chapter 62
Friday. The end of a long week.
Dad’s pouring coffee in the kitchen and Ollie barks a friendly hello when he sees me.
Dad shushes him. “Heather’s still sleeping, Ollie. Be nice.”
I grab a bowl of Raisin Os and take a seat.
Ollie moves over and sits on my foot for his morning pet.
“How’d you sleep?” Dad asks.
“Really good.”
“You look rested.”
“I feel rested. Where’s Mom?”
“Already gone for the day. Big game coming up?”
“Not until next week.”
“Think you’ll win?”
I know what he’s up to—reinforcing the routine—so I go with it. “Hope so.”
He smiles and pats me on the back in a fatherly way before leaving for work. I take my bowl to the sink and go back upstairs.
My phone vibrates with plans for the weekend. Mike’s found a party that Haley’s going to be at. Paul and Jessica send separate texts letting me know what they’re doing, and invite me to join them. A couple of guys from the basketball team check in to see if I want to go to a show. But I’m not ready to commit to anything, so I put the phone down.
The school day flies by. The last bell rings and we’re released, rushing out the doors into the streets, escaping a week of drudgery. I am more or less caught up at this point. The weekend will be a breath of fresh air.
As I walk home, the phone buzzes in my pocket again. I’m sure some study somewhere says this is going to cause crotch cancer in the future, but I keep the phone in my pocket anyhow. I check—looks like plans are falling into place and people want me to make some decisions, but I feel no urgency.
Back in my freshman year, a teacher always said, “If you’re cool, they’ll wait for you,” when we herded at the door at the end of his class. I’ve always thought it was a good mantra.
I ignore the messages for now.
First home, then supper.
chapter 63
When we’re done eating, I get up and put my arms around Mom and Dad. “You two have a date night?”
Mom giggles. “Maybe. Why? You want us out of your hair?”
“No, just figured you deserve one. I’ll do the dishes and then I’m going out, probably with Mike. I may meet up with Jessie and Paul. Not sure.”
Mom looks at Dad, and I can see the relief in their faces. It feels like everything is back to normal for the most part, but she still gives me the look.
I laugh. “Yeah. Yeah. I’ll let you know when I know for sure. Sound good?”
She pours another dollop of wine into her glass and salutes Dad with it, smiling. “So what are we going to do?”
Dad checks his watch, then looks at me, mouth twitching. “How long are you going to be gone?”
“Dad, seriously? Gross!” My reaction is just for show—I’m happy my parents love each other.
They leave the kitchen, wine in hand, laughing.
I quickly clear the dishes, jamming them into the dishwasher. By the time I’m wiping the table, I hear the familiar sound of Mike’s arrival—hooooooonk. I pound up the stairs, give myself a shot of cologne, and rush out to his truck.
“What’s your hurry? We got all night.”
“You, maybe, but me? Not so much. Word is Haley’s at PJ’s Pizza with a couple others from Central, her school, then they’re headed to a farm party.”
I shoot a text to Paul and tell him what I’m doing and that he and Jess are welcome to join if they like.
We get to the restaurant and check the place out. A couple of Mike’s friends from Mitchell Ross Collegiate are there and he questions them about Haley. She and her friends have already left, but they’ll be at the farm party just west of town at around 10:00. That gives us some time to kill. Mike has a few drinks that he buys with a fake ID, no doubt trying to calm his nerves over seeing Haley. We eat pizza and play a game of pool. I let him kick my ass and he gloats, but I let him have that too. A couple of hours later it’s time to get to the party.
I have Mike’s keys and we climb into his truck. He turns on the radio to some crappy early-2000s rock and roll, and punches my arm. He loves it when his music bugs me.
I look over at him. “I’d say something—”
“But you’re too much of a nice guy?”
Sometimes the wingman’s job can be a drag, but tonight it feels worth it.
The DJ announces the next song. Tom Petty’s “I Won’t Back Down.” My smile fades.
I haven’t spared Charlie a single thought over these past few days of blissful normalcy. He just told me to be with my people and bounced. I haven’t received one message from him—nothing—and it’s unsettling, like I’m waiting for something. Mike’s belting out the lyrics, keeping time on the dashboard, but it’s not the same.
Where is Charlie? Is he in trouble? Is he in jail? I feel the urge to text him but talk myself out of it, shaking off the bad feeling, reassuring myself that there has to be some sort of an explanation.
If anyone can dodge a bullet, it’s Charlie Wolfe.
But the reminder is too much in the meantime and I change the channel. Mike’s annoyed until he realizes it’s now Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Sweet Home Alabama,” and he rolls with it, air-guitaring the licks as we drive down a country road.
We pull up to the farmhouse. The yard is full of cars and a bonfire burns high. Mike races off, looking for Haley, and by the time I’m mingling with the crowd of people, I’ve nearly forgotten about Charlie.
chapter 64
I’m face down in my pillow and my eyes are still closed because the light is too bright in my room. My head pounds ferociously, and I’m not a fan of the rhythm. I drag myself up and wipe drool—gross—off my cheek. I’m still wearing my clothes from last night. My phone’s in my hand. I tap to turn it on, but the battery is dead.
