Oh hell, yes, there was. And if one way didn’t work, I’d find another.

I took out my cell and speed-dialed. I’d meant to try Ricky again, but when I heard the line ringing, I knew that wasn’t who I’d called.

“This is Gabriel Walsh. Please leave a message . . .”

I rocked on my toes as I waited for the beep.

“Gabriel? It’s Olivia. I know you’re pissed off with me, but listen. Please listen. I need you. You promised—” I sucked in breath. No, don’t remind him of that. Don’t whine and accuse. “I need you. Not to come here. Not to do anything but pick up the phone and talk to me. I’m at the psych hospital and I’m . . . I’m lost.” A short laugh, laced with panic. “I’m lost in so many ways. Ricky’s here, and I can’t find him, and it’s some kind of magic. I’m trapped with these visions, and if this keeps up, I . . . I feel like I’m going crazy, Gabriel. Maybe I am. You seemed to think so, and . . . Hell, tell me that. Just pick up the phone and tell me it’s all in my head. Talk me through it or snap me out of it. I don’t care. Just pick up or call back. Please.” I paused, then shut my eyes and let the words out, not caring how desperate and sad they sounded. “I need you.”

I hung up, and I waited. And Gabriel did not call back.

TOO LITTLE, TOO LATE

Gabriel was not dreaming, but it was perhaps the closest he’d ever come. The images spooling through his sleeping mind were still memories, yet bits and pieces of them, strung together like a clumsily tied rope of mismatched cloth.

He started in the car, the night before, telling Olivia she was imagining things, as a voice in his head yelled at him to stop, just stop, what the fuck was he doing, but he kept saying it, and when he saw the shock and pain in her eyes, he was glad of it. Satisfaction and shame, roiling together. Then they were back in Evans’s basement, his leg bleeding as he told her to get out, escape while she could, that he wouldn’t stay for her. She said she didn’t care. And she didn’t. It wasn’t about tit for tat, helping him because he’d do the same for her. She’d believed he would have left her, and yet she’d stayed for him.

At the car now, the burning car, the girl—Macy—ordering Olivia to climb into it or she’d shoot him. Later, standing by his window, sharing a drink, he’d had to make sure Olivia crawled into that burning car only because she knew Gabriel would get the jump on Macy.

“Mmm, not exactly. But I had a plan.”