Don't Say a Word (Strangers Series) (10 page)

“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.

CHAPTER 15

LATER THAT NIGHT, Allie felt the air move. Someone had just walked into the bedroom. A chill crept up her back and crawled across the tops of her arms.

She reached to make sure Sammy was in the bed.

He was.

Her pulse spiking, she quietly rolled over to the side of the bed and ran her hand between the mattress and box spring, her fingers searching for the knife she kept for emergencies.

“Allie?” a soft voice called.

Allie exhaled sharply and sat up. It was just Zoe.

“Yeah?” Allie said, her heart still pounding.

“I’m scared. Can I sleep with you?”

Allie remembered the girl’s episode after the funeral. The anguish in her eyes. How she had refused to talk about it or come out of her room for the rest of the day. “Uh, yeah. Sure. C’mon.”

She scooted a sleeping Sammy to the side, then slid next to him, leaving Zoe almost half of the bed. Johnny’s half when he slept over.

Correction: when he
used
to sleep over.

Zoe crawled into bed and turned on her side, her back facing Allie. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“Can I get you anything?” Allie asked.

“No. Thank you,” Zoe said, and Allie could hear tears in her voice.

Allie stayed awake awhile, listening to the branches outside tap at the bedroom window, and thought about the girls. She wondered about the circumstances around their little brother’s death. And if his death had driven a massive stake through their hearts like her brother’s had. She let her mind wander for a little while, then yanked her thoughts to the present, back to the gloomy darkness of her bedroom.

Finally she closed her eyes and drifted away.

Carrie wondered where her sister had gone. Zoe had left the bedroom about an hour earlier and hadn’t come back.

Carrie was relieved her sister was gone. Zoe had been crying all day, practically nonstop, which had made Carrie feel even worse than she already felt . . . because for the first time that she could remember, she couldn’t help Zoe.

Carrie slipped out of the bed and went to the window. She stared out at the darkness, trying hard to force away memories of the funeral, because every time she thought about it she felt nauseated again.

I miss you, Daddy,
she thought.
I miss you so much.

She cleared her tears away with the back of her hand.

The pain was unbearable.

She slipped out of the room and into the hallway bathroom to look for a razor blade. She’d just make one small cut. Just one teeny one on her arm. That’s all it would take to numb the pain for a while. To give her some peace.

She’d begun cutting three months ago when the teasing at school had gotten worse. Both she and Zoe had been teased in elementary school for living in a trailer and not having nice clothes. Even worse, their school clothes were usually soiled when they were younger because their mother only went to the Laundromat once a week. They’d been called the Trailer Trash Twins since the third grade, when a girl in their class, Lucy Santos, first screamed it at them on the playground. And the teasing had only gotten worse this past year when Zoe had sex in the school’s bathroom with a boy from their class.

Now not only did their classmates hold their noses when passing them in the hallways and in class, like they’d done for years, they called Zoe a whore and other nasty names. But Carrie knew Zoe wasn’t a whore or any of those other names they’d given her.

Zoe just tried too hard, with everyone . . . and it usually backfired.

Carrie knew her sister tried to get people to like her by making them happy. With their mother, she’d done it by being helpful and complimenting her, even when she didn’t deserve the compliment. And she had sex with the boy because she thought that would make him happy and like her. But it didn’t, at least not for long, because afterward he only laughed at her and treated her worse.

When Zoe told Bitty that they didn’t want to go back to school, she said she’d be happy to homeschool them for as long as they stayed in her care . . . which had been a relief because Carrie couldn’t even imagine what the kids were calling them now that news had gotten around that their parents had been murdered.

Just thinking about the possible names made her shudder.

In the bathroom, she searched the drawers and cabinets, then the cabinet above the toilet. But she couldn’t find any razor blades. She wondered if Bitty hid them . . . and if there were any in another bathroom. She would look when she got the chance.

She considered using a kitchen knife. Chewing on her bottom lip, she thought about it, then shook her head no. It didn’t have the same appeal.

She returned to the bedroom and crawled back into bed—and fantasized that none of it had ever happened.

