Dancergirl (17 page)

Charlie’s plan is diabolical in its symmetry. An “elegant solution,” as Mr. Han might say. Get into the brownstone and onto the fire escape, and then videotape Ryan’s apartment through his very own window. Charlie’s pretty sure he’ll find something incriminating that we can go to the cops with.

He always carries a camera. Charlie pulls it out of his backpack and checks the batteries. “Ryan’s probably got the street cam running to a monitor. I’m sure that’s illegal. Violation of some constitutional amendment, right, Ace?”

Jacy’s thinking about something else. “It’s a good idea, Charlie, but we can’t do it when Ryan’s home. He left when Ali and I were there, but he could be back by now. How long will it take?”

“Not long. I’ll do a long-shot pan, then close-up on anything that’s interesting. Three, maybe four minutes.”

“Okay. But we need to make sure he’s gone.”

“I got that one,” I say. It’s surreal the way the plan’s falling into place. “After school one day, Ryan gave me both his landline and cell numbers in case of emergency. Took mine, too,
the creep. I’ll call his apartment. If he’s there, I’ll ask him to meet us at the deli. Then I’ll tell him about Samantha while Charlie gets inside the building. And if he’s not home now, we’re good, right?”

We look at each other. Calculate.

“One more thing,” Charlie says. “Just in case. Do you have a flashlight?”

Jacy nods. He returns with three.

“I only need one,” Charlie says.

“Can’t hurt to have extras,” Jacy explains.

It’s winter solstice, the shortest day of the year. By five o’clock, it’ll be too dark for Jacy to see, so I know that’s why he wants the light.

When we get out onto the street, Charlie turns right.

“Wrong way,” I say. “Ryan lives—”

“I know what I’m doing.”

He leads us down Clinton. We turn onto Remsen Street and follow him to China Express.

“You’re kidding, right?” I breathe. “You’re hungry?”

“Keep cool. One fried rice,” he tells the elderly woman behind the counter. “For takeout.”

When it comes, he makes me pay the $3.95. Then he uses the woman’s stapler to clip the bill to the brown paper bag. Once we’re outside, he pulls a pencil from his backpack.

“Can you please tell me what you’re doing?” I ask.

“In a minute. What’s Ryan’s address?”

“484 Clinton.”

Charlie writes 482 followed by a couple of Chinese letters.

I lean over. “You know Chinese?”

Charlie laughs. “Not according to my parents. That says ‘482 Happy New Year’ but no one’ll know the difference when the ‘delivery boy’ shows up. I don’t want to waste time
on the street hoping someone comes out of the building like you guys did before.”

“But nobody actually ordered Chinese. How do you think you’re getting in?”

“Come on, Ali. We live in Home Delivery Heights. Groceries, drugstore, pizza. I’ll keep hitting buttons until somebody buzzes me in. Bet it doesn’t take three seconds.”

Jacy gives Charlie the WiHi handshake and they laugh. “Brilliant!”

“It’s only brilliant if we don’t get caught,” I mutter. “This guy was a cop and a crazy one. Don’t forget that.”

“That’s why I took a flashlight. If I get into trouble on the fire escape, I’ll flash twice.”

I groan. “Who do you think you are? Batman?”

Charlie shrugs. “I watch a lot of movies.”

“Yeah, well, you can also use your cell. And while I remember, put it on silent. You don’t want it to ring when you’re out there.”

As if to prove my point, Charlie’s cell vibrates just as we get near Clinton Street.

“Clarissa found Sonya,” he tells us. “They’re in place.”

“In place?”

“Thought we needed a few extras. I called Clarissa just before we left Jacy’s. Told her to get Sonya.”

“Charlie, I’m glad you’re helping,” I say, “but this isn’t a movie! It’s real life. Dangerous real life.”

“Chill. Time to call Ryan.”

My hand shakes as I find Ryan’s number in my cell. He doesn’t pick up the landline.

“Excellent. He’s still out.” Charlie puts his phone on speaker so Sonya and Clarissa can hear. “The girls wait on Montague. As soon as you two see me, start walking down Clinton. Jacy
and Ali come from this end. I’ll get into the building with my delivery, and you four ‘accidentally’ run into each other in front of Ryan’s building. Start chatting, sit on the steps. If he comes home before I get out, go to the deli, talk to him on the stoop, whatever. Just don’t let him inside the brownstone until I’m out.”

