Charley's Web (26 page)

Shit, fuck,
fart
? she thought, the words echoing throughout the small space. Charley burst out laughing. “What are you? Five years old?”

Like James?

Like Tammy Barnet.

“Shit,” Charley said again, then burst into tears. “Goddamn it.” How could Jill have done such horrible things? How could she talk about them so matter-of-factly? What was the matter with her?

She can do it because she has no conscience or empathy, Charley thought, recalling Dr. Norman’s assessment. Because the only person’s pain she can truly feel is her own. And whether she was born that way or whether that empathy had been beaten out of her as a child no longer mattered. What mattered was that three innocent children were dead. What mattered more was that the person who’d orchestrated those grisly deaths was still out there. What mattered most was that more children were at risk.

Every day.

Everywhere.

She thought of the nasty e-mails threatening Franny and James. She’d kill anyone who tried to harm them.

We both carry around a lot of anger,
Jill had told her.

She was certainly right about that.

Her cell phone whistled. Charley fished through her purse until she found it. She checked caller ID, but the number was unfamiliar. “Hello? Hello?” she said again, when no one answered. Charley waited three more seconds, then flipped the phone shut and tossed it back inside her purse. “Idiot,” she said, as the phone began ringing again. “Hello?”

“Charley?” The word was slurred, the voice unrecognizable.

“Who is this?”

“Charley.” This time the word was more a sigh than a name.

Charley felt a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. “Bram, is that you?”

“How’s it going, Charley?”

“Goddamn it, Bram. Are you drunk?”

“I don’t know. Am I?”

“Where are you?”

“Please don’t yell at me, Charley. My head is killing me.”

“Where are you, Bram?” Charley repeated.

“I’m not altogether sure.”

“Shit!”

“You shouldn’t swear. Mother wouldn’t like it.”

“Is there anybody else there? Someone I can speak to?”

“There’s this girl.” He snickered. “I can’t seem to remember her name, but she’s coming out of the bathroom, and she’s not wearing any clothes. Uh-oh. She doesn’t look happy.”

“Give me that,” Charley heard a woman say. “Hello? Who is this?”

“I’m Bram’s sister. Who are you?”

“My name don’t matter. What matters is your brother’s been here all night and he owes me two hundred bucks. You gonna take care of that or am I gonna have to take care of him? You get what I’m saying?”

Charley closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. “Just tell me where you are,” she said, scribbling the address on the back of one of Jill’s pages. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

T
ook you long enough to get here.” The woman in the doorway was the color of thick, dark molasses. She wore a magenta polyester top with a deep V-neck that exaggerated the fake fullness of her breasts, and a short lime-green skirt over a pair of thigh-high, brown suede boots. A dense mass of dark ringlets framed her round face, accentuating the lines around her wary brown eyes and collagen-plumped lips.

It was the face of a woman who’d seen it all, and been disappointed by most of it, Charley thought, stepping inside the run-down apartment that reeked of quick sex and spilled beer. “I got here as fast as I could. There’s a lot of construction on the roads.”

“Spare me the details. Where’s my money?”

“Where’s my brother?”

“Sleepin’.” The woman hitched her thumb toward the bedroom in the back, then held out her hand.

Charley extracted the money from the rear pocket of her jeans, and deposited it in the woman’s waiting palm. The woman made a point of counting out the ten twenty-dollar bills Charley had retrieved from a nearby ATM machine, then tucked them into her cleavage before leading Charley through the darkened living room. There were no lights on and the drapes were pulled, but even so, Charley had no trouble making out the empty bottles of alcohol lying scattered across the cheap shag carpet.
Man lies like a rug,
she heard Jill say, as the scent of marijuana wafted toward her nose. “What drugs has he been doing?” she asked as the woman opened the bedroom door.

“Don’t know nothin’ about no drugs.” The woman pointed to the figure lying supine across the bed. “Just get him out of here, will you? I gotta get back to work.”

Charley moved closer to the bed. Bram’s white shirt was unbuttoned, and the fly of his jeans was zippered only halfway up, as if the effort to dress himself had proved too great a task, and he’d passed out from the exertion. If he’d been wearing a belt, it was missing. Still, both shoes were on. “Can you give me a hand with him?”

The woman waved long, fake fingernails in the air. “Sorry, honey. Can’t risk breaking these babies. They cost a bundle.”

Charley took a deep breath, holding it inside her lungs in a concerted effort not to inhale the collection of stale odors emanating from the bedsheets, and grabbed Bram’s right arm, throwing it across her shoulder and trying to hoist him to his feet. It was like trying to pull the trunk of an ancient oak tree up by its roots. “Come on, Bram. Wake up.”

Bram didn’t move.

“Come on, Bram. I’m getting really sick of this.” After several minutes, Charley succeeded in dragging him off the bed. He collapsed with a thud on the fake bearskin rug, and promptly curled into a fetal position. “Bram, I’m warning you. In another minute, I’m just gonna leave you here.”

“That ain’t an option,” the woman said from the other side of the room.

“Then I’m afraid you’re going to have to help me.”

