Strange Girl Read online

  “I’d like to hear that from Aja herself,” Casey said. “Is she here?”

  “No,” Janet said.

  “But she was here earlier? When your friend Mike was on his deathbed?”

  I held up a hand. “Aja was here when Dr. Rosen was operating on Mike. She was in the waiting room like the rest of us. As far as I know she never got near Mike.”

  “Why do the nurses in this hospital say otherwise?”

  “Beats me,” I said.

  “They have sworn on record that Aja—”

  “Enough!” Janet interrupted, grabbing my arm. “We’re leaving.”

  Janet swept me outside to her car. But before we climbed inside, I asked her if it was true Aja had snuck into the recovery room to see Mike.

  “That part of Casey’s story is true,” Janet said. “After she told us she had to go to the bathroom, she must have circled around and snuck into the room right after you and Dale left.”

  I remembered how long Aja had been gone.

  “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” I asked.

  “You just got here. And what does it matter if she saw him or not?”

  I worried when I thought of how weak and listless Aja had been on the ride back to Elder. I had tried calling her on her home phone before I’d left for the hospital but there had been no answer. Aja had never given me a cell number; I don’t think she had one.

  “I wonder,” I muttered. That tiny doubt I’d felt after listening to Mrs. Billard’s story returned; I felt it as a crack in the ground beneath my feet. I believed in science, in facts, and I wasn’t about to toss the laws of physics and chemistry and biology out the window just because of a few puzzling events, never mind Mike’s fantastic story.

  But—and the “but” just kept growing in size—I felt as if I’d mentally stumbled right then on a mythological rabbit hole. Why had Aja gotten so weak after seeing Mike? And how had Bart known that seeing Mike could harm her? It made no sense.

  Of course, there was no point in trying to explain my confusion to Janet. She’d smack me on the side of the head if she saw even the slightest sign that I was buying into this wave of “miracle madness.”

  “What?” Janet said.

  I shook my head. “It’s nothing. I wouldn’t get worked up over Casey Morall’s story. It will die down when Mike refuses to verify that Aja healed him.”

  Janet nodded. “You’re probably right. Mike’s as much the key to her story as Aja is. I wonder if we should have both of them post a video on YouTube saying that the woman’s a big fat liar, a beginning reporter who’s desperate to publish something sensational.”

  “No. Respond to her stories and you’ll add fuel to the fire. Best to just ignore her.”

  “That’s true, I suppose.” Janet continued to study me. As usual, she was sensitive to my mood. “What’s bothering you?” she asked.

  I shrugged. “This investigation and reporting by Casey Morall—it feels so over-the-top. Why’d she make such a big deal about what happened at the Roadhouse? And how did she know to come here to interview Mike’s nurses? We’re missing something.”

  “What?” Janet asked.

  The most obvious answer was the most disturbing.

  “She knows something about Aja that we don’t.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE NEXT DAY—it was a Wednesday—Aja wasn’t at school. I called her home number. Bart answered and was extremely curt. He told me Aja was sick and would be out a few days. When I tried to ask what was wrong with her he hung up. Seemed I was no longer welcome by everyone at the Smith residence.

  I felt concerned but there was nothing I could do. When I got home that same day, though, there was an e-mail from Aja. I’d given her my e-mail when she’d been at my house. The note was short and to the point.

  Fred,

  Don’t worry, I’m fine.

  Love, Aja

  I kind of liked the last line. Read it a few hundred times.

  Knowing Aja was okay and that Mike’s brain was on the mend, our gang was able to turn our attention to Mike’s legal situation. His near-death experience notwithstanding, Mike still had his street smarts and knew not to talk to the police. We agreed the first thing we had to do was find him a good lawyer. Our problem was money, or the lack of it.

