Don't Say a Word (Strangers Series)

by Jennifer Jaynes

  Allie watched from the living room as she did the week’s meal planning, Sammy sat snuggled against her, playing an Xbox Lego game.

  Allie realized her attention lingered on Carrie. She wasn’t sure why she was so drawn to the girl. Yes, the similarities between her and Carrie were obvious: they were both orphans and their mothers had both been murdered . . . but she had the same thing in common with Zoe, yet she didn’t feel quite the same pull toward her that she did with Carrie.

  Maybe it was because Allie’s and Carrie’s personalities seemed more similar? Where she had pegged Zoe to be the confident type, Carrie appeared to be more self-conscious. She also seemed to be the more wounded of the two.

  After the girls finished their chores, Allie showed Zoe how to use the Xbox to find age-appropriate programs, movies, and games. Bitty didn’t want the girls to have access to local television networks because she didn’t want them to see news coverage of their parents’ murders.

  Network television was rarely watched in the house anyway. Bitty didn’t watch television at all, and Allie liked to control what she and Sammy saw. The fewer unrealistic images she saw, the better for her BDD. The fewer unrealistic images Sammy saw, the healthier his expectations would be when he was old enough to be interested in females.

  Allie noticed that when the girls were around, Sammy watched them carefully. Sammy had always been an observant child. A spider the size of a small tick couldn’t cross the room without him noticing. He’d been that way since he was very young. He also had a strong sense of wonder and curiosity. Allie loved seeing the world through his eyes. It was almost as though she were seeing things for the very first time again. As though she were reliving her childhood.

  But this time around, a normal one.

  Sammy liked to be sneaky and spy on people.

  But he didn’t spy on them to be mean.

  He did it because it was fun.

  Today he’d been spying on the twins a lot. Quiet Carrie and her sister, Zoe. He thought they were both a little strange. First, Carrie didn’t talk . . . at all. And she cried a lot. Both of them did, especially when they were in their bedroom with the door closed.

  He’d also caught Zoe earlier that morning in his mommy’s room, smelling a shirt in her closet. He stood behind her for a while, watching. When she turned around and saw him there, she jumped like she was really surprised. Then she let go of his mother’s shirt and without even looking at him, went into her bedroom and closed the door.

  He’d also noticed that Zoe stared at his mommy a lot when she wasn’t looking. He had no idea why. He just knew it seemed a little weird.

  Now his ear was pressed against the girls’ bedroom door. He could hear Zoe saying something to Carrie. And she sounded angry. He strained to hear her words, but couldn’t. But then, someone started walking toward the door . . . toward him.

  And he ran down the hallway as fast as Flash.

  Before Allie knew it, the sun was going down. Thankfully, the day had flown by without any sign of Gary or any phone hang-ups or strange trucks.

  Over the course of the day, she had washed the girls’ clothes in hot water three times, but the dizzying odor lingered, so with Bitty’s okay, she ordered the girls each three new outfits online and had the shipping expedited. Bitty would take care of the rest of their wardrobe later at a discount store in Tyler.

  She watched the kids in the living room. Sammy was sitting on the floor playing with his Legos, and the twins were sitting on the larger couch. Zoe was reading an old Judy Blume book, one of the many books Bitty kept for the kids, and Carrie was curled into a ball, fast asleep.

  Allie went to check on Bitty and found her in the home office, chewing on the end of a pen, staring at something she’d jotted down in her notebook.

  “Hey,” Allie said. “How’s it going?”

  Bitty peered at Allie through her spectacles. “Well, it’s certainly been interesting.”

  “Yeah? How?”

  “Anyone in the hallway?” Bitty asked.

  Allie quickly poked her head out. “No. Why?”

  “I just stumbled upon something odd.”

  “What?”

  “Remember how I told you that the Parishes won all that money in the lottery?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, rumor has it that a day before the murders, the girls’ mother, Julie, wrote Gary Willis a check for seven hundred thousand dollars of it.”

