I nod.
Landon laughs and falls back against his seat. He shakes his head and picks up his drink, sticking the straw in his mouth. He takes a long sip and then sighs heavily as he returns his glass to the table.
"If this is your way of trying to get away with her murder, you're going to need a much stronger alibi than a damn voodoo curse."
"She's not dead."
He raises a questioning eyebrow. I can't blame him. If the tables were turned, there's no way in hell I would believe everything that just came out of my mouth.
"Landon, I don't expect you to believe me. I really don't. It's ridiculous. But for the sake of shits and giggles, will you just humor me for a few hours? Just pretend you believe me and answer questions for me, even if you think I already know the answers. Then tomorrow you can turn me in to the police if you still think I'm crazy."
He shakes his head and looks disappointed. "Even if I thought you were crazy, I would never turn you in to the police, Silas. You're my brother." He motions for the waiter to come over and refill his drink. He takes a sip and then gets comfortable. "Okay. Fire away."
I smile. I knew I liked him for a reason.
"What happened between Brett and our father?"
Landon laughs under his breath. "This is ridiculous," he mutters. "You know more about that than I do." But then he leans forward and begins to answer my question. "An investigation was launched a couple of years ago due to an external audit. A lot of people lost a lot of money. Dad was cleared and Brett was charged with fraud."
"Is Dad really innocent?"
Landon shrugs. "I'd like to think he is. His name was dragged through the mud and he lost the majority of his business after what happened. He's been trying to rebuild it, but no one trusts him with their money now. But I guess we can't complain. We still fared better than Charlie's family did."
"Dad accused Charlie of taking some files from his office. What was he talking about?"
"They couldn't figure out where the money went, so they assumed Brett or Dad was hiding it in offshore accounts. There was a stretch before the trial where Dad didn't sleep for three days. He went through every detail of every transaction and every receipt recorded for the past ten years. One night he came out of his office holding a file. He said he found it--found where Brett was keeping the money. He finally had the information he needed to hold Brett responsible for the entire thing. He called his lawyer and told him he would deliver the evidence as soon as he got a couple hours of sleep. The next day...he couldn't find the files. He blew up on you, assuming you had warned Charlie about it. He believes to this day that Charlie took those files. She denied it. You denied it. And without the evidence he claimed to have, they could never charge Brett on all counts. He'll probably be out of jail in five years with good behavior, but from what Dad says, those files would have put him away for life."
Jesus. This is a lot to remember.
I hold up a finger. "I'll be right back." I slip out of the booth and run out of the restaurant, straight to my car. I search for more paper to take notes on. Landon is still at the booth when I return. I don't ask another question until I write everything down he just told me. And then I feed him a tidbit of information just to see how he responds.
"I'm the one who took those files," I say to Landon. I look up at him and his eyes are narrowed.
"I thought you said you can't remember anything."
I shake my head. "I can't. But I made a note about some files I found that I was hiding. Why do you think I would take them if they would have proved Dad's innocence?"
Landon ponders my question for a moment then shakes his head. "I don't know. Whoever took them never did anything with them. So the only reason you would have hid them is to protect Charlie's father."
"Why would I want to protect Brett Wynwood?"
"Maybe you weren't protecting him for his own sake. Maybe you were doing it for Charlie."
I drop the pen. That's it. The only reason I would have taken those files is if I were doing it to protect Charlie.
"Was she close to her father?"
Landon laughs. "Very. She was a daddy's girl through and through. In all honesty, I think the only person she loved more than you was her father."
This feels like I'm unraveling a piece of a puzzle, even if it's not the puzzle I should be unraveling. Knowing the old Silas, he would have done anything to make Charlie happy. Which includes protecting her from knowing the truth about her father.
"What happened with me and Charlie after that? I mean...if she loved her father that much, you would think my father putting him behind bars would have made her never want to speak to me again."
Landon shakes his head. "You were all she had," he says. "You stuck by her side through it all, and nothing pissed Dad off more than knowing you didn't stand by his side 100%."
"Did I think Dad was innocent?"
"Yeah," Landon says. "You just made it a point not to take sides when it came to him and Charlie. Unfortunately, to Dad that meant you were taking their side. The two of you haven't been on the best terms for the past year or two. The only time he speaks to you is when he's yelling at you from the stands at Friday night games."
"Why is he so obsessed with me playing football?"
Landon laughs again. "He's been obsessed with his sons attending his Alma matter since before he knew he was having sons. He's shoved football down our throats since we could walk. I don't mind it, but you always hated it. And that makes him resent you even more, because you have a talent for it. It's in your blood. But you've never wanted anything more than to just be able to walk away from it." He smiles. "God, you should have seen him when he showed up last night and you weren't out on that field. He actually tried to have the game stopped until we could find you, but the officials wouldn't allow it."
I make a note of this. "You know...I can't remember how to play football."
A smirk plays on Landon's lips. "Now that's the first thing you've said today that I actually believe. The other day when we were in a huddle, you seemed lost. 'You. Do that thing.'" He laughs out loud. "So add that to your list. You forgot how to play football. How convenient."
