The Fire and the Veil (Veronica Barry Book 2) (19 page)

Okay
, thought Veronica.
Now all I need is to see a photo of Paul Carver.
Was he a student here at Eleanor Roosevelt?

Veronica checked the time on her phone. She had two more minutes. She slapped Lola’s file closed and shoved it back in its spot in the drawer. Without knowing Paul’s age, she couldn’t find his file quickly. He had to be a junior or senior, because he was older than Lola, but that was all she could figure. If she checked both drawers, she’d take too long. With a groan, she pulled the senior drawer. No Paul Carver.

Well, he
had
looked a good deal older in the vision. Maybe he had already finished high school.

Veronica sighed and left the closet, trotting out to the parking lot. She’d check her yearbooks when she got home later, she promised herself. But she was pretty sure she knew. Paul Carver was the boy in Lola’s mind. He’d terrified Lola when she was little. He might even be the reason Lola changed the way she did—if his father Owen hadn’t taken care of that already. And Lola was afraid, now, for her sister.

Veronica spotted Khalilah’s car idling near the exit of the lot. She ran over and let herself into the passenger seat. “Sorry for the wait,” she said breathlessly, shutting the door.

Khalilah revved the engine and then pulled out of the lot. “I’m just glad we could do this. I didn’t sleep most of the night worrying about Amani. It’s been six days, Veronica. She was abducted six days ago. I can’t believe it’s taken me so long to find her. I should have called the police.”

Veronica blinked at her. “What about everything you said, about her family?”

“It’s not going to matter what they might do if she’s already dead.”

Veronica took a deep breath. She hoped they found Amani, soon. She didn’t think Khalilah had been wrong to avoid bringing in the police. In any case, without Jahid’s testimony as a witness to Amani’s abduction, Daniel had said there was little he could do. At best the police would consider her a missing person, Veronica supposed. And it certainly didn’t sound like Jahid was willing to make a report.

Veronica clenched her fingers into fists. But what if he was willing? Maybe he was just nervous. He was a refugee from Iraq, after all. On top of everything he’d endured in his own country—some of it probably at the hands of the authorities—he had to have experienced a certain amount of hatred here in the U.S. as well. That alone would make him reluctant to trust Americans, she figured. And then layer on the expectations of his brother and the tribal laws he’d been raised with. So of course he didn’t want to go to the police. But from everything Khalilah had said about him, Veronica had also gotten the sense that he loved his daughter. So maybe he might have been convinced. Maybe if they had just gone ahead and reported the abduction, when the police came around to question him about what he saw, he would have told the truth.

It wasn’t too late, Veronica thought. She glanced over at Khalilah. They could still report it now.

“I could call Daniel,” Veronica said.

Khalilah’s eyes cut to her, and then focused back on the road.

“I could tell him not to bother with the secrecy. To go ahead and talk to people in Missing Persons about it.”

Khalilah pursed her lips in thought. Then with a little sigh, she nodded. “Do it. Call him. Either we find her today, before the cops have a chance to talk to Jahid, or we don’t, and we need the cops involved anyway.”

Veronica nodded and dug her phone out of her pocket. She hit “three” to speed dial Daniel. She listened, but it went to his voicemail. With a twinge, she wondered if he had screened her call. They hadn’t exactly parted on good terms the day before.

“Daniel, it’s me, Veronica,” she said. “Look, Khalilah and I agreed, you should go ahead and talk to whoever it is you know in Missing Persons. Tell them everything. We can’t just leave Amani with this person who took her. We have to find her. That’s the most important thing right now. Okay. Thanks.”

She ended the call. With a deep breath she looked at Khalilah. “You know, Daniel said they would be able to protect Amani from her family.”

Khalilah nodded. “I just hope that’s enough.” She took Business 80, driving into the Arden area.

Veronica thought of Yesenia Saleh. She wondered if Jahid or Hamza Ahmad would decide to blame Yesenia, if the opportunity arose. Veronica gazed at Khalilah. Would they turn on Khalilah? Hadn’t Khalilah talked to Jahid about going to the police? Maybe he’d realize that Khalilah was the one who called them. Would he want to kill her for that? Would he find some way to twist things, to blame her for Amani’s abduction? Or would he be grateful, if the police found Amani?

