Читать книгу The Babysitter - Nancy Bush - Страница 13

Chapter Seven

River Glen High’s media room was festooned with autumnal banners made by every class, basically declaring why their class was the best. Lots of stars and exclamation points and #1 signs in green and gold, the school colors, along with pictures of pumpkins, cornstalks, and scarecrows. There was a DJ setup at one end whose playlist was thumping so hard you could feel it in your chest. Harley walked in behind Marissa, who was trying to fight off a deep fury at her mother and doing a half-assed job.

“My dad has to be here. He has to! She made it a prerequisite. So now he’s over there by the door, and I know he hates it. He says he doesn’t, but he’s just being nice. He hates it. He’d rather be home.”

Mr. Haynes, the cop, had picked Harley up, and she and Marissa had taken the back seat, leaving him to be like a butler, driving them to the school. He’d let them out and then gone to park. They’d entered without him, but Marissa had said he always listened to what her mom wanted because, well, she was the real parent.

“It pisses me off,” she said now.

Harley knew how she felt. She hated being blindsided by parents, and they always, always seemed to want to do it. Like they were incapable of not screwing their kids up. She’d said as much to her mom in the heat of an argument once, and her mom had thought about it for a moment and said, “I guess you’re right,” which had annoyed Harley, probably way more than Marissa was annoyed, because she’d really kind of wanted Mom to go ballistic and have a parent fit, but Mom generally just looked faintly amused, like Harley was reacting just the way she expected.

It sucked.

“Let’s go over by the DJ.” Marissa was already threading her way there.

Harley wasn’t sure her ears could take it, but she didn’t want to appear to wimp out. God no. At her old school, she had a reputation as one of the bold ones. She was the friend her friends turned to. A leader, one of the teachers had said, which made Harley secretly proud.

She’d tried to explain that to Mom, but Mom had typically shot her down with, “Be careful. Sometimes being in the vanguard boomerangs.”

Being in the vanguard? Harley had had to look that one up. Basically, it meant being on the front lines, first, ahead of the pack. She liked that, but not the comment that it could boomerang.

Beyond the thumping noise, she had butterflies in her stomach. They’d been there all day. She would rather die of a million paper cuts than admit that to Mom, though. She’d been purposely blasé about the whole move and change of schools. She’d almost welcomed it in the beginning, because things had gotten weird with her friends or, more accurately, her boyfriend. Only he hadn’t really been her boyfriend. He’d made out with her on Rich Renley’s porch swing and had tried to feel her up, which she’d kind of gone with for a second or two before she pushed his hand away, which had only emboldened him, and then . . .

She squinted her eyes closed at the memory of his crowing and bragging to all his friends about things that had not really happened. Things had gotten really bad after that. Rather than fight and try to explain herself, she’d just ignored it all, but her reputation had tanked. Bold? A leader? She’d cried herself to sleep and had jumped at the chance to move.

“Too loud?” Marissa said near her ear.

Harley’s eyes popped open. “Nah. It’s all right.”

“C’mon, there’s Lena and Katie.” And with that, she grabbed Harley’s arm and dragged her toward her friends.

* * *

Jamie walked into Leander’s Wine Bar, her inner eye still seeing Cooper Haynes’s black Explorer and the lifting of his hand behind the windshield as Harley ran out of the house to meet Marissa and the girls both slammed inside the vehicle. She’d raised a hand in return and then gone back inside as the black SUV pulled out of the drive.

Leander’s was a tiny, long, and narrow place with a gray, leather banquet against one long wall, and small, square tables dotted the length of it, where Vicky and a couple of friends were already seated. Vicky had grabbed two of the tables and a number of loose chairs and was seated talking to two women who looked vaguely familiar, but whom Jamie didn’t know. Vicky scooted over and Jamie took a seat on the banquette. The women were mostly friends from high school, too, and they knew Emma, having been in her grade.

“God, you look just like your sister,” the one named Jill declared.

“You do,” another, Alicia, agreed. She was not a River Glen alum but almost acted like one.

“Except Emma has those big, blue eyes,” Vicky said. “You have . . . ?”

“Brown,” said Jamie.

