Don't Say a Word (Strangers Series) (20 page)

CHAPTER 34

CARRIE WAS GOING to do something awful, the second scariest thing she’d ever done.

It had taken her forever to get to the paved road. Now she stood on the side of the road, shivering. It was freezing out. She saw the glow of oncoming traffic. She blinked owlishly in the bright light and waved her hand in the air.

A truck passed her, splashing up muddy water in its wake. She dodged the onslaught just in time, then blinked rain out of her eyes and started walking again.

She noticed the brake lights glow red, then the vehicle reversed. When it was alongside her, the driver’s window slid down.

A plump middle-aged woman was in the driver’s seat. “What in God’s name are you doing out here in the rain, honey?” she asked, concern creasing her face.

Tears and rain rolled from Carrie’s eyes. “I’m lost. Can you help me?”

The woman nodded. “Yes, of course. C’mon. Get in.”

A few minutes later, Carrie was sitting in the woman’s truck, completely soaking the leather passenger seat. After asking a few questions, the woman had gone quiet. But Carrie could see her shooting sidelong glances at her every few seconds. The radio was turned low to some man preaching. The trees whizzed by as she got closer to her destination.

Last time, she’d snuck out the window to get back to her house. But this time she was going somewhere different—and would do something much more difficult.

Carrie closed her eyes and remembered the feeling of Allie’s hand in hers. Allie’s soft, nurturing hands, knowing that after today she’d never feel them again.

She was going to do something that would make Allie very angry. Something that would make a lot of people very angry.

She closed her eyes and tried to breathe.

One Week Before the Murders

Time always crawled on the days that their father was supposed to return home.

Carrie’s father had bought a lottery ticket at a local gas station a couple of months earlier and had won $1.2 million. It had enabled their family to move from the trailer where the girls had been raised to Sherman’s Landing, a neighborhood Carrie had never seen before. The house was about ten times the size of the old trailer, if not more.

It was a big, beautiful house her mother didn’t seem to have the inclination or know-how to fully furnish. Right now the living room furniture just consisted of a leather couch, a side table with a lamp, and a big-screen television.

The house was so sparsely furnished, if someone yelled loud enough their voice echoed. But the girls didn’t want to yell, not when their mother was around, because she used anything she could as an excuse to slap them, scream at them, call Zoe names . . . basically just make their lives miserable.

Her family was living proof that money didn’t buy happiness, because they weren’t even close to being happy. In fact, Carrie was pretty sure that since winning the money, her parents fought even more.

The only thing her parents still seemed to do together was
it
. And when they weren’t doing
it
, her dad slept in a separate bedroom on a mattress while her mother slept in the master bedroom on a brand-new bed.

That evening, Carrie was surprised when she saw headlights splash across the ceiling of the girls’ bedroom. She looked out the window and recognized the truck that had just pulled up. It belonged to one of her dad’s coworkers, who usually dropped him off after he returned from a run, because he wasn’t allowed to park his rig in the neighborhood.

She and Zoe were in bed. Zoe sleeping, Carrie reading.

“He’s home!” Carrie squealed, shaking her sister, but Zoe didn’t move.

“Zoe, it’s Dad.” Zoe grunted and turned over. Usually Zoe was the first one to be out of bed and flying out the bedroom door to see him, but not tonight. She hadn’t been acting like herself at all since the day their mother told Zoe she hated her. Carrie was worried about her. But she didn’t want to think about that now. She wanted to see her father. She was so happy he was home.

A few minutes later, Carrie and her dad sat on the couch in the living room together. It was rare to get the time alone with him. As much as she loved her sister, Zoe always hogged up the little time they had.

He’d started a fire in the fireplace and they sat together, Carrie eating raisins while her father drank beer. She liked the smell of beer on his breath. Both girls agreed it was one of their absolute favorite scents because it made them think about their father.

Carrie wasn’t blind. She knew that her father had faults. He didn’t spend nearly enough time with his family. Didn’t always say the right thing. Didn’t always obey the law. Sometimes he did violent things out of plain meanness, like shoot at wild pigs in the woods for sport—something that had always turned Carrie’s stomach.