CHAPTER 16

“MOMMY? MOMMY.” SAMMY’S little hand tapped Allie’s shoulder. He began tapping harder. He was trying to wake her.

Allie opened her eyes to find his face close to hers. Morning sunshine streamed into the bedroom window, directly into her bleary eyes, making her blink.

“Look!” he pointed, his jaw set.

Allie sat up. Zoe was lying next to her, fast asleep, her long dark hair pooled on a pillow.

Allie remembered waking in the middle of the night, surprised to feel Zoe’s body pressed up against her back. Like a cat, she’d been curled up into her, one of her small forearms resting gently on Allie’s stomach.

Sammy shook his head. “But it’s
two
bugs in a rug, Mommy. Not three!” he whined.

A cold front had swooped in overnight, chilling the morning air to a frigid twenty-four degrees, and the local weatherman was predicting snow.

Allie, Sammy, and Bitty sat together in the living room. Sammy was curled up in his grammy’s lap reading a book, while Bitty drank a cup of coffee.

Allie sat across from them, putting together her To Do list. She felt hopelessly behind on everything, and anxious, but was determined to start catching up today.

Earlier, she had told Bitty about Zoe wanting to sleep with her. “I mean, isn’t that kind of strange that she’d pick me?” None of the other foster kids had.

Bitty shrugged. “She knows you’re a nurturer. Children can sense it,” she said. “And she sees how you are with Sammy.” Bitty set down her coffee mug. “But, of course, you have to have clearly defined boundaries with kids. With anyone, for that matter—so if you’re not comfortable with her sleeping with you, you need to tell her. Worse comes to worst, she can always sleep with the old lady of the house,” she said with a smile.

“
Two
bugs in a rug,” Sammy mumbled bitterly, his eyes never leaving his book. “Not
three
.”

Allie smiled at her son. She hadn’t even realized he’d been listening. Everything had its place in Sammy’s mind. And it was obvious that he didn’t think Zoe’s place was in Allie’s bed.

Bitty peered at her watch. “I have to take two phone clients this morning. Mind keeping an eye on the girls for an hour?”

“Yeah, no problem.”

After she was done writing out her To Do list, Allie got to work. An hour later, the dishwasher was humming, the clothes washer was spinning, and a load of laundry was tumbling in the dryer. The house almost seemed normal again with the productive sounds that made Allie feel safe and secure.

She was chopping garlic and onions for red beans and rice, and washing berries to add to an after-dinner dessert, when the phone rang. When Allie answered, she heard a familiar voice on the other end.

“Good morning, Miss Allie. It’s Detective Lambert.”

Allie’s heart fluttered. She quickly cleared her throat. “Good morning, Detective. Bitty is with a client right now, so—”

“That’s okay. I can talk to you, if that’s all right, and you can relay the message.”

“Okay. Sure.”

“I’m calling with what
might
be good news.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Detective Lambert answered. “We had some activity on one of Mr. Willis’s credit cards in Orlando last night.”

“Orlando, Florida?”

“Yes, ma’am. That’s the one.”

Orlando was hundreds of miles away. Maybe even a thousand.

“Of course, we aren’t certain yet it was Gary using the card, but we do have other good reasons to believe Mr. Willis has left town.”

Allie processed the news.

“I’m afraid that means that the department can no longer justify round-the-clock patrol of your property after tonight, but I’ll make sure someone shows up at least twice a day until the end of the week. Just to have a look around, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“But Miss Allie . . . I’d still strongly recommend you keep everything locked up. And keep your eyes peeled, okay? Until we know for sure, keep taking precautions.”

“Okay, we will.”

“Good. Once we have more news, we’ll either come by or call.”

“Thanks. We appreciate that.”

But when they hung up, Allie was immediately struck with a sense of unease. Was it because they’d be losing the patrol out front?

Or because her gut was telling her Gary wasn’t in Orlando?

