The Summoning: A gripping psychological thriller (Secrets of Redemption Book 4)

by Michele PW (Pariza Wacek)

  He turned the key to his truck, and the engine roared to life. Suddenly, I didn’t want him to leave.

  I rushed forward. “Wait,” I called out.

  He paused and unrolled his window. “Yes? What can I do for you, ‘just Charlie’?”

  “I ...” I licked my lips. “Who should I ask for?”

  He cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

  I cursed under my breath. I sounded like a gawky, self-conscious teenager in high school. “Your name. What’s your name, so I can find out about my car?”

  He smiled, and I felt my stomach flip over.

  “I’m Jonathan. Jonathan Decker.”

  Chapter 3

  Since I wasn’t sure how long I would be stuck in Redemption, I hauled both suitcases out of the trunk and wrapped my makeup and bathroom bag across my shoulders. Even though I had packed in a rush, anxious to get on the road well before he got home from work, I had still spent precious time boxing up a few important items: my beloved books, a few pieces of jewelry, family pictures, and an antique vase my grandmother had given me. I hated that I had to leave so much behind, so many things I treasured, but I was also relieved and grateful to have escaped safely.

  Belongings, I could replace. My health and wellbeing? Not nearly so easy.

  I lugged the two suitcases into Aunt May’s. Claire’s eyes widened when she saw me. “Not good news then,” she said.

  “Nope,” I sighed. “It looks like it’s going to take at least a few days to get it fixed.”

  “Anything I can do to help?”

  “Recommend a hotel?” I asked. “Preferably within walking distance.”

  Her face brightened. “I know just the place. I’ll show you.” She took one of my suitcases over my protests and walked me back out the door. “Just down the street, make a left, then another left, and you’ll see the sign. Redemption Inn. Can’t miss it.”

  “Thanks,” I said, taking my suitcase back. “Not sure what I’d do without your help.”

  She waved it off. “Don’t mention it. And if for some reason there’s no room there, just give me a call. I’m working until four, but I’d be happy to help you find somewhere else.”

  I was touched. “You don’t have to do all that.”

  “It’s my pleasure. You’re our guest here, and I want you to feel welcome.” She pursed her lips. “Actually, would you maybe want to meet up later? A group of us is going to the Tipsy Cow.”

  I blinked. “Tipsy Cow?”

  She laughed. “It’s a bar. Down here on Main street.” She pointed, and I could barely make out the logo of a cow standing on its hind legs with what appeared to be a lampshade on its head. “Come on, it will be fun. You don’t want to sit in your hotel room all alone.”

  I wasn’t convinced. “I don’t want to intrude ...”

  “Nonsense. Come by around eight? First round is on me.”

  A part of me wanted to say “no”—the same part that was desperate to get away and was pushing me to get on the road as quickly as possible.

  As if sensing my reluctance, Claire reached out to touch my hand. “You know, I don’t normally invite people I just met to join us at a bar. But, there’s something about you. I feel so comfortable around you, like I already know you. Like we’re already great friends.”

  I laughed. “Okay, you got me. I’ll come.”

  She beamed, clapping her hands. “That’s wonderful! I have to get back to work, but I’ll see you tonight.”

  I smiled and watched her head back into the restaurant, trying to squelch down the part of me that felt like I had just agreed to a really bad idea.

  It’s just one night out. A couple drinks. What’s the harm? And if I don’t feel like going, then I won’t. It’s not like I’ll see anyone here ever again.

  Squaring my shoulders, I faced the direction I needed to go and picked up my suitcases. I had to focus on finding a place to stay. I could figure the rest out later.

  It was hard work. Both suitcases were heavy and kept banging into my legs. My bathroom bag kept hitting my hip painfully, no matter how I adjusted it. I was sure I was going to have massive bruises over my entire body. It also felt like it was getting hotter. The nice spring weather from before had somehow turned into a heat wave. How did that happen? I was in Wisconsin, after all. I mean, wasn’t it usually snowing in April? Not that I wanted to be lugging suitcases in the snow, but at least I wouldn’t feel like I was melting.

