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She must have felt what Della was feeling.
“I can’t do it anymore. I just can’t.”
Holiday ran to her and wrapped her in her arms. “I got you. I got you.”
Della leaned against her and sobbed. She didn’t care if she looked weak. Didn’t care if she was getting tears and whatever else on Holiday’s pretty green sweater. She simply didn’t care.
Or was it that she cared too much?
She cared about Bao Yu. She cared about her dad. She cared … that he considered her a monster. She needed to fix this. All of it. But how?
“It’s okay.” Holiday brushed her hand over Della’s back.
Some of the pain left with the touch, but not nearly enough. Especially when she saw it again. The vision hit. She was her aunt, and the knife was being pulled out of her own chest.
Della pulled out of Holiday’s arms and pushed her palms deep into her eye sockets, wishing it would go away. “I’ve seen it at least fifty times today. I’m seeing it now. What does she want from me? Does she want me to say he’s guilty? I can’t. He never even spanked us. He wouldn’t do that. And it doesn’t make sense. Why would he have killed her? When someone else had gone there to do it? What does she want?”
“I don’t know.” Holiday moved in and stroked Della’s back.
Della opened her eyes. “Is she punishing me because I still love my dad?”
“No. She’s not punishing you,” Holiday said. “She wants to understand too, and she thinks you can help her.”
“But how? What can I do?” And right then Della had her answer. It scared the crap out of her, but it was the right thing. It was going to happen sooner or later.
“I know what I can do,” Della said. “Talk to my dad. He has to know he didn’t do this. If she hears him say it, she’ll believe it.”
Holiday frowned. “Okay … I see why you think that would work, but…” She paused. “How are you going to explain any of this without telling him—”
“Telling him the truth?” Della finished for her. “Maybe it’s time I tell him.”
Holiday shook her head. “I’m not sure, with the trial and an angry ghost, that this is the time for that kind of talk.”
“Will there ever be a right time for this kind of talk?”
“There might be a better time. I’ll tell you what. Instead, why don’t you let me try to make her go away? I’ve been reading up on it. It wouldn’t be hurting her. Just blocking her.”
“And you don’t think that would hurt her?”
Holiday made a face, but couldn’t deny it.
“No,” Della said. Her idea was better.
Looking over her shoulder, she noted the sun streaming into Holiday’s windows. The bright rays hit the crystals hanging around her office and sent spirals of color dancing on the walls.
Not the weather to attempt a daylight flight.
She could wait until tonight, but damn it, she might lose her nerve. Plus, she wanted to talk to him alone, not with her mom. He’d be at work. That was the perfect place. He wouldn’t freak out too much. Not with his coworkers around.
“How about a cup of chamomile tea?” Holiday suggested.
She didn’t want tea, but a glance at Holiday’s desk and Della changed her answer. “Tea sounds good,” she lied and felt guilty for it.
Of course, lying was a sin, and grand theft auto was a felony. But it didn’t stop her from snagging the keys to the school’s silver Corolla and getting the hell out of Dodge before Holiday called out asking if she wanted sugar with that tea.
* * *
Della’s phone rang. Holiday’s number flashed on the screen.
