Mrs. Hanley pulls in a long breath and blows it out slowly. “Tell me about this premonition you say you received. How do you know it was real?”
That’s one line I can’t cross. She’ll think I’m crazy and may not want a crazy person living in her house. I can’t risk her throwing me out. “I just . . . know. I can’t explain it.”
“And this premonition is why you came to Stone Lake?”
“Rose thinks so.”
“What do you think?”
I spread my hands, knowing I’m treading dangerously close to the edge, but unable to stop myself now. “I don’t know. I was home, and then the next thing I knew, I was just . . . here. I didn’t plan it. It just sort of happened. And then once I was here, I couldn’t go back. Not until I figure this out.” I shrug helplessly. “Except I’m failing miserably at that. And now Rose probably won’t even talk to me anymore.”
“Let her be the one to decide that.” Mrs. Hanley rises from her chair, crossing to the counter. She opens a drawer. “In the meantime, I may be able to help you.”
I blink, confused. “Really? How?”
“I didn’t tell the police everything about that day. The day of the fire.”
“You . . . what? Why?” My mind is spinning. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that Mrs. Hanley would’ve lied to the police.
“I had my reasons,” she says, rummaging through the drawer. “But if the good Lord has called you to find the person who set that fire, who am I to stand in his way?”
I squirm uncomfortably in my chair. “I wouldn’t say it’s a calling, exactly—”
“In my experience, premonitions don’t just happen. They are given.” She finds whatever she’s looking for, held tight in her hand, and walks back to me. She picks up my hand, pressing a small, uneven object into my palm. “I found this the day of the fire. I have an idea of what it might mean, but I’ll let you draw your own conclusions.”
I swallow, staring at my hand, my throat tight. “Mrs. Hanley, I appreciate this a lot, like, a whole lot, but . . . I feel like I should tell you, I’m not sure I even believe in God.”
“That’s all right, sugar,” she says, patting me gently on the cheek. “Maybe he believes in you.”
THURSDAY
Chapter Forty-Eight
JUSTIN
I pace back and forth in front of Rose’s house, waiting impatiently for her to get home from school. I tried calling her last night, after what Mrs. Hanley told me, but her dad wouldn’t let me speak to her.
I shouldn’t have been surprised. But I have to talk to her, which is why I’m waiting outside her house. I was prepared to wait for her outside the school, but her house was dark when I walked by, and I’m gambling on Rose beating her parents home. It’ll be easier to corner her here than at school. She may hate me now, but it’ll be much harder for her to avoid me if I’m standing right in front of her.
At least, I hope so.
When she finally arrives home, she’s not alone. Noah glares at me from behind the wheel of his mom’s car as he turns onto their street, Rose seated beside him. She won’t meet my eyes as Noah parks in his driveway and I run around to the passenger side.
“Leave me alone, Justin,” Rose mutters, trying to get past me as she climbs out of the car.
I block her, shuffling from side to side, arms out like we’re on opposing basketball teams. “I need to talk to you.”
“I don’t want to talk to you. And you’re not even supposed to be here.”
“I know. I was a jerk yesterday, and I’m sorry,” I say hurriedly. “But if you would just listen for a second—”
“What are you doing here?” Noah asks from the other side of the car, his expression dark.
“I have to talk to Rose.”
“She doesn’t want to talk to you.”
I frown, wondering what this guy’s deal is. I know he’s got a girlfriend, although she’s currently nowhere to be seen, and every time I see him around Rose, it’s like he’s confused about which girl he’s actually dating.
“Not that it’s any of your business,” I say, “but this is important.”
Noah crosses his arms, and I swear to God, he’s got to be flexing, because his muscles strain against his shirtsleeves like they’re trying to escape. Dude is trying to intimidate me, and it’s pissing me off—and not just because my scrawny arms look like twigs, whether or not I’m flexing.
“Fine,” he says, nodding slightly, like a bouncer granting me admission to a club. “Say whatever you gotta say.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not saying it in front of you.”
He shrugs. “Suit yourself, but I’m not leaving.” As he’s been speaking, he’s gradually been moving around the car closer to Rose, like he’s caught in her gravity.
I try to catch Rose’s eye, which is a feat considering she’s trying her best not to look at me. “The thing is, it’s kind of . . . private. It’s about that thing,” I say, raising my eyebrows in an attempt to convey that by thing, I actually mean time travel. “I found something. It might be exactly what we were looking for.”
That grabs her attention. She finally looks at me, and I can see her curiosity warring with her desire to stay mad at me.
Curiosity wins. She touches Noah’s arm lightly. “It’s okay, Noah,” she says. “You can go in.”
He gapes incredulously at her. “But last night—”
“It’s fine,” she insists, “but thank you.” She gives him a shy smile, leaving me wondering what the hell happened last night.
I tell myself that the tightness that twists through my chest is irritation, not jealousy.
Shaking his head, Noah steps around me toward his house, making a point to smack his shoulder into mine as he passes.
Once he’s gone, I follow Rose to her house. The second the front door closes behind us, she turns to glare at me. “Well?”
I reach into my pocket, pulling out the object Mrs. Hanley gave me last night. It’s a small Han Solo action figure, dirt caked into its tiny indentations, like it has been stomped into the ground.
Rose accepts it, turning it over in her hand, looking confused. “I don’t get it.”
“Mrs. Hanley found this on her lawn the night of the fire,” I say, keeping my voice low since I don’t know if anyone else is home. “She didn’t tell the police about it because—”
“Because she didn’t want to get a kid in trouble,” she says, realization dawning in her eyes.
I nod, trying to hold in my excitement. “If we can figure out whose it is, even if he didn’t have anything to do with the fire—”
“What makes you so sure it’s a he?”
I frown at the toy in her hand. “I mean, I just assumed—”
“Girls can like Star Wars, too.”
“I know that,” I say, fighting the exasperation that tries to creep into my voice. “I just meant that it seemed most likely that it’s a boy.”
Rose shrugs. “I just think it doesn’t do us any good to jump to conclusions.”