“Do we really have to go through all this?” I ask.

“He’s got the street wired, Ali. What if we don’t find anything right now? You don’t want him getting suspicious if he checks the footage.”

“Yeah, okay, I get it. But what if you need help? One of us should go with you.”

Jacy nods. “After you get buzzed in, don’t close the door all the way. I’ll slip inside.”

That is the worst idea I’ve heard so far.

“No way, Jace. He’s using the
roof
to get down the fire escape.” I remember, even if he doesn’t, the night on our building. “Jacy’s afraid of heights, Charlie. I’ll go.”

All of a sudden, this is more than a good idea. It’s a “gotcha.” My revenge for all the crap Ryan put me through.

“Don’t even think about arguing. What if someone from another building sees Charlie on the fire escape and calls the cops? If I’m there, I’ll tell them Ryan’s stalking me. Even if they don’t believe it, they’ll have to investigate. So we get what we want no matter what happens.”

“What if Mr. Ryan wonders why you’re not with me?” Jacy counters.

For the first time this afternoon, I grin. “You’re the genius. I have full confidence in your ability to figure out something logical to tell him.”

“You win.” Jacy sighs. “Ali goes, too.”

“Whatever. Time’s a-wasting.” Charlie slings his backpack
over his shoulder. “Don’t forget to position yourself so one of you looks at the building in case Ali or I use the flashlight.”

Charlie gets to the brownstone about half a minute before Jacy and I run into Clarissa and Sonya. He presses a buzzer. No answer. From the corner of my eye, I watch him hit another, then a third button. A few seconds later, an elderly voice comes through the speaker.

“Who is it?”

“Delivery,” Charlie calls.

“That was fast. I only called it in ten minutes ago.”

Charlie shows great restraint by not turning around to give us an “I told you so” wink. After the woman buzzes Charlie in, the rest of us move to the stoop. I quietly slip through the door Charlie left slightly ajar.

“Sorry, ma’am, I’m not from the Rite Aid.” Charlie’s voice, echoing from the second floor, sounds like he’s talking to a deaf person.

“I didn’t order Chinese,” the old woman insists.

“Someone did. That’s okay. I’ll find them. You go back inside.”

Charlie stomps to the third floor. As soon as the woman’s door closes, I scoot up two flights of steps. At the end of the hallway, a short staircase leads to a metal door. Charlie’s already there.

“No good,” he tells me.

Unlike our roof, there’s no push bar. This door has a lock that’s locked.

“It’s okay,” I whisper. “The first floor has a backyard entrance. We can try from there. But be quiet. I don’t want everyone to hear us running through the building.”

He treads lightly down the steps. On the first floor, I glance
out toward the stoop. Jacy and Sonya sit on the steps talking, Clarissa leans against the railing. She looks up casually, on flashlight duty.

I catch up to Charlie. He grins—the back door has a dead bolt that he’s unlocked. Just before he goes through, I pull his jacket.

“What if someone’s out there?”

Charlie holds up the takeout. “Gotta deliver or I don’t get a tip.” He steps into the garden, looks around. “All clear!”

The apartments on the ground floor have built-in metal bars on the windows, but there aren’t any on the upper floors.

Just like we expected, there’s a fire escape. But the ladder that leads from Ryan’s second-floor landing to the ground is hooked onto the platform. That prevents exactly what Char lie and I want to do—climb
up.

He checks to see if there’s a regular ladder or chair that we can stand on to get to Ryan’s landing, but it’s December. Everything that might have been out there is stored in the basement.

Charlie looks crushed. I hold up my hand to tell him to hold on. I calculate the height of the platform. I’m almost sure my plan will work.

Moving close to the fire escape, I explain how to perform a lift. “You have to bend your knees, Charlie, so you don’t get hurt. When I tell you, lift me from my hips. I’ll do the rest.” As we get into position, I say, “Make sure to work with my timing!”

I plié. Charlie bends and puts his arms around my hips.

“Now!”

At the same time Charlie boosts me, I jump so as to get more height. I raise my arms into first position. Fingers brush
the second-floor rail, but I can’t quite grab hold. I tumble to the ground.

“Almost,” I gasp. “Try again. A little higher. Big breath.”

This time, my fingers get a decent grip on the metal. I swing for a few seconds. When I have enough momentum, I contract my stomach muscles, point my feet hard and tuck my legs in and over the top of the rail. Like a gymnast, I flip onto the fire-escape platform.

