Chapter 23
When Emily finally texted Barbara the police report number at around three in the afternoon, Barbara was able to finish filing the claim on Emily’s car. When they’d arranged for her to get a rental, she called Emily again. This time Emily answered.
“Hey, Mom.” The rumble of her car engine muffled her voice.
“Emily, I’ve been trying to reach you all afternoon.”
“I know, I’m sorry. I have a lot on my mind, so I forgot to text you the police report number till a few minutes ago.”
“Yes, I got it. They’re arranging for a rental car. You have to be twenty-one to drive it, so I’ll drive the rental and you can use my car until we know what’s going to happen with your car. But come pick me up now so we can go get it.”
There was a long pause. “I can’t right now.”
“Why not?”
“Because I have class.”
The moment the words were out of Emily’s mouth, Barbara knew she was lying. She never had class after 3:00 on Mondays; she almost always picked Lance up. “What class?”
Emily sniffed. That sniff was a dead giveaway that she was lying. Since she was a little girl, Emily always sniffed before blurting out an untruth. “It’s a lab. My professor called it at the last minute.”
“A last-minute lab.” It wasn’t a question. Did Emily really think she was buying this? “Emily, where are you?”
Emily sighed. “Mom, I’ll tell you everything when I get home, okay? I promise. Just … right now, I can’t come get you.”
“Then you were lying about the lab?”
No sniff this time. “Okay, yes. But I’m about an hour from home, so I can’t get there. It’s okay. Kent knows all about it.”
Barbara frowned. “Kent? You’ve heard from him? Has he found out anything about the bomb?”
“No, not yet. But I called him because I thought of some things he needed to know.”
Barbara’s heart sank. Had Emily been forced to make a confession to him? Why hadn’t he called her? Her chin set, she bit out, “Emily, where are you?”
Finally, Emily blurted it out. “I went to Birmingham. I had to talk to somebody. But I’m on my way home, and everything is all right.”
“Birmingham? That’s two hours away. You don’t know anybody in Birmingham.”
“Yes, I do. From Haven House.”
That agitated Barbara’s fears. She brought her hand to her chest. “Emily, is this about drugs?”
“No, Mom, I promise it’s not. Please, just calm down. I have a lot to tell you, but my phone is about to die and I don’t have the charger. I’ll tell you everything as soon as I get home.” Before Barbara could demand more, Emily cut the call off.
Barbara dropped the phone and sat back hard in her chair. What was happening? A bomb, her daughter’s skipping a test, a sudden trip to Birmingham to see somebody she’d met at a drug rehab?
“Barbara? Are you all right?” Barbara’s assistant, Lena, stood in the doorway.
“No … yes.”
“I thought the presentation went well. Didn’t you get the account?”
Barbara tried to draw in a breath, but her lungs couldn’t seem to hold it. “We haven’t heard yet. I just … I’m tired.” She shook her head to redirect her thoughts. “Listen, could you drive me over to the car rental place? I have to pick up a car.”
“Sure. I’ll get my purse.”
Barbara tried to focus as she got her purse and glanced around her desk. What should she bring home? Her purse, her briefcase, her cell phone …
On the ride over, she could hardly put two thoughts together. Lena chattered about some of the office gossip, but hardly any of it registered.
The car was ready when Barbara went in, and she left quickly. Instead of going back to work, she headed home to wait for Emily.
As she drove into her neighborhood, Barbara glanced around for anyone who might not belong there … someone who might be capable of planting a bomb. She saw nothing unusual. She pulled into her driveway, clicked the garage door opener. The charred place on the driveway was still there, reminding her that someone had been here during the night.
She didn’t get out of her locked car until the garage door had closed behind her. Maybe she was just being paranoid. It had probably just been some stupid kid who didn’t even know who they were. He’d probably picked their house randomly.
She made her way into the kitchen, dropped her purse on the counter. She lowered to a bar stool, wishing she could relax. Her eye caught her reflection in a mirror on the wall….
