Charming (17 page)

Dad’s truck sat parked at the curb. Haley raced down the sidewalk and found a note under the windshield wiper. Not a note—a service ticket from Beck’s Automotive that stated there had been water in the gas lines, they repaired the lines, and the bill was paid in full.

Charmings or Psycho?

Haley shuddered.

Had to be the Charmings, or they would have called and asked Haley how she managed to get the truck home.

“Wow, Haley-loo-boo, you go out with the dude a couple times and he fixes your dad’s truck for you.” Christine bumped Haley’s hip, smiling, brown hair tied up with a rubber band.

“How’d you know?” Haley tucked the invoice into the back pocket of her skinny jeans and took off toward school. The maniac didn’t ask for anything this morning. No notes. No strange voices over the phone—not that she’d picked it up. Maybe Haley truly fucked up yesterday by taking Chris’s family out to Sugarloaf Mountain.

“Saw a man meet with the tow truck driver early this morning and decided to be all snoopy for my best friend, who’s clearly got some batshit crazy things going on in her life—don’t think you’re getting off without explaining, either—and asked him who the hell he was.”

“Stalker.”

“Damn straight.” Christine lit a cigarette. “So, I’m trying something new.”

“That is?”

“No pot. Well, no joints. I’m re-rolling my cigs with a little in there.”

“Why?”

Christine narrowed one eye, trying desperately to lift the one eyebrow—and failing. “Did you not hear me? Something very odd is going on with you. I can’t have you running around and acting all weird without being able to protect you.”

“You’re going to get stuck that way.” Haley held back a laugh, even though her stomach was on the verge of dry-heaving. The psycho would have called if he’d killed Dad and Joce, right?. “And does this mean you’ll return to your high-all-day ways as soon as I’m myself again?”

Shrugging, Christine said, “Or as soon as my parents return from Jamaica. Can you believe they left their whore all alone?”

Such an awful word.

“When did they leave?”

“5:00 a.m.”

“That’s why you were up early. Doesn’t explain why you were so upset yesterd—”

“Not talking about it. Just know that laws were constructed through careful yet horrible means, and I am not to break them. So, I’m sober… for you.”

“Assholes.” Haley frowned although she’d attempted to smile; as soon as they walked into the school, Richard rushed by with a group of girls and pointed at his eyes then at her, and hushed whispers echoed down the hall—had the whole school heard about the fight already? “But welcome to the land of sober people.”

“So boring here.” Christine closed her locker with extra emphasis. “So, as your boring best friend, may I escort you to class? Possibly carry your books? Because I so don’t like the way half the football team is staring at you.”

“Carry my books?” Haley laughed, checking out the hall to see exactly who stared: pretty much everyone. “Boyfriend or best friend?”

“I can handle both.” Christine snatched the bag from Haley’s shoulder. “I’ve got to be better than the two dipshits who fought on your doorstep last night.”

“Oh God.” The whole school had heard.

Christine spun around. “How may I help you?”

“Did you see them?”

“I came out as soon as I heard the shouting, just about the time you were bailing. I called your house, but the line was busy. Tried your cell, too, but you ignored me.”

Pulling the cell from her pocket, Haley checked the missed call log. Three from Christine. “I must have been asleep.”
Or staring at the texts, waiting for Chris to respond
.

“Well, here you are, Haley-loo-boo. Calculus. Enjoy the hell out of this hideous beast of a class.” She picked up Haley’s hand and kissed it. “Love you, babe.”

Laughing to herself, Haley watched Christine bound down the gray hall—
why can’t we have any classes together
?—then settled into a desk at the back of class. Haley’s legs bounced, her heart raced, and she spent the entire block of Calc chewing her nails.

She made a point to stay awake during English, unable to handle any more stress or talks with Mr. Thompson. He watched as she left the room when the bell rang. So interested in everything she did. So curious about her life. So wanting to help… just like Psycho said he wanted to help.

“Haley, wait up,” Amanda called, pushing through the crowd of students with books clutched to her chest and a gift basket in her other hand. She caught up to Haley and then worked to catch a breath. “A bunch of us girls made Jocelyn a get well card and put together this care package. We know she’s in quarantine, and no one will even release the name of the facility she’s in, but we kind of hoped you could get this to her.”

