Things You Won't Say (28 page)

Lou reached for the radio dial.

“Just no news,” Jamie warned.

“Right.” Lou nodded. She found a Josh Groban song, and against all odds, all three kids fell silent and seemed to be listening.

Jamie looked at her watch and sighed. She pulled her cell phone out of her purse and clutched it tightly in her hand.

“You okay?” Lou asked.

“Just . . . wondering,” Jamie said. “What’s happening now.”

Lou didn’t know what to say, so she focused on driving. When they reached the mall, the parking lot was crowded, so Lou had to circle up to the second level before finding a spot.

“A bathing suit and shampoo, right?” she asked as she set the parking brake. “Need anything else?”

“Probably,” Jamie said. “Let me think . . . Maybe we can get some juice boxes and pretzels at CVS, too—I forgot to pack a picnic for the pool.”

“Okay,” Lou said. She was going to keep a mental list so Jamie didn’t forget anything. And the next time they went out for the day, she’d pack the picnic. Lou was good at remembering things—she knew the exact amount of nutrients the elephants required every day and she never forgot a single feeding or vitamin. She’d just never had to worry about keeping track around Jamie before, because her sister had always been the one to stay on top of things for both of them.

They corralled the kids toward the entrance to one of the big department stores, with Lou holding Eloise’s hand as Jamie led the way through the aisles.

They were approaching the kids’ section when Lou noticed the man staring at them.

He was thirty or so, white and with a stocky build. He sported a goatee and a blue baseball cap with a logo Lou didn’t recognize. He stood next to a woman who was holding an infant in a chest carrier, and she was looking at them, too. The woman averted her eyes when Lou glanced back at them, but the man kept staring.

“Can we get ice cream?” Sam asked, tugging on Lou’s shirt. Clearly he had identified her as the soft touch.

Lou turned away from the couple and looked down at her nephew. “Why don’t we hold off for now, okay, little man?” she said, thinking of how the junk-food bonanza at the zoo had ended.

“I think we’re in the boys’ section,” Lou said, pointing across the aisle. “The girls’ stuff is over here.”

As they turned to head that way, Lou noticed the guy again. She’d assumed he was with the woman with the baby, but now he seemed to be alone. And he wasn’t staring at all of them—he was watching Jamie. Lou looked back as they passed the man. She felt the hair rise on the back of her neck, and she reached for Sam’s hand. Physiological reactions were the body’s way of alerting itself to danger. Lou knew her pupils were dilating to let in more light, her muscles were tightening, and her blood pressure was rising. That was what happened to some animals if they sensed a threat.

“Let’s hurry,” Lou said. “We want to get to the pool before it gets too crowded.”

Her voice came out louder than she’d intended, and she saw the man shake his head. “The pool,” he muttered, barely loudly enough for her to hear. “Must be nice.”

Jamie hadn’t heard the man’s comment. She was flipping
through a sale rack, holding bathing suits up for Emily’s inspection. They all looked the same to Lou, but Emily kept shaking her head.

“How about this one?” Jamie was asking. “It has sparkles.”

“Maybe,” Emily allowed.

Lou was still holding Sam and Eloise by their hands, and Emily was right next to Jamie. Lou couldn’t see the guy because he’d moved and clothing displays obscured her view. She kept scanning her surroundings, looking for that blue baseball cap.

“This one’s pretty,” Jamie said. “See the flowers?”

“Yuck,” Emily said.

Lou spun around at the sound of a man’s voice. She knew it was him before she saw the goatee and baseball cap. “Unbelievable. You’re shopping and going to the pool while that kid rots in his grave,” the man said.

Jamie froze for an instant, then slowly lifted her head.

For a fleeting moment, Lou wondered how he’d recognized Jamie. Then her instincts trumped her thought process. She stepped up next to her sister, positioning Sam and Eloise behind her and speaking in a calm, low voice, as she’d do if confronted with any other angry mammal. “We have children here,” she said.

“Yeah? The guy her husband shot was just a kid, too,” the man said.

“Mommy?” Sam’s voice was high and wavering.

“Can you get a manager?” Jamie called to a passing salesperson, her voice as desperate as Sam’s. “Please?”

“Oh, sure, call a manager,” the guy said. “Why don’t you just call your husband to come shoot me?”

Emily began to cry, and then so did Sam, their wails high and thready. Before Lou could do anything, she detected movement out of the corner of her eye. Jamie was stalking toward the man. Hearing her children’s cries must have ignited something in her sister.