  “Holy crap! Seven hundred thousand dollars? Why?”

  Bitty removed her glasses and rubbed her eyes. “I don’t know,” she said. “But I certainly plan to find out.”

  CHAPTER 14

  SADNESS HUNG LIKE a thick fog in the truck on their way home from the Parishes’ funeral. The sun quickly disappeared behind the dark clouds, and the sky opened up. Rain now pelted the windshield and spilled down the side windows in crooked lines.

  Allie navigated the rolling East Texas hills in silence, whizzing past sprawling pastures of lush green grass and countless herds of cattle. No one seemed to have the energy to talk. And Sammy was fast asleep in his car seat, sucking his thumb—something he hadn’t done in two years. Allie felt a pang of guilt, worrying that taking him to the funeral had been damaging in some way. Today she’d exposed him to death, something she wasn’t sure she was comfortable with him knowing quite yet.

  There’d been a small turnout for the service at the funeral home, and an even smaller one at the graveside. Allie remembered the girls’ grief-stricken faces as they stared at the polished oak caskets. How Carrie had vomited at the cemetery. A weathered old woman had watched the girls from afar the entire time, but she never bothered to even say hello. Bitty said that she thought it was the girls’ maternal grandmother.

  At home, Allie tucked Sammy into bed for his nap, then sat at the kitchen table to make sense of her checking account. But she couldn’t get the seven hundred thousand dollars that the girls’ mother had given Gary Willis off her mind.

  Had he killed Zoe and Carrie’s parents for the money?

  But why kill them after he already had the check in hand?

  It didn’t make sense. She stared out the window, barely aware of the wind screaming on the other side. A moment later, she heard little feet padding her way. Sammy walked into the kitchen in his white T-shirt and boxer briefs and reached his arms out to be held.

  She set her pen down and picked him up.

  “Hey, buddy.” Allie smiled. “Why are you out of bed?”

  “I sad.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  Thunder rumbled outside. “I no want to tell you now. I want to watch ants,” he said, asking to watch a documentary on ants that they had on DVD. Out of all the movies he owned, it was his favorite, and the one he always wanted to watch when he felt emotional.

  The funeral was still affecting him.

  It was affecting her, too.

  “Okay, baby,” she said, smiling at her son. “We can do that.”

  She carried him into the living room and set him down on the couch, then slid the DVD in the tray. She covered him with a quilt and kissed his forehead.

  “Mommy, watch it with me.”

  All the things she needed to do flashed through her mind. In the last few days she’d gotten behind on so much—updating her checkbook, client scheduling and marketing, figuring out what bills she could afford to pay next—and now she was starting to feel as though the walls were closing in. But Sammy was her priority. She didn’t want him to remember her as being too busy. She wanted her son to remember her as an involved mom, a mother who always made time for him.

  “Okay, but just for a little while, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  She heard more footsteps. A few seconds later, Zoe appeared in the entrance of the hallway. Her face was washed out from all of the crying, and she’d put her nightgown back on.

  “Hey there,” Allie said. “We’re about to watch a program. Want to watch with us?”

  Zoe nodded,
then silently took a seat in the recliner.

  “How about I make some hot chocolate for our show?”

  Sammy’s eyes brightened. “Yes! Hot chocolate!”

  “Do you like hot chocolate, Zoe?”

  Zoe nodded.

  “Then three cups it is.” Allie smiled.

  After serving the drinks, Allie sat on the couch with Sammy and began watching the documentary for about the two hundredth time. The storm had intensified and rain was now pouring from the sky.

  She studied the safe, clean, comfortable house she lived in—the high ceilings; polished cherry floors; the big flat-screen television; comfortable, sturdy furniture; the soft, overstuffed pillows; and charming wicker baskets that graced most of the rooms—and was still surprised it was hers. That she lived here now, and not the rundown house of her childhood, or the string of filthy motel rooms she’d spent time in after her brother’s suicide. Everything was tidy. Clean. Safe. And it wasn’t merely a house . . . it was a home.