But she preferred not to think about those things. She just wanted to enjoy him. Their father was the only safe place in their life. He wasn’t perfect, but she didn’t need him to be.

Unlike their mother, their father never raised his voice—or his hand. He was kind to her and Zoe . . . and she loved him, unconditionally. She and Zoe both did. When he was around, he usually liked to take them places: car shows, tractor pulls, rodeos, shooting clay targets and at beer cans on tree stumps.

When he was home, both of them would fetch him beers. Make nachos for him by layering American cheese on tortilla chips and microwaving them. Pull his shoes and socks off and replace them with his favorite slippers. Their mother did nothing for him. She hadn’t even bothered coming out of the bedroom since their father had gotten home, but he didn’t seem to care.

Her thoughts went back to Zoe. How odd she’d been behaving. Glassy-eyed, distant, exhausted. Much, much quieter than usual.

“We really missed you.”

“I missed you, too, darling. Sorry I have to work so much.”

She stared at the wood crackling in the fireplace. “But we’re millionaires now, right?”

He grinned. “That we are.”

“Then, why are you still working?”

He took a long sip of his beer. Stared at the fireplace. “Well . . . I guess there are certain things that make a man feel like he’s a man, sweetheart. Working is one of those things for me. It’s really all I’ve ever known. But I promise, I won’t be working as much after this next run, okay, baby?”

Tears stung her eyes, because she hoped with all of her might for what he said to be true.

“Hey. Don’t cry.”

She was upset at herself for crying. She wanted to just focus on enjoying him while he was there. She forced herself to smile.

He pulled the tab off another beer. “My li’l Carrying Carrie . . .” he said. “Mama Carrie . . . your sister’s keeper.”

He’d called her those names for years.

She felt her smile falter a little. “Yep.”

Instead of the nicknames being good things, right now they felt like they limited her. Like they put her in a straitjacket and she could be nothing else. Was her life just about Zoe? Or could it be something more? Did she dare wish it could be? And why was she even thinking these questions? She never had before. Was it because Zoe had been acting so strange?

She looked up and saw her father was staring at her. “What’s wrong?”

She wasn’t sure how to tell him. Or if she even wanted to. She doubted he would understand. “Nothing.” She smiled big, so he’d believe her.

He smiled back at her, then opened up his arms. They sat holding one another in front of the fire for what seemed to be a long time. She breathed in his cologne. Felt the roughness of his skin.

Her dad took his last sip, then crushed his beer can. “Let’s play a game,” he said. “Think of all the cool stuff you’d like to buy now that we have money . . . and I promise, when I get back, we’ll go shopping. We’ll get some nice stuff for you and your sister. Maybe even a few things for your uncle Tommy.”

“What did you just say?” someone asked.

Both of them turned to find her mother wearing a flimsy nightgown. She’d been eavesdropping and was now glaring at them.

“Go back to bed, Julie,” her father said gently.

The woman’s hands were on her hips. “That brother of yours isn’t getting one red cent of that money. You understand me?”

Carrie’s mother hated Uncle Tommy. Always had. Carrie didn’t understand why. She barely knew her uncle. She’d seen him maybe three times her whole life. But her father was the one who had won the money. So shouldn’t he be able to decide if Uncle Tommy got any gifts or not?

“You didn’t answer me,” she said, her voice hot.

“I don’t have an answer for you.”

“Tell me Tommy will not get any of that money. Tell me, Buddy!” she yelled.

Her father kissed her cheek. “Why don’t you go to bed, Carrie?” he said, softly. “I need to talk to your mother.”

Carrie did what her father had told her to do. She crawled into bed and listened to the two arguing in the distance. They argued for several minutes, then everything went quiet. A few minutes after that, she heard her mother’s headboard hitting the wall. Then the pipes clanked, indicating that they’d gotten into the shower.

It was a routine very familiar to her.
Too familiar.

She turned on her side and tears began falling across her nose and down her cheek. She wasn’t sure why she was crying. She didn’t feel any worse than she usually felt. Maybe she feared her father wouldn’t keep his promise. That he would continue to work just as much.

Or maybe she was afraid that her mother would eventually drive him away forever.

