Charming (19 page)

What a waste of time.

Before Haley could press stop, a man approached. She hit play, heart racing. This man wore black leather gloves, a baseball cap, and kept his body angled away from the camera. He knew it was there. Which meant he’d been to Fosters before.

Pushing a long line of carts, Thomas passed by the man. Their heights were even. A little over six feet, then. Six feet tall, male, knew the Charmings, knew Mom. Clues. Not enough, but a start.

Only the skin on the back of the man’s neck was visible, pale skin, no wrinkles.

None of these clues would be enough description for the police, if this
was
the psycho.

She removed the tape and made her way to the exit, waving at Mrs. Fields. “Thanks for your help.”

“Any time.”

Haley drove to Irvings in Whately, such an odd place to call from after being in Greenfield. She parked next to one of the service bays, then went inside. A heavy-set man watched Haley approach, watched her like she might steal something.

She stepped up to the counter, pressed her hands on it, and leaned forward. “Excuse me, sir, but do you have a pay phone?”

The man hooked his thumb, pointing behind him. “Out around the side.”

“Thanks.” She looked everywhere for cameras and found plenty. None recorded the pay phone area, though.

Frustrated, she returned home and plopped onto Dad’s bed, then turned on his TV—since the one in the den… well, she’d have to buy a new one—to catch up on the news and search for clues. Haley also needed a partner, someone who could help make sense of things, figure out the next move, how to track a killer.

Her pocket buzzed. She answered, ready to defend her unusual behavior for the day to the psycho, “What do you want now?”

“Ouch,” Chris said, “But I guess I deserved that.”

“Didn’t realize it was you, sorry. What do
you
want?” Anger ran rampantly through Haley, taking over her calmer senses. She wanted to hurl the phone across the room. How could he be so mean and then call?

“So what has you saving that kind of hatred for pay phones, or are you and Niles still having troubles?”

How could he joke? “Chris—”

“Wait. Let me apologize before we continue.”

Haley closed her eyes. “Apologize?”

“That girl—”

“Don’t. I really don’t want you explaining your relationship with Jessica to me.”

“Would you shut up for ten seconds, please?” Chris laughed. “She’s the daughter of one of my dad’s friends and has had a crush on me for ages.”

That
helped.

“Our dads were hanging out and needed ice. When she grabbed my cell and hung up on your earlier, and when she said we were going to be late, she was being…”

“Possessive?”

“Great word, Mensa. Yes. Anyway, letting her be possessive was easier than dealing with clinginess later.”

Still wanted to hurl the phone.

“You’re an idiot. It may be easier to let people believe shit about you, but did you ever stop and think of the people you’re hurting? What’s easier for you may not be easier for other people. You need to be yourself, always.” She buried her face in the pillows. How could Haley yell at Chris when she’d hidden the truth from Joce? From school and friends? From Chris and his family? The world? Sure, Haley hid the truth for far different reasons, but judging him wasn’t fair.

Chris gasped. “I think your inability to breathe is rubbing off on me.”

“Sorry. That was uncalled for.”

“Don’t be sorry. You’re right. And do I sense jealousy, Haley Tremaine?”

“There’s nothing to be jealous of, is there?” she asked, wishing she could suffocate herself with Dad’s pillow—Lord knows the man probably had that thought once or twice in his life. Maybe she’d be doing him a favor.

“I saw the stunned look in your eyes. You wanted to break something.” Chris paused. “I’m honored.”

Haley threw the pillow against the ugly ass wall. “You did let her hang up on me. That pretty much summed up how you feel.”

“Not even remotely.”

A picture of Niles flashed on the TV, and Haley nearly dropped the phone, the impact of Chris’s implications lost in her terror as she grabbed the remote and turned up the volume.

“
Local Deerfield Academy student, Niles Hemingway, has been missing for four days. His parents believed he’d left for an Academy-run trip. The school believed he was out sick. Authorities search for answers. Deerfield Academy on lockdown.
”

“Hello? Ha-ley? Hel-lo?”

The psycho really would kill Dad, Joce, and Niles, and the news made his threats all seem so much more real, so much bigger.

“Niles is missing.”

he front door rattled from the force of frantic knocks. The vibrations echoed down the hall, right into Haley’s heart, knock-knock, knock-knock, knock-knock.

“Haley, it’s me,” Chris shouted, high-pitched but muffled.

She knew getting up was required but couldn’t break away from the TV, from the images of cop cars with their blue and red lights flashing outside DA, investigative reporters interviewing his friends, fellow students, family members. How long before they showed up here? To the ex-girlfriend’s house?

Haley’s phone rang. “Hello?”

“Open the damn door, Haley.”

She ran down the hall, then yanked open the door. Cold air rushed inside the house, into her bones. Haley trembled. “Sorry.”

“Come here.” Chris stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Haley, his heart pounding almost as hard as hers. If he only knew. If Chris knew why, what Haley hid…

“How’d you get away from your dad?” She drew in a deep breath and closed her eyes. “From Jessica?”