Quarantine? Care package?
Psycho
! “Thanks. I’ll do what I can.”

“My mom said if you need a place to stay, so you’re not alone, you can come over. You’re always welcome at our house.”

“Make sure you thank your mom for me, but I’m trying to keep up with things while they’re, um, gone.” If the psycho had already forced Dad and Joce to call in with excuses, would anyone believe Haley if she came forward and said they were missing?

“Will do. See you soon. Tell Joce to at least return my calls.” Amanda waved and took off down the hall.

After depositing her bag, the gift, and school clothes at home, Haley dressed and went to work. She stocked shelves, trying not to associate any smells with the pain, fear, or frustration, trying to pull out good memories. Like how Bahama Breezes reminded her of vacationing with Mom, Dad, and Joce at the beach, where she learned to boogieboard, dig sand crabs out of the surf, and how not to freak out when a wave washed ashore. Or how Pumpkin Spice reminded Haley of the pies Dad used to help Mom bake, the pumpkin patch, trick-or-treating. Good smells for good times she’d never again have because Dad, Joce, Mom… they were all gone.

Stop thinking like that
.

“Yo, Berkshires is closed, girlfriend.” Christine stuck her head around the storeroom door, interrupting Haley’s trip down memory lane as she opened more boxes and sorted the candles. “Ready to walk home?”

“Yeah. Let me clock out.” She swiped her card down the electronic keypad, grabbed her things, then headed out the door with everyone else, into the quiet, cold night. The feeling of being watched was stronger now than it had ever been, and Haley glanced around, peering into parked cars, glancing behind bushes.

“You’re on edge.”

A car barreled down the road, accosting them with frigid air.

Christine pulled a red hoodie over her head, then ran her hands up and down her arms. “I, um, would understand why you’d think that about me, given my new leaf—or the one I’ve turned over. I can never remember exactly what that means. But anyway, are you not getting enough lately? I mean, I do hear that you’re double-dipping with boys.”

“Gross.”

Christine snickered and lit a cigarette.

Maybe trying a cigarette laced with pot wouldn’t be so bad
. Just light it up, inhale, and let the problems disappear.

“Don’t even ask me for any of this. I know you don’t want it, but the way you’re staring!”

“Sorry. I think—Christine, Dad’s still missing. Joce isn’t around. The guy I really like punched my ex-boyfriend last night—”

“Now it’s from ‘don’t make me waste my breath, Christine’ to ‘the guy I really like’. You, Haley-loo-boo, are, like, dealing with some split-personality issues, aren’t you?”

Haley sighed. “Probably. I’m going to head home and get some sleep.”

“‘Night.” Christine darted across the road, remembering to say goodnight for once, but not remembering to wait for Haley to say it back.

Improvements.

Haley went through her routine, maintaining as much normal as possible. She cooked dinner—a smaller dinner just for her, cleaned—a smaller mess because no one had really been here, checked the mail—a pile of bills for Dad. How much longer could he go missing before the electric company turned off the power, before the water company cut the water? How much longer could Haley live this lie?

How much longer could Dad or Joce?

Sitting down in the den on the ugly paisley sofa she’d never once sat on, Haley glanced around. What did she need to do? What did the psycho want next? When would he reach out?

How did he know everything she was doing? Always?

“Just tell me what to do.” Haley stood and clenched her fists. “Let my family go. I’ll still do what you want. Just let them go. Or are you going to kill them anyway? Kill me?!”

She ran to the kitchen and picked up the house phone, hoping he was listening. “I’ll call the police.”

The line went dead.

“I hate you.”

By Thursday, Haley felt like a caged animal and avoided school. Normal was impossible. No word from Chris. No requests from the psycho. Nothing from Niles. Only the cat decided to come back to her, and the only thing that little beast wanted was food.

But by Friday? By Friday, Haley couldn’t sleep. She hadn’t showered. She picked up the phone a hundred times, and each time she found it dead. It rang when the school called to leave a message about her attendance, to check on her, on Jocelyn, on Dad. All the administrators left messages of apologies and asked if they could help, or if they could bring schoolwork.

