Tell Me You're Sorry (5 page)

“What name, please?” the operator asked.

Stephanie heard herself asking for the number for Boling, Kit, on Woodland Trail. When the automated voice announced it, Stephanie quickly pressed 1 for a direct connection. Kit Boling would probably think she was crazy, asking her to check next door to make sure everyone was alive and well. But at this point she didn't care.

With the phone to her ear, she leaned against the wall in the hotel's mini-gym and prayed someone would pick up.

And someone did.

“Mom?” said the girl's voice on the other end.

 

 

Laurie Boling was still cleaning up the blood when she heard the telephone ring.

The digital clock on the microwave in the Bolings' kitchen read 11:43
P.M
. At first, the fourteen-year-old couldn't find the cordless amid the mess on the counter. The remnants of their Thanksgiving dinner were everywhere—along with the blood. A crimson trail dotted the leftover turkey and the casseroles, as well as several used glasses, plates, and cloth napkins.

Laurie found the phone behind a stray, crusty piece of tinfoil. She didn't even glance at the caller ID. She automatically assumed it was her mother calling from the hospital: “Mom?”

“Ah, is this—the Boling residence?” the woman asked. She sounded a bit confused.

Laurie hesitated. She was confused, too. Had something happened to her mother and Tara? Why else would some stranger be calling at a quarter to midnight? What more could go wrong tonight?

“Who's calling?” she asked.

“This is Stephanie Coburn. I'm Rebecca Hamner's sister. Is this one of the girls?”

Laurie suddenly put it together: CC's Aunt Steffi, the pilot. She'd met her a few times. The last occasion had been at Mrs. Hamner's funeral.

“Oh, hi,” she said. “Yeah, this is Laurie.”

“Listen, Laurie, I'm sorry if I woke anyone up, but this is kind of an emergency. Is your mother there?”

“No, I'm the only one home right now,” she explained. “Mom's at the hospital with Tara.”

“Hospital?”

“Yeah, Tara and I were going to wash the dinner dishes while Mom drove our grandma home. Only Tara picked up the carving knife the wrong way and cut her hand really badly—I mean, you should see. There's blood everywhere. Anyway, Mom came home and right away said Tara would need stitches, so they—”

“Did anyone from next door go with them to the hospital?” CC's aunt interrupted.

“No,” Laurie replied. If the first Mrs. Hamner were still alive, or if Laurie and CC were still best friends, Laurie would have immediately called them for help. But the new Mrs. Hamner was different, and no one really knew her. And CC had become too cool for Laurie about a year ago. So tonight, when Tara had cut herself, Laurie had wrapped a dishcloth around her sister's bleeding hand and phoned her mother to hurry home. She'd never even thought about the Hamners.

“Have you noticed anything strange next door tonight?” CC's aunt asked. “Has anyone been coming or going in the last hour?”

Laurie balked. Like she'd had time to kill looking out at the neighbors while her sister was bleeding to death? The Hamner house could have burned down an hour ago, and she wouldn't have noticed.

With the phone to her ear, Laurie wandered over to the kitchen window. Through the bare trees, she studied the Hamners' split-level. The house was shrouded in darkness. “I'm looking over at their place right now,” Laurie said. “I can't see much. The outside lights are off. I don't see any lights upstairs—”

“Are both cars in the carport?”

“Mr. Hamner's car isn't there.” Laurie squinted toward a lower-level window. “Looks like the TV's on in the big room downstairs.”

Someone was always watching television down there until eleven or so—later on weekends. It was probably Ernie. Whenever Laurie went to bed, she could almost count on seeing the dim flickering TV light in that lower window across the way. It always sort of comforted her to know someone next door was still up—just in case.

“Listen—Laurie, I hate to bother you, but I have a feeling something's wrong over there. I got this weird message from CC on my voice mail an hour ago, and she was cut off. Now no one's answering the phone. Do you—well, do you see any strange cars parked along the street in front of their house?”