That evening, after the kids had their baths and the twins had retired to their bedroom for the night, Allie and Sammy were on the couch, reading the last pages of
Llama Llama Red Pajama
. Before Allie could even get the words “The end” out, Sammy was begging for her to read it again.

“Okay. One more time. But just one, okay?”

“Okay.”

As Allie flipped back to the first page, she noticed Sammy squirming.

“You have to go potty?” Allie asked.

He shook his head but squirmed again.

“Go potty, Sammy. Now.”

Sammy groaned and darted out of the room. While he was gone, Allie thought about Gary possibly being in Orlando, of the uncertainty that still hung in the air. Then her thoughts shifted again to losing the patrolman in the morning. There was a new knot in her stomach. An even tighter, more distressing one than earlier.

Zoe wandered in, silently, and sat on the couch. She hugged her knees to her chest and looked at Allie.

“Hey,” Allie said, smiling at the girl. “Did you need something?”

Zoe shook her head and gazed at the book in Allie’s hand. “I could hear you reading to him.”

Allie glanced down at the book, then looked at the girl.

“Do you do it a lot?” Zoe asked.

“Yeah. Every night.”

Zoe studied Allie with those watchful eyes of hers as if thinking about her answer.

“Didn’t your parents read to you when you were Sammy’s age?” Allie asked.

Zoe shook her head. Then, almost as an afterthought, she added, “Well, my dad did read to us a couple of times when we were little. The book about the red caboose.”

“
The Little Red Caboose
?”

Zoe smiled a little. “Yeah. That was it.” She lowered her legs to the floor and pushed a piece of lint on the carpet with a bare toe. “But my dad . . . he really wasn’t home much. And when he was, he liked to relax.”

“I can understand that.”

Allie heard Sammy in the hallway. He was talking to his Lego man, Emmet. He’d gotten distracted, and Allie knew he wouldn’t be returning to the living room anytime soon.

She watched Zoe push the lint a little closer to her, then pull it back again with her toe.

“You really love him, don’t you?” Zoe asked, staring at the lint.

“Sammy?”

“Yeah.”

Allie smiled. “I do.”

“You’re a good mommy.”

“Thank you, Zoe.”

Zoe studied her, her green eyes intense. “I like how you love him.”

Allie peered at her. “What do you mean?

“You make him feel good. You don’t make him guess.”

“Guess?”

“You know, he doesn’t have to wonder if you love him. He just knows.”

The room went silent for a moment.

“Did your parents do that? Make you wonder?” Allie asked.

“My dad didn’t. He loved me a lot. More than anything.” Zoe looked away, her eyes filling with tears. “Me and Carrie loved him so much. So, so much.” Her voice cracked. She folded her arms across her chest and hugged her body.

“And your mother?”

Zoe’s eyes were on hers again. “She made me guess. All the time.”

“I’m sorry, Zoe. That must’ve been hard.”

Allie thought of her own mother. Her biological one. She’d made Allie guess, too . . . at least when she was little. Toward the end, though, there had been no room for doubt. She knew for certain that she hadn’t been loved.

“She never liked to do anything with us,” Zoe said, wiping at her nose with the back of her hand. “Not like our dad did. She just wanted us to go away all the time. We were work for her.”

Silence fell between them. After a moment, Allie asked Zoe something that she’d been wondering about for days. “Why is it that you ask for me to be in the room with you when you talk with the forensic therapist? It’s not that I mind or anything. I’m just curious. Why me?”

“You remind me of her.” Zoe’s eyes were intense. “When I look at you, it’s almost like I’m looking at her.”

“Who?”

“My mother.”

“Oh.” From what she’d heard about their mother, Allie didn’t think it was a good thing.

“But you’re much better than she was. You’re what I
wanted
her to be.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re a good mom. She wasn’t. And I don’t mean only sometimes. All the time. She could be . . . hateful.” Zoe’s eyes filled with tears.

“I’m sorry she let you down,” Allie said.

“It’s not your fault.”

The room was quiet again. Zoe stood up and sighed. “Well, good night.”

“Good night, Zoe,” Allie said, softly.

Then she watched the girl disappear from the room.