Don't Say a Word (Strangers Series) (5 page)

Since Joey’s death, their mother’s moods had become strangely inconsistent. One moment, she treated them like she was a prison warden or simply ignored them. The next, she spoke to them about personal things as though they were close girlfriends.

“Gary . . . he gets me, you know?” she said, her heavily made-up eyes filling with tears.

Both girls were silent.

“And this should go without saying, but you’re not to tell anyone about Gary, you hear me? Our friendship is no one’s business, especially your father’s.”

The room was quiet.

“Zoe? I want an answer, young lady.”

“Okay.”

“Okay what? I want the whole sentence.”

“Okay, I won’t say anything,” Zoe said, angrily. Carrie could see that Zoe was grinding her teeth. Tears suddenly spilled down Zoe’s cheeks and she hastily cleared them away with the back of her hand.

Carrie’s stomach dipped. Seeing Zoe cry was worse than Carrie crying herself. She hated to see Zoe in pain. She’d rather bear the pain for her.

I know it’s hard, but please . . . don’t say anything, Zoe,
Carrie silently pleaded.
She’s almost done. Just keep your mouth shut for a few more minutes, and she’ll leave . . . and everything will be okay.

In the mirror, Zoe’s eyes shifted to Carrie’s. They narrowed a little and Carrie read the look as
Don’t worry. I won’t.

They were good at sending each other silent messages. Their father said it was because they were twins. That it was a gift some twins had that regular sisters didn’t. But even though they were twins, they were different in almost every way imaginable. Zoe was the one who had been given all the gifts. Although Carrie had been given nothing special, she’d never felt jealous. Not really.

The doorbell rang.

The brush landed on the vanity with a thud. Their mother fussed with her hair in the mirror for a moment, then leapt off the bed. Straightening her dress, she slipped her feet into her pumps and clapped her hands together. “Okay. It’s time. Let’s go meet Gary.”

CHAPTER 8

ALLIE HURLED LAUNDRY into the washer, taking out her frustration with Johnny on the dirty underwear and socks.

She let the hot water from the fill cycle run over her hand. She was angry. Angry with Johnny for showing up and ruining her day. Angry at herself for not yet ending things with him. For stringing out the relationship for way too long. She knew better than that.

When the spin cycle started, she leaned against the machine, and let the spinning soothe her. She dragged her thoughts to the forty days she’d been on hospital bed rest with Sammy—and how Johnny hadn’t visited once. He hadn’t been there through any of it: the birth, the ten days that Sammy spent in the neonatal intensive care unit. He hadn’t even helped with the expenses.

During the first couple of years, she’d been hell-bent on being the perfect partner to Johnny, thinking that if she was, she’d make herself indispensable to him and he’d finally step up to the plate. Without fail, she put his needs before her own and didn’t complain about anything, no matter what he did—or didn’t do. But then, one day about a year ago, something Bitty told her really hit home. She’d said that you teach people how to treat you.

The words hit her like a punch to the stomach because it was true. She had taught Johnny that it didn’t matter if he was dishonest. That there’d be no real consequence if he didn’t keep his word, help with Sammy’s expenses, or wasn’t there for her when she needed him. She’d taught him that no matter what, she’d still be there.

But that was going to change.

Allie went to the kitchen and prepared lunch. She was carrying a tray of food to the bedroom when she heard the roar of an engine, then tires squealing.

What the—?

She rushed to the front window and pulled back the drapes to see a black truck barreling away, kicking up dirt. Her stomach flooded with anxiety as she watched the truck disappear around the bend.

Could someone just be lost?
she wondered. But her gut said no. After all, their house was almost two acres from the closest paved road. And their nearest neighbor was a good quarter of a mile away. You had to really search for their house to find it.

Her mind flashed to the caller this morning, and fear curled in the pit of her stomach.

Could the two be connected?

Could they be connected to the girls?

To their parents’ murders?

