Charley's Web (33 page)

“What do you say? Think you can manage without us for a few hours?” Alex asked Charley’s mother and brother.

“I think we can,” Elizabeth said hopefully. “What do you think, Bram?”

“I think we should probably get started.” The forced enthusiasm in Bram’s voice was almost enough to mask the panic in his eyes.

“We’ll finish packing up the car,” Alex told them, “and you and the kids can be on your way.” He helped Bram tote the rest of the bags outside, James right behind them.

“I’m not sure this is such a good idea,” Charley said when they were gone.

“It’s a wonderful idea,” her mother told her. “It gives your brother and me a real chance to connect. Are you sure you’re not faking this whole episode…?”

“Trust me, I’m not faking.”

“Are you gonna be all right?” Franny asked.

Charley nodded, the motion making her feel even worse. “Mom, get my cell phone, will you? It’s in my purse.”

Her mother quickly located the phone in Charley’s bag. “Here it is, darling. Do you want me to call the doctor?”

“No. I want you to take it with you.”

“What? No. I hate these things.”

“Mom, you have to take it. Bram’s phone got stolen, and I have to be able to reach you. I can’t let you go without it.”

“But I’m useless with these things.”

“You can handle it. I promise. Just remember, it doesn’t ring. It whistles.”

“Of course it does.” Her mother tossed the phone reluctantly into her purse.

“Franny, Grandma, come on!” James yelled from the front lawn. “We’re going.”

Franny touched her mother’s hand tenderly, then ran from the room.

“You know the name of the motel….” Charley said to her mother.

“I know everything, sweetheart. Not to worry.”

“Then go on,” Charley urged. “I’ll call you as soon as I’m feeling better. If you don’t hear from me before you get there, you call
me.
”

Instead of leaving, Elizabeth sank down in the cushion next to Charley and tenderly took her in her arms, rocking her gently. Charley felt the warmth of her mother’s embrace, the touch of her lips as they brushed against her forehead. A part of her instinctively moved to push her mother away, but another part of her, the part that had been waiting for this moment for twenty-two years, held firm and held on tight. How fitting this should happen on her birthday, she was thinking, as she buried her head against her mother’s breasts and cried like a newborn baby.

“My beautiful girl,” her mother whispered, kissing the top of her head. “My sweet, beautiful girl. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” Charley told her, crying harder now.

“Okay, the car’s all packed.” Alex reentered the room with Bram at his side. “The kids are buckled in and raring to go.”

Charley loosened her viselike grip on her mother’s waist as Elizabeth kissed her forehead. “Don’t you worry about a thing, darling. You just get better.”

“Fast,” Bram added.

Charley nodded, feeling worse.

The sound of jackhammers came pounding through the walls. “Oh, God,” Charley moaned as Bram leaned close to kiss her good-bye.

“Don’t let the kids out of your sight for a minute,” she warned.

“I’ll watch them like a hawk,” Bram said.

“Drive carefully,” Charley heard Alex call out as her mother’s car pulled out of the driveway seconds later. Seconds after that, Alex was back at her side. “Do you really think that was such a good idea?” Charley asked him.

“I think it was a great idea. You need to rest.”

“I sure need something.”

“Maybe I should take you to emergency.”

“What? No. This is hardly an emergency.”

“It could be your appendix.”

“It’s not my appendix. It’s those damn blueberry pancakes.”

“They
were
pretty rich,” Alex agreed. “Can I get you anything? Some tea maybe?”

“No. I think if I can just sleep for a few minutes.” As if on cue, the jackhammers started up again, the vibrations slicing through Charley’s body like an electric saw. “Oh, no.”

Alex’s head jerked toward the sound. “What the hell is going on over there?”

“Whatever it is, they’ll be doing it all day.”

“Well, then, we certainly can’t stay here.” He reached down and dragged Charley to her feet, placing one of her arms over his shoulder and gripping her firmly by the waist.

“What are you doing? Where are we going?”

“To my apartment. The sooner, the better. To be honest, I’m starting to feel a little peculiar myself.”

“We make quite a pair,” Charley said, trying to smile.

