by L. T. Vargus
“Shut up. You can’t tell that.”
“Can if you use your eyeballs.”
When Charlie opened her eyes, the dark forms on the wall were still undulating, but she couldn’t make out anything in the shifting shapes.
She crunched another Dorito to distract herself.
“Wait. Wait a minute,” Allie said. “We’ve been sitting here the whole time, and this guy wasn’t at dinner, was he?”
Charlie pictured the table as it had been earlier.
“No. It was just the family. Todd, Sharon, Jason. And the chicken parm.”
“And we’ve been out here watching pretty much the whole time since then. Would’ve seen any cars parking, anyone going to the door.”
Charlie thought back. Not a single car had passed through the cul-de-sac loop since they’d been out here.
“Yeah. Right.”
“So how’d lover boy get in?”
Charlie’s thoughts stopped dead for a second. How did this guy get in?
“He would have had to sneak in somehow, to get past Todd. Probably a back door.”
“That would line up with my reverse cowgirl theory.”
Charlie didn’t take the bait this time.
“Either way, he would have had to come up to the house through the backyard on foot. Any other way, we would have seen him.”
“And you checked the whole house, essentially? Between going through the bedrooms and getting down to the basement, you got eyes on every room?”
“Yeah. I mean, it’s not impossible that he was hiding somewhere, but I kind of doubt it.”
“Besides, if he’d seen you planting the cameras, he probably wouldn’t be doing what he’s doing now, would he?”
They both stared at the shadows again.
She closed her eyes, felt the laptop radiate warmth against her legs. Not unpleasant on such a cold night.
“Question,” Allie said. “Do we think this guy, our Don Juan, could be in any way linked to Amber’s disappearance?”
Charlie opened her eyes. The shadow puppets on the wall seemed to have finally gone still.
“Maybe. With the infidelity, hiding it could be a motive.”
“Like if Amber found out about her mom and what’s-his-face.”
“Right. If he wanted to keep her quiet…”
“We’d still need to connect him to Kara Dawkins.”
“True.”
“Movement,” Allie said. “In the… which room is this?”
“The brother’s room.”
Charlie watched as Jason Spadafore’s stocky form paced across the room, something aggressive in his movements, in the set of his shoulders. And then he started screaming into the iPhone pressed to his ear.
Charlie turned the volume on her laptop up. There was music on in the background, loud enough that it was blowing out the crappy nanny cam mic.
There was a brief moment, between songs, when Charlie made out a snippet of the tirade.
“—a lying bitch—”
“Real smart setting up the camera right next to that speaker, dingus,” Allie said.
Charlie shushed her, leaning closer to the screen, as if that might make it easier to decipher Jason’s words, but all she could hear was more distorted gibberish from the speaker, throaty and strange. It almost sounded like a record playing backward.
Jason punctuated the end of his call by holding the phone out in front of his face like a rock singer’s microphone and screaming into it, something apelike about his body language, the arched upper back, the neck jutting out. Then he hurled the phone at the wall, where it splintered into pieces and sank to the floor.
“Someone’s in a bad mood,” Allie said.
“His sister is missing. I’m sure the whole family is a little tense.”
Amber’s brother stood over the broken gadget for a second, shoulders heaving, arms parted in some pose that made Charlie think of a professional wrestler. In one motion, he turned to his right and used both hands to sweep everything off the top of his dresser into a pile on the floor, yelling at no one.
“What next?” Allie asked. “Foot through the door? Blunt object through the TV screen? Haven’t seen that one in a while.”
Instead of committing further violence against the decor, Jason tugged on a hoodie and stormed out of the room. Charlie’s eyes scanned all the feeds, hoping to pick him up on one. Nothing.
Moments later, he burst out the front door, elbowed through the screen door, and stumbled down the front steps. He picked up speed, racing down the walk, through the gate, over the sidewalk into the street. He was headed right toward her car.
“Uh-oh,” Allie whispered. “Do you think he spotted the camera?”
Charlie shrank low in her seat as though to hide. Braced herself.
As he drew in line with the hood of her car, he suddenly changed direction, veering toward a truck parked across the street.
He climbed inside, slamming the door shut with a loud clunk. The engine roared to life, a violent sound in the quiet, and the headlights clicked on to spear the darkness.
Charlie exhaled. Relief flooded her body, letting all those tense muscles in her back and shoulders relax again. She wasn’t sure exactly what she had been scared would happen, but the kid seemed to be coming unglued. Better to stay out of his warpath for the moment.
The truck tore out of its parking spot, sliding on the packed snow. Red taillights flared for a moment just before they disappeared around the corner, tires squealing all the way around the bend.
“Shouldn’t we follow this maniac?” Allie said.
“I’m not sure. I’m curious where he’s headed, but I kind of think we should try to get a look at the dude up in the bedroom, you know?”
“It’s a tough call, but yeah. I think getting a look at the outsider makes sense. Like as a priority, I mean.”
Charlie nodded.
“So we wait.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
With the carnal shadows still fresh in her mind, the thought of eating any more Doritos made Charlie squeamish. She folded up the top of the bag and placed it in the backseat, out of sight.
