Never Smile at Strangers (9 page)

HALEY FLIPPED ON the porch light and stepped out the front door. Charles sat on the porch swing, a cloud of desperation looming over him. He wore a wrinkled white t-shirt and a pair of loose-fitting jeans and clutched one of the fliers Mrs. Perron had posted. One of what seemed like hundreds. She had posted them on tree trunks, traffic signs, storefronts, in public bathrooms, the sides of her and her friends’ mailboxes, and automobiles. It was impossible to be in town without seeing at least a dozen copies of Tiffany’s likeness.

“Where have you been?” Haley asked.

Charles seemed to ponder his words before saying them. When he finally broke the silence, his voice was low and hoarse. “You know I didn’t hurt Tiffany, don’t you?”

Less than a week ago, she would have said no to Charles’s question. She wouldn’t have thought in a million years that he’d hurt Tiffany.

And usually it was important to Haley to set people at ease. To
keep
them at ease. She hated to see people feel out of place, uncomfortable. . . embarrassed. She always took great pains to choose her words carefully in tense situations. Times of stress. However, that didn’t seem important at the moment. “You didn’t answer me. Where have you been?” she asked, curtly.

“Home. . . mostly.”

“I’ve been out there, Charles. Many times. Either no one answers or your mother says you’re not home. You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I know,” he whispered. He hesitated for a beat. “I haven’t been ready to see anybody. And my mom thought it was best that I didn’t ‘til she turned up.”

He concentrated on the flier, carefully folding it in half. “I know how this looks, Haley. I’m not stupid. I thought she’d turn up, but she hasn’t.”

“What happened Saturday, Charles? Where is she?”

“I don’t know. And I know when I say that I don’t know where she is, it sounds. . .”

He lowered his head again. “Look, we’ve been arguing. For the last two weeks, nothing but arguments. And on Saturday night, she just. . . disappeared.”

“Disappeared?”

“Shit! You see what I mean?” He turned, and the chains on the swing protested under the strain. “I knew once I told you that I didn’t know anything, you’d think I hurt her. That’s exactly what the sheriff thinks. And that sorry-ass hick detective who keeps comin’ around my house.”

He paced up and down the porch, the flier waving with his hand motions. “Tiffany was seeing someone again, Haley. She denied it, but I knew she was. She was acting different. Just like she did with the Anderson dude.”

So Tiffany hadn’t only thought about being with someone else, she
had
been? Or, was it just a suspicion?

He stopped pacing and took a seat on the top step. His foot tapped loudly against the wood, but Haley tried to ignore it. She knew the girls weren’t sleeping. And her mother. . . like
she’d
wake up.

Charles shook his head in frustration before he spoke again. “We argued in the parking lot at Provost’s and she just took off. That’s the last I saw of her.”

“Took off? Where did she go?”

Charles’s left eyelid fluttered. “Into the woods.”

“Why would she go in the
woods
? She hates the woods, Charles. They scare her.”

He shrugged. “She always takes off when we argue. I guess the woods were convenient.”

“Well, did you follow her?”

“Not at first. You see, I’m
always
chasing after her. She’d come to expect the attention. I didn’t want to play that game anymore, so I waited. But when she didn’t come out for a while, I went in to get her.”

Haley remembered thinking she’d seen something move in the woods that night. Could it have been Tiffany or Charles, or—”

An armadillo trotted across the yard, then sensing their presence, froze. Haley watched it consider what it should do as she listened to Charles.

“I called out to her. Then I just figured she was sitting somewhere, pouting and not answering me. So after about ten minutes or so, I got back in my truck and left. Tiff only does things when she’s ready, Haley. You can’t tell her a damn thing. You know that. And you sure as shit can’t tell her
not
to do anything she wants to do.

“If only I’d stayed and waited for her a little longer, maybe none of this would be happening. Trust me, I won’t be able to live with myself if something. . . you know. . . bad. . . happened to her.”

Haley tried to process his words. As she did so, the armadillo scurried off.

“Do you think she could have run off with someone?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“Do you know who she was seeing?”

“No.”

“But you knew she was seeing
someone
?”

“I honestly don’t know if she was or wasn’t.”

“I don’t want to pressure you,” Charles said. “It’s just tough because I know how tight you two are. I know she tells you things.”

He said
are.
How tight you two
are.
Not
were
. It was a good sign.

“Charles, Tiffany told me that you’ve been acting strange lately. Obsessed.”

“Obsessed,” he snorted. “Yeah, sounds like something she’d say. C’mon, Haley, you know her better than anyone. You know how dramatic she can be. If she barely scraped her head on a kitchen cabinet, she’s likely to say that it sliced her scalp wide open. If one guy happened to flirt with her while she was at the supermarket, she’d make it three.”

He ran his fingers through his coarse hair and studied the porch. “I don’t know what to do. They keep asking me questions. The same questions over and over again to see if I’ll slip up and change my answers. It’s like a really bad episode of
Law and Order
or some shit. I’m freakin’ the shit out.”

Haley moved to the swing and sat down. The chattering in her stomach had calmed somewhat and now it just felt queasy.