With the cordless in her hand, Laurie hurried to the living room window to peer out at the street. She never would have asked CC for anything. But the notion that her former friend might be in some kind of trouble had her eager to help. Part of her still desperately needed to prove her worth to CC.

“No, there's nothing,” she said, staring outside. “Like I said, I'm pretty sure somebody's up watching TV right now. Want me to go over there and ring the doorbell?”

“Oh, I—I wouldn't feel right sending you over there, honey.”

“It's really no big deal,” Laurie said. “It'll take—like—two minutes. I'll call you right back. Or I'll have CC call you—”

“Do you have a cell phone?” asked CC's aunt.

To Laurie, it all seemed pretty elaborate for a simple trip next door. But Stephanie insisted on calling her back on her cell phone—so they could talk while Laurie walked over to check on the Hamners.

For a minute or two, she wondered if she was on the butt end of some prank. CC still had some creepy friends from her skanky-punk phase a few months back. Laurie was a year behind them in school, and they knew she'd been close to CC at one time. She wouldn't have put it past any of them to set her up for some mean practical joke. But the woman was calling from area code 503. It had to be real.

With her sweater on, and CC's aunt talking to her over the cell phone, Laurie headed out the front door. A cold wind whipped through her as she cut across the leaf-littered lawn toward the street. She listened to the tree branches and bushes rustling.

“If you see anything unusual—anything that doesn't seem right—you'll let me know, won't you?” CC's aunt was saying. “I mean it. I don't want you taking any chances.”

“I'm fine,” Laurie said edgily. The woman was making her nervous. She glanced on either side of her. The street wound through some woods, where all the homes were tucked back at the end of long driveways. Between her house and the Hamners', the trees and bushes were so thick that at night they created big, black pockets where anyone could have hidden.

“Where are you now?”

“I'm coming up to their driveway,” Laurie answered with a little tremor in her voice. She heard a twig snap, and stopped in her tracks. She watched for some kind of movement in the thicket between their houses. She didn't see anyone, not even a raccoon. The trees around her swayed, and Laurie noticed their shadows rippling across the street pavement.

Suddenly, she didn't want to go any farther. She wanted to turn and run back home as fast as she could—then lock the door behind her. She remembered how after CC had started high school she'd dropped her as a friend. Why risk her neck for CC? Still, if something was really wrong at the Hamners' right now, maybe she could help. She imagined how grateful CC would be. CC might even be sorry she'd ever turned her back on her.

“Is everything okay, honey? Do you see anything strange?”

“I really wish you'd stop asking that.” Laurie's hand shook as she held the cell phone to her ear. She took a deep breath, and turned down the Hamners' driveway. “I don't see anything out of the ordinary. If anything's stressing me out it's you. I—I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude.”

“No, you're right. I'm probably overreacting. I talked to them earlier today, and everyone was fine. You're incredibly nice to do this for me. Thanks, Laurie. I—I hope your sister will be all right. Sounds like you've already had a pretty nerve-racking night. How old is—uh, Tara again?”

“Thirteen,” Laurie said, eyeing the house ahead. She could tell CC's aunt was trying to make light conversation. But it wasn't helping.

The next closest neighbors were about half a block away around a bend in the road. If something terrible had really happened to the Hamners—or if somebody suddenly attacked her—no one could come to her rescue. No one would hear her screaming. And what could this woman on the phone do? She was on the other side of the country someplace.

“I still haven't met the new Mrs. Hamner,” she was saying. “Is she nice?”

“She pretty much keeps to herself. I've only seen her coming and going. . . .”

Laurie trailed off as she heard tires squealing in the distance. She stopped halfway down the driveway. Through the trees, she spotted a pair of headlights—pinpoints in the darkness. She prayed it was her mother and Tara coming home—or maybe Mr. Hamner. She couldn't quite see the car yet. It kept darting in and out of the blackness as it wound up the snaky road. She heard a few loose pebbles crunching under the tires.

“Are you still there?” CC's aunt asked.