And then she saw it.
In red lipstick across the wall behind her …
She spun and saw the red letters.
Criss-Cross.
She let out a yelped scream. She grabbed her purse, almost dropping it as she dug for her cell phone.
“911, may I help you?”
“Yes, I need the police. Someone’s broken into my house. It’s 311 Crimson Drive.”
“Ma’am, are they still in the house?”
Terror choked her, and she jerked around, looking toward the hall. “I … I don’t think so. I don’t know.”
“Ma’am, get out of the house. Is there a neighbor you can go to, to wait for the officers?”
She grabbed her purse and went out the back door. “Yes. I’ll do that. Please, tell them to hurry.”
She crossed the backyard and hurried around to the front of the house. How had someone gotten in? There was no broken glass, no sign of forced entry that she could tell. She looked around, trying to decide where to go. She rounded the hedge separating her house from the couple next door, who were still at work. There were rocking chairs on their front porch. She would wait there.
While she did, she called Kent. He picked up on the second ring. “Hey, babe.”
She didn’t want to hear babe. Kent was keeping something from her. “Someone has broken into my house,” she said. “The police are on their way.”
He paused, and rage filled her heart. Without waiting for an answer, she spat out, “Where has Emily been, Kent? Why didn’t you tell me she went to Birmingham?”
“Whoa, one thing at a time,” he said. “How do you know someone broke in?”
“They wrote on my wall!” she shouted. “They were in my house! Who is this person? Is my daughter safe?”
Kent’s pause was more than she could take. “I’m coming right over, Barbara. Where are you?”
“I’m on the next-door neighbor’s porch waiting for the police to come for the second time today!”
“Good. Stay right there. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
The phone cut off, and she stared at it, feeling completely helpless. She got up and paced across the lawn, watching her house. She heard a door open across the street and saw her nosy neighbor coming toward her. “Barbara!” she called.
Barbara braced herself as Kerry crossed the street. She was the only neighbor home during the day, and she was probably mining for gossip. “Hi, Kerry.” She couldn’t manage a smile.
“Barbara, strange things are happening over here today. What’s going on?”
Barbara stared at the woman. “Why? Did you see someone over here?”
“The police,” Kerry said. “This morning. Fire trucks and foam all over the place. And now you’re standing on the Bennetts’ porch.”
“Oh. We had a little fire this morning. But did you see anyone here this afternoon?”
“No, why?”
“Because my house was broken into,” Barbara said. Why was it that Kerry saw everything she did, but not a burglar breaking into her house?
“No, I didn’t see anybody. I’ve been here all day. When did it happen?”
“I don’t know,” Barbara said.
“Well, what did they take?”
“I don’t know yet,” she repeated. “I’m waiting for the police.”
Kerry touched her chest. “I knew it. When your family moved in, I knew we were going to h
ave trouble.”
Barbara’s mouth fell open. “What are you talking about?”
“Your daughter.” She said the word as though it were profane. “I saw all about her on the news a couple years ago. Now, I know everybody says she’s doing better, but girls like her bring trouble wherever they go.”
Barbara wanted to slap the woman. But how could she fault her for having the same feelings Barbara was having? “My daughter didn’t break into our house,” she said through her teeth. “She lives here.”
“Don’t be naive, Barbara. They steal to buy their drugs, and if they don’t, their friends do. Did you check your pharmaceuticals? Maybe you just haven’t noticed your drugs missing yet. I had a cousin whose son was on drugs, and he used to sell—”
Barbara stopped her. “Kerry, I appreciate your concern, but Emily is in college and doing great, and this has nothing to do with her.” She wished she knew that for sure. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to make a phone call.”
Barbara turned away and pretended to make a call. As Kerry crossed the street again, she didn’t head home, but instead went to another neighbor’s. The rumor mill would be active by sundown.