  She’d gotten lucky. So very lucky.

  Lightning slashed the sky outside. “Mommy! Mommy!” Sammy suddenly whined.

  Allie turned to her son and saw that blood was gushing from his nose. She grabbed a napkin from the coffee table, pressed it against his nostrils, and applied pressure. “Tilt your head up a little,” she said, gently coaxing his chin up with her fingers.

  “Can I help?” she heard Zoe say.

  “Yes, please get some paper towels from the kitchen.”

  Zoe took off toward the kitchen. Less than a minute later, she was back with a roll of paper towels. Allie took them from her and switched out the napkin that was now sopping wet with blood.

  Thunder boomed in the distance. “Oh my God,” Zoe said.

  Allie glanced at Zoe. She was staring at the blood-soaked napkin. The color had drained from her face.

  “Zoe, it’s just a nosebleed. It’s okay,” Allie said.

  Zoe staggered backward. “No, no, no!” she whispered, her eyes brimming with tears. She bumped into the coffee table and nearly fell over it.

  Carrie opened her eyes and turned her head toward the bedroom door. Zoe had just rushed in and was sobbing.

  “No!” Zoe said. She paced from one end of the room to the other. “No, no, NO!”

  “Zoe?” Allie called from the other side of the bedroom door.

  But Zoe didn’t answer her. Her hands were pressed against her ears and she was humming.

  Allie pushed the door open. “Zoe? Are you okay?”

  Zoe remembers now, Carrie thought. Now she’ll know how it feels to not be able to unsee the terrible things that we’ve seen. To have to live every day with the memories. But Carrie didn’t say anything. She remained silent as Allie walked into the room and tried to calm Zoe down. She was silent when Bitty came in and tried to do the same. She just turned on her side so her back was facing everyone, including her sister. She just focused on the wind rattling the window next to her. Not on Zoe’s pain.

  Because she could barely live with her own.

  The storm had subsided and the afternoon light had just begun to slant down across the room when Allie heard a knock on the front door. She, Bitty, and Sammy were on the couch. She and Bitty had just been discussing Zoe’s outburst, and Bitty had called the Child Advocacy Center to schedule an extra counseling session for the girl.

  Bitty rose from the couch and went to the front door. A moment later, Allie heard her saying, “Detective. Sergeant. What a nice surprise. Come on in.”

  Allie’s pulse spiked, suddenly self-conscious. She wished she’d known the detective would be coming by. She glanced down at herself: old sweats, a Marvel Lego T-shirt she’d bought for herself because she knew Sammy would like it.

  Oh, God.

  She sat up straight and ran her fingers beneath her eyes to catch any bits of fallen mascara, then retied her hair into a topknot.

  How I made such an ugly child is beyond me.

  “Shut up,” she whispered, shoving her mother’s words away.

  Sammy looked up at her. “What you say, Mommy?”

  “Sorry, baby. Nothing.”

  Hopefully Bitty would bring the police officers to her office and not to the kitchen, otherwise they’d pass through the living room.

  “Anyone care for some coffee?” Bitty asked, heading to the kitchen.

  Allie groaned.

  “Always,” she heard Detective Lambert say.

  She closed her eyes and willed them to pass by without them noticing her.

  Sammy’s head swiveled as Bitty and the police officers walked through the room. “Hi, policemans!”

  Great! Just great!

  “Hi. Sammy, right?” Detective Lambert asked.

  Sammy nodded, one of his nostrils crusted with dried blood, a big smile on his face.

  “Can I get a high five?” the detective asked.

  Piglet jumped down from the couch and sniffed the detective’s legs, while Sammy gave him a high five.

  “And how are you today, Miss Allie?” he asked. He rested a large hand on her shoulder—and her stomach did a somersault.

  “I’m fine.” Against her will, her eyes flitted to him, and his blue eyes held hers.

  “Great. That’s really good to hear.”

  “And you?” she asked, holding his gaze, again determined not to be the one to break eye contact.