“Whoa!” Charlie whispers. “Wish I’d gotten that down on tape.”

I manage a brief smile as I unhook the ladder and let it down as quietly as I can. “
Dancergirl
and
shyboy
—together at last. Just not the way anyone imagined.”

Charlie climbs onto the fire escape, and then it’s his turn. He hands me the delivery bag, slips the camera out of his backpack and looks into the window. It’s curtained, although the striped blue fabric has been pushed aside to allow light.

“Damn,” Charlie whispers.

It’s a picture-perfect bedroom. Bed made military-style, clothes put away, not a shoe out of place. The problem for us is that there isn’t a hint of electronics.

“He’s got to have the stuff in another room,” Charlie insists.

The fire escape fronts only the one bedroom, so we can’t check the other windows. Disappointed, I’m about to give up and climb back down when Charlie points to the sill. The window’s cracked about an inch.

“No way. You are not going to break in to his apartment.”

“Didn’t come this far…” He begins to lift the pane and then stops. “The guy doesn’t have a dog, does he? I don’t hear barking but—”

“No dog. I’d have seen Ryan walking him. Besides, most of the brownstones around here don’t allow pets.”

“Cool.” He puts one leg over the sill. “You don’t have to come in if you don’t want to.”

Right. Give the neighbors more time to see me on the fire escape. “It’s safer inside than out.”

I slip into Ryan’s bedroom. Just being in the apartment creeps me out so bad I have to stop to breathe. “Go ahead, Charlie. I’ll call the guys and let them know what we’re doing.”

Nervous, I hit Clarissa’s number instead of Jacy’s.

“No sign of Ryan,” she tells me. “But be careful! Breaking and entering isn’t part of the plan.”

Don’t I know it!

I move quickly into the living room. It’s as neat as Ryan’s bedroom. Except for an old television, however, it’s empty of both electronics—and humans.

“Charlie?” I whisper-call.

“Back here.”

A second bedroom is across the hall. I move inside and gasp.

“Told you,” he says.

It’s the pictures that first catch my attention. Uniformed men, soldiers and cops, are pinned all over the walls. A couple of guard dogs sneer down at us. A pile of Neighborhood Watch signs is stacked in the corner. Someone might be comforted by all that…
watchfulness,
but it looks like obsession to me.

Charlie’s already panning the walls with his camera. I step out of the way, move to the equipment set up on Ryan’s desk.

It takes a moment to register what I’m looking at. When it does, I can barely speak.

I wet my lips. “Charlie…”

He takes one look at my face and hustles over. He whistles.

The monitor centered on the desk is split into four “screens.” One quadrant shows the view from the street cam. The second is focused on the front of my building. The last two are views of my bedroom.

The floor spins in front of me. For a second, I’m afraid I’m going to be sick. Seeing
my
room on the monitor in
his
room is beyond disgusting. Creepier than any nightmare—

“Unreal,” Charlie says, snapping me back to reality.

He checks out the rest of the equipment on the desk. A black box sits under the monitor. Buttons are on the left, a joystick to the right. Charlie moves the joystick and immediately the street-cam screen changes view. “That’s what I thought. He can follow anyone up, or down, the street.”

Ryan watched me coming, going and in my room.

Seized by paranoia worse than anything I’ve ever felt, I grab Charlie’s arm. “Move it back to where it was. He can’t know we were here.”

Charlie fiddles with the joystick and the screen reverts to its original view. Then he picks up his camera, and begins to shoot close-ups of the desk and monitor.

My cell rings. Charlie looks up, startled. I’d warned him to put his on vibrate, but had forgotten to do the same.

“Sorry,” I tell him. I speak into the phone. “What’s up?”

“Ryan’s coming down the block,” Sonya says.

“Damn! Charlie, he’s coming back.”

“Stick with the plan,” Charlie says. “Tell them to get Ryan to the deli.”

I relay the message.

“We know,” Sonya says. “Just wanted to warn you. Get out of there quick, Ali. I don’t like this—”

“Me, neither.” I hang up and immediately switch my phone to silent. “Enough, Charlie. Let’s go—”

“Just a minute.” He’s opening desk drawers, rifling through DVD boxes.

“What are you looking for—”

This time, my cell vibrates.

Clarissa. Totally panicked. “He went into the building. Said he has to drop off his gym bag. He’ll meet us—”