Dark Before Dawn (16 page)

Something bad was going to happen.

Again.

***

Two days later, Dawn and Jamie shared a plate of cheese and crackers on the couch, leafing through ads in the Sunday paper. Ken sprawled on the floor and frowned at Jamie between plays of the Dolphins-Patriots game. Jamie seemed oblivious to his suspicious looks and blushed in his mere presence. She’d curled her hair and swept it back with barrettes, probably for Ken’s benefit.

Dawn shifted position, restless. An unrelenting sensation of doom had haunted her all weekend and she couldn’t shake the jittery feeling that bad vibes polluted the air.

Stop worrying, Dawn told herself. She was probably nervous about her friends and her mother having dinner together. After all, if Jamie or Candace slipped up about taking psychic lessons, then Dawn was in trouble. It would be hard enough to explain Candace’s wardrobe.

"I wonder where Candace is," Dawn said aloud. "It’s almost 5:15."

"It’s not like her to be late. I wish she’d get here soon. Everything smells good." Jamie pointed to a glossy picture of a teenage model. "Look at that skirt. Maybe I should save up for one of those."

"I like what you’re wearing now. Is it new?" Dawn gestured to her friend’s denim jumper and purple turtleneck.

"Nope, it’s my mom’s. You really think it looks okay?"

"Yeah, totally." Dawn wished her stepbrother would compliment Jamie, but that wasn’t likely.

Hmm. This might be a good opportunity to experiment with mind control. There was no way Ken could be considered a target; he was just a means to helping her best friend feel good. What could be more harmless than that?

Dawn sent her stepbrother a mental nudge.
Tell Jamie she looks good tonight. Give her a confidence boost.

"You look good tonight," Ken said dully.

"Really? Thank you!" Jamie’s blush deepened.

Dawn pulled out of his mind and turned so her friend wouldn’t see her smile of satisfaction. Ken blinked a couple times and scratched his ear before returning his attention to the television.

Dawn’s mother poked her head into the room. "Honey, the food will be overcooked if your friend doesn't get here soon. Is she usually this late?"

"No, Jamie and I were just saying that Candace is always on time."

"Let’s wait a few more minutes. If she’s not here by 5:30, we’ll start eating. We can always make her a plate if she comes later." Her mother returned to the kitchen.

Just then, the doorbell rang. Dawn found Candace shivering on the front step with her windblown mane flying out in frizzy coils.

Candace clutched a tall leafy plant in a ceramic dish. A hostess gift? Pink satin ribbons and pastel ceramic flowers adorned the bowl. Dawn made a mental note to thank her friend for making extra effort.

"Sorry I'm late," Candace said while Dawn hung her coat in the closet.

"Hello, you must be Candace." As her mother joined them in the living room, Dawn made introductions.

"This is for you, Mrs. Magnuson. Thank you for inviting me to dinner." Candace thrust the plant into the arms of Dawn’s mother.

"What a sweet gesture. I’ll put this on the kitchen counter so I’ll be sure to water it." Dawn’s mom stared at Candace’s pierced nose and eyebrow, which no longer had the plant to shield them. Her smile died, then she swiftly resurrected it. "Thank you again."

Good thing Candace brought the plant. Dawn directed her friends down the hall into the dining room. Ken was already helping himself at the cherrywood table. Mashed potatoes, stuffing, peas and corn overflowed in glass bowls. Jeff carried in a platter of sliced chicken breast, wings and legs.

Dawn folded the linen napkin onto her lap. She had only eaten in this room once, their first week in the house. Both times, her mother had lit a candle in the centerpiece globe and used the gold-rimmed china.

"It's good to finally meet you both," her mother said after making sure everyone had drinks. "I keep telling Dawn that you girls should come over after school."

"Where do you guys go?" Ken asked. "Dawn's never home anymore."

"Sorry, I didn’t know you were her keeper," Candace said.

Coughing on her Diet Coke, Dawn glanced around the table at the shocked faces.

