His dark eyes swept with a despair I didn’t believe Wayde could produce. “I’ve killed people.”
While I already knew that, I also believed Wayde needed to shed his soul from it to cross over, and I sure-as-shit wanted him gone. Perhaps it surprised me that he didn’t recognize me yet, or acknowledge his past plan of hoping I’d become trapped in the Netherworld.
I fully believed that Wayde would’ve killed me, if he’d been given the chance. But with Dane’s assistance—even if I hadn’t known it—and by the time I arrived in White Castle, too many people were involved for him to act on such desires. “Can you tell me why you’ve killed?”
Wayde took a step toward me. It took everything in me not to retreat from his advance. Even though he could do nothing to me now, he had wanted me removed from Earth to keep his secret exactly that…a secret. Having him this close to me wasn’t comforting.
His gaze roamed over me from head to toe, and awareness filled his eyes, shedding some of the fear I spotted there. “I was like you.”
“A medium?” I could’ve told him outright that I had known him. That we all knew him, but I didn’t think it wise. I thought it might only confuse him, since he wouldn’t remember us anyway. Thus, the frustrating part of ghosts.
From what I’d seen, some remembered more about their past over time if given the chance to. I thought, for Wayde’s sake, it was best he didn’t remember. Perhaps I didn’t want him to. Maybe even, I’d rather him not have to settle his wrongdoings with me.
In fact, I wanted him to cross over and get out of my life.
Wayde finally sighed and, after a deep swallow, he continued with a soft voice, “Sammy didn’t believe me when I told him I sensed spirits. He wanted me to get help.” Wayde’s bottom lip quivered. “The hospital…they would’ve locked me away. I would’ve lost everything.”
I didn’t even recognize this man in front of me. He looked like a frightened, seven-year-old boy. I also wanted to point out how stupid that line of thinking was. How stupid all murders were that had been caused for personal reasons because they did lose everything. It always came back to bite them in the ass—always.
Well, maybe even more so now because I could talk to the ghosts to solve their cold cases. But I didn’t feel the need to point that out and stayed quiet as Wayde went on. “Sammy was all I had…and even he thought I was crazy.” Wayde glanced down at the grass—his eyes widened as he noticed how he floated—and he whispered, “I didn’t mean to do it…it just happened. I was so scared I’d be labeled insane.”
Part of me—a small part, but still a part—almost felt bad for Wayde. His abilities had ruined his life. At one time, I thought mine had, too. I could sympathize with Wayde.
The difference between him and me was I had friends around me like Caley who believed me. What would have happened if she hadn’t when I first told her I talked to ghosts? Would I have been put in an institution?
While I could never agree with what Wayde had done to Sammy or Alexander, seeing him like this was almost a full-circle moment for me. While my life had been crazy, it could’ve been a whole lot worse.
Of course, I would never have killed anyone, but Wayde had gone to the only person he trusted and loved, Sammy. What if Caley had turned her back on me when I told her what I could do?
I shuddered, not even wanting to think about it.
What if I hadn’t met Kipp, who had forced me to stop ignoring my gifts and made me expose myself to Max, Zach, and Eddie? What if I hadn’t had this support system around me?
Inconceivable.
Regardless of the horrible acts that Wayde was responsible for, my heart reached out to him. I’d been where he had been, only I had people around me who, in the end, believed me.
Wayde finally lifted his head, tears flooding his eyes, completely wretched in misery. “I’m sorry.”
Sure, he needed to say that to free his soul, but his sorry sounded good, even if it wasn’t directed at me. I figured he’d be probably saying it anyway if he realized what he had wanted to do to me.
I hesitated a moment, but since he wasn’t crossing over yet, and from what I already knew, I gave him another push to cleanse his soul. “Who else did you kill?”
“Alexander.” More tears rushed along his cheeks. “He…” Wayde shook his head in clear confusion. “He wanted...” Then clarity filled his expression as he stared at me. “You. He wanted to bring you here…with your gifts…you would’ve found Sammy.” His breath hitched. “Yes, that’s right—I couldn’t allow you to come. You would’ve seen Sammy’s ghost. He was here…with me this whole time. You would’ve found out my past and my life…it’d be ruined.”
Why my heart was breaking now was completely beyond me, but it shattered. Wayde had only wanted a family, a place where he belonged, and to be surrounded by people who understood him, and when he finally had that, it was too late.
The damage had been done.
I shut my eyes, inhaling the warm night air, wanting this all to be over. When someone cleared their throat behind me, I opened my eyes to Wayde, who continued to gaze at me weakly.
While he made the connection of who I was, he still hadn’t realized the extent of what he had wanted to do to me. I didn’t want him to remember. I wanted him to cross over. Nothing he could say was anything I didn’t already know, and I suspected one simple question would provide the final piece to his admission. “Where can we find your body?”
This, I thought, was the underlying reason he needed forgiveness. Without his body, there would be no punishment. With his body, he would be labeled Sammy’s killer, who then took his own life.
Everyone would know the truth about him. He could no longer hide behind a false identity, and that’s what needed to be settled. Ownership for what he’d done, not forgiveness for it.
Wayde hesitated before he looked over his shoulder, and then turned to me again. “About five minutes into the forest, behind the cemetery.”