Smiling, he returned his attention to his project.
“Sleep well?” Bitty asked.
“Mm hmm,” Allie said, taking a lungful of chilly air. “Thanks for getting him dressed.”
“Of course.”
Allie stared at the gray, cloud-filled sky, then out at the gloomy woods behind the yard. She remembered the sound she’d thought she heard the night before. The strong sense of being watched.
It was nothing. Just forget about it, she told herself.
She turned to Bitty. “Is Sammy okay out here with you while I get ready?”
“Sure. Go do your thing. He’ll be fine.”
The hot spray of the shower thundered down, pelting every inch of Allie’s skin. She turned to let it hit her face and felt the blood rush to her forehead, her cheeks, her chin.
She thought about this new chapter of her life. In terms of her career, she was following in Bitty’s footsteps as a wellness practitioner. She was drawn to the work for many reasons, but mainly because it was so rewarding and flexible. She worked part-time at a wellness center in the next town on Mondays, then took clients in her own small practice over the phone, two to four days a week. She liked the flexibility of the schedule and of feeling she was making a positive difference in people’s lives.
Her thoughts went to the girls. She wondered what their lives had been like before their parents’ murders. Had they been happy? What had they been like before? Had their parents’ murders significantly changed them? Suddenly she had a strong desire to know.
Allie turned off the spray and toweled dry. She dressed quickly, looking in the mirror only to apply minimal makeup. Because of her BDD, her looks had been an obsession for most of her life. Even now, if she wasn’t careful, she could easily worry about how she looked for several hours each day. Bitty told her she suffered from BDD for several reasons, not the least of which was because of the lies her mother had told her as a child, seeding thoughts of deficiency in her mind.
Seeds she continued to fertilize as Allie grew older.
Allie could still picture the glaring disapproval in her late mother’s eyes. The look of disgust on her face as she’d shake her head.
How I made such an ugly child is beyond me. We’re going to have to figure a way to hide those looks of yours, girl.
In fact, up until only six months ago, Allie never would have let Johnny—or anyone, for that matter—see her without a full face of makeup. She could still clearly remember the first day she’d shown herself to him with a completely bare face, almost trembling with shame. She’d fully expected him to look at her with disgust like her mother had often done. But if he noticed anything was different about her, he didn’t show it.
It had astounded her.
It had also empowered her, if just a little. But she still had a long road of healing in front of her, so aside from basic hygiene and tidiness, she forced herself not to pay much attention to her appearance. She also took care not to catch her reflection in car windows, rearview mirrors, or the glass of framed photos.
Out of sight, out of mind.
Back in her bedroom, she tiptoed around, gathering her purse and laptop, trying her best not to wake Johnny. But as she started to walk out, she heard him grunt and stir in bed.
“What the hell was wrong with that girl last night?” he asked. “Jesus, I thought an animal was mauling her.”
Allie glared at him, then started again for the bedroom door.
“Hey, hey, no. Come back here, beautiful,” he said. When she turned, she saw him patting the bed. “Take care of your man’s needs,” he said in a tone that she supposed was meant to sound playful and sexy but did nothing but repulse her.
“Oh, right. Like you take care of mine?”
Johnny’s smile vanished. “Hey. Easy, tiger. Come on, seriously. Get back in bed with me.” He rubbed the curly hairs on his chest. “Just for a second.”
But she was done dragging out their unhealthy relationship . . . done even talking to him until she was prepared to have The Big Talk . . . after work.
Without a word, she left the room and went to the kitchen to pour herself some coffee.
When Allie reached the kitchen, she found a piping-hot cup of coffee already waiting for her. Sammy’s Lego Movie lunch box was also beside it. She opened it up to find it was already packed.
Allie smiled inside.
In so many ways, Bitty understood Allie’s needs better than Allie even did. Women should have wives, not husbands, Allie thought, not for the first time. They just seemed better suited mentally and emotionally. It was too bad she wasn’t attracted to women.
Realizing she now had several spare minutes before she had to leave to bring Sammy to preschool, she pulled on her jacket and walked outside to join everyone on the deck.