“Listen to me!” Jamie hissed. She shook her finger in the guy’s face. She seemed to have grown physically taller, and her body language was fierce. “You leave us alone!”

Gone was the exhausted woman who’d hunched over her sink this morning. Jamie had transformed into a warrior. Now her arms were outstretched to block the man from getting through her to her children, and her expression made her look like a stranger even to Lou.

Without thinking about it, Lou let go of Sam’s and Eloise’s hands and stepped forward, too. Jamie had always defended her while they were growing up. Now it was her turn.

“Get away from my sister!” Lou shouted.

She angled herself between Jamie and the man so that if he attacked, he’d have to go through her first. Lou would fight him off as best as she could while Jamie and the kids escaped. She remembered the self-defense course she’d taken years ago. She’d go for his eyes, knees, instep, or throat. Lou widened her stance, so he wouldn’t be able to easily knock her down, and suddenly she felt grateful for every one of those twenty extra pounds.

The guy made a huffing sound, but he didn’t say anything.

“Lou, call the police,” Jamie said, without taking her narrowed eyes off him.

Lou pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. Before she could dial a single digit, the guy began to walk away, slowly, as if to convey to them that it was his choice to move on.

Lou poised her finger over the final 1 for the emergency number. “Still want me to call the police?” she asked. The man was twenty yards away by now.

Jamie shook her head. “Let’s get out of here,” she said. Jamie knelt down and put her arms around her children, drawing them in close, while Lou kept her eyes fixed on that blue baseball cap.

They walked toward the exit. Lou couldn’t see the guy any longer, but she checked behind them every few seconds.
“You’re safe,” Jamie told the kids as they passed through the doors and made it to the minivan.

“Was he talking about Daddy?” Sam asked as Jamie unlocked the vehicle.

“Yes,” Jamie said. She knelt down to be at eye level with Sam again. “But he was a crazy person. He doesn’t know Daddy and he was wrong. That’s why he ran away before the police got here.”

Sam nodded and sniffled a few times. Jamie patted him on the back, then opened the sliding side door and helped Sam into the vehicle. Lou got Emily and Eloise settled, then shut the door and climbed into the front.

“How did he recognize you?” Lou asked after Jamie started up the engine. Uneasy energy still radiated from her sister, but Jamie’s voice was calmer.

Jamie shrugged. “Some of the news stations aired footage of Mike and me leaving the station after he gave his statement. There’ve been photos in the paper, too.”

“Do you want to go home?” Lou asked.

“No way,” Jamie said firmly. “We’re going to the pool. He is not going to ruin my children’s morning. I’ll grab a bathing suit out of the lost and found bin for Emily.”

“I’m hungry,” Sam said.

“How about I buy everyone lunch?” Lou offered.

“Yay!” Sam said. “Can we get Chipotle?”

Lou stole a look at Jamie. The tightness in her sister’s face was easing now. “Actually, that sounds kind of good to me, too,” she said.

“Chipotle it is,” Lou said. “Then the pool. We can get ice cream there, too—my treat.”

She didn’t think Jamie would mind junk food just this once, especially because at the mention of it, all three kids cheered.

“So you don’t have to work today?” Jamie asked.

“Actually, I quit my barista job,” Lou said. She cleared her throat. “And I thought I could take a leave of absence from
the zoo. I’ll have to go back when Tabby gives birth, but other than that, I’ll just stop in and visit the elephants.”

Jamie pulled up to a red light. She turned to look at Lou.

“You quit?” she asked.

Lou couldn’t tell from the expression on her sister’s face if the news made her happy or not.

“I just thought . . . that way, I can be around whenever you need me,” Lou explained.

Jamie still didn’t say anything, so Lou added quickly, “And if you don’t, I’ll stay in my room or go out for a walk or something to give you privacy—”

She stopped talking when Jamie reached over to give her a brief, hard, one-armed hug.

“Lou, I don’t know what I would do without you right now,” Jamie said.

The best part was, Lou could tell her sister really meant it.

Chapter Twelve

CHRISTIE AWOKE TO BRIGHT
sunlight streaming through her window. She’d forgotten to draw the blinds last night. She buried her face under a pillow, but it was too late. She was awake for good.