“The sheriff and that asshole detective who know
dick
about solving a missing persons case think I’m behind this and they’re making me out to be some kind of freak. And it sure as hell doesn’t help that I’m a black man in a town of backwoods racist fucks. They’ve searched my mom’s house twice. My truck. I don’t know how many hours I’ve spent at that station for questioning. I think they’re downright pissed because they can’t pin anything on me.” He wrung his hands together. “My God, I didn’t
do
anything to her. I never would. She’s created a world of hurt for me, but I still love that girl like crazy.”

ON SATURDAY, HALEY returned to work. She was taking a customer’s order when Tyler Jeffries walked into Luke’s, holding the hand of a girl who looked to be Becky’s age.

Her chest tightened and the notepad in her hand plopped onto the black and white checkered tiles. She was overcome with the sensation she was going to pass out.

“Lookie what the cat dragged in!” Kim gushed, hurrying around the counter to give her first cousin a hug. “Where have you been, Mr. Tyler? I haven’t seen you for
ages
!”

As Haley knelt to pick up the notepad, she, not for the first time, imagined what Tyler must have looked like that night seven months ago out on Coontz Road. The night he killed her father.

He must have been sweaty, his eyes wide as he realized what he hit.

Haley’s hands trembled as she debated what to do. She didn’t think she could bring herself to walk across the diner to the front door, not with him there. But what were her choices? Sweat snaked along the back of her neck.

“It’s a tough decision. Everything looks so good, but I think I’ve settled on the beef pot pie,” her customer was saying. But she didn’t hear him. She was staring at Tyler. He looked so fresh-faced and happy. Too happy. He didn’t deserve to look so— She was still looking at him when he glanced over and saw her. His face clouded over and he quickly looked away.

The cowbells clattered, and Mac walked in. He nodded hello to everyone. Tyler peered hesitantly at Mac.

“Miss? Miss, are you okay?” her customer was asking.

Haley saw Kim glance at her, the realization finally creeping into her ruddy face. She pointed to where Haley stood, and Mac headed toward her, concern flooding his big, brown eyes.

“You okay?” Mac whispered. Then, “No, of course you ain’t. Go sit in my truck.” He handed her the keys. “I’ll tell Kim you’re taking the rest of the day off.”

***

THE VINYL SEATS in Mac’s truck burned the backs of her legs and arms, but Haley barely noticed.

“I realize it could have happened to anybody,” Haley said, her hair blowing in her eyes. She rolled the window up a little. “After all, Daddy was walking on the side of the road and it was dark and raining and there was the sharp turn. . . but he was my father. And Tyler
killed
him. I can’t just forgive him like nothing happened.”

Mac rested a hand on Haley’s knee. “I know, babe. I know.”

Haley watched the trees whiz by, trying not to think about that night. The one that inhabited her nightmares.

“Think you can stay over tonight?”

Mac slowed the truck and turned onto her road. “I don’t know. I’ve got to work pretty late. That’s why I was stoppin’ by the diner. . . to say hello.”

“You’ve been working late so much lately,” Haley said. But she instantly felt a little guilty for complaining. After all, it wasn’t unlike Mac to need his space. He had always needed it. And a lot of it.
She
was the one who was changing, not him.

But she was desperate for the company, so she decided to play the neediness card. If there was anything Mac desired, it was being needed. And she
did
need him. She needed more help through this. In the seven days since Tiffany had been missing, they’d barely talked about her.

“Please? I need you.”

Mac’s face slowly eased into a smile. “You do need me, don’t you?” he said, patting her knee. He parked the truck in front of her house. “How about I come on over around ten? We’ll drive by Luke’s to get your car, and then we can come back here. Sound like a plan?”

Haley nodded, relieved that he was coming over.

“What do you think happened to Tiffany?” she asked, the words just tumbling out.

He shook his head briskly. “Aw, don’t worry yourself about her none. I’m sure that wherever she is, she’s just fine. You have enough to worry about as it is, Hale. Her mother’s just paranoid. Got everyone in an uproar right now, but it’ll all die down once Tiff calls home.”

“How can you say that? There’s no way she’s just fine. If she’d gone somewhere willingly she would have called me, Mac. You know that.”

Mac sighed. “Look, I really have to get goin’. Let’s talk about this later, okay?”

It was then that she reached to pick up her purse from the floorboard and spotted something glossy peeking from beneath the seat. She picked it up. It was a copy of
Hustler
magazine. Her heart skipped a beat from the shock of seeing it in Mac’s truck. She studied the titillating cover for a long while, her heart racing. Although she wasn’t sure where she stood on the issue of pornography, Mac had brought it up on a few occasions while they’d been together, insisting that it repulsed him. That he was different than many other men and was only attracted to
wholesome
women.

Why would he say those things if he hadn’t meant them?

The fact that he had the magazine also frightened her. The only thing familiar, constant, and dependable in her life these days was Mac. It was too out of character.

She tossed the magazine on his lap. “How many times have you told me that you don’t like pornography? That you liked women to be wholesome?”

Mac, his cheeks flushed, refused to meet her eyes. Instead, he looked ahead, at the house. The magazine teetered from where it had landed on his lap and fell to the floor board.