  But to our surprise—and in no small part due to Janet’s prodding—Bo stepped up to the plate and loaned Mike ten grand to hire an attorney in Balen named Randall Clifford. The man had an excellent reputation. After meeting with Clifford, Mike told us the lawyer was optimistic. It seemed the police had broken a few rules when their SWAT team had gone in shooting. The man was confident he’d get Mike off with a misdemeanor and a year of probation. The wonders of high-priced legal advice, I thought. Now there was a miracle Casey Morall should have been talking about.

  Three days went by and we began to relax about the reporter. No new videos appeared on YouTube and no amazing miracle articles ran in her newspaper.

  Unfortunately, on the weekend, Casey made up for lost time. She’d probably taken the extra time to write her article and then purposely ran it in the Sunday edition of the Rapid City Journal, when the paper’s circulation was at its largest.

  The article started on the front page; it was long and detailed. It first reviewed what had occurred at the Roadhouse, before moving on to Mike’s miraculous healing and the two nurses’ long quotes. The only positive was that Casey was unable to get a doctor at Balen Memorial to substantiate her claims.

  The new video she posted on YouTube was far more chilling. It contained a long interview with the man, Alex Spender, whose tibia had been broken into two distinct pieces. The video showed X-rays of the gap between his bone, or bones—before and after Aja’s visit to the recovery room. God knows how Casey had obtained them. Of course Alex had just had surgery to repair the problem but he swore on tape that his doctors had been completely befuddled by his sudden recovery.

  Worse, Alex was an eyewitness to Aja’s visit to the recovery room. He spoke with feeling about how he watched as Aja snuck into the room and touched Mike’s head and how instantly the beating of Mike’s monitors changed and he began to cough as his body rejected the ventilator. This was minutes after Dale and I had exited the recovery room. Alex said Mike suddenly sat up and gestured frantically for the nurses to remove the tube from his throat.

  All in all it was a moving piece. Casey spoke briefly at the beginning and at the end, letting “The facts speak for themselves.” Within two days the twenty-minute tape had nine million hits. We felt lucky that reporters from the major networks and papers hadn’t shown up in Elder to chase Aja down. But their absence didn’t surprise me as much as it did my friends.

  Crazes on the Internet didn’t usually translate into reality. What Casey was claiming sounded too phenomenal. I suspected she had gone too far with her article and video and had scared off the legitimate media. But I knew she was clever; I worried she was holding something in check.

  It was for that reason I agreed to meet with Casey. Alone.

  The only one I told about the meeting was Janet.

  No surprise. She exploded.

  “You were the one who said it would be a mistake to engage her!” Janet yelled when I told her about my intention to have dinner with Casey midway between Elder and Rapid City.

  We were on Janet’s porch. It was three in the afternoon on a Tuesday and we had just walked home from school together. Janet paced as I told her my plan while I sat on the swing chair. Janet’s father, Bo, was working on the engine of a big rig in the garage.

  Aja had returned to school today. Except for looking a little tired, she seemed okay. Still, I worried about her. Why was she tired? What had she done?

  “I know but the situation’s changed,” I said.

  “How?”

  I shrugged. “Nine million hits.”

  “It’s the Internet. You said yourself that it will blow over.”

  “Casey Morall shouldn’t have taken up thi
s crusade in the first place. I’m telling you she knows something.”

  “What?”

  “Something from Aja’s past.”

  Janet paused in midstride. “Did Aja say that?”

  “No. She doesn’t talk about her past. But it’s a good guess.”

  “Have you asked her straight out if she did anything to Mike?”

  “Yes. She says she didn’t do anything.”

  “Then why did she sneak into that room?”

  “She says she had to see him.”

  “That’s it?” Janet asked.

  “You know Aja. If our class gave out an award for ‘Most likely not to say much,’ Aja would win it.” I paused. “I’m worried about her.”

  “All the publicity?”

  “Not just that. Since she’s come back to school, she hasn’t seemed herself. She looks weary.”

  “She’s probably getting over a bug.”

  “You don’t believe that any more than I do.”

  “What are you suggesting?” Janet asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Fred!”