She walked down the hallway and pressed her ear to Bitty’s bedroom door, listening for any signs she was awake from her nap, but there were none. After a quick check of the locks, Allie went to her bedroom and tried to rationalize the situation. After all, it was possible that the person driving the truck had simply been lost. Or, it could’ve been some kids looking for a place to go four wheeling. The possibilities were endless, really, once she thought about it.

She pushed open her bedroom door. “Who was that?” Johnny asked, propped up against a pillow in bed. Sammy was curled up beside him, clutching Johnny’s torso as though if he let go of him, he’d vanish into a puff of air.

“I don’t know,” Allie answered. “Someone probably got lost.”

He flipped through the channels. “Way out here? That’s pretty unlikely, don’t you think?”

She glared at him.

But even she wasn’t buying it.

“What I smell, Mommy?” Sammy asked.

“Grilled tomato sandwiches and cream of chicken soup.”

“Mmm!” Sammy released his father and sat up. “Yummy! I want some!”

“Hold on. Let me get a TV tray for you.” She went to her closet and reached for one of the folded TV trays. When she straightened, she felt Johnny standing behind her. Before she could move, Johnny’s big arms were embracing her. He spoke softly. “C’mon. Relax a little, babe. I came here to have fun. Not fight.”

“I
am
relaxed.”

He kneaded her shoulders, apparently oblivious to the fact that she was flinching beneath his touch.

“Wow. I can feel your heart racing. You okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said, wiggling out from beneath his grasp.

But she wasn’t fine. She was worried.

Later that night, after Sammy fell asleep, Allie placed him on a cot next to the bed and covered him with warm blankets. She set Emmet, his favorite Lego man, next to him and kissed him on the forehead.

Sammy had his own bedroom in the five-bedroom ranch-style house, but these days, they used it more for toy storage than anything else. Allie and Sammy had co-slept since he was born, and Allie found it extremely bonding.

Allie crawled back on the bed, next to where Johnny lay queuing up
Breaking Bad
on Netflix. It was one of Allie’s favorite things to do with him, and for minutes at a time, she was able to forget about the issues they had—and that she would soon be breaking up with him. Allie concentrated on the program, welcoming the chance to escape for a while. But twenty minutes into their second episode, the phone rang.

She hurried to pick it up before it woke anyone. “Hello?”

She heard silence on the other end of the line. The hair on the back of her neck rose.

What the hell? Again?

She glanced at the caller ID, but the screen indicated the call was coming from a private number. “Hello?” she said louder.

She could hear muffled breathing. Then a man’s voice asked, “Who is this?”

She frowned. “Who is
this
? You called
me
.”

The man was silent.

A shiver crawled up Allie’s back. She instinctively glanced at Sammy. He was still asleep.

She heard more muffled breathing, then the line went dead.

When she hung up, Johnny was propped up on his elbow, staring at her. “Who was that?”

“I don’t know. Some man,” she said, rubbing her arms.

“Well, what did he say?”

“He asked who I was.”

“Really? Well, that’s weird.”

“Yeah . . . and I think he might’ve called this morning, too.”

He squeezed her shoulder. “You okay? You look a little green.”

She
felt
green.

Allie glanced at Sammy again to make sure he was still asleep, then she lowered her voice. “Did you see those little girls who came home with Bitty today?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Their parents were killed a few days ago.”

“Killed? What? How?”

“They were murdered.”

Johnny’s eyes widened. “No shit?”

“Yeah.”

“Jesus. That’s crazy. Who killed them?” Johnny asked.

Allie shrugged. “That’s the thing. They haven’t caught him yet. He’s still out there somewhere.”

Johnny let out a low whistle. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah, I know. And what if he didn’t just want to kill the parents? What if he wanted the girls, too? Or what if the girls saw him the night their parents were killed and now he’s after them? I mean, it wouldn’t be hard for him to get our phone number. Or figure out where we live.” She shuddered, hearing the words leave her mouth.

“Come here,” Johnny said, patting the mattress in front of him.

Reluctantly she lay down on her side and let him pull her close. This time she didn’t cringe. This time his closeness to her comforted her a little.