The Fresca still seemed OK, at least, if a little warm now. She sipped it, wanted to make it last. Room-temp Fresca—the nectar of the gods.
“Jesus. How much longer can this go on?” Allie said.
“What?”
“Whatever prolonged sex act we’ve got going in the bedroom. It’s been a while, right? This guy’s got the stamina of a bull or something.”
Charlie chugged some Fresca to avoid responding to that, remembering after a second not to polish it off.
“No question about it,” Allie said. “We’ve got a thoroughbred stallion on our hands. I can see what Sharon sees in him.”
“Stop.”
Charlie went back to watching Todd Ritter in the basement. He was playing video games now. Possibly Minecraft, but she didn’t have a good enough angle of the TV screen to be sure.
“This guy is fiddling down in the basement while Rome is burning up in his bedroom. Good God,” Allie said.
“Not like it’s his fault.”
“I guess that’s one way of looking at it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I mean, he’s pretty disengaged. I’m not saying he’s to blame, necessarily, but what we’re witnessing here is a high level of checked out. He’s playing with his trains. Clueless. At the very least, if he were more tuned in, he would have an inkling of what’s happening. You’ve got to figure this is a regular thing, right?”
Charlie sighed.
“Probably.”
“And we’re on the same page that our boy Todd Ritter is oblivious to all of this, yeah? Unless he and his wife have some kind of arrangement.”
“I suppose that’s possible,” Charlie said. “Except that Sharon told the guy to hurry. Back when they first started, I mean.”
“She could have meant like, ‘Hurry up because I’m so hot
for you.’”
Charlie drummed her fingers against the steering wheel.
“Maybe. But we also figure he must have snuck into the house. Why sneak in if there’s some sort of agreement between them?”
“Yeah. You’re right. I guess I was holding out hope that our good buddy Todd wasn’t getting cuckolded quite so hard. I don’t mean to judge the man. It’s a sad situation.”
They fell quiet after that. Todd moved blocks around on the screen. It had to be Minecraft.
“OK, here we go,” Allie said.
Charlie’s eyes flicked to the upstairs feed. Solid shapes moved there instead of shadows.
The mystery man strode through the frame, putting his T-shirt back on. He’d somehow timed it perfectly to cover his head with fabric as the camera might have gotten a look. However, an identifying feature did come into focus. A tattoo on his inner left forearm—it looked like a skull with some kind of symbol growing out of the base of it.
“Almost looks like a Dark Mark tattoo,” Allie said. “From Harry Potter, you know?”
Charlie squinted. Looked closer. It did look a lot like that.
“Think we can get a look at him on the way out?” Allie said.
“Maybe. If we figure he’s going out the back, we can try to get out there. Cut him off. Take a look.”
“Better hustle.”
“Yeah. Just a second. Let’s make sure he’s actually leaving.”
With his T-shirt now on and back to the camera, he stretched for a moment, arms out wide, spine elongated. He had a slender build. Wiry. Sinewy. It was hard to say for sure, but he looked on the young side, at least compared to Sharon.
Before Charlie could react, he tore open the bedroom window and started climbing out in one motion, one leg and then the other into the breach. A practiced move. His upper body descended a fraction of a second later. He disappeared through the hole there in the window frame. Just gone.
Allie swore.
“He’s bolting. Go!”
Charlie scrambled to find the door handle, and her feet were clumsy beneath her as she stepped onto the asphalt.
She ran for the backyard.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Charlie crashed through the front gate, picking up speed. When she drew near to the house, she veered off the flagstone path and into the snow. The white crusty stuff grabbed at her ankles, tried to slow her, but she bounded through it, picking her knees up higher.
She rounded the first corner to the side of the house. Trudging past the dining room and kitchen windows, Charlie ducked low to avoid being seen by anyone inside. Just as she reached the rear of the house, she spotted movement near the far end of the backyard. A dark figure vaulted the privacy fence and disappeared into a copse of spruce trees.
If she didn’t hurry, she was going to lose him completely. She pushed herself harder, sprinting now. Halfway across the yard, her right foot hit a slippery patch which sent her careening off her intended path. Off-balance, she stumbled a few strides, falling forward more than running. She put her arms out, certain she was going down, but with one final, lurching step, she managed to right herself.
When she drew near the fence, she slowed. It was too tall for her to peer over, and the gaps between the slats were too narrow to see much. As for climbing it, the planks of pale wood were bare on this side, nothing to grip. How the hell had Sharon’s mystery lover gotten over it so quickly?
She gave it a shot anyway, fingers clawing at the smooth surface, trying to find purchase. When that failed, she wrapped her hands around the top edge and hauled herself up just high enough to peek over the other side.
The densely wooded acreage beyond the fence lay dark and motionless. He was gone, and the trees back here had shielded the ground from snow, so he hadn’t left a trail.
Charlie eased herself down to the ground, thinking. She turned back to the house, studying the trellis he must have scampered down. Her gaze followed the wooden structure up to the still open window above.