“Was it a lie?”

He didn’t answer her.

She jumped out of the truck. “You can forget about coming over tonight. I’d rather be alone than with someone who lies to me.”

She slammed the door and marched to her front door, wondering what else in her life would go wrong.

***

BECKY SMELLED LIKE raspberries. Raspberry-scented lotion she probably bought during her and Seacrest’s hitchhiking escapade. But Haley was hesitant to lecture her sister. She didn’t want Becky to start spending even more time away from the house, like she had with Sadie for the first seven months after their father had passed. If she did that, then Haley wouldn’t have a clue what her sister was doing. And her being out with Seacrest concerned her much more than when she was at home with her.

Becky now lay next to Haley in her twin-sized bed. A floor fan oscillated in front of them, blowing tepid air in their faces. Sasha lay sleeping on top of a Teletubbies sleeping bag on the floor, his tiny jaw relaxed, his mouth opened in a perfect half moon. Haley felt sorry for the little boy. He spent much more time at their house than his own. His mother, Kiki, was a young stripper and meth addict who spent much more time at the Cat Shack with her male customers than she did with him. And although Becky was irresponsible, between her and Haley, he got much better care at their house than with Kiki in their trailer in Trespass Gardens.

Rubbing her temples, Haley tried to push the argument she’d just had with Mac to the back of her head. She wasn’t ready to deal with it.

“I saw Tyler Jeffries today,” Haley said.

Becky’s jaw dropped. “You did? Where?”

“Luke’s.”

Becky screwed up her face. “That—” she started, then stopped, seeming to be at a loss for the appropriate word. “. . . asshole murderer,” she said finally. The corners of her mouth were pulled down but she looked to be more deeply in thought than upset.

The two lay quietly, listening to the steady click of the fan as it rotated.

“Will Mama ever get better?” Becky finally asked, her face pressed into a pillow, the brown freckles sprinkled across the ridge of her nose contrasting against her fair skin.

“She’ll be okay,” Haley answered, relieved and more than a little surprised that her sister had finally mentioned their mother. It was one of the first times since the accident.

“When? When will she get better?”

Haley propped herself up with her elbow. “I’m not sure.”

“It’s been forever and a day,” Becky complained. “And she acts like she doesn’t know us anymore. How can she do that to us?”

She was angry.
Probably as angry as Haley was.

“She’s not thinking clearly, Beck. She’s really, really depressed.”

Becky sighed loudly, then lay on her stomach and crossed her ankles. A brown tendril hung against her milky forehead. ”Can we do anything? Anything Dr. Broussard can’t do?”

“You can go in and talk to her sometimes, you know,” Haley said.

Becky shook her head, staring off into middle space. “I don’t like seeing her like that. I don’t like going into that smelly room and seeing her look so sick in the head.” Becky glanced at her. “Would she do something stupid? Like hurt herself?”

“Oh God, no,” Haley said quickly, then shivered. She didn’t want to think of the possibility. Not now. Her mind desperately needed some peace and quiet.

“How’s Sadie?” she asked. “I haven’t seen her around lately.”

“Don’t know. We’re not friends anymore.”

“What?”

“I like Seacrest better and besides she
hates
Sadie.”

“But ya’ll have been friends forever, Beck.”

Becky shrugged. “Isn’t she pretty? Seacrest, I mean?”

Haley thought about the question. Yeah, she was beyond pretty. Stunning, in fact. But it just seemed so damn unfair who God gave the beauty to. “She’s pretty, I guess. But only on the outside.”

Becky curled her brown tendrils around a chubby finger and looked thoughtful. “Do you think
I’m
pretty?”

Haley knew that neither she nor her sister would ever grace the cover of a magazine. They didn’t have the type of beauty that Tiffany, Erica, or even Seacrest possessed. But that didn’t mean that they weren’t attractive. “Of course,” she answered. “You’re beautiful, inside and out.”

“But I’m nothing compared to Seacrest. Even her name’s crazy cool.” She pursed her lips and grew quiet for a moment. “There’s this boy, Richard. I like him, but I think he’s going to like her more than me. Why wouldn’t he? She’s really pretty and she already has tits. I would, too.” She sighed. “Anyone would.”

Haley wanted to kiss her sister and hold her close. Just like her, she knew Becky was lonely and mixed up, and as confused and scared as she’d ever been.

“No, I think Seacrest’s nothing compared to
you
. Richard would be crazy to ever pick her over you. You’re smarter and classier. Plus, I think her name’s kinda stupid.”

Becky looked doubtful. “You’re not saying that just because you’re my sister?”

“Nope, cross my heart.”

Becky’s eyes grew softer. “Do you still miss Dad?”

“Yeah, I’ll always miss Dad.”

“Yeah, me too,” Becky whispered. “And Tiff?”

“Yeah, I miss her, too,” Haley said.

“Think she’s dead? If she wasn’t, don’t you think she would have called us?”

Haley swallowed and tears filled her eyes. She reached for the pendant around her neck and stroked it. “Yeah, I do, Beck. . . I think she is.”