Since she’d last been outside, the sun had sliced through the gloom. Sammy was in the yard now, pushing leaves around with a toy rake. Zoe was sitting cross-legged on a stone paver in the yard, picking blades of grass. Carrie still sat in the deck chair, her eyes squeezed closed.
Allie sat on a rocking chair and took her first sip of coffee, enjoying its heat as it glided down her throat.
She sipped and kept an eye on the tangle of loblolly pines that bordered the yard as she watched her son play. It was the only part of their home that she didn’t trust. Although she’d spent most of her childhood playing in woods just like it, they now creeped her out.
Once their financial situation was healthier, she’d have a fence built. A tall privacy fence so she wouldn’t have to look at the trees beyond it. But she needed to focus on just covering the basics for now, because money was tight. From what she’d gathered from recent collectors’ calls, Bitty was having financial problems, and Bitty wasn’t someone who usually had issues with money. Allie wondered if the financial problems were due to depression. After all, she’d been grieving the loss of a close friend, back in Louisiana, for a long time now. A man whose death she still hadn’t seemed to have completely come to terms with, leaving her perpetually sad and somewhat withdrawn.
As Allie turned her attention back to Sammy, she thought she saw movement in the pines behind him. She frowned and leaned forward in her chair. She watched closely, but the only activity she saw was the shivering of pine needles in the cool breeze.
Hardly anything unusual.
Or dangerous.
You’re just creeped out because of yesterday, she told herself. You need to stop.
Bitty sat down in the rocker next to her.
“How are they doing?” Allie asked, pointing her chin toward the girls, her voice low.
“As well as can be expected, I suppose,” Bitty said quietly. “Carrie still hasn’t said a word. Zoe speaks only when spoken to.”
As they sat, rocking and drinking their coffee, the breeze kicked up, blowing Allie’s hair into her face. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the warmth of the sunshine on her eyelids for a while, then decided to take the opportunity while they were alone to tell Bitty about the second phone call the previous evening, and the truck that had been on their property. Bitty rocked quietly for a few moments, listening.
When Allie had finished, Bitty sat silently and sipped her coffee, her face blank of emotion. But Allie could see the wheels in her head turning.
“Think there’s anything to be concerned about?” Allie asked.
Bitty shook her head. “Probably not.”
Piglet started to howl. Allie opened her eyes to find Sammy shaking a young peach tree, trying to get the dead leaves to fall to the ground. For some reason, Piglet seemed to be frightened of trees, and had the same reaction any time Sammy was near one.
Piglet’s howls grew louder, more mournful. “Piglet, stop!” Allie called. The dog turned in Allie’s direction and cocked her head to one side.
“I said, stop,” Allie repeated.
The dog just stared at her, panting.
Allie turned back to Bitty. “Johnny’s still here. But he sho
uld be leaving soon,” she said, embarrassed to admit he hadn’t left yet.
Bitty nodded.
Allie watched her son lose interest in the tree and begin walking around, crunching dried leaves and pine needles under the toes of his sneakers. Every once in a while she saw him steal curious glances at Zoe.
“Want me to pick up anything on my way home?” Allie asked. “Any groceries?”
“Thanks, but I’m taking the girls back to the Child Advocacy Center this morning, then we’re going to do some shopping. We’ll get whatever we need while we’re out.”
Piglet began to bark. Before Allie had the chance to look up, a patio chair screeched against the deck and Carrie shot up from her chair. The last vestiges of blood had drained from her pale face, and there was a look of terror in her eyes. She was staring at something in the yard.
“What the—” Allie started. She quickly scanned the perimeter and then she saw what Carrie was looking at.
A strange man was in their yard.
From the very first glance, Allie could see that there was something not right about the man. The unnatural wideness of his eyes screamed trouble. “Sammy!” she shrieked, jumping up and barely noticing the splash of hot coffee across her chest as she darted toward her son.
“Sammy!” she screamed. “Sammy, come here! Now!”
