Free Crossed Out by Kim Baccellia Page A

time.”
    “You can’t just blow me off, Steph.” He pressed the cross close to the car window “Not with this and me finding you at a crime scene in the middle of nowhere.
    “And what’s this with calling a counselor this early in the morning? Are you two hiding something? I think you at least owe me an explanation.”
    I looked at my cross and back at him. I was sick of fighting. For a brief moment I seriously considered spilling my guts. Maybe he’d believe my predicament and help me with this rescue.
    The only way Dylan might do this was if the counselor explained my gift.
    “Oh, why don’t you follow me back to his office? Dr. Anthony can explain this to you.”
    “Dr. Anthony?” Dylan shook his head. “This whole thing sounds strange.”
    “Yeah,” I muttered, “more than you know.”

Chapter 13
     
    I couldn’t leave the airbase fast enough. I got back on the I-80. Thick fog swamped the freeway. I squinted, looking for the familiar Arden Way exit sign. All the while, adrenaline surged through my body.
    Dylan’s familiar Chevy truck followed close behind. I imagined his stupid happy-face antenna ball bobbed up and down and his hands tightly gripping the steering wheel while he cursed me out.
    Boy, the crap really hit the fan this time. I dreaded the conversation to come, inside the counselor’s office.
    I’d take the pissed off spirit back at the airbase any time.
     
    I finally got to the office. The dreariness of the fog wrapped a depressing blanket around me. How could I have been so stupid to let anyone – namely Dylan – know about my nocturnal activities?
    Note to self: Next time try to be a little bit more observant when out on a rescue. Who knows who, or what, you’ll encounter.
    My next rescue? Sickness rose in the back of my throat. As if that’s going to happen any time soon.
    I droveinto the deserted parking lot. No sooner did I stumble out of my car, than Dylan’s truck screeched to a stop. He flung his door open and jumped out.
    “Okay, Steph.” He slammed his door shut. “We’re here.” He glanced around the darkened lot. “Enough of the games....”
    At that moment the headlights of a car blinded me. Talk about perfect timing. A dark Honda Accord drove into the parking lot, stopping Dylan from further ranting.
    Dr. Anthony opened the car door. His bad left leg stuck out at a weird angle. With a shove, he got out. His fogged-over glasses made it hard to make out his expression. I resisted the urge to laugh. He so looked like a doofus. His short, dark hair spiked out around his head like porcupine quills.
    Dylan stared at Dr. Anthony, then at me.
    “Hello.” Dr. Anthony stretched his hand out to Dylan. “My name is Dr. Anthony.”
    Dylan glanced at the hand, but made no move to take it.
    The counselor turned to me. “Stephanie. Dylan. Why don’t we all go inside?” Dr. Anthony rubbed his hands together. “I, for one, find the cold weather invigorating. “But—” he looked at me “—I think it would be better to have our discussion inside.”
    “Yeah, whatever.” Dylan threw his hands up. “I give up. Let’s get this over with.”
    Wondering at the counselor’s calm reaction to Dylan’s presence, I didn’t make any smart-ass comments.
    Dr. Anthony drew out a rectangular key from his jean pocket and opened the back entrance. I followed behind them.
    Once inside, the pitch-dark interior felt like a tomb. I folded my arms, trying to get warm. I didn’t know which felt colder, the temperature inside or Dylan snubbing me.
    We walked down the hallway, turned left, and past several doors. Between the small bathroom and the other offices was the counselor’s office.
    When Dr. Anthony opened his door and flicked on a light, it took a minute for my eyes to readjust. The familiar green-cushioned chairs and mahogany table were as I remembered.
    What caught my eye was against the back wall stood the metal cabinet. I shuddered. I knew what lay hidden inside – that