Alex stopped at the front door, kissed her gently on the cheek. “I think I like the sound of that,” he said.

C
harley woke up to the sound of a door closing in the distance. She opened her eyes and sat up, trying to orient herself to her surroundings. She was quickly overwhelmed with dizziness and sank back down. Slowly, carefully, she glanced toward the wall to her right, recognizing the series of beautiful black-and-white photographs that hung there. She was in Alex’s bedroom, she reminded herself, although she had only the vaguest memory of the drive over, and only a slightly stronger recall of the elevator ride up to his apartment. She remembered being half-carried, half-dragged into his bedroom, then tucked underneath the bedcovers, Alex collapsing beside her. But Alex wasn’t there now, she realized, feeling the indentation where his body had been. “Alex?” she called out, her voice disappearing even before it made contact with the air. Where was he?

What time is it? she wondered, turning her head gingerly toward the clock on the end table beside the bed. It took several seconds for her eyes to focus, and several more for her to convince the numbers to make sense. Could it really be almost eleven o’clock? Was that possible? Had she really lost almost the entire morning?

Her family was most likely in Kissimee by now, she realized. Maybe even checked into the motel. What was the name of it? she wondered, panicking when it refused to come. Something cutesy, she thought. The Castle of the Sleeping Dwarfs…. Sleeping Beauty’s Inn…. “Beautiful Dreamers Motel,” she murmured, nodding her head in confirmation, then having to close her eyes when the room nodded back. What the hell was going on? She’d been fine when she woke up this morning. Now she felt as if she’d been run over by a truck. Could the flu strike so quickly and violently?

“I have to call my mother,” Charley said, although no sound reached her ears. Had she even said the words out loud? Her mother was probably worried sick, she thought. No doubt she’d been trying to reach her, and would have no idea where she was, or how to get ahold of her. She’d likely called the house half a dozen times by now, only to get Charley’s voice mail, which would have confused her no end. “I have to call her,” Charley said again, once more forcing her body into a sitting position, then sitting very still until the room stopped spinning.

Her eyes traveled slowly across the bed from one end table to the other, looking for the phone. But it was missing from its holder. And Alex was nowhere in sight. “Alex?” she called again, pushing the word from the back of her throat along with a mouthful of bile. Hurling herself toward the marble en suite bathroom, Charley threw up in the toilet bowl, then collapsed on the floor, laying her head on the cool tile, and wondering what the hell was happening to her. She’d had stomachaches before, as well as morning sickness during both pregnancies. But nothing like this. Was it possible Alex had been right? That her appendix was attacking? Where was he anyway?

Charley took a series of deep breaths, eventually swallowing enough air to push herself to her feet. “Now what?” she asked her ashen-faced reflection in the mirror over the sink.

Find a phone, her reflection told her.

Charley shuffled out of the bathroom, through the bedroom, and down the hall into the living room. The portable phone was sitting on the coffee table in front of the sofa. Charley grabbed it just as her legs gave way and she fell to the floor, like a discarded marionette. Supporting her back against the sofa, she stabbed at the numbers and waited for the familiar ring.

I’m sorry,
a robotic voice informed her seconds later.
The number you have dialed is not in service.

“Bullshit! What are you talking about?” Charley tried the number again, but her fingers had lost their power, and she watched them slide helplessly across the face of the phone, so that she had to stop and do it again. She listened as the phone rang once, twice, three times, before finally being picked up.

“Hello?” the girl said, amid a rush of giggles.

“Franny?”

“Margo, where the hell are you? Everybody’s waiting.”

“Margo?” Charley repeated.

“Stop fooling around,” the girl said. “You’re really late.”

“Who
is
this?”

“What?”

“I need to speak to Bram,” Charley said.

“Who?”

Charley hung up the phone. Clearly she’d called the wrong number. “Shit. What’s the matter with you?” She tried her number again, this time with a deliberateness that would have been comical in other circumstances. The phone rang four times before being transferred to voice mail.

This is Charley Webb,
her own voice informed her.
I’m sorry I can’t take your call right now, but if you’ll leave your name, phone number, and a short message, I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.