“Jesus,” the woman muttered, kicking at Bram’s legs. “Can’t you get nothin’ up?” Once again, her boot connected with Bram’s leg.

“Ouch.” Bram grabbed the woman’s ankle, although his eyes remained closed.

“Let go of my foot, if you know what’s good for you,” the woman said.

Bram opened his eyes. “Katarina, my angel.”

“Katarina, my ass. Go on. Get the hell out of here.”

“Bram….” Charley said, trying to pull her brother to his feet. “Come on. Get up.”

Bram smiled his most beatific smile. “Charley, what are you doing here?”

“Rescuing you. For the last time,” Charley said, hoping she meant it. He was obviously in no condition to drive, which meant she’d have to take him back to his apartment, which meant she’d be late getting back to Palm Beach and her date with Alex, which she’d been looking forward to all day. Damn her brother anyway. Why couldn’t he get his act together? “Where’s your car?” she asked when they reached the front door.

Bram looked slowly up and down the street, then back at Charley. “I’m pretty sure it was here last night.”

“For God’s sake, Bram.”

“For God’s sake, Charley.”

“Charley, Bram…. Who named you people anyway?” Katarina said, pushing Charley and her brother outside, then slamming the door shut.

“Honest to God, Bram,” Charley said, stuffing her brother into the front seat of her car, then securing him with the seat belt. “If we can’t find your car, we’re going to have to call the police and file a report….”

“That’s probably not a good idea,” Bram said, leaning his head back against the seat. “In case you hadn’t noticed, this isn’t the best area, and I’m not in great…”

Charley waited for her brother to finish the sentence.
I’m not in great shape, I’m not in great humor, I’m not in great…
whatever. But he didn’t, and Charley understood, without having to look, that he was already asleep.

“So, how’s he doing?” Alex asked as Charley returned to the living room and sat down beside him on the floor in front of the sofa, Bandit following at her heels and sniffing at the packages of Chinese takeout that sat opened and half-eaten on the coffee table. Immediately Alex’s arms wrapped around her.

Charley snuggled against him as Bandit curled into her lap. “Sleeping like the proverbial log.”

“Well, that’s good anyway.”

“Yeah. He needs his rest, because as soon as he wakes up, I’m going to kill him.”

Alex laughed. “That’s my girl.”

Charley smiled. Was that what she was? His girl? “Thanks for being so nice about everything.”

“No thanks necessary. We can do Taboo another night.”

“I was really looking forward to it.”

“Me, too. But these things happen.”

“Yeah, well, they happen way too frequently for my liking.”

“Any idea what set him off?”

“It’s probably my fault,” Charley conceded. “I called him the other day, after I spoke to Anne, told him the date of our little family reunion, said I expected him to be there with bells on.”

Alex nodded. “It was probably the bells that pushed him over the edge.”

“I should never have mentioned those damn bells,” Charley agreed with a laugh. “Thanks for talking to the police about the car.”

“They’ll still have to speak to Bram,” Alex reminded her.

“Any hope of getting it back in one piece?”

Alex shrugged. “There’s always hope.”

“I’m beginning to doubt that. At least as far as my brother is concerned.”

Alex reached for a deep-fried wonton, dipped it in the sweet orange sauce, and took a bite. “Try not to be too hard on him, Charley. Aren’t slipups like this part of the recovery process?”

“They’re part of the disease,” Charley corrected. “And I know I should be sympathetic and supportive, just like I would be if he had any other awful illness, but part of me keeps saying there’s an element of choice involved here, a luxury that people with diseases like cancer or Parkinson’s don’t have. You can’t choose not to have cancer or Parkinson’s. He
can
choose to stop drinking and doing drugs.”

“It may not be that easy.”

“I’m not saying it’s easy. I’m saying it’s necessary.”

Alex kissed away the tears that were now trickling down Charley’s face.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you,” Charley said. “God, you’re the last person I should be angry at.”

“You’re not angry. You’re just passionate.”

Charley smiled. “I like that word much better.”

“Feel free to use it whenever you’d like.” He kissed the side of her mouth.

Charley tasted the sweet wonton sauce as it transferred from his lips to hers. “Jill says I carry around a lot of anger.”

“Oh, she does, does she? What else does the charming Miss Rohmer say?”

“That we’re a lot alike.”

“Can’t say I see the resemblance.”

“I
do
have a lot of anger.”

“Passion,” Alex corrected.

“You had to hear her this afternoon, Alex,” Charley said, remembering. “The casual way she discussed killing those children. Then in the same breath, she asked about Franny and James, and couldn’t understand why I got upset.”

“Sociopaths are experts at compartmentalizing.”

Charley pulled back slightly. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you refer to Jill as a sociopath.”

“Look, I read Dr. Norman’s report, too, and just because I’m a lawyer doesn’t mean I’m an idiot,” Alex said with a smile. “It’s a bit like what you were saying about Bram and his addictions. I know Jill was beaten and abused and manipulated, that she never stood a snowball’s chance in hell for a happy, well-adjusted life. And I feel very sorry for her. I really do. I sympathize with her. Hell, sometimes I even like her. But I also know what she did to those kids. And I know that normal people don’t do things like that, no matter how badly they’ve been treated, or how expertly they’ve been manipulated. Clearly, this guy Jack sensed a kindred soul in Jill, or he would have looked elsewhere.”