“Here it is,” Khalilah said. She stopped the car in a parking spot in front of a small supermarket. The sign above the doors read “Mediterranean Market.” Veronica got out, and Khalilah followed behind.

Veronica took a deep breath, and started towards the doors of the market. Then she stopped. There was a shimmering in the sunlight, in front of the doors.

Khalilah came to a stop by her side. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

The shimmering became denser. It was a ghost.

“Um, it’s…” Veronica paused.

“You see something?”

“You could say that. A, um, ghost. Right in front of us.”

Khalilah whipped her face forward, peering into the air.

“Uh… hello,” Veronica said to the shade.

Don’t go in.

Veronica shivered. “Why not?”

You won’t find her there.

“Well, I didn’t expect her to be in the store.”

You’re looking in the wrong place.

Khalilah looked around, grasping Veronica’s arm. “What is it saying?”

“That we’re looking in the wrong place. Which I appreciate, for once. Why haven’t you guys been a little more helpful with all of this? A woman is in serious trouble.”

They don’t want you to find her.

“They? They who?”

The others. The ones who follow you.

“The ones who follow me?” Veronica breathed. It wasn’t like she hadn’t suspected, but to have it confirmed… she wondered who they were. How many of them were there? Then she thought about what he’d said. They didn’t want her to find Amani. Why the hell not? And why was this one different?

“Why are you here?” she asked.

You helped me once. Do you remember?

The shade became more distinct. It was an older man, wearing a red shirt with white pin stripes. His eyes were sunken, lost in the shadows of his face. It was amazing, seeing him so distinctly. She rarely saw any of them this clearly.

“You were the man by the ATM,” Veronica said. “You helped me find Angie.”

Yes, and you brought my killer to justice.

His mouth didn’t move when he spoke—his face remained immobile. It gave Veronica the creeps. “I don’t remember doing that,” she said.

You told the detective his name.

“Oh,” Veronica said. She did vaguely remember doing that—the spirit told her the name of his killer, and she’d passed the information on to Daniel, but she’d been so focused on finding Angie at the time, it had completely slipped her mind. “Well, you already helped me—you don’t owe me anything.”

I have joined the ones that follow you.

“Okay,” Veronica said, unsure of how she felt about that.

They don’t want you to find Amani Ahmad.
Watching him, he seemed to be losing substance. She wondered if it was hard, taking shape like he had.
But you will keep looking?

“Yes,” Veronica said. He was fading. She could still see the red of his shirt, but not much else.

Soon enough, there will be trouble.

“Alright,” Veronica said. His shape shimmered in the light, as if it was breaking up.

Look for the Walnut. Peach Walnut.

He was gone. Veronica took a step forward, reaching out a hand for where he had been.

“What is it saying?” Khalilah asked, her eyes wide.

“He’s gone,” Veronica murmured.

“Well, what did he say, then?”

“Nothing that made much sense. Just that this wasn’t the place to find out where Amani is, and that there’s going to be trouble, and that the other spirits don’t want me to find her. I don’t get that!”

Khalilah looked around. “So all he did was tell you not to look here? He didn’t give you any other details?”

“Well, he said one other thing, but it didn’t mean anything to me.”

“What, Veronica?”

“He said to look for the walnut. And something about a peach.”

Khalilah let out a breath. “So, maybe Amani’s captor’s house has a walnut tree? And a peach tree?”

“And what good does that do us? It’s not like there aren’t hundreds of houses in Sac with trees! I wouldn’t even know what a walnut tree looks like.”

“And now he’s… gone?”

“Yes. He either got too tired from making himself visible to me or…”

“Or what?”

“Or maybe the other spirits interfered with him.”

“Do they do that?”

“I have no idea,” Veronica said.

Khalilah groaned. “So we’ve hit another wall.”

“Yep,” Veronica said, nodding and chewing on her bottom lip. She was furious that the spirits were refusing to help her. Was her mother among them? Of course she was. What the hell was Alcina’s problem?

Khalilah stood, silent, for a few moments longer. Veronica watched people going in and out of the market.

