She turned and ran toward the garage, but Sawyer followed, asking her where she was going and apologizing for upsetting her. She never answered him, though. She just grabbed the keys off the rack and dove into his convertible.
Gemma sped off without knowing where she was going or how to get there, but the wind was in her hair, helping clear her head of the bizarre lust that had consumed her inside the house. She wasn’t sure if she was ever going back to the house, or if she could ever handle herself around Sawyer again. All she knew was that she had to get the hell away from that house as fast as she could.
FIFTEEN
Superstitious
The idea had been Marcy’s, and Harper thought it was idiotic. Harper had woken up Monday morning with renewed vigor and determination to find Gemma. She’d been gone for a week already, and Harper had yet to hear anything from her.
Before going to work this morning, she did her morning routine of making phone calls to everyone she could think of. Alex continued to scour the Internet, not just with his FindGemmaFisher pages, but searching for any news stories that might relate to the sirens at all.
The problem was that Gemma could literally be anywhere. She could’ve swum across the Atlantic, for all Harper knew, which made it impossible to pin down any type of location. So until Harper got some kind of clue or lead, she was stuck making phone calls, searching the Web, and going about her daily life and hoping that Gemma was taking care of herself.
It was while Harper was at work that Alex stopped by the library, and the two of them began lamenting the lack of search options for Gemma. Then Marcy came up with her brilliant idea.
“Why don’t you ask Gemma where she’s at?” Marcy asked.
Harper was standing at the copy machine, making flyers for the new July summer reading program. Alex was sitting in Harper’s chair at the desk, and both of them were completely caught off guard by Marcy’s question.
“What?” Harper asked, and turned around to look at her.
Marcy was sitting on top of the desk, even though there was a perfectly good chair next to it, and was focused on making herself a necklace out of paper clips.
“You keep saying that Gemma could be anywhere, like Spain or Japan or Kentucky.”
“I never said Kentucky,” Harper corrected her. “The sirens wouldn’t go to the middle of the country. They’d want to be by the ocean.”
“Well, exactly.” Marcy bit her lip in concentration as she tried to unhook a paper clip that had gotten bent. “She could be anywhere. So the easiest way to find her is to ask her.”
“We can’t just ask her,” Alex said. “We have no idea how to contact her. She left her cell phone behind, and I’ve been checking her Twitter and Facebook, but she hasn’t been on them.”
Marcy rolled her eyes. “I don’t mean call her or drop her a postcard.”
“Okay…” Harper said after Marcy went several moments without saying anything. “How do you propose we contact her?”
“We use the spirits,” Marcy said.
“The spirits?” Harper raised an eyebrow. “You mean like Capri Liquor Wine & Spirits?” Marcy looked up from her paper clips to glare at Harper.
“Gemma’s not dead, though.” Alex leaned on the desk and looked up at Marcy. “She’s not a ghost, so we can’t just ask her.”
“She isn’t,” Marcy agreed. “But that friend of yours is, and so is Bernie.”
“My friend?” Alex questioned. “You mean Luke?”
“Right.” Marcy finished her necklace, and she dropped it around her neck. “Both Bernie and Luke were murdered by the sirens. At least one of them has to be a restless spirit, haunted by the fact that their murderers got away with it, and I bet they’re keeping tabs on the sirens, too.”
Harper rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, Marcy. That’s ridiculous.”
“You really think that Luke would know where Gemma and the other girls are hiding?” Alex asked, oblivious to Harper’s comments.
“Probably.” Marcy nodded. “I mean, if Penn had killed you and ripped out your heart, then run off to frolic in the ocean, wouldn’t you be pissed off and stalk her?”
“I probably would,” Alex reasoned. “So how do we go about this? How would we try contacting them?”
“Alex!” Harper said in disbelief. “You can’t really be buying into this.”
“Your sister is a siren,” Alex said, looking back at her. “She can turn into a mermaid. But ghosts seem unbelievable to you?”
Harper crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against the copier, but she didn’t say anything. Alex had made a point she couldn’t really argue with, but that didn’t mean she still didn’t think this was all stupid.
“Do I need to get like a Ouija board or something?” Alex asked.
Marcy scoffed loudly. “Ouija. Pfft. That’s all hokum.”
“Okay,” Alex said. “So how do we contact the spirits?”
“Why don’t I meet you at your house after work, and I’ll bring everything we need?” Marcy suggested.
Even though Harper thought it was dumb, she didn’t have any better ideas, so she went along with it. Alex went home, and after work Marcy went home to get her stuff, then was going to meet them at Alex’s house.
Harper waited outside with Alex, sitting on the front steps of his house. He wasn’t sure what to bring, if anything, so he’d grabbed the video camera he used to record storms and a pocketknife in the shape of Batman’s batarang.