CHAPTER 35

ALLIE HEARD A tapping noise next to her ear. She tried to ignore it, but then she heard it again.

She opened her eyes and tried to get her bearings.

Where was she?

Slowly, she realized. She was in the truck, on the side of the road. She’d fallen asleep . . . but for how long? She shivered, although she was sweating. The vent was still blasting heated air.

She heard the tapping sound again.

Louder.

Then a muffled voice. Someone was knocking on her driver’s side window. She turned and was able to make out Detective Lambert through the foggy glass. She clicked the unlock button on the driver’s door.

He opened the door and concern flooded his eyes.

“Allie? You okay?”

She stared at him, her eyes fighting to focus. His face was hazy, as if she were seeing it through water.

She was seeing two of him.

One of him.

“I thought I’d be fine to drive,” she said, her words coming out garbled.

He frowned. “Have you been drinking?”

She shook her head. “No . . . Of course not.” Her words came out wobbly again. Even to her they sounded as though she’d pounded some serious alcohol.

“I need help,” she said. “I . . . I can’t drive.”

“Let me take you home.”

He helped her out of the vehicle.

A thought flicked quickly across her mind . . . of how awful she must look. But the concern melted away almost instantly. She didn’t have the energy to care right now. She just needed to preserve the little bit of energy she had to make sure she got back to Sammy and let Bitty know what was happening to her so she could help her get well again.

Detective Lambert walked her to his Crown Victoria and helped her into the passenger seat. Then he reached across her and fastened her seat belt. When he shut the door, she rested her head on the back of the seat. The car smelled nice. Of leather conditioner and coffee.

The driver’s door clicked open and Detective Lambert climbed inside. The dash radio let out two quick beeps and a voice covered in white noise blared in the closed space.

“Detective Lambert,” a disembodied voice called. “Sergeant Glass here.”

“Yes, Sergeant.”

“We need you back at the station. A young lady is here, asking for you. One of the Parish twins.”

Allie’s eyelid twitched. Obviously her mind was playing tricks on her, because she could swear the man had just said one of the Parish twins was at the station. She let out an uncontrollable yawn.

“Is Bitty Callahan with her?” Detective Lambert asked.

“That’s a negative. The girl came alone. She hitchhiked here.”

She
had
heard right. Adrenaline shooting through her bloodstream, Allie opened her eyes. She and Detective Lambert traded a look.

One of the girls was at the station? What? Why?

“Zoe?” she asked. “She’s at the police station?”

“Is it Zoe Parish?” Detective Lambert asked.

“Negative. She said her name is Carrie.”

Allie frowned, knowing it couldn’t be Carrie.

“Are you positive? Carrie Parish doesn’t even speak,” Detective Lambert said.

“Well, apparently she’s started.”

The hairs on the back of Allie’s neck rose. She straightened in her seat.

“Get in touch with Miss Callahan and tell her Carrie Parish is there and we need her at the station, stat,” the detective instructed.

“Affirmative,” the voice replied.

“And call CPS and tell them we need Judy Marsons immediately. We’ll also need Renee from the Child Advocacy Center. You getting all of that?”

“Affirmative. One other thing.”

“What’s that?”

“The young lady asked for Allie Callahan. She said she won’t talk unless she’s here.”

“Well, we’re in luck. I’ve got Allie Callahan right here. Fill everyone in. We’re about a minute away.”

Detective Lambert pressed a button in the console, and the scream of police sirens filled the air. He whipped the car around and sped toward the police station.

Sammy sat pouting in his mommy’s room, holding the Incredible Hulk and Flash. His ants program was on, but he didn’t want to watch it. It reminded him too much of the little ant that Zoe squished. He still felt sick thinking about it.

He’d wanted to go out with Mommy,
not
be left home with Zoe. He didn’t like Zoe anymore. And he was mad that Mommy hadn’t even listened to him when he was trying to tell her about all the mean things Zoe had done.

He was lonely, too. Mommy was gone and Grammy had just lain down for a nap because she wasn’t feeling well.