  Needless to say, by the time I made it to the Redemption Inn, I was a hot-and-sweaty mess.

  Redemption Inn looked more like a bed and breakfast than a hotel. A large two-story A-frame log cabin was set back from the road and surrounded by giant oaks, maple, and pine trees. As cute as it was, my heart sank. Would it have any rooms available? My arms, chest, and back ached, and the idea of dragging my suitcases anywhere else made me want to curl up in a ball.

  Nevertheless, I straightened up and yanked my suitcases up the hard, dirt-packed path. The parking lot was empty. Maybe that was a good sign.

  I made it up the steps onto the white painted porch, and after a brief tussle with the door, managed to thrust myself and my suitcases into the lobby.

  A large, cozy sitting room greeted me, complete with an impressive stone fireplace, beautiful woodwork, and couches that looked warm and inviting. It was nothing like the places I grew up in. It felt a lot ... homier.

  A woman bustled over to stand behind a little desk. “Welcome! Oh, you poor thing. I didn’t see you pull into the parking lot, or I would have come out to help you with your bags.”

  “I walked here,” I said, dropping my suitcases and letting my bathroom bag slide to the floor.

  Her mouth fell open in a perfect O. “You walked here? From where?”

  I rolled my shoulders, wincing as I hit a particularly sore spot. “From Aunt May’s. I was passing through when my car broke down. I’m really hoping you have a room available.”

  “Really? You are one lucky girl.”

  I blinked. “Excuse me?” My side twinged again as sweat dripped down between my breasts and the middle of my back. I was feeling anything but lucky.

  “I was completely booked, but I just had a cancellation, so yes. I can give you a room.”

  “Oh, thank God,” I said as relief swept through me. I left my bags where they were and approached the desk, using my sleeve to wipe the sweat off my forehead.

  She watched me with little bird eyes. Her permed, badly dyed hair was the color and texture of dried straw. “You look like you could use a drink. I’ve got lemonade in the back. Freshly squeezed.”

  What I really wanted was a Diet Coke, the colder the better, but I appreciated the offer. “Lemonade would be great, thank you,” I said. She smiled and bustled away.

  I pulled my wallet out and thumbed through what was left of my cash. The amount hadn’t changed since breakfast, much to my chagrin. I hoped she would also be willing to make some sort of deal.

  “There you go, hon.” The woman deposited a tall glass loaded with ice next to me. I drank it gratefully. It was pretty tasty—not too sweet, not too sour.

  She pulled out her guest book. “So, how long are you going to be staying with us?”

  I set the glass down. “Not sure. Depends on how long it takes to fix my car, but I would say at least two, three days. Maybe longer.” God, I hoped not.

  Nodding, she reached for the pair of reading glasses that dangled around her neck on a gold chain and adjusted them on her nose. “That shouldn’t be a problem,” she said. “I’ll put you down for three nights, and you can let me know if you need to adjust.”

  Finally. Something that seemed to be going my way. Hopefully, she would be as accommodating about the money. “How much?”

  Her head was down as she told me, which was good, because she couldn’t see my face. It was a
pretty good deal, especially as it included a hot breakfast, but one night was more than I had in my wallet. Hopefully, she wouldn’t require a deposit.

  “If you can sign here,” she said, turning the book toward me and pointing to a space. I picked up the pen and scribbled my name, deliberately making my last name illegible.

  “Charlie. What a cute name for a girl,” she said. “I’m Nancy.” She turned and selected a key on a heavy gold keychain.

  “Nice to meet you,” I said, feeling the pressure in my chest start to loosen up. She hadn’t even broached the subject of payment. Maybe it was a sign that things really were starting to turn around for me.

  “Room 22,” she said with a smile. “On the second floor. One of our nicest. It has a lovely view and a nice big tub.” Over my objections, she took one of my suitcases and tried to take the second as well, but I insisted I could handle it. The last thing I wanted was for her to struggle up the stairs lugging my heavy bags.