Candace reached into the basket of warm bread. "Just kidding. You seemed so serious."

"Funny," Ken said after a beat. "Where do you go?"

"The mall, the movies, out to eat. The usual boring stuff."

"You’re acting a little nosy, Ken," Jeff said.

"I was just wondering where Dawn disappears to every day."

"Maybe it's none of your business," Dawn retorted, sweat glossing her forehead. Did Ken suspect they were hanging around with Serina?

"What do those earrings and necklaces mean?" Ken asked. "Every time I see you guys, you have them on."

"There are so many cliques at school, and having matching jewelry makes us feel like we have our own group." Jamie shrugged and cut into her chicken. "It probably sounds silly, but we like it."

Dawn exhaled at her answer. It made them sound lame, but not paranormal.

"It’s not silly," Jeff said. "It must be like having a club."

"It's hard if you're not popular in high school," Candace said. "Were you popular, Mr. Magnuson?"

He scooped another mound of mashed potatoes onto his plate and eyed her curiously. "Just in high school. Not when I was younger."

"Well, we’ve never been popular. That's why we stick together. No matter what."

"Like the Three Musketeers," Ken muttered.

"Anybody for more chicken?" Dawn's mother interrupted.

"Candace, Ken tells me that Vicky is your sister," Jeff said. "We loved having her at the paper this summer."

Every muscle in Dawn's body tensed. She had kept that tidbit from her stepfather so he wouldn't bring it up and annoy Candace.

"She wants to apply at the local daily next year," Candace said. "I guess small papers aren't good enough for her."

Jeff frowned as he stuck the serving spoon back into the bowl of potatoes. "She led me to believe she was coming back."

The phone rang, giving Dawn a start. Her heart thundered. The caller had bad news. No, not bad. Horrible. This was it. This was why she’d been feeling so edgy.

Jeff scraped his chair against the wood-stained floorboards. "Excuse me."

The others ate in silence as he disappeared into the kitchen. Dawn strained her ears, her food forgotten. She gulped at Jeff's low tones and the tip-tap of his pacing.

"What! Are you sure?" he asked the caller. "How?"

A couple minutes later, Jeff shuffled back to the dining room, his pallor gray. "That was my staff reporter. Tom Travers' son, Tim, was hit by a train an hour ago. He was killed."

Air blew out of Dawn’s mouth. Tim was dead? She should have known. Why hadn't she known?

"Oh, my God. How could he be hit by a train?" Jamie’s angular face pinched in horror.

Shuddering, Candace hunched forward in her chair.

"This is awful," murmured Dawn's mother. "That poor boy. His poor family. How did it happen?"

"He and his friends were walking in the center of town. Tim ran across the street, right into the path of an oncoming train." Jeff stood behind Dawn's mother and touched her shoulder. She reached up and covered his hand with her own.

Ken raked a hand through his hair. Emotions flickered across his face, first grief, then bewilderment.

"It doesn't make sense," he said. "Why would he do something so stupid?"

Without finishing dinner, Jeff left for the office to change the
Gazette
's front page layout. Everyone else stopped eating also, their appetites gone. A store-bought chocolate cake remained boxed on the kitchen counter. While her mother cleared the table and loaded the dishwasher, Dawn followed her friends out to the living room.

She pushed apart the slitted blinds on the sliding glass door. Waves lurched toward the sand, dark shapeless shadows baring white fangs.

She'd had a bad feeling all weekend, ever since she heard the train whistle shrill Friday night. Why had her fears been hazy when they had been clear for Scott? Not once had Tim entered her mind. True, her abilities weren’t foolproof, but they should be getting stronger.

Dawn hunkered beside her friends on the living room couch. She drew the lighthouse afghan around herself, but she couldn't stop trembling from the coldness that perforated her skin. "I can't believe none of us sensed this. I should have known when I saw him in school."