“Mom, it’s me,” Charley said. “Where are you? I’m at Alex’s. His number is…” What the hell was his number? She had no idea. “You’ll have to look it up. Alex Prescott in Palm Beach Gardens. Call me.” She disconnected the line, then dropped the phone to the floor, where it bounced underneath the coffee table. Who was she kidding? Her mother would never figure out how to access her messages. Maybe Bram would have the sense to figure it out. Although Bram had never been known for his good sense, she thought, and might have laughed had it not been for the heaviness in her head. Flu or no flu, she was thinking as her eyes fluttered to a close, one thing was certain: she’d never eat blueberry pancakes again. An instant later she was asleep.

She dreamed she was in a china store, shopping for teacups. “I’m a collector,” she told the saleswoman in the long peasant skirt.

“In that case,” the woman told her, “you should see these.” She led Charley into a back room filled with giant cups in a variety of pastel colors.

Glen McLaren was sitting in the cup closest to the door.

“Glen!” Charley exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

He laughed. “It’s a small world.”

Which was when the fire alarm sounded.

“You need to get out of here,” Glen said as the ringing grew louder and more insistent.

Charley opened her eyes. The ringing continued. The phone, she realized, taking a deep breath and trying to locate it, her fingers groping along the floor. How long had she been asleep this time? She noticed the watch on her wrist as she reached under the coffee table, and tried to figure out what it said. It was either ten minutes after eleven or five minutes to two, she decided, unable to detect any difference between the small hand and the large. She grabbed the phone, pressing one button after another before stumbling onto the right one. “Hello?” she whispered into the receiver as the connection was made. “Mom, is that you?”

You have a collect call from…
the voice announced as the recording paused for caller identification.

“Jill Rohmer,” a voice pronounced clearly.

Will you accept the charges?
the recording continued.

“What?” Charley shouted. What was happening?

Will you accept the charges?
the recording repeated, as if it understood.

Charley fought to regain control of her senses. Could Jill Rohmer really be on the other end of the line? Surely she was still dreaming. Surely this was all part of a prolonged nightmare that had started with a batch of blueberry pancakes and was ending with a collect call from a killer. But whatever it was, reality or illusion, Charley understood she had no choice but to see it through to its conclusion. “Yes,” she heard herself say. “I’ll accept the charges.”

There was a second of silence, and then Jill’s voice. “Alex?”

“Jill,” Charley said. “Is something wrong?”

Another silence. “Charley?”

“Yes. Is something…?”

“What are you doing there? I thought you were going to Disney World.”

“I’m not feeling very well.”

“What are you doing at Alex’s apartment?”

“It’s a long story,” Charley said, hoping she wouldn’t have to tell it.

“I’ve got lots of time,” Jill said, as if reading her thoughts.

Charley closed her eyes, fought the urge to succumb to unconsciousness. She had neither the strength nor energy required to deal with Jill. “Look, Alex isn’t here right now.”

“I need to speak to him. They’re threatening to cut back on my privileges. Where is he?”

“I don’t know. Can I give him a message?”

“What—now you’re his secretary?” Jill asked.

“I’ll tell him you called.”

“I’ll tell him myself. He’s
my
lawyer.”

“I’m sorry, Jill. I’m just not up for this conversation right now.”

“You’re not
up
for it?” Jill repeated angrily. “What is this? I’m being dismissed?”

“I don’t feel very well.”

“What
are
you up for, pray tell?”

“Good-bye, Jill.”

“Are you up for finding out who Jack is?”

Charley leaned forward, pressed the receiver tightly to her ear. “What?”

“Feeling better all of a sudden, are we?”

“Enough, Jill. I’m not in the mood for your games.”

“Really? You’re not in the mood?”

“I told you, I don’t feel well.”

“How
do
you feel exactly? Like you got run over by a truck? Like your insides are on fire?” She held on to the last word just long enough to get Charley’s full attention. “Like you had too many blueberry pancakes for breakfast?”

There was a loud swishing sound, as if all the air in the room had just been sucked out. Charley realized it was the sound of her body, gasping for breath. “What did you say?”