  As it turned out, I was the one who struggled. Despite the fact that Nancy looked at least a couple of decades older than me, she wasn’t even breathing hard when we reached the top. I, on the other hand, was ready for a nap.

  “Here we go,” Nancy said, unlocking the door and holding it open with a flourish. “After you.”

  The room was charming. It was varying shades of blues and greens, from the quilt on the bed to the curtains and throw rugs over the polished wooden floors. It was like standing in my own peaceful oasis. I felt the knot in my stomach that had been there since I woke up in the hospital begin to soften and unravel.

  Maybe this was exactly where I was supposed to be. Maybe this quiet, friendly, off-the-map town was the perfect place to spend a little time licking my wounds and getting my head on straight.

  Nancy walked around the room showing me where everything was, including the lovely soaking tub in the bathroom. I nodded, but was only half-listening as my muscles finally started to unwind as I fully relaxed.

  “So, that’s the tour,” Nancy said, holding out the key. “I’ll let you get settled in. Any questions, I’m a call away. Just dial zero.” She pointed to the phone on the nightstand.

  “Thanks,” I said, taking the key. Nancy let herself out, quietly closing the door behind her with a click.

  I put the key on the dresser and went to gaze out the window. There were acres of forest filled with green leafy trees and bushy underbrush as far as I could see. The wind blew through the branches, causing the limbs to gently sway in an old-fashioned dance. It was all so very peaceful. New York seemed like worlds away.

  Although ... I turned to stare at the phone. I really should call Annabelle before I did anything else. I hadn’t reached out to her since I left, and I was sure she would be worried.

  Plus, I needed to get the money piece squared away. And I needed to do it before I unpacked and definitely before I got into that bathtub.

  Sighing, I sat down on the bed next to the phone and dialed the operator. Hopefully, Annabelle would be home and accept a collect call.

  “Charlotte!” I winced, hearing the sound of my old name on my sister’s lips. “Oh, thank God. I thought something happened to you. Why didn’t you call sooner?”

  “It’s Charlie, not Charlotte,” I said. “And I’m fine. I told you I might not always be able to call.”

  “Wait. What? Charlie? That’s a boy’s name.”

  “It’s not always a boy’s name,” I argued. “And that’s what I’m calling myself now. It’s safer than ‘Charlotte.’”

  “Charlotte, you were always safe.” Annabelle sighed. “Look, why don’t you come home so we can talk about it?”

  I tightened my grip on the receiver. “You know I can’t.”

  “You can. It’s okay. I’ve talked to Alan ...”

  “You what?” My voice squeaked.

  “He’s really sorry for what he did,” Annabelle quickly said. “He just wants a chance to make it up to you.”

  “How could you?” My voice grew louder. “You of all people.”

  “But he’s sorry ...”

  “Annabelle!” My voice was close to a shout. “You were in the hospital with me. You saw what he did to me. You saw!”

  “But he couldn’t have meant it,” she said. “It must have been an accident.”

  I closed my eyes. How could this be happening? How could I be having this conversation? “You’re my sister,” I choked out. “My own sister believes him over me?”

  “It’s not that simple,” she said.

  “Oh, it’s pretty simple to me.”

  “No!” Now she was the one nearly shouting. “Charlotte, you don’t understand. He came over ...”

  “He showed up at your home?”

  “It was okay,” Annabelle said quickly.

  “Was Brad there?”

  “It was fine,” she said again. “I was perfectly safe.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “He ... he just wants to apologize to you, Charlotte. That’s all.”

  “You didn’t tell him anything, did you?”

  “No,” she said, but her voice was too fast and breathless.

  “What did you tell him, Annabelle?”

  “I didn’t say anything,” she insisted. “Look, he said it was his fault.”

  I blinked. “He did?”