“Look, I’ll drive you home, okay?” Khalilah said.

“Yeah,” Veronica said, feeling helpless. “At least we told the police.”

Khalilah nodded. “Yeah. There’s that.”

But Veronica didn’t feel good about it, and she could tell Khalilah didn’t either. What were they supposed to do now, just sit back and wait? Hope that the police found Amani? Hope that Amani’s family didn’t try to hurt anyone? This was insufferable.

~~~

At least I can do something for Lola,
Veronica thought, dialing her cell with determination as soon as she stepped in her living room.

“Alright, please describe the incident,” the social worker who took her call said.

Veronica sat on her couch, looking at the crumpled sheet of paper she’d printed out from her classroom computer. “I overheard my student, Lola Hekili, talking to a peer in my classroom today,” she lied into the phone. “Would you like me to spell her name?”

“Go ahead,” the woman on the other end said flatly.

“Her given name is Dolores, D-O-L-O-R-E-S, but she goes by Lola, L-O-L-A. Last name, Hekili, H-E-K-I-L-I. Anyway, she was telling this other student that her step-father got angry last night.” Veronica hoped the woman wouldn’t ask for the name of the other student, and so far it seemed she wouldn’t. “He yanked her by the hair, punched her, and pushed her over the edge of the stairs. Lola said she was able to catch herself before she really fell.”

“And where is she now?” the woman asked.

“I don’t know. She didn’t say.”

The woman sighed. “Any siblings in the house?”

“A sister, Leinani Hekili, and step-brother, Paul Carver.”

“Ages?”

“I don’t know. The sister is young, in elementary school,” Veronica said.

The woman sighed again. “What’s the address?”

Veronica gave it to her. She could tell that the woman was annoyed, and she wondered why. Maybe not knowing where Lola was or her siblings’ ages made filing out a report more difficult. Maybe it was the fact that all of this was second hand information, as far as the social worker knew. But Veronica hadn’t expected this reception. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but this flat, annoyed tone wasn’t it. She supposed that the woman was grossly overworked. Everyone in education and in social services was being asked to do three full-time jobs for the price of one, lately. Still, it bothered her.

“Alright, write up the report and fax it to us within 72 hours,” the woman said. She gave Veronica the fax number.

“Sure thing,” Veronica said.

The woman hung up.

Veronica set her cell phone down on the couch and looked around her living room, wondering whether CPS would do anything for Lola at all. Owen Carver deserved to go to jail for hurting her, and trying to push her down the stairs. If he’d pushed just a little harder she might not have caught herself. She could have been killed or badly injured. Veronica felt like the woman’s tone implied that Veronica was wasting her time. How could that be? Because she was missing a couple of details? Because she “overheard” the story second hand?

Harry padded over and nudged Veronica’s hand with his cold, wet nose. Veronica sighed and petted him on the head. It was one thing to know something was wrong in one of her students’ lives and be able to do nothing about it, and quite another to be received psychic dreams and visions about it. The former scenario she had come to accept, albeit uncomfortably. Sometimes she found it hard to sleep, thinking about the kids. But the dreams and visions meant that she was
supposed
to do something about this. Aside from calling CPS, what could she do?

Harry nudged her again, then sat back on his haunches, his ears perky, his tongue dangling. He was staring at her with the intensity only he could muster.

“Alright,” Veronica said. She stood up and took his harness from its peg on the wall and put it on him. Maybe a walk around the block would help clear her head.

As they reached the sidewalk, she dialed Melanie on her phone, not sure what she would tell her about the last few days, but wanting to hear her voice. She went straight through to her voicemail, however.

“Hey, Mel, just me,” Veronica said. “I hope everything’s going good. I’m hitting all kinds of walls today. Just one of those days I guess. Call back when you get a chance.”

Harry yanked his leash and sniffed the base of a tree, then nearly pulled her arm out of its socket when he spotted a squirrel.

“Easy, buddy,” she said, feeling exhausted. When she got back home, she was going to have to have a cup of tea. She had to get through some of her grading today. She’d done some the day before, which was good. If she could get through French II and III today, all that would be left to do tomorrow and Friday was French I. That would be good.