But then he remembered the secret he’d seen in the girls’ closet earlier in the week. He scrambled out of bed and ran down the hallway. He stopped right before the end and peered into the living room. Zoe was lying on the couch, covered up with his mommy’s favorite blanket, reading a book. She looked comfortable, like she was going to sit there for a while.

Good!
he thought, because he needed time to get the secret thing out of the closet without her knowing. His heart beating loudly, he ran to the girls’ room and quietly slinked in. Then he opened the closet door and quickly rooted around behind a bunch of things for the backpack. It took a while, because there were lots of things covering it this time. More stuff than even before.

Then there it was.

Right in front of him!

He grabbed it, then ran to his mommy’s room and closed the door. He jumped into bed and burrowed under the covers and turned it on.

Its light illuminated the dark space. He smiled, searching for game apps—and wondered why Zoe was keeping the phone such a big secret in her backpack. As he flipped through the different icons, looking for something fun, the blanket suddenly flew from over his head.

Zoe stared down at him. Her green eyes looked suspicious. She saw the phone, and her mouth opened wide. “Oh my God! Where’d you—?”

Before he could get a tighter grip on it, she snatched it away just like she had grabbed the stuffed bear.

“That not nice,” he tried to say, but his words came out quietly because he really didn’t like the look on her face.

“You snooped in my closet again!”

Piglet stepped in front of Sammy and barked sharply at Zoe.

“Shut up, you stupid dog!” she said, and shoved Piglet off the bed.

She stared at the phone again, and the muscle in her cheek jumped. She looked at him, then made a frustrated noise. Then she walked to the bedroom door and closed it. He watched as she walked to the window . . . the bedroom door . . . the window . . . the door.

Back and forth.

She dragged her hands through her hair, making it stick up funny. “Shit, shit, shit!!!”

Sammy backed away from her, until his bottom hit the bed’s headboard.

Zoe sat on the bed and gazed at him, then quickly sprang up again. She looked like she had ants in her pants.

A moment later, she looked at him hard. “Don’t you
dare
tell your mommy about this,” she hissed.

The way she was looking at him made him shiver.

“Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare say
one
freaking word. Not one! Do you understand me?”

Snakes squirmed around in her hair again. He looked away from her and picked up his Flash and Incredible Hulk.

“It a secret?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“I can keep secrets.”

“Oh, sure you can! Oh, God!” She threw her hands up in the air, then jumped up and started walking around again. She shook her head and mumbled to herself.

“You no allowed to have phone?” he asked.

“God!” she said, not answering his question. “What am I going to do?”

He was scared. Zoe, the wanna-be bug, was acting crazy.

He closed his eyes, willing her to disappear in a puff of smoke.

She go away if I no look.

“I can still see you, dumbass,” she said.

He opened his eyes.

She gave him a mean look. “Shit! Shit, shit, shit,
shit!
” she hissed again.

He’d never seen anyone so angry, except maybe the Hulk, but he could tell she was trying hard to keep her voice down so Grammy wouldn’t hear. Maybe he should go get Grammy, because he didn’t like the way Zoe was acting.

But Zoe was standing between him and the door.

And he didn’t want to be any closer to her.

She leaned close to him, her face red as a tomato. “God, why do you have to be
so
jealous of me? You just want to ruin everything, don’t you? And I was so nice to you!”

“Huh?” He didn’t understand. He wasn’t even sure he knew what “jealous” meant. “Sorry, I didn’t knowed.”

He really wished his mommy was there.

Zoe paced some more, then suddenly froze, her back to him. She stayed like that for a long moment. Then when she turned, she smiled like suddenly everything was okay.

She knelt down in front of him. “Sammy, would you like some gummy worms?”

No!
he thought.

Oh no. Hard question.

Maybe.

Yes!
Yes, he did.

“I’ll make you a deal. I’ll give you ten gummy worms if you drink something for me.”

“Twenty.”

“Okay, twenty.”

Twenty? Twenty gummy worms?!

“Drink what?” he asked, his mouth watering.

Her smile grew wider. She wasn’t mad
at all
anymore. Her moods changed way too fast. It made him uncomfortable.

But he
really
liked gummy worms.

“It’s something tasty. I promise,” she said. “Just stay right here, okay? Don’t move an inch.”