I add it to the list.
Remember song lyrics.
Forgot people we know.
Remember people we don't know.
Remember how to use a camera.
Hate football, but I'm forced to play.
Forgot how to play football.
I stare at the list. I'm sure I had a lot more stuff written down on my old list, but I can hardly remember any of it.
"Let me see that," Landon says. He scrolls over the notes I've already taken. "Shit. You're really taking this seriously." He stares at it for a few seconds and then hands it back to me. "It seems like you can remember things you wanted to learn yourself, like song lyrics and your camera. But anything else you were taught, you forgot."
I pull the list in front of me and look at it. He might have a point, other than the fact that I can't remember people. I make a note of that and then continue with my questions.
"How long has Charlie been seeing Brian? Were we broken up?"
He runs his hand through his hair and takes a sip of his soda. He pulls his feet up and leans against the wall, stretching his legs out on the seat. "We're gonna be here all day, aren't we."
"If that's what it takes."
"Brian's always had a thing for Charlie and everyone knows it. You and Brian have never gotten along because of it, but you make it work for the sake of the football team. Charlie started to change after her father went to prison. She wasn't as nice...not that she's ever been the nicest. But lately, she's actually turned into somewhat of a bully. The two of you do nothing but fight now. I honestly think she hasn't been seeing him for that long. It started with her just giving him attention when you were around, so she could piss you off. I guess for her to continue that, she had to keep up appearances with him when they were alone. I don't buy it that she likes him, tho
ugh. She's a hell of a lot smarter than he is, and if anyone was being used, it was Brian."
I'm writing everything down, but I'm also nodding my head. I had a feeling she wasn't really into the guy. It seems like my relationship with Charlie was stretched as thin as air, and she was just doing what she could to test our strength.
"What are Charlie's religious beliefs? Was she known to be into voodoo or spells or anything like that?"
"Not that I know of," he says. "We were all raised Catholic. We don't really practice unless it's a significant holiday."
I make note of that and try to think of another question. I still have so many, and I don't know what to go with next. "Is there anything else? Anything out of the ordinary that happened last week?"
I can immediately tell he's hiding something by the change in his facial expression and the way he shifts in his seat.
"What is it?"
He pulls his feet off the seat and leans forward, lowering his voice. "The police...they were at the house today. I heard them questioning Ezra about finding anything unusual. At first she denied it, but I think her guilt got the best of her. She mentioned finding sheets in your room. She said there was blood on them."
I lean back against my booth and stare up at the ceiling. This isn't good.
"Wait," I say, leaning forward again. "That was last week. Before Charlie went missing. It can't be tied to her if that's what they're thinking."
"No, I know that. Ezra told them that too. That it was last week and she saw Charlie that day. But still, Silas. What the hell were you doing? Why was there blood on your sheets? The way police think, they're probably assuming you beat Charlie or something, and that it finally went too far."
"I'd never hurt her," I say defensively. "I love that girl."
As soon as the words leave my mouth, I shake my head, not understanding why I even said them. I've never even met her. I've never even spoken to her.
But I'll be damned. I just said I love her, and I meant it straight to my core.
"How can you love her? You claim you can't remember her."
"I may not remember her, but I sure as hell still feel her." I stand up. "And that's why we need to find her. Starting with her father."
Landon tries to calm me down, but he has no idea how frustrating it is to lose eight entire hours when you only have forty-eight hours total.
It's after eight o'clock at night already, and we've officially wasted the entire day. As soon as we left the restaurant, we headed toward the prison to pay Brett Wynwood a visit. A prison that's almost three hours away. Couple that with a two-hour wait, only to be told we aren't on the visitor list and there's nothing we can do today to change it...I'm more than pissed.
I can't afford to make mistakes when I have just hours left to figure out where she is before I lose everything I've learned since yesterday.
We pull up next to Landon's car. I kill my ignition and step out of the car, walking to the gate. There are two padlocks on it, and it looks like they're never used.
"Who bought this house?" I ask Landon.
I hear him laugh behind me, so I turn around. He sees that I lack humor in this situation, so he rolls his head.
"Come on, Silas. Drop the act, already. You know who bought the house."
I breathe steadily in through my nose and out my mouth, reminding myself that I can't blame him for thinking I'm making all of this up. I nod and then turn to face the gate again. "Humor me, Landon."
I can hear him kick at the gravel and groan. And then he says, "Janice Delacroix."
The name means nothing to me, but I walk back to my truck and open the door to make a note of the name. "Delacroix. Is that a French name?"
"Yeah," he says. "She owns one of those tourist shops downtown. Reads tarots or some shit like that. No one knows how she was able to afford the place. Her daughter goes to our school."
I stop writing. The tarot reader. That explains the picture, and also why she wouldn't give me more information on the house--because it seemed weird to her that I was asking about her home.
"So people actually live here?" I say, turning around to face him.
He shrugs. "Yeah. It's just the two of them though--her and her daughter. They probably use a different entrance. Doesn't look like this gate gets opened much."