I swing my legs off the edge of the bed. My ears start to ring and I’m dizzy. This is terrible. What happened last night? I reach into my jacket and take out my wallet. At least I wasn’t robbed. That’s something.
“So much for listening to my advice.”
I look over. “Charlie?”
He sits at my desk chair, staring at me.
“What are you doing here?”
“Gekas wouldn’t let me stay in her jail anymore.”
“No, I mean, what are you doing here? In my bedroom?” Then I realize what he’s just said.
“What? Wait! You were in jail? That’s horrible.”
He shrugs, like it’s no big deal.
“Drunk tank or cells?”
“Temporary holding.” He rifles idly at some papers on my desk, unconcerned.
I try to imagine what it was like. “Were you alone? Were you with criminals? Were you scared of getting the shit kicked out of you?”
He’s ignoring me, still reading whatever it is on my desk.
“Charlie!”
He looks at me and sighs. “Fine. Your folks are off at the Farmer’s Market and I let myself in.”
“You broke in?”
“No, I figured out where you keep the spare key.”
“We don’t have one!”
“How can you not have a spare key? What happens if you get locked out?” He stares at me but I don’t break. “Yeah, fine, I broke in. Happy?”
“You need to get out. Now.”
He stands and pauses at the door. “Out of your room? Or your house?”
“Out,” I point.
He tosses up his hands, as if I’m the one frustrating him, and goes out.
Now I’m awake—really awake—but I want to pull the pillow back over my head, worried by what I’ll find out next. I drag myself out of bed and throw on some clothes. It’s clear Charlie isn’t done with me.
> And sure enough, by the time I get downstairs, there’s a bowl of cereal on the counter and he’s finished brewing himself a pot of coffee.
“These are nice beans. Is this your Mom or Dad’s thing?”
I assume there’s no getting rid of him. “Dad’s.”
He sniffs the brew, a small frown of concentration on his face like some sort of coffee connoisseur. Which maybe he is—who knows? “Nice. We don’t get this in the trailer park.”
I’d never really considered where he lived, but it’s hard to tell whether he’s telling the truth or dramatizing for effect.
“Charlie,” I finally ask again, “what are you doing here?”
“I told you—Gekas kicked me out of jail.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. She questioned my motivation. Thought I was doing it on purpose. Can you believe that?”
“Yeah, I can believe that, because the last time I saw you, you said you were going to get yourself thrown in jail!”
“I did? Hmm…”
“How?”
“What? Get sent to lockup? After I saw you, I went to the closest convenience store, walked over to the chocolate bars, took one, made sure the clerk was watching, opened it and ate it. When he just threatened me, I walked out of the store and sat on the step. He still didn’t call the cops on me, so I went back and got myself an energy drink, which was a bad choice for a night in jail, and went back outside.”
I stare at him in disbelief. “Why?”
“For an alibi. Why else?”
“For what?”
“For the murders, man. Aren’t you keeping up with our investigation at all?”
I don’t usually have the urge to cuff someone in the head, but I sure feel like doing it now.
“Anyway, it’s a minor offence. I admitted to it and they kept me for the night.”
“But then that means you were out on Wednesday.”
“Yeah, so I had to do it again, which really sucks, because I had to really commit myself the second time.”
“Why?”
“Well, my buddies from lockup the night before couldn’t figure out who’d be so stupid as to steal a chocolate bar and a drink, except someone planted by the cops. They thought they should stick a shiv in me and let me be an example.”
“How’d you get out of it?”
Charlie digs his spoon into the very large bowl of cereal and crunches away.
I wait impatiently for him to swallow.
“Stayed awake for most of the night. Couldn’t convince them I wasn’t a rat. At some point, I started thinking I should let them cut me and if I survived, I’d be in the hospital. The thought of risking an infection or bleeding out kept running through my mind, though, so I decided to wait them out instead.”
He seems to be really enjoying his granola crunch, and adds a healthy dose of soy milk to it.
I shake my head and try to remain expressionless. “And so you went back in?”
He nods. “I went back in, scared I wasn’t going to sleep again but the third night was easier. Mostly drunks and druggies. There was a guy with some mental health issues coming off something bad, but he was in a cell at the far end.” He shrugs. “By Friday night, Gekas was on to me and wouldn’t let me stay. I found the nearest all-night restaurant and just waited the night out.”
This is really unbelievable.
His spoon hits the bottom of the bowl—clink—and he moves to the cupboards, looking for a mug. I point and he pulls two down, pours us each a coffee, and hands one to me.
My head’s still pounding but the first sip seems to ease the pain. “So, why are you here now, Charlie?”
“Haven’t you heard?”
chapter 65
Charlie pulls out his phone and scrolls to a news site. On the front page: second teenager found dead. one still missing.
“Shit.”