“It’s such a terrible shame about her,” said Jill. “Was it that Babysitter Stalker killer? I mean, I never knew. We never heard.”

“The guys were all in such trouble for scaring her. It like scared them straight,” Alicia agreed.

Vicky lifted an arm to signal to the woman in black pants, blouse, and apron behind the bar. “When you have a chance?” she called loudly, wagging a finger at Jamie. “We need another glass.” She turned to Jamie. “You okay with red?”

“Yes,” Jamie said. The bottle on the table was almost empty. She hoped it wasn’t too expensive; she thought she might be expected to order another.

You should have said you wanted a glass of white.

She could feel tension building inside her. She had a small amount in savings, but there wasn’t a ton of money for extravagances. She wasn’t even sure how much Vicky and her cohorts would become her friends. She almost wished she’d stayed home.

Home. She was still bothered by the fit Emma had thrown when she’d learned they were not spreading Mom’s ashes till Sunday.

“She needs to be in the garden!” Emma had yelled on the way home from Jamie picking her up at the Thrift Shop.

“Sunday’s only a day and a half away,” Jamie had tried to explain. “Dad and Debra will come over and—”

“She’s waited and waited for you, and now you’re here. She needs to be in the garden today. You promised!”

“Would you prefer Dad and Debra not come over?”

“Mom didn’t like them!”

“And she had good reason,” Jamie agreed quickly. “But he is our father, and Hayley’s grandfather, and I invited him in the thought that . . .” She sighed, losing steam herself. “That this could be a starting point for us with him.”

Emma’s face was a hard mask. She wrapped her arms around herself. “When Mom doesn’t like someone, she takes care of things.”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning, you should take care of things, too. Be like Mom.”

Come home. Jamie remembered her dream and shivered a little bit. “Our mother’s dead, and I want to spread her ashes in the garden as much as you do.”

“Not as much as I do!”

“Okay, not as much as you do. But I do want that. We’re going to do that. I just would like to wait till Sunday. Can you do that? Can you wait, Emma?”

She sat stonily for a full minute. Jamie was just taking a breath to try to convince her some more when she suddenly capitulated with a flat, “Okay.”

After that, when they got home, Jamie explained that both she and Harley would be gone for the evening. Jamie had been drying the glassware that she’d quickly washed in the sink as the dishwasher was DOA. She’d hung the damp dish towel over the dishwasher handle beside a matching one, both of them light green with colorful flowers embroidered on them. Emma walked over and refolded the towel Jamie had just used and then straightened them both so they were dead even with each other.

“She has to have order in her life,” she recalled Mom saying. “Don’t try to reason with her when she lines up your perfume bottles. Don’t tell her to mind her own things. It won’t do any good and will just upset her.”

Jamie hadn’t noticed that particular behavioral quirk in her sister since she’d returned until the dish towels. She wondered if Emma’s need for control manifested more when she was feeling under duress.

As the proprietress brought over another stemmed glass, the door to the wine bar suddenly blew open on a cold, shivery breeze.

“Bette!” Vicky waved furiously. “Brrr. Come on over!”

Jamie glanced at the petite brunette with boobs that wouldn’t quit. The one who’d made a play for Cooper, undoubtedly.

Bette sank down across from Jamie at the second small table but turned her attention to the other three. “Oh my God. I hate Kearns. He’s a prick.”

“Phil Kearns is Bette’s husband,” Jill explained for Jamie’s benefit, though Jamie thought she recalled the name from high school and was trying to place him.

Bette turned angry eyes Jamie’s way. The anger dissipated some as she looked at Jamie, perplexed. “Who are you again?”

“Jamie Whelan,” said Vicky. “She’s the little sister of a classmate of ours. Emma. The one who was attacked?”

“Oh.” She blinked several times. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know your sister.”

“It’s okay.” Jamie was really thinking she should skedaddle tout de suite.

“Bette and Alicia married into our little group,” said Jill. “Do you remember Phil Kearns? He was a couple of years older than us?”

“I think I’ve heard the name.”

“Well, I married the asshole,” Bette said. “Stupid me. We met at UDub. I’m going to move back to Seattle.”