  “Just fantastic,” he answered.

  He was wearing plain clothes again. A black V-neck sweater with a black button-down beneath it, dark jeans, black cowboy boots. Identification hung from around his neck. He was beautiful, and she was most uncomfortable around beautiful people. She didn’t trust them. Especially ones as handsome as this guy. People like him made her feel uglier than she sometimes already felt. But there was something aside from his looks that made her feel . . . actually, she wasn’t certain what she was feeling. All she knew was the room suddenly felt too hot.

  “Good afternoon.” Sergeant Davis smiled. He was holding his black leather notebook between his palms.

  “Good afternoon, Sergeant,” Allie said, grateful to have a reason to break eye contact with the detective.

  Sergeant Davis winked at her, then his eyes skimmed the living room. He cracked his notebook open and scribbled something in it.

  “Allie, would you mind showing Detective Lambert and Sergeant Davis to the dining room table and put on a fresh pot of coffee while I go check on the girls real quick?” Bitty called.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Allie answered.

  As instructed, Allie showed the policemen to the table and brewed a fresh pot of coffee, suspicious as to why Bitty hadn’t just asked her to look in on the girls.

  When the coffee was ready, Bitty was already sitting at the table, talking with the officers. As Allie served the coffee, she was careful not to look directly at Detective Lambert’s face—especially into his eyes, because her body was still buzzing from the last time they’d made eye contact.

  Back in the kitchen, she heated up leftovers and prepared a large salad for dinner. She dipped her arms, elbow-deep, in warm, soapy water as she quietly cleaned pots and pans and listened in on the three as they talked at the table. From where she stood, she had a perfect vantage point. She could see Bitty full-on, and Detective Lambert’s profile.

  After a few minutes of small talk, Bitty took a sip of her coffee, then held the mug between her hands. “Okay, so I have a question for you that I was hoping you could answer.”

  “What’s that, ma’am?” Detective Lambert asked.

  “Why on earth would Julie Parish want to give Gary Willis seven hundred thousand dollars of her husband’s lottery winnings?”

  Detective Lambert choked a little on his coffee. Allie saw his eyes swing briefly to his sergeant’s. “I’m sorry,” he said. “What?”

  Allie could tell he was surprised and maybe even a little impressed that Bitty had unearthed the information.

  “Now how did you find out about that when we just found ou
t ourselves not an hour ago?” he asked.

  Bitty smiled. She sat a little straighter in her chair. “I know people.”

  “People, huh?” He narrowed his eyes, but his lips turned up in a smile.

  Sergeant Davis was scribbling in his notebook again.

  “I hear the manager at Southside Bank in Riverside was pretty shocked when Gary Willis wanted to open a new account with that kind of money,” Bitty continued. “And that branch is, what, about fifty miles from town. Doesn’t seem like the most convenient place to bank, now does it?”

  “Pretty impressive,” Sergeant Davis said with a smile, leaning back in his chair.

  Bitty shrugged. “It’s a small town. Murder is exciting. People are just about busting at the seams, wanting to share what they know about the Parishes. About Gary Willis. To share their theories about these murders,” she said. “And I’m not the law, so I don’t pose a threat. I’m just a nosy little old lady.”

  Detective Lambert nodded. “Makes sense.”

  “Not saying you’re not good at what you do, because I know you are. But an extra pair of ears couldn’t hurt, could it?”

  “It sure couldn’t.” Detective Lambert traded another look with Sergeant Davis. “Looks like we have another CI on our team. And a damn good one, I’d say.”

  “Can’t beat a good CI,” Sergeant Davis said, a glimmer in his eyes.

  “I just want the girls to get justice as soon as possible. To stop having to look over their shoulders and get some closure,” Bitty said.

  Detective Lambert nodded. “I want that, too.”

  “So do you know why she gave that money to Gary Willis, Detective?” Bitty asked.

  Allie knew the question had been bugging Bitty. It had been bugging her, too.

  “We have a few theories,” said Detective Lambert.