Sharon Ritter appeared there—a dark silhouette backlit by the glow inside. She cupped a hand over her brow, staring out into the backyard.
Charlie ducked behind a shrub near the fence and froze there.
After a second, Sharon called out in a whispery voice, “Hello?”
Charlie’s heart thudded in her chest. She tried to keep her breathing quiet, but it was difficult after all that running through the snow—it seemed easier to lose your breath in the cold. She closed her eyes, focused only on the air flowing in and out of her.
Finally, she heard the window slide closed.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Cold and dejected, Charlie eased her car door open, still panting for breath. She plopped into the driver’s seat and slid the warm laptop back onto her lap, pressed her frigid fingers against the vents where the heat seeped out of the machine.
She’d missed her chance to identify Mrs. Ritter’s side piece. If she’d gotten out of the car twenty seconds earlier, she might have scored a look at his face. Still, she reminded herself, the tattoo gave her a starting point. She pictured it again—a skull with some swirling shape sprouting out of the bottom of it, almost like a twist of vines. Identifying marks like that could be searched in the databases of most jails and prisons, so she could have Zoe take a look. If he’d ever run afoul of the law, they might have something. She couldn’t help but imagine that the type of guy who climbed a trellis to sneak in and out of a second-story window to commit adultery had, perhaps, little respect for legal matters or rules in general.
As she got her breathing back under control, activity caught her attention on one of the feeds. Sharon flitted through the master bedroom with what looked like her pajamas on. After a second, the lights went out.
“I can imagine ol’ Sharon is downright exhausted,” Allie said. “Dude just plain wore her out.”
Charlie picked up the empty Fresca can and pretended to drink out of it rather than respond. She could just faintly taste some citrus vapor.
“I’m talking about how they did it for like four hours or something,” Allie said. “I mean, it was probably more like forty-five minutes, but that’s like four hours in sex time, especially with the husband just down two sets of stairs. Might even be five hours.”
Charlie’s phone rang, mercifully interrupting Allie’s rant. It rumbled against the smooth plastic of the cup holder, startling both of them. She knew based on the Cops theme song ringtone that it was Zoe.
“Hey.”
“Just wanted to give you a heads-up,” Zoe said. “Since you added the Amber Spadafore case to your load today, it just so happens we’ve got a Spadafore down here.”
Charlie struggled to process this concept, and then the meaning hit all at once.
“Jason?”
“Yep. He got hauled in for causing a ruckus down at O’Malley’s Pub.”
“What kind of ruckus?”
“Broke a pool stick over some dude’s head, apparently,” Zoe said. “The victim’s name is Seth Martin. He’s a local, and before you ask, he’s been out of town the past two weeks on a ski trip.”
“Meaning he couldn’t have been involved with either of the missing girls,” Charlie said.
“Right. Anyway, after Jason dispatched Mr. Martin with the pool cue, he swung the splintered butt at anyone who tried to get close. When the deputies arrived, they said it looked like he was trying to stake vampires or something, waving this sharp wooden stick around, you know.”
“Wow. I watched him storm out of his house a while ago. He seemed upset, but I wasn’t sure what to make of it.”
Zoe sighed.
“Yeah, well, it could be more trouble for a family who already has more than their fill of the stuff at the moment. He thunked the guy pretty good over the noggin. Concussed him. He seems OK for now. Awake, alert, at the hospital for observation, but you never know. I’ve read about cases where someone goes home from a fight, after getting hit in the head like that, and they end up
dying like eighteen hours later or something.”
“God, I hope not.” Charlie closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “The family already has enough on their plate, like you said.”
“You just never know when it comes to head wounds like that. Either way, you’ve got to figure this guy, the victim, he’ll want to press charges. The attack was supposedly unprovoked.”
“Have you given Jason his phone call yet?”
“Nah. Chief wants to let him stew for a while. Think on his actions.”
Charlie nodded, though she knew Zoe couldn’t see her.
“Well, thanks for letting me know.”
“Yep. Catch you on the flip-flop.”
“Later.”
Charlie went back to staring into the laptop monitor. By this time, there was only one person still awake. Her eyes once again focused on Todd Ritter in his playroom. He was back at his train set, fiddling once again, removing a piece of track to replace it with another. She watched him through slitted eyelids, unblinking.
“God, how could he be so oblivious to what’s going on in his own home?” Allie said, voicing Charlie’s precise thoughts at the moment.
Charlie didn’t answer, though she couldn’t disagree.
“I mean, I can’t help but feel bad for the guy. But what are you going to do? There are a lot of suckers like him in life. They never get a clue as to what people are really like.”
Confident that the excitement in the Ritter house was mostly over for the night, Charlie closed the laptop and set it in the backseat. She flipped on her headlights and put the car in gear.
“Where are we headed?” Allie asked.
“To bail out Jason Spadafore.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
“You sure you want to do this?” Zoe asked, moving behind the front desk of the police station and plucking a large set of keys from one of the drawers.
“Yep.”
“It’s your five hundred bucks,” Zoe said with a shrug. “I’ll be right back.”