  “All I know is that after she sat with Mike in the recovery room for a few minutes, she couldn’t keep her eyes open. By the time I got her home, she was so sick she couldn’t walk.”

  “I spoke to her today. She seemed fine to me.”

  “You don’t know her as well as I do. Look, I’m not saying she healed Mike. I don’t believe in healings. I believe in Dr. Rosen and his incredible skill. But we do know that Aja’s different than anyone we’ve met before.”

  Janet made a dismissive gesture. “That’s because of her background. If I grew up spending most of the time in a jungle I’d be as strange as her.”

  I smiled when I thought of our date at my house.

  “I’m writing a song about her called ‘Strange Girl.’ ”

  “I told you. Nothing inspires great songwriting like falling in love.”

  “It’s got an awesome melody.”

  “You’re changing the subject. If you’re going to meet Casey Morall to talk about Aja, bring Aja with you. Let her set the reporter straight. By erecting this wall around the girl you just make her into more of a mystery.”

  “No. It’s too far a drive. I want her to stay home and rest.”

  “Then take me.”

  “No way.”

  “Why not?”

  “You’ll attack Casey the moment you see her, like you did at the hospital. No, I need her to open up to me. To confide in me.”

  “Good luck with that.”

  “Everyone thinks I’m Aja’s boyfriend. I’ll bait Casey with the prospect of sharing secret knowledge with her.”

  “She’s an experienced reporter. She’s not going to fall for that. She’ll get more out of you than you get out of her.”

  I stood. I was meeting Casey in three hours. I wanted to get on the road. “Impossible. I don’t know any of Aja’s secrets.”

  Janet gave me a good-bye hug. I was taking her car again.

  “Just make sure she’s not recording your conversation.”

  “I’ll frisk her from head to toe,” I promised.

  Alone on the road, with only the radio for company, the drive felt long. I spent a large part of the time trying to come up with a strategy that would make Casey leave Aja alone. But I realized that probably wasn’t going to happen. The woman sure had a bug up her ass when it came to Aja. If I could at least find out the source of her obsession, I’d call the evening a success.

  We met at a diner just off the interstate in the middle of nowhere. Casey had a bag and camera with her but I insisted she leave them in the car. I also told her I wasn’t going to talk unless she let me frisk her. She threw a song and dance about what a pervert I was but a minute later I was holding a tiny digital recorder she’d fitted into the top of her boot.

  That shut her up.

  Casey was an attractive woman; I put her age at twenty-five. She’d cut her dark blond hair short and sassy-like; and she’d highlighted her blue eyes with black mascara. She was stout without being overweight. I was sure she could handle herself in a fight. Hell, she could probably take me. She’d struggled when I’d frisked her. The fact that she’d tried to tape me without my knowledge showed she had no scruples.

  Then again she was a reporter. What did I expect?

  We sat in a corner booth and ordered dinner. I had a hamburger and fries. Casey asked for halibut and rice. We both drank tall glasses of iced tea. Casey asked where Aja was and I told her she had no interest in being a fake celebrity. Casey didn’t bat an eye at my opening dig.

  “If she’s not interested then why are you?” she asked.

  “We’re close. I hate seeing her harassed.”

  “I’d hardly call it harassment. I’m making her into a star. You must know the number of hits my videos are getting on YouTube.”

  “YouTube’s like Disneyland. It’s the happiest place on earth if you’re bored or stoned. No one takes it seriously. I doubt CNN and Fox are knocking on your door.”

  “You take me seriously. You just drove three hours to talk to me.”

  “Because I’m bored and stoned. You’re the busy reporter. Why’d you drive so far to see me?”

  “You’re Aja’s boyfriend. You’re in the same band as Michael Garcia. It’s simple. You’re connected to the people I need to connect with. I’m here to work out a deal.”

  “What kind of deal?” I asked.

  “You talk Aja and Mike into granting me interviews and I’ll tell you everything I know about Aja’s past.” She paused. “You’d be amazed what you might learn.”