She stumbled out of bed and padded into her kitchen to make coffee. Maybe, she thought, she’d start leaving her blinds up deliberately. Her mother usually slept away half the day, and one thing was for sure: Christie was not going to turn into that woman. No way would she end up in a crappy low-rise apartment with water stains on the ceiling and game shows blaring in a continual loop on the television. She had a plan.

Christie poured herself a steaming mug of coffee, added Sweet ’n Low instead of the sugar and cream she really wanted, and leaned against the spot on the counter where Mike had so recently been. She’d made a decision after he left. She was going to keep working with Elroy, after all, but she’d never again let anyone double lock the door to the hotel room. She’d take as many jobs as possible and pay off her credit card debt fast, then she’d start saving for the down payment on a house. Maybe she’d even go back to beauty school, all these
years later, and become the manager of a salon, like she’d pretended to be to Simon. And forget shimmying into dresses she bought at Forever 21. From now on, she was going to start purchasing quality pieces, skirts and tops and dresses from Nordstrom. Clothes that fit the woman she was becoming—or hoped to become, anyway.

But first, the car.

Christie took a sip of strong coffee, relishing the memory of how confident she’d felt inside the sleek vehicle. A Mercedes would help erase the feeling of Jim’s insistent, scrabbling fingers on her thighs, and the memory of the looks Simon’s family had given her at the restaurant.

She was nervous about the price tag, but she’d already called up a calculator on the Internet and figured out that, with interest, she’d owe $620 per monthly payment. That was less than three jobs with Elroy. It didn’t seem so bad when you broke it down that way.

She showered, got dressed, and drove to the dealership, arriving a few minutes after it opened. The same salesman saw her coming and met her at the door, holding it open and ushering her inside. “She’s been waiting for you,” he said, grinning.

Christie tried to make her eyes dull, to avoid letting him see how the car affected her, but she knew it was a lost cause. She ended up paying more than she wanted, but an hour later, she was driving off the lot in the cherry-red Mercedes.

She could have stayed in it all day, she thought as she idled at a stoplight, itching to press the gas again and feel the engine surge. She wanted to roar along the highway, the radio blasting and the wind streaming through her hair. She yearned to drive to the beach and feel the salty air against her cheeks. She heard the toot of a horn and looked over to see a silver-haired man in a BMW checking her out. Christie winked at him, then stepped on the gas pedal and left him behind.

She was born for this car.

She wasn’t ready to go home, so she drove to Nordstrom. She parked carefully, in an out-of-the-way location so the Mercedes wouldn’t get dinged. She walked purposefully into the store and began looking at dresses. The first few price tags made her blanch, but after a few moments, she began to notice how soft the fabrics felt between her fingers, and how smooth the seams were in comparison to those of the cheap items she usually bought. She selected a few things to try on: an emerald-colored sheath, a crimson sundress, a maxidress in bright blue.

“Can I start a room for you?” Christie looked up to see a bright-eyed young saleswoman stretching out her arm. Christie obligingly handed over the clothes. “Thanks,” she said.

“Can I make a suggestion?” the saleswoman asked. “These bold colors will be nice on you, but have you ever thought about trying something in a neutral?”

“Like . . . beige?” Christie asked, her nose crinkling.

“I was thinking cream,” the saleswoman said. Christie refrained from asking what the difference was.

“How about this?” the salesgirl asked, pulling a dress from a rack. “I think the cut will suit you. Size eight, right?”

Maybe eight on a good day, and she hadn’t had one of those in a while, but Christie nodded.

“You’ve got such striking eyes, and hair,” the salesgirl said. She was young, maybe twenty or so, with close-cropped hair and flawless skin. “Your clothes shouldn’t compete with your best features. They should enhance them. With this dress, people will be looking at you—not your outfit.”

“Thanks,” Christie said. She looked down at her pink tank top and matching skirt. She wasn’t sure if she’d just been delivered a compliment or a backhanded insult (did the salesgirl think she was too flashy?), but the advice seemed spot-on. And when she went into the changing room and put on the dress, which was tight but not so tight she couldn’t zip it up, she realized the silk lining made the fabric skim her curves
instead of bunching up around the middle. The hem fell to just above her knee, showing less of her leg than she was used to. She’d always dismissed clothes that hit so close to the knee as being frumpy. But as she twisted and turned in front of the mirror, she noticed that because the skirt was so fitted, it hinted at the shape of her thighs. It was sexy without being overtly so. And the salesgirl was right; the color set off not just her eyes, but her skin tone.