Body and Soul

I resisted the urge to call after her and ask if she was going to try to track down Alona/Lily, but I’d already done enough damage in that area. Asking now would only make her more likely to do so. Plus, what were the odds that she’d be able to track Alona down?

“You know, you seem to be in a big hurry to help people ‘and whatever,’” I said instead. Not that I was complaining; just really, really suspicious.

She paused halfway through the wall and gave me an over-the-top phony smile. “What can I say? I’m a people person.” Then she vanished.

A people person? Yeah, right.

I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening trying to find anything on Malachi or an Erin who’d died five years ago. She was a loose ca

But I didn’t have any last names, and at least one of the names was fake (Malachi), which didn’t really help in the information-gathering process.

I found Malachi’s Web site again, but it held no new information. The only thing strange I noticed this time around was in the testimonial section. First, that he even had a testimonial section implied that he’d been able to help people, all evidence to the contrary today. Erin certainly seemed to believe he was for real, though, and while she might have been slightly off her rocker, she wasn’t completely crazy. But beyond that, four out of the ten blurbs mentioned receiving a letter from Malachi and a coupon for the initial consultation right when they needed it most. The recipients seemed to take this as a “sign” they should contact him for help with their otherworldly problems.

More like a sign that Malachi had somehow gotten his hands on a mailing list targeted to the vulnerable, like from a cemetery or funeral home, or that he spent his free time scouring obituaries. People who’d recently experienced the death of someone close to them were probably far more likely to buy into what Malachi was selling. What a user.

After a few more fruitless “Malachi” searches—nothing but Bible mentions—I resorted to searching Facebook, thinking I might be able to pick Erin out of the crowd of Erins in Decatur, Illinois, with a photo. But either she hadn’t been on there when she was alive, or her page had been memorialized, which apparently would block it from outside searches.

Great.

Before I could log out, the chat box in the corner popped up with the sound of a suction cup being removed. It flummoxed me for a second. I wasn’t on here all that often, and most of my friends weren’t the chatting type. Then I saw the name and it made sense…sort of.

Lily Turner:Oh, good, you’re here. I can’t figure out her freaking e-mail password.

Oh, Lord.

Will Killian:What are you doing?

Lily Turner:What? No cell, no privacy on house phone, and I don’t have your e-mail. How else was I supposed to reach you? Smoke signals?

This was surreal. It was one thing to have Alona talking tome through Lily in the same room. I could hear the different cadences, see her body language and her expressions, all of which helped make it clear she was Alona, not Lily. But this…this was eerie.

Will Killian:How did you log in?

Lily Turner:Duh. She told her browser to remember her log-in info. Very sloppy, but useful for me.

Will Killian:I’m sure.

Lily Turner:You think I should have logged in under my own name? Like that wouldn’t have caused a stir.

I imagined, for a second, the reaction of however many friends Alona had when they saw her status button go green, and I was grateful suddenly that she’d had the forethought—and wisdom—not to do that. Actually, I couldn’t believe she hadn’tdone that. It must have taken everything she had to resist the temptation.

Lily Turner:Also, you have only seven friends? That’s kind of pathetic.

Will Killian:I don’t measure friendship in kilobytes.

Lily Turner:Yeah, you know who says that? People who have only seven friends.

She sounded alarmingly chipper. More like herself, in a way that I hadn’t heard from her since before the whole Lily debacle had started.

Will Killian:Whatever. Is there a point to this?

Lily Turner:Yes, you can meet me tomorrow at Misty’s house. Noon. I don’t need a ride.

Will Killian:You don’t? Why?

Even I heard the suspicion in those words.

Lily Turner:Don’t worry about it. All part of the plan.

Will Killian:I don’t think scarier words have ever been spoken.

She didn’t respond right away, and I thought she might have logged off or walked away.

Lily Turner:Have you seen my page?

It took me a second to figure out what she meant, and then I still wasn’t sure which “my” she meant.

Will Killian:You mean your Alona page?

Lily Turner:What else?

Of course.

Will Killian:No. Only seven friends, remember?

Will Killian:Wait. How can YOU see it w/out logging on?

Lily Turner:Apparently, Lily sent me a friend request at some point. I must have accepted it.

Probably when Lily had been dating Ben Rogers. That would have been the only time, knowing Lily, that she would have felt confident enough to approach the great and almighty Alona Dare and for her to even have a chance of Alona accepting, not that it had made much of an impression on Alona, obviously.

Will Killian:You don’t even know who your friends are?

Lily Turner:That’s not the point!

Will Killian:What is, then?

Lily Turner:Never mind. Forget it.

Will Killian:Alona…

Lily Turner:It’s a ghost town, ok?

Lily Turner:There’s a bunch of stuff after the funeral, people I didn’t know talking about me in the 3rd person, creeeepy…

Lily Turner:And then a whole slew of mean stuff.

I grimaced, not surprised.

Lily Turner:And then nothing.

Well, that at least explained why she hadn’t logged on as Alona Dare.

Will Killian:I’m sorry.

Lily Turner:Whatever. It’s fine. Should have expected it.

I sat there for a long moment, not sure what to type in response. The Alona I’d first talked to a few months ago would have been devastated, shocked, unable to believe that others would speak poorly of her and then abandon her. This Alona, though…She was different.

Will Killian:Want a few of my seven?

Lily Turner:*snort* No. You need all you have.

That was more like it.

Lily Turner:But thanks.

Lily Turner:And don’t forget. Don’t pick me up. Meet me there. 643 Fairmont.

She logged off before I could respond, and that overwhelming sense of trouble on the horizon suddenly returned. No matter what else happened, how much she changed, Alona was a schemer. She pla

I was bleary-eyed, cranky, and generally not my best when I went to meet Alona at Misty’s at noon.

It had taken me forever to fall asleep the night before. It might have been all the Mountain Dew I had drunk to keep me awake for a few more completely useless Internet searches, or worrying that Erin was going to suddenly show up again, or hoping my mom’s life wasn’t wrecked because of me. But then again, it also could have been that, right as I dozed off, two dead middle-aged brothers—Tim and Bob? Jim and Bill? It was never clear, as they were too busy shouting—strode through the wall into my room, still arguing and wanting me to take sides.

From what I’d gathered, they’d inherited a piece of land from a grandfather, and each had different ideas about what should be done with it. And they’d killed each other over it…about forty years ago.