  “I’m already close to the family and Aja’s told me plenty. I doubt there’s anything new you could tell me.”

  “You’re saying you know all there is to know about your ‘Pequena Maga’?” Casey said, trying to shock me.

  “The Little Magician—yeah, I know what they call her in Selva. But I’m curious how you know.”

  The fact that I knew what the name meant in English surprised Casey. I could see I’d scored a point. She frowned as she stopped to light a cigarette in a no-smoking area and blew smoke over my head.

  “Give me something and I’ll give you something,” she said.

  “Give me something significant and I’ll talk to them about granting you interviews.” I glanced at my watch. “Start now or I’ll be gone before our food arrives.”

  “You’d stick me with the bill?”

  “That’s a given.”

  Casey studied me. “You’re smart, Fred. I like that about you.”

  “You mean you’ve been told that. By your mole.”

  Casey blinked. “What are you talking about?”

  “You have someone in Elder feeding you information about Aja. Someone told you she and I were a couple. The same person told you about Mike’s head injury.”

  “You’re guessing.”

  “I don’t think so. You heard about Mike too fast. You were at the hospital too quick. Someone called and told you what was going on.”

  “My, you are a clever boy. So who is this secret agent of mine?”

  “It’s a student at Elder High. Someone who doesn’t wish Aja well. Or at least someone who wants me to stay away from her.” I paused. “Are you paying Nicole Greer or does she do your bidding for free?”

  Casey smiled wickedly. “You’re in the wrong profession, Fred. You should be a mystery writer, not a rock singer.”

  “In your article you praised our band.”

  “I did that to get on your good side. Although I have to admit you have talent. But the rest of your group—you’ll dump them the day you leave Elder. I’d do the same thing.” Casey took a drag on her cigarette. “What other secrets of mine have you uncovered?”

  “You’re new to Rapid City. You only arrived three months ago. Around the same time Aja arrived in Elder.”

  “Who told you that?”

  I shrugged. “As Hannibal Lecter would say, ‘Qui
d pro quo, Clarice.’ I mean, Casey. It’s your turn. Tell me something interesting.”

  The woman suddenly ground out her cigarette in a nearby potted plant. “All right, I admit I’ve been chasing the Aja story for some time. She intrigues me.”

  “How did you come across her?”

  “By accident. Five years ago I graduated from UCLA with a major in journalism. Two years later I picked up a master’s in creative writing at USC. I love a good story and know how to tell a good story. But I’m not so great at making them up. Writing a nonfiction bestseller or being a TV journalist is probably my most promising career route. But ‘promising’ is a relative term. There’s ten thousand young women like me out there. I need a major scoop to get my foot in the door. I think Aja’s that scoop.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “A year ago I was visiting an uncle in São Paulo. He was throwing a party at his penthouse and I heard this woman from Selva talking about Aja. She’d known her from when she was a child. She was full of stories about her, mostly crazy shit. Aja was a wild girl from the jungle who could turn stone into gold. She could heal the sick and talk to spirits. Wild animals never attacked her. She’d sleep under trees and snakes would gather and form a protective circle around her.” Casey reached for another cigarette. “The woman was a staunch Catholic but swore Aja was an angel who’d been sent to earth by Jesus.”

  “You believed her?” I asked.

  “I believe that where there’s smoke there’s fire. Obviously ninety percent of what the woman was saying was nonsense but she was traveling with her ten-year-old daughter and the little girl told me a story I knew had to be true. The girl was too scared to be acting. She’d been playing on the edge of town when she’d been bitten by a bushmaster. In Brazil, in the deep jungle, they’re the most feared snakes. Their venom is way worse than a rattlesnake’s. Her father was nearby and picked her up and tried rushing her to the hospital. But he was on foot and already her throat was swelling shut. She was turning blue, she couldn’t breathe. Her father wept; he knew she was as good as dead.” Casey paused. “Then they ran into Aja.”