But Sammy just stood, facing the gaunt, scraggly-looking man. The two stood only ten feet from one another—the man would have plenty of time to snatch him up and run off into the woods.
Bitty was yelling for the girls to go inside the house when, to Allie’s surprise, Sammy took a step toward the man.
“Hi. What your name?” she heard her little boy ask politely.
Finally reaching Sammy, Allie gathered him in her arms and ran back to the house. She whipped past Zoe, who was standing frozen in the yard, a blade of grass still between her fingers.
“Johnny!” Allie screamed, out of breath. “Johnny!”
Allie released a frightened, crying Sammy into the safety of the living room, and turned back to the yard. Bitty, a cell phone pressed against her ear, was now standing between the man and Zoe.
“Don’t you dare come any closer,” the old woman warned, her palm extended. “Who are you? And why are you on my property?”
From where Allie stood, she could see sweat streaming from the sides of the thin man’s face. It was barely fifty-degree weather, and he was wearing only short sleeves, but sweating. He scratched hard at one of his arms.
As a frightened Sammy wailed in the living room, Allie realized she no longer saw Carrie. She stepped back onto the deck and found the girl by the stairs leading into the yard, her back pressed against the house.
Allie yanked her inside, then called for Johnny again. “Johnny, dammit! Are you still here?” Allie yelled again. “Johnny!” she called, watching the man in the yard step to one side of Bitty so that he had a direct line of sight to Zoe. He stopped scratching his arm and extended his hands, palms up, as though showing they were empty.
“Hi, Zoe girl,” he said, his eyes wild. “Now, now . . . there’s no reason to look so scared.”
The blade of grass fell from Zoe’s hand, and Allie watched her back away from him.
Is that the mother’s boyfriend, Gary? Allie wondered, remembering Zoe talking about him with the forensic therapist. If so, she was pretty certain that he was a suspect in the murders. Her chest tightened even more.
“We’re at 22741 County Road 447,” Bitty said, speaking rapidly into her cell phone. “We have a trespasser who appears to be dangerous. Please, hurry. Three children are in danger.”
Johnny finally appeared at the sliding glass door, shirtless, and his hair damp as though he’d been in the shower. “What the hell’s going on now?” he asked, fumbling with his belt.
Allie pointed to the man. “There’s a man in the yard. Do something!”
“What?” He squinted into the yard. “Who the hell is he?”
“I don’t know! And Zoe’s out there!”
Johnny stepped onto the deck. “Dude, what do you think you’re doing?” he called. “This is private property.”
In the background, Sammy began to cry even louder. Piglet, her barks now howls, stood rigid only a few feet from the man. He kicked awkwardly at the dog, but his foot didn’t connect, and he stumbled.
“Carrie . . . bring Sammy to my bedroom and lock the door,” Allie instructed. “Now!” Carrie silently grabbed Sammy’s hand. He screamed as she pulled him away.
Ignoring Johnny, the man continued to talk to Zoe. “Zoe girl. I didn’t come to hurt nobody, okay? I just need to know what you told them about me.”
Bitty grabbed Zoe by the arm and pulled her back to the house.
“No, don’t!” the man shouted. “I need to talk to her!”
But Bitty kept moving. She and Zoe scrambled up the stairs of the deck and to the door.
“Dude! You didn’t hear me talking to you?” Johnny asked, finally stepping off the deck and into the yard.
The man’s eyes darted from Zoe to Johnny. He blinked and regarded Johnny for the very first time, his eyes bugging out. He reached into his waistband and pulled out a gun. He swung it in Johnny’s direction. “Don’t you come closer, you hear me?” he warned.
Allie’s world went still.
Johnny stopped in his tracks and raised his hands. “Whoa. Easy now.”
The man’s hands shook as he took a step closer to the house. “I just want to talk to Zoe. That’s all. I didn’t come here to hurt anybody, okay?” he said, looking frantic. “Now bring her back out.”
“Jesus! Put that gun away, dude. Someone could get hurt.”
“I said bring her out!” the man screamed.