“No, you’re not,” Vicky said. She’d poured the rest of the bottle into Jamie’s glass and now signaled the proprietress for another bottle. “Bette’s thinking about divorce.”

“I met with an attorney. It’s more than thinking.”

“Her son’s a friend of Tyler. Both seniors,” Vicky added. To Bette, she said, “You won’t leave till he graduates.”

“I’ve got Joy, too.”

“Joy’s a seventh grader. She’ll be fine,” Vicky stated firmly.

“Neither one of them sides with me. Kearns has ’em both convinced I’m the devil.”

“Oh, that’s not true,” said Alicia.

No one else said anything. Another bottle appeared and glasses were refilled. Jamie sipped at hers, plucking her phone from her purse and surreptitiously checking the time.

The conversation went right back to Emma’s tragedy and speculation on the babysitter killer.

“There was no serial stalker or killer,” said Jill. She was rail thin and had a way of lifting her chin and tossing her dark-brown, shoulder-length hair whenever she laid down an edict. “The Vancouver one was a burglary, and the other one fell off a roof fighting with her boyfriend.”

“Why do we ever put up with men?” Bette complained, draining her glass so fast, it made Jamie wonder where she put it. “They’re terrible, terrible human beings.”

“Half the population,” Alicia reminded. She was a paler blond than Vicky, with a wan complexion and a small frame that made it look as if a strong wind could blow her over.

“Maybe the girl who fell off the balcony wasn’t because of a serial killer, but I think the murder in Vancouver, and what happened here, too, definitely was,” said Vicky. “The guy who stabbed her was wearing a mask. Just like . . . what happened to Emma.”

“We don’t know Emma’s attacker was masked,” Jamie corrected. No one had seen him.

“Why did he stop?” Jill demanded, nose in the air. “This said killer? There’s never been a babysitter attack since in this area.”

“Maybe he hasn’t. We just don’t know it. He’s still out there. He attacked Emma and then he disappeared.” Vicky shrugged.

Jamie could tell she was slightly miffed at having her theory questioned.

“What do you think?” Alicia asked Jamie.

“Me? Well . . .” When they all just looked at her, as if waiting for more, she added, “I always thought the police should’ve tried harder.”

Bette snorted. “Don’t expect a man to do anything.”

“You didn’t feel that way about Cooper when you went after him,” Vicky reminded her.

“Cooper Haynes was in our grade and he’s a detective now,” Jill explained for Jamie’s benefit.

“She knows Cooper.” Vicky waved a dismissive hand. She was very big into gestures. “Her daughter’s friends with Marissa.”

There followed a lively discussion about the kids in the school and who was friends with whom, which ones were in the popular crowd—both Vicky and Alicia’s sons, for sure—and what they were going to do about the drug problem.

“Drug problem?” Jamie asked.

“Alleged drug problem. None of our kids have been caught with drugs. It’s just rumors. Drink up, honey. I’m buying.” Vicky flapped a hand at her. “My husband is cheap, but I keep him from being a total skinflint.”

“I can buy,” Jamie tried to protest.

“God, no. Let Lawrence Stapleton pay for it.” Jill tossed her dark locks. “He’s loaded.”

“I thought Kearns was,” Bette said with a sniff.

“I thought Deon was,” said Alicia somewhat sorrowfully.

“He was. He is.” Vicky gave her a kind look. “He’s just an asshole. Alicia got pregnant by Deon Stillwell, not sure if you knew him?” Vicky said to Jamie. “Younger brother of Race Stillwell. Good-looking and inherited big-time, like Race, when their parents died, but neither of ’em amounted to anything. Pardon me. I should be nicer, but I got screwed by them on a deal. I did all the work on that property outside of town, and he turned it over to—”

“That Portland real estate bitch, Tricia something. We know, Victoria,” Jill said, long-suffering.

Jamie was still processing hearing Deon Stillwell’s name. The quick revulsion she felt again, remembering his hand on her crotch.

“Yes. Her. That would have been a big commission. A really big one.” Vicky drained her glass.

“You have a husband. I barely get child support,” bemoaned Alicia.