Laurie stepped back and watched the approaching vehicle. It was a pickup. It zoomed past the end of the driveway, and continued down the road until it disappeared behind some trees. She couldn't hear the squealing tires anymore.

“Laurie?”

“I'm here,” she sighed into the phone. “A truck just drove by, that's all.”

She swallowed hard and started moving toward the house again. She stared at the TV's flickering light in the lower level window. This close, she should have heard the television—its volume slightly muted by the glass. But all she heard was the wind and that rustling sound. “Okay,” she whispered into the phone. “I'm coming up to the front of the house now . . .”

She peeked down into the recreation room. The set was on, but the room was empty. A TV table by the lounge chair was turned over on its side—and there were broken dishes on the floor.

Laurie froze in her tracks. “God, I think you're right,” she murmured. “Something's wrong here. . . .”

“What do you see?”

“Hold on.” Laurie crept toward the front stoop. She saw the door was open about an inch. Beyond the tiny chasm was darkness.

“Listen, Laurie, maybe you should turn back,” CC's aunt said. “If you don't like what you're seeing there—”

Laurie shushed her. “The front door isn't shut all the way,” she said under her breath. “I—I'm trying to hear if anyone's moving around or talking . . .” She hovered by the door. Part of her wanted to call inside and ask if anybody was home. Another part of her didn't want to be heard at all. She figured CC's aunt was right. The smart thing to do would be to turn around and tear ass back home.

“Honey, I don't like this. I think there must have been some kind of break-in—”

Laurie shushed her again—this time, because she heard something in the house.

“What?” Mrs. Hamner's sister asked. “What is it?”

“Somebody's crying in there,” Laurie whispered. She dared to open the door a bit wider. It creaked, and she wondered if the noise gave her away. Her heart was racing.

Though the sound was slightly muffled, Laurie heard a distinct moaning. It was almost as if someone was in horrible pain. She couldn't turn around now. She couldn't just leave them there. She kept thinking it might be CC. If her onetime friend was in trouble, she had to save her.

“I'm going in,” she said into the phone. She pushed the door open wider.

“Oh, God, please, honey, be careful . . .”

Poised at the Hamners' threshold, Laurie studied the layout. She took a couple of steps up the stairs. It was dark on the upper level, except for the hallway closet across from the top of the stairs. The closet door was open and the light was on. Some of the coats had been knocked off their hangers—and it appeared as if someone had rifled through the upper shelf. They'd made a real mess.

Laurie didn't take another step.

The strange groaning sound was coming from downstairs.

“Are you there?” CC's aunt asked quietly. “Laurie?”

“Yes,” Laurie replied under her breath. “You're right. I'm almost positive somebody broke in. They went through the closet upstairs . . .”

“All right, that's all we need to know to call the police. Whoever broke in could still be there. Now, get out . . .”

“Okay,” Laurie whispered nervously. “I'm leaving . . .” The woman was right. She was crazy to have come this far. Laurie turned and started toward the door.

A loud warbled cry stopped her.

She glanced down toward the TV room—and the flickering shadows on the wall from the television. She'd already seen from outside that no one was down there in the big room. She remembered Ernie's bedroom was on the lower level—down a short hallway from the recreation room. There was also a bathroom and a utility room. The crying seemed to come from one of the rooms off that little hallway. It wasn't the TV.

Her hand clutching the banister, Laurie crept down a few steps. She heard another muffled groan, and then a squeaky, rattling noise.

“What's going on?” CC's aunt asked anxiously. “Aren't you out of there yet?”

“Someone's hurt downstairs,” Laurie whispered. “I think it could be CC. I can't just leave.”

“Oh, Jesus, I told you to get out of there. Are you downstairs now?”

“Yes,” she said, pausing at the bottom of the stairs.

“All right . . . okay then, you should see a phone on the table by the sofa. Pick it up and dial 9-1-1. Give them the address. You know the address? One-fifty-nine Woodland Trail . . .”