“Told them I wasn’t feeling well and wanted to go home.” Chris kicked the door closed and walked to the den without letting Haley go. “What the hell happened in here?”

Oh God. Haley shouldn’t have allowed Chris to come over. She should have met him somewhere else, somewhere far away from the cameras and microphones planted in this house. Somewhere she could speak freely, without lying. “Got mad at Dad and decided to take it out on his favorite object.”

Chris placed his palm on Haley’s cheek and gently guided her head so he could look into her eyes. He stared without speaking for minutes, hours, days. Who could tell? The silence bore down on Haley, flattened her. A gust of wind could have carried her away, never to be seen again.

Look away, stupid girl. He knows. He knows about Dad, and he wants you to come clean
.

But Haley stared back, unflinching, loving
and
hating the feel of Chris’s warmth penetrating her cold fear, loving
and
hating how right it felt to lock her arms around his waist.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re holding something back?” Chris glanced down the hall, not waiting for—or expecting?—a reply, where light from the TV flashed along the walls. “So you didn’t destroy every TV?”

“No.”

He took Haley’s hand and led her to Dad’s room. They sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the small television on his dresser not but two feet away.

“I punched him that night, Haley, nearly beat him senseless.” Chris ran his free hand through his hair, messing up the sleek, smoothed-back style he’d worked for his non-date. “If anyone saw—God, if any of your neighbors heard—I’ll be suspect number one in the disappearance.”

She glanced around the room, tossing hateful looks at any new cameras the psycho might have installed while she was out today. He wanted to protect Chris, to keep him away from the evil plans for Mr. Charming, but this new tactic with Niles made that protection flimsy. And if Haley was so deserving of goodness, the psycho had a very strange way of showing it.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Chris. You won’t get in trouble.”

“Dad’s going to kill me. He doesn’t mind the rumors, but for this, something real and dangerous, when I have to tell my dad that I pounded that kid’s face?” He jumped up and paced the room, head down, chewing on his thumbnail. “I’m assuming you’ve heard from your dad, judging by the mess, or is that all because he’s still missing?”

Stop making connections, Chris. Too dangerous for you. Especially since he was so close to the truth. Yes, Dad was related to Niles’s disappearance. “No.”

But I know where he is…
sort of
.

“My dad figures he went on a bender. Alcoholics do that from time to time.”

Haley swallowed down bile. “A bender? Alcoholic? How… how’d you know?”

Chris leaned his head to the side and stopped pacing, standing with his knees touching hers. “Haley, your dad works in the mailroom, comes in late and reeking of alcohol, unshaved. Didn’t take much for my dad to figure out. I think he already suspected your dad of turning to the bottle. He said it explained how odd your mom sometimes acted. Actually, I think that’s why he gave him the job in the first place, because he worried that losing a wife and not being able to work would drive him insane, further into drinking.”

Of course Mr. Charming knew. Of course. He’d implied that knowledge at the summit of Sugarloaf Mountain, but Haley didn’t make the connection between his coworkers seeing Dad in the pubs to Mr. Charming knowing Dad was an alcoholic.

“That night I called you about the attempted break in at my house, you said your dad always knew where you were.”

Tears escaped Haley’s eyes. Chris thought Dad capable of murder, of kidnapping Niles? Did the Charmings know about the abuse? Had she kept the pain chained and gagged inside for no reason?

No. They would have done something. They would have helped.

“I’m sorry for upsetting you, for implying…” Chris sat beside Haley and linked his fingers with hers, then squeezed. “I’ve known about his drinking for a while. I didn’t want to say anything, not if you didn’t want to talk. But you should know, the night your mom died—”

“What, Chris?” Sweat soaked Haley’s palms. “The night my mom died, what?”

He drew in a deep breath and squeezed Haley’s fingers again. “The night your mom died, I was with some older
friends
who were street racing down Elm.”

Oh no. No. No. No. She shook her head, back and forth, back and forth. No more. No more pain.

“I’m sorry. So, so sorry, Haley. I should have told you sooner. I was sitting on the sidewalk, watching these idiots toss back beer after beer, wondering why I was away from home with kids who didn’t value their lives, or other people’s. I thought over and over about the meaning of life that night, about just jumping on a train and leaving town, allowing it to take me somewhere far away. Then… Tommy—”

Breathe in. Breathe out. Tommy. The name of the kid who crashed into Mom’s car. The name of the kid who stole her, he
stole
Mom from Haley.

“Tommy was so drunk, Haley, so fucking stupid. He was laying tread, laughing at all the white smoke, and he forgot himself. Released the parking brake and flew through the red light, and I heard it, his car slamming into something, tires squealing, metal crunching. It sounded like a gun shot, like a train wreck—”

Salty fluids filled Haley’s mouth. “Please. Stop. Just stop.”

“You have to know, Haley. I want you, want to be near you, be with you, but not if you don’t know the truth.”