He takes his phone back. “I know, right?” He doesn’t seem sincere. “Look where they found her!”
He sounds excited and it bothers me, but before I can say anything, he grabs the map out of his back pocket and unfolds it. He lays it out on the kitchen counter and points. “Right here—Lone Pine Mall.”
It’s one of the places, along with the schools in the northwest part of the city, that he’d pointed out the other night. “You were—”
“Right? I know. Get used to it.”
That cockiness again—
“I read this guy. Best of all, we’ve got him.”
“What do you mean?”
A grin spreads across Charlie’s face. “After I left you at the stadium, I kept building my map, figuring it out. I saw what looked like a pattern. I knew I could take a gamble and try and get there before him and set a trap.”
I don’t say anything—I don’t want to encourage his enthusiasm.
“I pulled some trail cameras—you know, the type hunters use—and duct taped them in the bathrooms—”
“You what?”
“Chill, we’re not being pervy peepers—”
“But that goes against all sorts of people’s privacy—”
“Yeah, yeah. Moral, ethical, blah, blah…”
I get in his face. “Charlie, a girl died. You get that, right? Someone’s daughter, sister, friend… and girlfriend. Not just once, but three times. So you cut this shit about it being a game and acting like we’re the Hardy Boys. Because we’re not. Nothing like that. Sheri died, then Maggie, and now this girl, whoever she is, because of some weirdo who has sick ideas about women. So, cut it out, okay?”
He’s quiet. He’s never quiet. He doesn’t move, but he sinks a bit in his seat.
I wait until he says something.
“Okay.”
That’s all he’s got to say? Okay. I don’t move, inches from his nose.
“Tony—?”
“What?” I snap, realizing he’s never used my first name before.
“Let’s get this guy.”
chapter 66
Charlie and I are in Dad’s car, driving to the northwest end of the city. My head’s still pounding from the bad choices I made the night before. Coffee and pain relievers haven’t helped, so I’ve got the music on low. It’s some vocal pop guy singing about love and loneliness and being far from his girl. I try not to latch on to it, but it’s hard not to be affected.
This whole thing with Charlie is bad business, and I don’t like digging up the dead for clues. The past three days of peace have been wiped out by his presence, and me yelling at him didn’t help. But I don’t feel bad about it—he was acting like a jerk.
“You don’t think I care, but I do,” says Charlie now as he stares out the window. “Sheri was a good person who didn’t deserve to die. I didn’t know Maggie or this other girl, but I’m sure they were decent people.”
He’s quiet for a moment and I think he’s done. “But they’re strangers,” he continues after a moment. “I have absolutely no connection to them. Sheri was nice to me in school. She didn’t whisper behind people’s backs, she wasn’t a snarky bitch. But we were from different worlds and we didn’t mix. I don’t know how to feel sad about people I don’t know.”
“Then why are you doing this?”
“Because you’ve got a problem that needs solving.”
I look over at him. “That’s it? Really?”
“For now, sure. That works for me.”
It’s not a good enough answer and it makes me wonder.
“Charlie, did something like this happen to someone you knew?”
He looks out the window for a bit, then opens his phone and flips through apps. He leans over to show me the screen. “This new girl’s name is Bonnie McCallum. She lived in the northwest, went to the Catholic school there. She had a night shift at the Citrus Shack, which stays open late to catch the lat
e-night movie crowd. She was supposed to close with another girl but disappeared at the end of the night. The other girl looked for her, thought she flaked out, and went home. She didn’t think anything of it until Bonnie turned up in a dumpster behind the mall.”
Nothing—that’s all he gives me—something about the victim. Whatever’s going on in that head of his, whatever past he’s hiding, he’s locked it away and shoved it way down deep. It’s clear pushing him won’t help, so I focus on what’s ahead.
“What’s your grand plan?”
“We go to the mall. I think Gekas will start cluing in to what’s going on soon enough. Too much has been happening around bathrooms for her not to search them. We’ll have to get there quick—get in and get out. The place’ll be busy, but they’ll be looking around the Citrus Shack, points of entry, and the path between the store and the dumpster. I’m hoping the place isn’t totally closed, that some of the stores are still open. That way, you won’t look conspicuous.”
“Wait—me?”
“Yeah. If I’m spotted at the last place Bonnie was seen, it’ll start looking weird. Almost thirty per cent of killers return to the scene of the crime.”
“Where do you get this stuff?”
He ignores me. “If I show up again, they’ll more than likely pick up on it. Crime scene photographers are documenting the crowd half the time, just in case they get a guy who likes to revisit his handiwork.”
“Again, how do you know?”
“Come on. You do realize there is a thing called a com-pu-ter, right?
I shoot him a stop-messing-with-me look.
“Oh right, you’re gonna get all up in my face again.” He’s got that shit-eating grin again, pleased to have gotten a reaction out of me. “It’s good to see you growing.”
He’s edging toward being an asshole again. “Charlie—”
Along Comes a Wolfe Page 15