They lay in silence, their bodies pressed together for several minutes. Johnny’s arms felt safe; she felt protected. She’d always longed for that feeling from a man, but she hadn’t felt it with Johnny for some time. For a fleeting moment, she wondered if maybe, just maybe, she could make the relationship with Johnny work after all. Maybe she was being too tough on him, and he could change. Maybe—

She felt him easing down her sweatpants.

She jerked away from him. “Johnny, don’t.”

“Shh,” he whispered. “It’ll make you feel better. I promise.”

“For heaven’s sake, Sammy’s right there!” she hissed.

“Then let’s go somewhere else. How about the laundry room?”

It’s what she’d taught him to expect. That when he visited he would at least get a quickie. In the laundry room. In the woods, in his truck.

“I said no, Johnny!” she said. “Can’t you take a freaking hint? My God, I’ve been hinting all day!”

The desire vanished from his eyes. He sat up in the bed. “Seriously? After I drove all the way out here?”

“Yes,
seriously
. And lower your voice.”

“May I ask you why?”

Anger flared in her belly. “I wouldn’t even know where to freaking start.”

CHAPTER 9

THIRTY MINUTES LATER, everyone but Allie was sleeping peacefully. She was on one side of the bed, with Piglet and Johnny curled up on the other side.

In the darkness, she quietly climbed out of bed, then walked through the house making sure that all of the doors and windows were still locked. She knew that it wasn’t logical to keep checking, but it made her feel better.

She went to the girls’ bedroom door and listened for movement on the other side. But she heard only silence. She studied the space between the carpet and the bottom of the door for a line of light that would indicate someone was awake. There wasn’t one.

She hesitated, wondering if she should go in. She didn’t want to invade the girls’ privacy, but what if they’d opened their window? She couldn’t be too cautious. She quietly pushed the door open and went inside. Moonlight streamed in from the window, bathing the room in murky light, casting dark shadows on the walls.

She crept across the room and checked to see if the window was locked. It was. She let her eyes adjust and searched for the girls in the darkness. After a moment, she could see outlines of their bodies on the bottom bunk. They were huddled together and seemed to be sleeping peacefully.

Next she went to Bitty’s room. She knew that the woman had been up earlier that evening, somewhere between Allie seeing the truck and receiving the phone call from the breather. She’d heard her moving around, the sound of dishes clattering in the kitchen. She’d also heard the woman’s voice a few times, which meant that she’d been talking to someone, so it was likely the girls had been up, too.

Allie slipped inside Bitty’s bedroom and checked the window.

Locked.

Good.

Before leaving the room, she studied Bitty in her bed. For once, the woman was too exhausted to rattle around the house all night like she usually did. But it was a relief to see her getting some well-deserved sleep.

In the kitchen, Allie grabbed one of the dining room chairs to stand on, opened a high cabinet above the fridge, and retrieved a bottle of vodka. She poured three generous shots into a small glass and added a splash of olive juice. Once the chair was tucked back in its place, she turned off the overhead light, bathing the kitchen in complete darkness, and made her way to the kitchen table. She placed her drink on the table and slid the window open a little to enjoy the chilly air.

She sat and took a sip of her drink, enjoying the bloom of heat as it slid down her throat.

Ahhh.

Allie drank only late at night, when the house was quiet. Though life had improved immensely, and she had become much stronger, the constant fear that had become a permanent part of her was still sometimes too much to handle without some kind of release.

She needed a way to forget for a few minutes . . . to become numb . . . and the vodka did the job. For a few hours, the alcohol would dull the pain that inflamed her mind. The memories of childhood terror and coldness. Her mother’s cruelty. The bad decisions Allie had made both before and after her brother’s death. The person she used to be, who still lurked somewhere inside of her.

As she stared out at the chilly darkness of the yard and the encroaching woods, she felt the alcohol hit her bloodstream. The thoughts flashing in her head slowed to a manageable crawl.