  “Yes,” she said eagerly as if sensing an opening. “He said it was all a giant misunderstanding. You were angry, and you got into a fight and in the heat of the moment, you fell down the stairs.”

  An image flashed in my head. Alan appearing in the hospital, presenting a dozen red roses. Sweetheart, you must know I would never hurt you on purpose. I love you.

  You pushed me down the stairs.

  Sweetheart, I would never do such a thing. You tripped. I was trying to keep you from falling.

  No, you pushed me.

  Sweetheart, does that really sound like me? I reached for you. I tried to grab your arm. Don’t you remember?

  The sound of beeping machines. The fog in my head. The look of love in Alan’s eyes. I would never hurt you on purpose.

  Was it possible I had gotten it wrong?

  No! A sharp pain in my side jolted me back to the present, to the cozy room filled with quilts and surrounded by woods hundreds of miles away. No! He did push me! I remembered.

  I refused to let him do this to me anymore. He had confused me enough. I was done.

  “He’s still saying it was my fault,” I said quietly. “Don’t you see? I’m the one who misunderstood. I was the one who was angry and started the fight. I was the one who fell down the stairs.”

  “You can be difficult,” Annabelle said. “Maybe you did misunderstand ...”

  “No.” I cut her off. “I know what happened. Did he tell you what I ‘misunderstood’?”

  There was a pause. “Come home, Charlotte. Just come home and we can sort it all out.”

  I squeezed the handset so tightly I thought it might crack. “How can you believe him over me?” I asked, my voice soft and broken.

  She was silent for so long, I thought she might have hung up. “It’s not that I don’t believe you,” she said, her voice equally jagged. “It’s just … how could we have all been so wrong about him? People like him don’t do things like that. At least not on purpose.”

  Not on purpose. In my mind, I saw him. His eyes were flat that night, watching me. You can’t leave me. I won’t allow it. His voice so smooth, with barely a hint of menace, like a shark swimming beneath calm waters. He was always so immaculately put together, with his pressed navy suit and red tie and neatly cut, carefully styled hair. Nothing out of place. Every part of him was perpetually polished and perfect.

  Even when he pushed me down the stairs.

  “Charlotte?” Annabelle’s voice was tentative. “Are you stil
l there?”

  “I need more time,” I said. I could barely get the words out. I felt like my heart was actually breaking.

  “I’m not saying you have to stay with him,” she said, her words coming out in a rush, as if it hurt her to say them. “Maybe he isn’t right for you. That’s okay. But let’s talk about it. Face to face.”

  “I know he’s not right for me.”

  “Okay. I get it. But come home. Please? I miss my sister.”

  Tears filled my eyes. I missed her, too.

  Even when she broke my heart.

  “I’ll come home,” I said finally, crossing my fingers. It wasn’t exactly a lie, I told myself. Eventually, I probably would go home. “But, not right now.”

  “Why not right now?”

  “Because I can’t.”

  “Why?”

  I took a deep breath. It was the perfect opening. “Because I need money.”

  “You what?” Her voice was surprised. She wasn’t expecting me to say that. “Why?”

  “My car broke down and I have to get it fixed.”

  “You don’t have a car.”

  “Well, the car I’m driving.”

  “Whose car are you driving?”

  I gritted my teeth. “Nana’s.”

  “You took Nana’s car?” Her voice had a dangerous edge.

  “I needed a car.”

  “Nana needs that car, too!”

  “Well now we’re both out of luck, because the car needs a new transmission. Or new something.”

  “I can’t believe this.” I could hear the sound of her heels clicking on granite floors. I imagined her pacing back and forth in the kitchen, as far as the cord would go. “Charlotte, this is so typical of you. Never thinking about anyone but yourself.”

  A hot flash of anger shot through me, and I bit back a retort, reminding myself I couldn’t afford to antagonize her. Right now, I needed her to send me money.

  “The mechanic told me it was about to go,” I lied. “So, you could say I’m doing Nana a favor getting it replaced for her.”