“Those pancakes are a real killer, aren’t they?” Jill continued, flippantly. “I try to avoid them myself. All those calories. It’s hardly worth it.”

“How did you know I had pancakes?”

“How do you think I know? It’s the only thing he can make, for God’s sake. I tried to tell him he should expand his horizons, but what can you do? The man may hate his mama, but he sure loves his Aunt Jemima.”

The words bounced painfully from one side of Charley’s brain to the other, refusing to settle down long enough to make sense. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, come on, Charley. Do I really have to spell it out for you?”

“Yes. You really do,” Charley said forcefully. “You need to spell it out.”

“Well, let’s see then. How do I spell Jack? Oh, I know: B…R…A…M.”

Charley pushed herself to her feet as the letters smacked her right between the eyes, threatening to knock her back to the floor. “I don’t believe you.”

“What is it you don’t believe, Charley? That Bram is Jack, or that you’re not nearly as smart as you like to think you are? Who do you think suggested I contact you in the first place? You think it was a coincidence that I just happened to know the brother of the woman I asked to write my story? That’s ‘know’ in the very biblical sense of the word, by the way.”

“You’re lying,” Charley protested weakly.

“Poor, stupid little Charley, playing house with my attorney, while her brother is…where? Wait, let me guess. He’s in Disney World. Isn’t that right? And he’s not alone, is he? He’s with your children.” She snickered, an obscene sound emanating from somewhere low in her throat.

“You’re crazy.”

“And you’re such a fool. You deserve whatever happens.” The sneer in Jill’s voice was audible. “You won’t forget to tell Alex I called, will you? Oh, and happy birthday, Charley. Many happy returns of the day.”

The line went dead in Charley’s hand.

“Jill! Jill!” Charley screamed. Then, “Noooooo! It can’t be. It can’t be.” Her body began convulsing in a series of painful dry heaves, folding in on itself as she fell back against the sofa, frantically pressing in the numbers on the portable phone. “Please, Mom. Pick up. Pick up the phone,” she yelled as once again her own voice reached her ears.

This is Charley Webb. I’m sorry I can’t take your call right now…

Charley pushed the button to disconnect, located the
REDIAL
button, and jabbed at it repeatedly. “Pick up the phone,” she commanded. “Pick up the damn phone.”

This is Charley Webb…

Charley threw the phone across the room, only to watch it bounce against the wall and fall into Alex’s collection of classic old movies, sending several spinning across the floor. It was at that moment she heard someone calling her name.

“Charley,” the voice was yelling from the outside corridor. “What’s going on in there? Are you all right?” The door opened and Alex rushed inside, a small bag of groceries in his arms. He promptly dropped the bag to the floor and ran to Charley’s side. “What happened? I could hear you screaming all the way down the hall.”

“It’s Bram!” Charley shouted, clutching the sides of his arms in an effort to stay upright.

“What?” Alex’s eyes flew across the room. “Where?”

“He’s got my kids!”

“I don’t understand. Of course he’s got the kids.”

“He’s Jack!”

“What are you talking about?”

“My brother. He’s Jack! He’s Jack!” Charley started sobbing.

Alex guided her back to the sofa, sat down beside her. “Charley, calm down. You’re not making any sense.”

“We’ve got to call the police.”

“We will,” Alex said soothingly. “Just as soon as you tell me what’s going on.”

“Jill called.”

“Jill called here? Why?”

“She wanted to talk to you.”

“About what?”

“Something about taking away her privileges,” Charley said impatiently. “I don’t know. All I know is that she told me that my brother is Jack.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Alex began shaking his head from side to side, as if Charley were speaking a language he didn’t comprehend. “Okay, start again. You’re going to have to talk me through this word for word.”

“There isn’t time. We have to call the police.”

“When did Jill call?”

“A few minutes ago.” Charley looked at her watch, the numbers dancing in front of her eyes, refusing to stand still. “I think.”

“You think?”

“I was in bed. The phone rang,” Charley began, then stopped. “No, that’s not right. I was in bed. Something woke me up. You weren’t there…”

“I went to get us some chicken soup. I thought I’d be back before you woke up.”

“I got out of bed,” Charley continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “I tried to find the phone….”