These Unquiet Bones by Dean Harrison Page B

CDs.”
    Layne shrugged. “You like music. It has some cool songs.”
    “Thanks.” She set the CD aside and returned her attention to the movie.
    Layne, however, kept his eyes on her and tried to work up the nerve to say what he’d been meaning to say for a long time.
    Now’s not the time.
    But he wanted to tell her how he felt. He wanted her to know he loved her. He wanted to get it all out once and for all.
    Not with her father around.
    The watchdog would only complicate things especially if he came back in at the wrong time. It would have to wait.
    Irritated, Layne set aside the speech he had worked on all day and looked away from Amy.
    On the television screen, the masked killer butchered his first victim. In his mind, Layne was doing the same to Amy’s overbearing father.
    When the movie was over, the big man reappeared from the back of the house. He looked pissed.
    “Time to say goodbye to your friend,” he said to Amy as the credits rolled. His voice was stern. “I wanna talk to you.”
    Layne could hear the tension wind in Amy’s voice when she said, “Come on, I’ll walk you out.”
    “Make it quick,” Hank snapped as they walked toward the door.
    Layne realized another reason he hated that man so much— he reminded him of Kelley, the cold-hearted bitch.
    Outside by the Pathfinder beneath the pale blue-green luminescence of the mercury vapor lamp humming monotonously above them, Amy said, “I’m sorry. It’s been a bad day.”
    “Yeah, you told me. Care to talk about it?”
    “It’s a long story,” she said, looking over her shoulder.
    Layne’s eyes followed.
    The windows in the brick wall facing the driveway were dark, and the rusty screens made it difficult to see if her asshole dad was watching them. He jammed his fists into the pockets of his jacket. He felt them tremble. “Go ahead and tell me.”
    Amy took a deep breath and told him how she found some old family photographs in her grandmother’s old bedroom and heard a voice she thought was a ghost’s.
    Layne raised his eyebrows. A ghost? “Seriously?”
    “The man in the picture looked just like Billy,” Amy said, ignoring the question. “And the woman, I don’t know who she is but…”
    “You think there’s a connection to your mother’s murder?”
    Amy shook her head. Layne could see a hint of fear in her eyes. “I don’t know. I don’t know if I want to know.”
    “You didn’t talk to your dad about it?”
    “That’s not an easy thing to do.”
    Layne didn’t understand. “Why?”
    “It’s… complicated. OK?”
    The pleading look on her face made Layne drop the subject. “OK,” he said. “Sorry.” He opened his arms for a hug.
    Amy pulled away a little too quickly. She looked over her shoulder again. “I better go inside.”
    Feeling rejected, Layne said. “Yeah, sure.”
    She faced him, smiling apologetically. “I’ll call you tomorrow.” She hurried away.
    Layne’s his temper flared. It consumed whatever sympathy he had for Amy and rendered it void.
    Why does this keep happening?
    With a clenched fist, he punched the driver side of the Pathfinder. His knuckles screamed in pain.
    Why can’t I ever get the one I love?
    The thing that hid within Layne mocked him with laughter. “Let me out,” He heard it say. “I want to play.”
    “No,” Layne slapped himself in the face. “Shut up.”
    He wouldn’t let it happen again. He wouldn’t let it out.
    But some choices were not his to make.
     
     

Chapter 22
    Hank snatched her by the arm when Amy stepped back into the house. “Come here,” he growled, digging his fingers in.
    “Dad, you’re hurting me,” Amy cried as he dragged her into the hallway.
    “Shut up,” he barked. “Or I’ll really make you hurt.”
    He hurled her into his mother’s bedroom, shoved her toward the bureau and gestured wildly at the cracked mirror. “The hell did you do? You know how old that is? It’s a fucking antique. Your grandma is probably rollin’ in her