“Nothing,” I said, grabbing his sleeve and tugging him across the room. “A vision. I just had a vision.”

“Of what?”

I shook my head and kept pulling him, desperate to get him out of there, to get us out of there.

He stopped me. “What did you see, Olivia?”

“Lots of things. Mills. Letitia. Writing on the wall. Let’s just go—”

“What made you scream?”

“I—” I took a deep breath. “I imagined I saw James . . . James’s body.”

“What?”

I pulled out of his grasp. “It was a vision. Or a hallucination. Like Letitia. I just want to get out of here. Now. Please.”

I ran for the opposite doorway. When I reached it, I realized he wasn’t with me and turned to see him walking in the opposite direction.

“No!” I said. “Don’t you take another step, Gabriel Walsh.”

He turned, slowly, and the look on his face . . . I wanted to see doubt and confusion and disbelief and skepticism. Even a look that said he thought I’d lost my mind. But that’s not what I saw.

“Stay where you are,” he said. “I’m going to—”

“He’s not there,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. I wrapped my arms tight around my chest, but my legs were still shaking. “It’s not really him.”

Gabriel didn’t say a word, just turned and went through the doorway. I followed him.

James still lay on the floor. I’d seen the bruises on his shoulders and face. Now I noticed them around his neck. He’d been strangled. His back wasn’t covered in blood as I’d thought. It was a single swath up the middle, a perfectly excised strip of skin. I’d seen the photos of my parents’ alleged crime scenes and the bodies had looked exactly like this.

Strangled. Half dressed. Skin stripped from his back.

That proved it wasn’t real.

I looked up to find Gabriel watching me.

“You don’t see him, do you?” I said.

Silence.

“Tell me you don’t see him.” I looked up at him, his face swimming behind my tears. “Please tell me you don’t see James.”

His jaw worked. The tears streamed down my face, hot and fast. I took a half step toward Gabriel before catching myself. I teetered there and then started to step back, but he reached for me and pulled me against him.

I won’t say it was a hug. I won’t even say it was an embrace. It felt like falling against a statue. He held himself so tight and still that I swore I heard his teeth clench as his arms went around me. It was awkward and strange, and he hated it. Yet he did it. He gave me what I needed.

After a long moment, I stepped away from Gabriel and turned to James. I knelt beside him.

“I’m sorry,” Gabriel said.

I nodded, and I knelt there, looking at James.

I hated you. I didn’t think that was even possible, and if someone had accused me of it, I’d have denied it. But in these last few days, I came to hate you. I wanted you to let me go, and you wouldn’t, and now I’m kneeling beside your body, and I don’t feel hate. Certainly not relief.

No matter what you did, you didn’t deserve this. It’s my fault. I don’t know what happened, but I know that much: it’s my fault.

Tears threatened again.

“We’re going to walk back to the car,” Gabriel said, his voice rock-steady. “I’ll call the police and Ricky. You can sit with him while I bring the police here. I’ll take care of everything. All you need to do right now is walk out to the car with me.”

That was Gabriel’s real embrace. I’ll fix this for you.

I nodded and started to rise. Then I paused to stare again at that missing strip of skin. I moved around the body, crouched, and reached for James’s shoulder.

Gabriel rocked forward. “You can’t touch—”

“I need to know.”

He didn’t ask what I meant, just caught my hand. “The police will check. I’ll be here to verify.”

I shook my head. “I need to see.”

He hesitated and then bent down to James.

“No,” I said. “I should—”

It was too late. He’d already eased the body up. James’s chest was discolored, either from bruising or from the blood settling. But what I was looking for was there. A symbol painted in blue on his stomach. He’d definitely been strangled. And beaten, too—the blood around his head seemed to have come from his mouth.

“The symbol is the same,” Gabriel said. “I don’t want to open his mouth or check his thigh, but I’m presuming the stone is there and the other symbols.”

“And the bruising?” I pointed at his face and upper body. “Someone beat him. Badly. I don’t remember that with the other murder victims.”

“No, they weren’t. This is clearly a copycat—” He cleared his throat. “We’ll discuss that later. Will you leave now?”

I closed my eyes. Then I felt his hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently, and I let him guide me away from James.