She would talk with Bitty in the morning and let her know about the second phone call. Bitty would console her. She’d convince her that there was nothing to worry about. She’d say that someone had simply gotten the number wrong and had tried twice to reach whomever they were trying to call. She’d also explain away the appearance of the truck by saying that another person, someone not connected to the phone calls, had simply gotten lost—although Allie couldn’t remember it ever happening before.

Bitty would say that there was absolutely no connection between the calls and the truck.

They were simply coincidences.

That Allie was just being paranoid.

Something in the yard snapped. Allie tensed. She stared out, straining her ears to listen, but the night was still. She waited quietly for another sound, but it didn’t come.

After a while, she relaxed.
Of course you heard something, silly
, she told herself.
A bird. Deer. Raccoon, a squirrel. Relax.
Seriously. There are literally a hundred things it could’ve been. Stop being so paranoid.

Her thoughts shifted to the twins and the terror they’d just experienced. Their parents had been killed on Tuesday night . . . only two miles away. What had she been doing on Tuesday night, the very moment it was happening, she wondered. She thought of how hopelessly sad, confused, and lost the girls must be feeling right now, and felt a lump in her throat.

Stop thinking about them
, she told herself, taking a long pull of her drink.
You already have enough to worry about.

She stared out the window and suddenly shivered. But it wasn’t from the cold air trickling in through the window.

It was from an acute sense of being watched.

She swiftly pushed out of her chair and crouched down in front of the window. Her eyes darted back and forth as she checked the yard for movement and studied the tree line. But again, she saw nothing but shadows and trees swaying in the wind. She listened so hard her ears began to ache, but heard nothing odd.

Nails clicked against the wood floor in the distance. Piglet had woken up and was looking for her. The dog walked up to Allie and made grunting sounds like a piglet, hence her name.

Allie looked out at the yard one last time, then lowered the window and locked it. She picked up Piglet, and carried her back to the bedroom. A few moments later, she was beneath the covers again. She closed her eyes and eventually found sleep.

Johnny bolted upright in bed. “What the hell is that?” he asked, his voice husky with sleep.

Carrie was screaming again. Allie jumped out of bed and rushed to the girls’ bedroom, but as she neared it, she saw Zoe dart out and run toward the living room. Allie tailed her and flipped on the light. Carrie was standing in the middle of the big room. Her screams were so loud and shrill, they seemed to vibrate in Allie’s bones.

Zoe stood frozen a few feet away, her hands clamped against her ears. She walked around in little circles, humming loudly.

Allie heard Johnny’s voice behind her. “Holy Jesus. Is she awake?”

Allie wasn’t sure. After a brief hesitation, she went to Carrie and wrapped her arms tightly around her. “Shhh . . . Carrie, it’s okay,” she said, emulating what Bitty had done the night before. “Calm down. Shhh. You’re safe.”

But Carrie kept screaming.

“Holy shit,” Johnny said, running his fingers through his hair.

Allie searched past him and saw Sammy, in his
Lego Movie
pajamas, staring wide-eyed at the screaming girl.

“Take Sammy back to the bedroom . . . please!” she said to Johnny.

After Johnny and Sammy disappeared, Allie turned back to Carrie and held her a little tighter. She could feel the girl’s delicate little ribs, her heart pounding beneath them. “Shhh. It’s going to be okay,” she said again, having no idea if it actually would be, but not knowing what else to say.

Eventually, the screaming stopped and Carrie went limp in her arms. As the girl sobbed against her shoulder, Allie felt something stir inside of her. A warm . . . pleasant . . . feeling.

Zoe rushed in to take her place, and Allie was surprised to find herself a little reluctant to step away.

Hugging Carrie, Zoe said, “It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m here.”

Allie watched Zoe embrace her sister until she again had the strong sense she was being watched.

That they all were.

She stared at the sliding glass doors. But all she could see was her reflection, with the twins, standing in the living room.

“Here, honey. Take a drink,” said Bitty, her eyelids heavy, walking in with a glass of ice water. She handed it to Carrie.

