You can't find hope, or faith . . .

You can't even find the man who made that promise, because he doesn't exist.

Laura gets shakily to her feet. "Tell her that I can't. Please."

Detective Kearney hands her an envelope.

"What is this?"

"Her contact information. In case you change your mind. You never know ."

For a moment, Laura considers handing it back.

But Kearney is right. You never know .

Standing here in the quiet, empty house, facing an uncertain future without a friend in the world-this world, anyway- Laura tucks the envelope into her pocket.

"We'll be in touch again to follow up,"Lutz tells her as she ushers the detectives to the door.

She shrugs. "I'll be here."

"Are you sure?"

"Where else would I be?"

"Thank you for your time."

"You're welcome."

Both detectives shake her hand, and then they're on their way, leaving Laura alone on the porch of the empty purple house.

THIRTY-FOUR.

Lily Dale

Monday, October 15

12:48 p.m.

On a bl.u.s.tery day like today, Calla is certain she'll find Jacy in the cafeteria, and she's right.

There he is, sitting in a corner with a book and a brown bag sandwich.

Yesterday, they spent the whole afternoon together. He took her to a movie, and then out to Rocco's in Fredonia for chicken wings. The date was a welcome reprieve from sitting around at home waiting for the phone to ring.

They still haven't heard back from the detectives, and Calla has been trying to accept the fact that her sister might never be found.

"I have a feeling you're going to meet her, though,"Evange-line insisted on the way to school this morning.

"I wish I had that feeling,"Calla replied wistfully. "How is it that I can get premonitions about some things- things that don't matter at all- and have no clue about what's going to happen in my own life?"

"You know why, don't you?"

Calla nodded. She did know, only too well, that intense emotion can act as a barricade to block a medium from seeing things about her own life.

Now, as she heads for her usual table, her heart sinks when she sees Sarita there alone, eating a pear, her dark, close- cropped head bent over an open textbook.

"Hi, Sarita. . . . Where's Willow?"Calla had seen her in school earlier today, in first-period health cla.s.s, red- eyed and withdrawn.

When Calla asked her about her mother, she said simply that Althea is still in the hospital, and she hurried away to her next cla.s.s.

Sarita looks up, and her dark eyes are troubled. "She was called out last period. I'm not sure what happened, but someone saw her leaving school with her jacket and backpack."

"Oh, no."

Calla has a flash of Willow in a hospital room- frightened, crying over a sheet- draped corpse in the bed.

"I'm sure it was about her mom,"Sarita says.

Calla nods, but doesn't mention what she just saw.

There's always a chance it was her imagination, and not an actual vision.

Even though I know it was real.

"Did you study for the chemistry test this afternoon?"she asks Sarita.

"A little. I'm nowhere near ready. Nothing like cramming at the last minute."

"I'll leave you alone, then,"Calla says, glad for the excuse to make her way over to Jacy after all.

"Thanks. Wish me luck."

"Good luck. Let me know if you hear anything more about Willow."

Jacy looks up as she approaches him, smiles, and pulls out the empty chair beside him.

She puts down her tray but doesn't sit. "Listen, Jacy . . . did you by any chance drive to school today?"

Sometimes, in bad weather, his foster dads let him take one of their cars.

"Yeah,"he says. "I did. Why?"

"I have to ask you a huge favor. And you can totally say no."

He smiles faintly. "Can I totally say yes, too?"

"I hope you do, but . . . it could get you into trouble."

"What is it?"

"I need a ride down to Brooks Memorial Hospital in Dunkirk."

"I'll wait here,"Jacy whispers, touching Calla's arm as they step off the elevator in a hushed hospital corridor.

"Are you sure?"

"I don't think she'll want to see me at a time like this."

"I'm not sure she'll want to see me, either,"Calla says uneasily, wondering if it was a mistake to come.

And not just because she's cutting her afternoon cla.s.ses to be here.

It's not as though she and Willow are old friends, or even particularly close friends, in the grand scheme of things. After all, Calla's barely known her for two months, and Willow is the kind of person who keeps others safely at arm's length.

But back at school, pure instinct kicked in and this seemed like the right thing for Calla to do.

Now . . .

Not so much.

"She needs you,"Jacy says simply, and squeezes Calla's hand.

"Me? But I'm-"

"Look, she needs someone. And you're the only one who knows what she's going through. Go ahead."

Calla takes a deep breath and starts down the corridor toward Althea York's room. Nurses, orderlies, and doctors stride past her in both directions. She half expects someone to stop her-half wishes someone would- but no one gives her a second look.

Medical personnel aren't the only ones here.

There are spirits, too.

They're everywhere, all ages, from all walks of life. Some are wearing hospital gowns, others wear street clothes from another era.

Glancing into one room as she pa.s.ses, she sees a wizened elderly man lying motionless in a bed, yet also standing beside it, staring down at his body as a gray- haired woman weeps over it and a priest gives last rites.

He looks up, catching Calla's eye, and flashes her a broad grin.

He's happy, she realizes, startled. He's dying . . . or has just died . . . yet he looks like he's just won the lottery.

Unnerved by the strange sight, she moves on to Althea's room, footsteps slowing as she nears the open doorway.

She stops just short of it, hearing the steady beeping of medical monitors and m.u.f.fled sobbing.

I can't do this.

Willow is about to lose her mother. Who is Calla to barge in there in some misguided effort to comfort her?

Her own pain is still so raw that she can feel hot tears springing to her eyes and emotion clogging her throat. Like Willow needs this.

"There you are."

She looks up, startled to hear a voice directly beside her.

A woman is standing there, wearing a white nurse's uniform and cap and the kindest smile Calla has ever seen.

Puzzled, Calla looks over one shoulder, then the other, a.s.suming the nurse is talking to somebody else . . . but the spot behind her is empty.

"Are you . . . talking to me?"

The nurse nods. "We've been waiting for you to get here, Calla. She needs you."

"Who does?"She must be mistaken, thinking she's talking to somebody else.

But she said my name . . .

How does she know my name?

"Willow . . . Althea's daughter. You're her friend. Go ahead . . . go hold her hand. Be with her. We've been waiting,"she says again.

Calla swallows hard, wipes at her teary eyes with her sleeve, and forces herself to cover the last few steps to the threshold.

There, she hesitates and looks back to ask the nurse how she knew Calla was coming.

The spot where she stood is empty.

Doctors, orderlies, and nurses continue to bustle up and down the corridor. But the nurses are wearing green scrubs.