“Are you just too chicken shit to ask me for anything else?” Haley spun in circles all around the house, slamming her head against an invisible cage, losing her mind. “Who are you? Why are you doing this to me?”

By Saturday, Haley couldn’t stand being caged. No school today, so no worry about the administration leaving yet another message. No work, though after her missing two nights, she might not even have a job.

No word from Chris in four days. He was probably embarrassed by his behavior on the porch or really was the guy everyone said he was—or maybe ashamed of a girl like Haley, a girl who failed on purpose, who skipped work, and whose dad was a drunk.

Psycho would probably watch Haley all day. She couldn’t stand the loss of privacy. She couldn’t stand being on display for some sick, twisted nut and whatever fantasy he’d dreamed up for the Charmings. He’d probably installed cameras all over the house and stared when she showered, or got off watching her sleeping, freaking out, and crying.

That’s
it
. No more. Haley ran from room to room, tearing the house apart. She pulled the TV from the entertainment center; the ancient thing crashed onto the floor, and Haley winced when she stepped on the glass with her bare feet. She threw every plant in the trash—stupid things were dead, didn’t matter—grabbed Dad’s screwdriver and popped off vents, looked in light fixtures—searching, searching, searching for the cameras, for mics, anything that would deliver details about the goings on inside this house to someone outside of it.

And find them she did. Cameras were in the light hanging over the kitchen table, mounted in the vent above her bathroom door, on her dresser… everywhere. Haley collected them in a pile, put on a pair of Dad’s boots, then stomped the hell out of the bugs, raging, screaming, feeling more in control.

Haley’s cell phone rang. The word BLOCKED scrolled across the screen. “Hello?”

“Stop.”

Cold dread swept through her blood. His voice.
His.
Not a voice scrambler. Not muffled. Clearly a man, and a voice that sounded somewhat familiar. She had one clue. But who, and why?

“I did what you wanted. I got them away from the house. Leave us alone.”

He laughed, short, clipped, and the maniacal sound made Haley want to stomp her phone just to escape. “You were only supposed to get
Chris
from the house. You’re such a liability. Since you’ve shown me that your father and sister aren’t important to you, I’m raising the stakes. If you don’t do exactly as I require, I will frame you for your dad’s, sister’s, and Niles’s murder. Do I make myself clear?”

“Niles?” Breathe in. Breathe out. “Why Niles?”

“Two reasons: One, he was getting in the way, making things a bit more complicated between you and Chris. Two, because you don’t ever forget your first, and knowing yours could die because you were unwilling to do such a simple task—well, I imagine that would stick with you forever.”

He meant it. Good God, this psycho meant it. “Why are you doing this? What do you want with Mr. Charming?”

“Maybe we’ll sit and chat about it sometime.”

Shudders tore through Haley. “Why do you want to protect Chris so much when you want to hurt his father?”

“He’s a good kid, always been kind to me.”

Clue two: this
man
knew the Charmings personally. “You realize that hurting Mr. Charming will hurt his son.”

“Grief can be overcome.”

“And mine?” Haley had to keep this man talking. Sounds filtered through the phone line, announcements for Joe to come to the produce section, cart tires making hideous vibrations as they were returned to their place outside the doors. The grocery store.

“Haley, how could you grieve for these people? They’ve never treated you the way your mother treated you. They’ve never been good to you. Not like she was.”

Clue three: this man knew the Charmings personally, and he was close to Haley’s mother. “Because they’re family.”

“Horrible, awful family.”

“Dad is sick. He needs help. Jocelyn is just confused. That’s my fault.”

“And this Niles, he taunted you, taunted Chris. You have come to realize Chris Charming is a good guy, correct? You two deserve each other.”

“He’s a better person than you.”

“Just do what I ask, then no one gets hurt… not even you.” The man sighed, then hung up.

Only Chris if I let you win
.

Haley had lived in grief for too long. That’s not something anyone can overcome.

Chris wouldn’t have to.

No more waiting. Time to tell him without accidentally taking him to some special place.