“So you’re really convinced she had a partner?”

“Aren’t you?”

Charley stroked the top of Bandit’s head in contemplation. He immediately rolled over onto his back for her to rub his stomach. “I’m not sure. One minute I’m absolutely positive she’s telling me the truth; the next minute, I’m just as sure she’s making everything up, that the whole thing’s nothing but a big game to her.”

“To what end?”

“To no end. For her own amusement. Something to do. I don’t know. I imagine things can get pretty boring on death row.”

“Think she’s been playing with me, too?” Alex asked.

“I think she’d like to,” Charley teased. “She gets this little sparkle in her eyes every time she says your name. It’s kind of cute actually.”

“Bite your tongue.”

“Can I bite yours instead?”

He leaned his lips toward hers. “Be my guest.”

Charley’s mouth opened to welcome him. The subsequent kiss was deep and tender. She never wanted it to end.

“I thought I smelled Chinese,” a voice said from somewhere above Charley’s head. Bare feet shuffled into the living room, stopping beside the coffee table.

Immediately Charley pulled out of Alex’s embrace, Bandit jumping from her lap to the floor to greet Bram. “I thought you were asleep,” Charley told him.

“I was. Then the unmistakable odor of chicken with cashews came whispering in my ear.”

“I’m not sure odors can actually whisper,” Alex deadpanned.

“Who are you?” Bram asked.

“This is Alex Prescott. Alex, this is my brother, Bram.”

“Nice to meet you, Alex.”

“You, too, Bram.”

“Do you mind if I join you?” Bram indicated the food on the table. “I see you have lots left.”

“You’re sure your stomach can tolerate it?”

“I’m fine, Charley.”

“I’ll get you a plate,” Alex offered.

“Why, thank you, Alex. Who
is
this guy?” Bram whispered to Charley as Alex left the room.

“He’s a friend of mine.”

“More than just a friend, by the look of things when I walked in here. And, by the way, what
am
I doing here?”

“You don’t remember my coming to get you?”

Bram shook his head. “I have a vague recollection of a pair of torpedo-shaped breasts.”

“I assure you those weren’t mine.”

“Whose were they?”

“That would be Katarina.”

“The hurricane?”

“The hooker. And that was Hurricane
Katrina,
by the way.”

“And who’s this Alex again?”

“A friend.”

“Are you pregnant?”

“Are you crazy?”

“I get drunk, you get pregnant,” Bram explained as Alex reentered the room. “I have blackouts, you have babies,” he continued, not quite under his breath.

“Enjoy,” Alex said, handing him a fork and a plate.

Bram surveyed the remaining food. “Chicken with cashews, deep fried wontons, sweet and sour pork, honey garlic spare ribs, sesame shrimp in a tangy lemon sauce, not to mention this intriguing vegetable thingy over here. Good choice, people. You done good.” He piled large portions of each on his plate, then plopped down on the sofa. “Don’t suppose there’s any wine left over?”

“Don’t suppose you’d like to sleep out on the sidewalk tonight?” Charley asked in return.

“Oh, come on, Charley. Where’s your sense of humor?”

“Same place as your car.”

“My car?”

“Your beloved MG that got swiped from in front of Hurricane Katarina’s love nest.”

“Shit,” Bram said, dropping his head to his chest.

“Alex has already spoken to the police. But you’ll have to file a report in the morning.”

“Shit,” Bram said again.

“I believe the word you’re looking for is ‘thank you.’”

“I believe that’s two words.”

“Don’t be a smart-ass.”

“I really loved that car.”

“Then you should have taken better care of it.”

“Yes, I should have,” Bram snapped, jumping to his feet. “Thank you, Mother, for pointing that out.”

“Okay, Bram, take it easy. I don’t need Chinese food all over the floor.”

“And I don’t need a lecture.”

“Well, you sure as hell need something.” Charley was on her feet now as well, her patience gone, along with her goodwill and better intentions. “What’s the matter with you, anyway? How many times is this going to happen? What’s it going to take to get you to straighten out?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know,” Bram shouted as Bandit began barking and jumping at his feet. “Where did this fucking dog come from?”

“Take it easy, Bram,” Alex said.

“Take a hike, Alex.” He shoved the plate of food at Alex’s chest, forcing Alex to take it.

“Bram, stop it right now. I mean it,” Charley warned.

“Or what? You’ll ground me? Take away my car? Oh, I forgot. Somebody already took it.”

“For God’s sake, stop being such an asshole.”

“You mean for
your
sake, don’t you?”

“How about for
your
sake?”

There was silence. Bram swayed forward on the balls of his feet, then swayed back again. “I’m fine, Charley. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“You’re my brother. How can I
not
worry about you?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Being sorry isn’t good enough.”

“Yeah, but it’s
all
I’m good at,” Bram said, sinking back into the sofa.