Barbara stood in the warm wind, hugging herself. She had to pull herself together.
And where was Emily? Why wouldn’t she tell her on the phone what was going on? Why weren’t the police here yet?
“Relapse is part of recovery,” Emily’s counselor had told her last year in family counseling. She’d wanted to scream that relapse was not an option, that she couldn’t take any more, that she had to protect herself and her son. But many of the girls Emily knew from rehab had relapsed. Why did Barbara believe her daughter was immune?
So what was she going to do now? The secrets and lies were reminiscent of the past. How had this happened?
After a moment, two police cruisers pulled up to her curb, and she crossed the yard to meet them. She told them what she’d found, and they made her wait while they went into the house. As they went in, she heard the school bus turning onto their street.
It halted in front of their house, and she heard the yells of the kids calling out the window at Lance and laughing like hyenas.
“Cool, police!” one of them shouted.
“What did you do, Covington?”
Lance got off and crossed the street in front of the bus. His face looked pale as he came into the yard. “What now?” he asked her.
She gave him a distracted hug. “Someone broke in.”
He looked like he was going to be sick.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“Yeah. Where’s Emily?”
“On her way home. She went to Birmingham today for some inexplicable reason. I have no idea what’s going on. Do you?”
He shrugged. “Yeah, I have an idea. This is looking a lot like two years ago.”
“You think she’s relapsed?”
“Don’t you? Mom, these things don’t just happen …”
One of the cops came back out of the house. “It’s all clear. No one’s there.”
She breathed relief and saw Kent’s car pulling into her driveway. He got out, a guarded look on his face. He came to hug her, but she pulled back, putting distance between them. “Kent, I want you to tell me what’s going on right now.”
“I just talked to Emily,” he said. “She’s almost home. Just let me go in and talk to the officers. When she gets here, we’ll sit down and talk.”
Barbara couldn’t accept that. “Kent, is this about drugs again? Has Emily been using?”
“I don’t think so, Barbara. I’d tell you if I did.” He kissed her cheek, but she stared coldly at him. Backing away, he went into the house, leaving Barbara and Lance in the yard with their imaginations.
Lance shrugged off his backpack, let it drop to the ground. “I can’t believe this. I actually had plans for tonight. Now I probably can’t go.”
“What were your plans?”
“I was going to hang out with April.”
Barbara felt for her son. His life had been as altered by Emily’s choices as hers had been. It wasn’t fair. “You can still go, honey.”
“Not if our lives are crashing down around us again.” He glanced up the street, saw Emily coming in Barbara’s car. “There she is now.”
Barbara stepped out to the curb as the car slowed. Emily carefully turned into the driveway and parked next to Kent’s car. Barbara strained to see her through the window. What did she look like? Were her eyes red? Her pupils constricted like she was on opiates, or dilated like she was on benzos? Was she jittery like she was on cocaine?
As Emily got out, Barbara thought she looked normal. Sober. Her steps were straight, and she didn’t wobble. Maybe she wasn’t on anything. Barbara wanted to believe that, but rage burned in her heart.
Emily reached for her, but again, Barbara held herself back. “Was that message they left for you?”
Terror and dread narrowed Emily’s eyes. “What message?”
“The one this person wrote on the wall after they broke into our house!”
Emily sucked in a breath.
“It said, Criss-cross. What does that mean, Emily?”
“Oh, no.”
Barbara wanted to scream. “Emily, who’s doing all this?”
“Let’s go in and sit down.” Emily’s hands shook slightly, but more like she was nervous, not loaded. Not wanting to make a scene where neighbors could see, Barbara and Lance followed Emily in and pointed her to the wall.
Emily was silent as she stared at the message.
Kent met them in the kitchen. “They said there were no fingerprints. No broken lock. They don’t know how he got in. Either he had a key, he picked the lock, or he used one of your garage door openers.”
Barbara turned to Emily. “Did you notice if yours was in your car this morning?”