The skin on her arms prickling, Allie went to the sliding glass doors, cupped her hands against the glass, and peered out. But aside from a few leaves drifting across the deck, carried by a strong wind, she couldn’t see anything.

As Zoe and Bitty led Carrie back to the twins’ bedroom, Allie went to her own bedroom to check on Sammy. She heard the bed shift in the darkness.

“Holy hell. This place is a freaking circus,” Johnny said, sounding exasperated.

It was one thing he and Allie could agree on.

“Is Carrie okay, Mommy?” Sammy asked from the darkness.

The sky lit up outside the window behind him. Lightning. Yet another storm was on the horizon.

“Yes, I think so. She’s just very sad,” Allie said.

“I no like her be sad.”

“I don’t either, honey. Stay here with Daddy. I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Okay.”

Allie walked into the hallway in time to see Bitty pulling the girls’ bedroom door closed.

“She okay?” Allie asked.

“For now,” Bitty replied. “You hanging in there?” she asked, fully aware of what loud noises did to her since her brother’s suicide.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“I saw what you did for Carrie,” the woman said. “I’m proud of you. I know how difficult intimacy can be for you.”

But Allie didn’t deserve the praise. She wasn’t as proud as Bitty seemed to be of her, because she was pretty sure it had been the alcohol that had allowed her to relax enough to reach out to Carrie.

“I’m sorry, but these girls aren’t going to be easy, Allie. And I’m sure this won’t be the last of Carrie’s night terrors.” She looked inquisitively at Allie, as though searching for feedback. To maybe give Allie the chance to ask her to make the girls leave . . . to be placed with another foster home.

But Allie wouldn’t—
couldn’t
—do that. These girls needed help, and Bitty was the best foster parent for the job. There was no way Allie could deny them that.

Besides, she felt a connection to Carrie. To both girls.

“That’s okay. We’ll get through it,” Allie said.

“Are you sure?” Bitty asked. “Because you and Sammy are my first priorities. If the girls become too much, I want you to tell me—

“I will. I promise.”

But Allie wasn’t so sure her promise was good.

Bitty studied her for a moment. “I’m going to need a little help with these two. I’d never ask you if I didn’t absolutely need it. Again, if it’s too much—”

Allie heard herself say: “I’d be happy to. Anything I can do, I’ll do it. Seriously.”

Bitty’s weary face broke into an exhausted smile. “Good. Thank you.”

“Have you noticed Carrie’s arms?” Allie gestured to the inside of one of her arms just above the elbows.

Bitty nodded sadly.

“She’s cutting, isn’t she?”

“I’m afraid so. I’m hoping the counseling will do her some good. Both of them.”

Allie nodded.

Bitty hugged Allie, then, after a long moment, pulled away. “I love you. Now go get some rest.”

A feeling of joy still shot through her every time Bitty told her she loved her. It wasn’t every day, but it was fairly frequent—and far more often than her biological mother had said it. In fact, she couldn’t remember her biological mother telling her that, even one time. What she
could
clearly recall, though, were the times she’d told her she was ugly and worthless.

Back in bed, Allie let the gravity of her conversation with Bitty sink in.
So much for not getting involved,
she thought.

As Allie tried to find sleep again, she realized her skin was still vibrating from touching the fragile girl. She recalled the way Carrie’s little heart had been hammering in her small chest, and something stirred inside of her again. She wondered if she’d really helped Carrie to calm down. If she’d somehow made her feel a little bit safer. Even for just that instant.

Allie realized that she’d agreed to make her world a little bigger, but instead of feeling apprehensive, it felt as though the knot in her stomach had unfurled a little bit. As though helping with the girls was exactly the thing she was
meant
to do.

But then, she reminded herself again, it could just be the vodka talking. She was fully aware that she could wake up in the morning and regret it all. Hoping that wouldn’t be the case, she smiled a little in the darkness and closed her eyes.

As she drifted off, she wondered what she’d just gotten herself into.