I stare past the gate...at the house. "What's her daughter's name?"
"Cora," he says. "Cora Delacroix. But everyone calls her The Shrimp."
No one comes for a long time. I think I'm being punished. I'm thirsty and I need to go to the bathroom. After holding it as long as I can, I finally pee in the plastic cup on my breakfast tray and set the full cup in the corner of the room. I pace back and forth, pulling at my hair until I think I'm going to go crazy.
What if no one comes back? What if they've left me here to die?
The door won't budge; I bruise my fists pounding on it. I scream for someone to help me until my voice grows hoarse.
I'm sitting on the floor with my head in my hands when the door finally opens. I jump up. It's not the nurse--it's someone else this time, younger. Her scrubs hang off her small body. She looks like a little kid playing dress-up. I eye her warily as she moves across my small room. She notices the cup in the corner and raises her eyebrows.
"Do you need to use the facilities?" she asks.
"Yes."
She sets the tray down and my stomach grumbles.
"I asked to see the doctor," I say.
Her eyes dart left to right. She's nervous. Why?
"The doctor is busy today," she says, not looking at me.
"Where is the other nurse?"
"It's her day off," she says. I can smell the food. I am so hungry.
"I need to use the bathroom," I say. "Can you take me?"
She nods her head, but she looks afraid of me. I follow her out of the little room and into the small hallway. What kind of hospital has the toilets in a separate area from their patients' rooms? She stands off to the side while I use the restroom, wringing her hands and turning an awful shade of pink.
When I'm finished, she makes the mistake of turning toward the door. When she opens it, I pull the piece of pipe from my hospital gown and hold it toward her neck.
She faces me again and her beady eyes grow wide with fear.
"Drop the keys and back up slowly," I say. "Or I'll stick this straight in your throat."
She nods. The keys clank against the ground, and I advance toward her, my weapon extended toward her neck. I push her backward, into the room, and shove her down on the bed. She falls back and cries out.
Then I'm out the door, taking the keys with me. I pull the door shut as she flies toward it, her mouth open in a scream. We struggle for a moment, her trying to yank it open while I get the key into the lock and hear the metal click.
My hands are shaking as I sort through the keys, trying to find the right one to open the next door. I don't really know what to expect when I step through. A hospital hallway, nurses and doctors? Will someone be there to drag me back to that tiny room?
No.
There's no way I'm going back. I'll hurt anyone who tries to stop me from getting out of here.
I don't see a hospital or staff or anyone else when I open the door. What I see instead is a very impressive wine cellar. Dusty bottles sit in hundreds of little holes. It smells of ferment and dirt. A staircase runs up one side of the cellar. There is a door at the top.
I run for the stairs, stubbing my toe hard on the concrete and feeling the wet blood run over my foot. I almost slip on it, but I catch onto the railing in time.
The top of the stairs opens to a kitchen, a single light illuminating the counters and floors. I don't pause to look around. I need to find...a door! I grab the handle, and this time it's not locked. I cry out in triumph as it flies open. The night air hits me in the face. I breathe it in gratefully.
Then I run.
"You can't trespass, Silas!" Landon yells.
I'm trying to sca
le the gate, but my foot keeps slipping. "Help me over," I yell down to him.
He walks up to me and offers his hands, palms up, despite the fact that he's still verbally trying to stop me from climbing over. I step into his hands and he hoists me higher, allowing me to grab the bars toward the top of the gate.
"I'll be back in ten minutes. I just want to check out the property." I know he doesn't believe a word I've said today, so I leave out the fact that I think this Cora girl knows something. If she's inside that house, I'm going to force her to talk to me.
I finally make it to the top and down the other side. When my feet hit the dirt, I stand up. "Don't leave until I get back."
I turn and take a look at the house. It's about two hundred yards away, hidden behind rows of Weeping Willow trees. They look like long arms, swaying toward the front door, coercing me to move forward.
I slowly make my way down the path that leads to the porch. It's a beautiful house. I can see why Charlie missed it so much. I look up at the windows. Two of them are lit up on the top floor, but the bottom floor is completely dark.
I'm almost to the porch that extends across the entire front of the house. My heart is racing in my chest so fast that I can actually hear it. Other than the occasional insect noise and the pounding of my pulse, it's completely quiet out here.
Until it's not.
The bark is so loud and so close, it rumbles in my stomach and vibrates through my chest. I can't see where it's coming from.
I freeze in my tracks, careful not to make any sudden movements.
A deep growl rolls through the air like thunder. I slowly look over my shoulder without turning my body.
The dog is standing behind me, lips pulled back in a snarl, teeth so white and sharp they look like they're glowing.
He rears back on his hind legs, and before I can run or look around for something to fight him off, he's in the air, lunging toward me.
Straight for my throat.
I can feel his teeth pierce the skin on the back of my hand, and I know if I hadn't covered my throat, those teeth would be in my jugular right now. The massive strength of this animal knocks me to the ground. I can feel the flesh give way on my hand as he thrashes his head from side to side and I try to fight him off.
Never Never: Part Two Page 7