Emily swallowed. “No, I didn’t notice.” She drew in a long, deep breath, then cleared her throat. “Mom, Lance. Can you sit down? It’s time to tell you everything.”
Chapter 24
The cocaine high was beginning to wear off as the Avenger reached the outskirts of Birmingham. He pulled into a rest stop and went into the bathroom. Three days’ fatigue threatened to crash in on him with agonizing urgency, but he couldn’t let that happen. He didn’t have any come-down drugs like Xanax with him to ease his crash.
Besides, he still had too much to do today. His genius superplan was only partially fulfilled. There was so much more havoc to be wreaked.
He lumbered back to his car, his limbs as heavy as lead. Not good. Time to use again. Thankfully, he had an ample supply, because he’d gotten access to his mother’s bank account. He’d cleaned it out and spent it all on things that mattered.
He poured out another line of coke, snorted it, and waited for it to revive his body. He had to hurry. He had to get to Cassandra before Carter got off work. The timing was essential.
He snorted a second line, then licked his fingers, unwilling to lose one grain of the fine powder.
Power and strength returned to his brain with a jolt.
Cassandra. He wished he’d gotten to know her the few times he’d seen her on visiting day at Haven House. Then she would trust him and let him in. As it stood, he’d have to do some finagling to get into her house. But he could do it.
He flew down I-20 to the exit. Music revved him on, pumping him with purpose. He found Carter’s neighborhood, as run-down and sad as his own.
As he’d hoped, Cassandra’s car sat in the double carport. She was home. Perfect.
He parked his car half a block down, in front of a house that looked like no one was home, stuffed his gun in the waistband of his jeans, and strode to her house.
Plan A was to ring the bell and see if she answered. When she opened the door to a .44 Magnum, he would have no trouble getting in. Once inside the house, he would crank up her stereo to maximum volume and muffle the gun with a pillow. If anyone heard the gunshot, the confusion
of guitars and drumbeats might make them question what they’d heard.
At her door, he heard the sound of a television inside. He studied the doorknob. He could easily get in with a credit card if she didn’t open it. And the door looked warped and hollow, easy to kick through if it came to that.
Showtime. He pulled his gun but kept it behind him in case she peeked out. He rang the bell.
“Who is it?” she called through the door.
“UPS,” he said.
She opened the door then, peering out cautiously. He raised the gun and shoved the door open with his shoulder. She stumbled back, and he slammed the door behind him.
“You!” she said.
“Good to see you again, Cassandra. Sorry I can’t stay long.”
Chapter 25
At the kitchen table, as Emily finished her story about the viewing of Strangers on a Train, Kent’s eyes settled on Barbara’s face. The terror in her eyes reminded him of the first time he met her. Clearly, Emily’s recounting of what she knew had pulled Barbara back into a maternal nightmare.
When she finished, Lance breathed out a humorless laugh. “I gotta see that flick.”
Emily seemed to study Barbara—the glisten of fear in her mother’s eyes, the dryness of her lips, the way she wiped her palms on her skirt. “I need for you to believe me,” Emily said.
Barbara’s hand trembled as she brought it to her face. “It’s just … too outrageous to be made up.”
Kent slid his chair back, walked into the dining room to the front window, and looked out. He couldn’t escape the feeling that they were being watched, or listened to. The house wasn’t safe. He’d have to get them out of here.
“You thought I’d relapsed,” Emily said.
Barbara didn’t speak for a moment, but Lance did. “You gotta admit, it was looking bad.”
Kent went back to them. Barbara looked drained, wiped out. He wanted to go to her, comfort her, but her mind wasn’t on him. She was locked in on Emily.
“What do they want?” she said. “Was that message threatening you? What does Criss-Cross mean?”
“It was just a line from the movie,” Emily said, looking at Kent. “But why would they want to identify themselves? Even if I hadn’t already thought of them, that message would have reminded me. It has to be either Bo or Carter.”