Candace blew her nose on an embroidered handkerchief, her eyes bloodshot and puffy. "I feel like I’m gonna hurl."

"I'm so sorry," Jamie said, slipping an arm around her shoulders. "You liked him so much."

"My sister must be in shock." Surprisingly, Candace seemed genuinely sorry.

"It's strange," Dawn mused. "Two people in the same school, both in accidents. On top of that, they were best friends."

Candace’s grief contorted into a sour little glower. "It should've been someone like Renee. Why Tim?"

"What do you mean?" Dawn asked.

"If someone had to die, it should have been Renee. No one would miss her."

Her creepy tone sent another ripple of chills through Dawn’s body. Dawn licked her lips, torn between ignoring Candace’s callous words and responding. "I’m sure her family and friends would miss her," she finally ventured. "No one deserves to have their future cut short, even Renee."

"That’s your opinion. Not mine. I’ve gotta go." Candace rose.

Jamie popped up and followed her to the coat closet. "Can you give me a ride?"

"Fine, come on." Candace yanked on her coat and opened the front door. "See you," she told Dawn almost as an afterthought.

"Bye, thank you," Jamie said, hurrying to keep pace.

Dawn closed the door behind them, relieved her friends weren’t staying. She needed time alone, to mull things over, and Candace’s mixed reaction confused her. Tim, dead. It seemed impossible to comprehend.

Ken stalked into the living room, as if he'd been waiting for Candace and Jamie to leave. "I don’t buy that you go to the mall and the movies every day. I go to those places too, and you’re never there."

"It’s not my problem if you don’t see me." Dawn edged past him to the staircase and cupped the railing, hoping he’d take the hint.

"Are you sure you haven’t been back to that fortuneteller?"

Dawn froze and slowly faced him. "I told you, that was a one-time thing. If you must know, we go over Jamie’s house."

"Did you know Renee is going around calling you guys the Three Witches?"

"That’s dumb."

"Oh really? You pegged the game exactly right." Ken pointed to the TV screen. The graphics showed the score was 38-17, Patriots, one minute left in the game.

"So you’ll win your bet. That’s good news, isn’t it?" Dawn was losing track of the conversation, fatigue deadening every cell of her body. Gauziness swamped her head as if it were stuffed with cotton balls. She wanted to climb into bed and sleep. To forget Tim and Scott ever existed so this sadness would leave her alone.

"I wouldn’t have predicted that score, but I’ll tell you this," Ken said, crossing his arms. "I’ve got a bad feeling about Candace and Jamie. A real bad feeling. Stay away from them, Dawn, or they’ll get you into trouble."

Chapter Thirteen

D
awn closed the front door to Serina’s cottage and joined Candace on the porch. Crisp golden and red leaves rolled along the ground in the wind. Behind the cottage, thundered the quick sharp blows of the ocean.

"What are you doing out here all by yourself?" Dawn asked.

Candace glanced up from a white wicker chair, her fingers curled around the sides. "Thinking about how I hate the jerks at school. Isn't it dumb how when someone dies, everyone was suddenly their best friend? They act like they're so important. They're so shallow."

Dawn picked up a brochure on the wicker table and read the front panel upside down. Serina, Intuitive Consultant. No last name. Serina had never shared it at their sessions.

"How come you gave Ken a hard time last night? I know he was being nosy, but you were deliberately egging him on." Dawn hadn’t planned to ask the question, it had just fallen out of her mouth, but she set down the brochure and waited for her friend’s answer.

"He's one of them."

"One of who?"

"The in-crowd." Candace spat out the words like a clump of chewing tobacco.

"What do you mean? He barely talked to Tim and Scott, and he's never been invited to Renee's parties. Believe me, he wishes she’d give him the time of day."

"He's on the hockey team. Maybe he's in a different group, but they're all the same. Snobs."

Dawn pulled her sweater tighter in the brisk breeze. "He’s not like that. Really."

Candace snorted. "Yeah, right."