“Look, I don’t know what in the hell is going on, but you don’t want to be doing this,” Johnny told the man.
“Shut the fuck up!” he roared. Then he returned his attention to the house. “Bring her out, dammit. Bring her the fuck back, I said!”
Allie stepped into the living room, slid the door shut, and locked it.
A long moment passed in silence.
Finally realizing they weren’t going to bring Zoe out, the man lumbered toward the house.
CHAPTER 11
AS THE MAN reached the top step of the deck, the screams of police sirens split the cold morning air.
The man paused, his eyes darting from the sliding glass door to the windows of the back bedrooms, then to the sliding glass door again. “Shit!” he yelled. He glanced once more at the house, then jumped from the deck and quickly vanished into the woods.
Her hands trembling, Allie unlocked the sliding glass door and slid it open.
“What the hell?” Johnny asked from the yard, dumbstruck. “This place is insane.”
“Come in, and make sure to lock the door behind you,” Allie said. Blood still thundering in her veins, she hurried to her bedroom to check on her son.
As she passed the foyer, she saw Bitty at the front door, talking to a uniformed police officer.
“In the backyard,” Bitty was saying. “He just took off into the woods. He hasn’t been gone two minutes.”
“And you don’t know who he is?” the police officer asked.
“I have no idea, but he seems to know my foster children.”
Zoe unlocked the bedroom door, and Allie rushed inside and folded a crying Sammy into her arms.
“You scared me, Mommy!” he whined, big tears sliding down his cheeks. His blue eyes were wide, frightened. “I no like what you did. Why you scare me like that?”
He sobbed against her chest, his long, damp eyelashes fluttering against her collarbone. She sobbed right along with him. “I’m so sorry, honey,” she said, pressing her nose in his hair and kissing his head. “Mommy didn’t mean to. I just needed you to go inside the house. But everything’s okay now. Everything’s okay.”
Allie felt the air behind her part. She turned to see Johnny. “Daddy!” Sammy cried. He released All
ie and ran to his father.
Allie went to the girls. They were huddled together on the bed. “Are you guys all right?”
“Is he gone?” Zoe asked, her cheeks tear streaked.
Allie heard the blip of a police vehicle outside. “Yes. He’s gone.”
“Is he . . . is he coming back?”
Allie hoped not, but she didn’t know, so she didn’t answer. “Was that Gary? Your mother’s boyfriend?”
Zoe nodded, her chin trembling.
An hour later, Allie sat in the kitchen with Zoe and Renee, the forensic therapist Zoe had talked with at the Child Advocacy Center.
Because Zoe had refused to go back to the center, Detective Lambert had arranged for the therapist to come to the house to speak to her. He’d also arranged for closed-circuit television gear to be set up so the session could be recorded. Sammy was in the living room with Bitty and the girls’ caseworker while Allie sat in the kitchen with Zoe. Throughout the house, the drapes and blinds were all drawn, making it feel much later in the day than it was.
Zoe sat by the bank of windows in the kitchen, hugging her body tightly and rocking. As Allie studied her, Zoe suddenly looked up and their eyes met. Allie lifted her lips into a smile, but Zoe didn’t smile back. Instead, she studied Allie with those guarded eyes of hers. Although she’d insisted on Allie being with her during the therapist’s interviews, Allie could still tell the girl didn’t trust her.
“You okay?” Allie asked, then immediately regretted the question. It was a stupid one. Zoe must’ve realized it was stupid, too, because she didn’t bother to answer.
After talking with Detective Lambert, Renee walked in and took a seat. She was looking very casual again in yoga pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt that read “Calm down. I’m a shrink.” She smiled warmly at Zoe and did her leaning-in thing again. “Is there something at the advocacy center that makes you uncomfortable, Zoe? Is that why you didn’t want to go in today?”
“I . . . I just wanted to stay home,” Zoe answered.
Allie was surprised to hear Zoe use the word “home.” She couldn’t help but wonder if it was simply a figure of speech, or if Zoe was already feeling a little more comfortable at their house.
Don't Say a Word (Strangers Series) Page 6