“Cooper Haynes is a stand-up guy,” said Bette, on her own track. “When I’m divorced, I’m going there. I’m letting you all know now.”

Vicky snorted. “Don’t let Bette fool you. She’s not waiting for the divorce!”

Alicia warned, “Cooper better look out.”

Bette shrugged them both away.

Jill looked down her nose and said to her, “You just said men weren’t human beings.”

“Some of them are. Cooper’s a decent guy. We all agree on that.”

“And Jill and I have decent guys,” said Vicky. “Even if Lawrence is cheap.”

“Jim has his moments,” Jill agreed. “Although we don’t have kids, and I think a lot of men epically fail as soon as they’re fathers.”

“No kidding,” Vicky said, heartfelt.

Bette said, “I gotta go tinkle,” to which Jill snorted and said, “Why is that word so annoying?”

“’Cause it’s babyish.” Vicky’s gaze followed Bette as she headed for the restroom.

“What about you, Jamie?” asked Alicia. “Any guy in your world, now that you’ve heard about the miserable creatures in ours?”

“Nope.” Jamie drained her glass. Well, if Vicky was buying . . .

“You divorced?” Vicky asked.

“Widowed.”

“Really? What happened?” asked Alicia while the others all made surprised noises as well.

“Motorcycle accident.”

“Oh. No. Sorry . . .” Vicky lifted a glass to her and made a face to show she felt she’d stuck her foot in her mouth.

“It was a long time ago. Harley was a baby.”

“Harley is her daughter,” Vicky said. “Gorgeous girl. A sophomore. Fifteen?”

Jamie nodded.

“Tell us about him,” urged Alicia.

“There’s not much to tell. . . .” They were all looking at her expectantly, so she told them how she’d met Paul and eloped with him. She didn’t mention that she’d basically run away from her responsibilities, though the thought crossed her mind, as it always did.

Bette returned and caught the tail end of her story. “We all had ’em young, didn’t we?” She sighed.

“Sure did.” Alicia gave a sad smile. “Troy’s seventeen now. Just one more year and split custody’s over.”

Vicky leaned into Jamie. “She doesn’t like him being at that house.”

“Animal House.” Jill made a face.

Alicia immediately protested, “It’s not that bad. It’s just that there’s no woman there. Just Race and Deon.”

“Too much money, too little blood to the brain,” Jill declared.

“Oh, they have brains,” said Vicky. “They’re just lying, conniving bastards.”

“All the blood goes to the prick, not the head,” said Bette.

“Except Cooper,” Vicky said dryly.

“Except Cooper,” Bette agreed.

Except Cooper.

* * *

Harley listened to Marissa and her friends as much as the loud music would allow. Normally, she would jump in and dance like a maniac, but she was overcome with unnatural shyness. The girls were all dancing with each other and the guys were hanging around in groups. Everyone was looking at everyone else. Harley tried not to look at Tyler Stapleton and his group of seniors, but they were the center of attention. One of them, Greer Somebody, had broken free and was talking to some of the senior girls, Dara, Michaela, and such, who were clearly trying to figure out a way to break into the guys’ group.

Marissa’s group had wandered away from the DJ and were standing nearer the refreshments, cans of soda, chips, salsa, cookies, and Rice Krispies Treats dyed orange and black. Harley picked up a black one.

“Watch out, it’ll turn your lips black,” Marissa warned.

“Good.” Harley took a big bite.

“Hey,” Greer said, almost as soon as her mouth was full. He’d left Dara’s group to come to the refreshment table. “You’re new. I saw you today.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Harley nodded. It felt like a piece of puffed rice was caught in her throat.

“Where’d you come from?”

“LA,” she managed to squeak out. That piece would not go down!

She finally smiled, and Greer laughed.

“Your teeth are all black,” he said. “Here. Gimme some of that.” He picked up another black Treat and bit into it, then grinned like a jack-o-’lantern.

Harley grinned back.

Marissa was hovering nearby. She grabbed Harley’s arm and dragged her away.

“Hey,” Harley protested.

“Greer’s not somebody to hang with.”

“Why not?” Harley demanded.

“Because he’s a senior. The senior girls’ll get you.”

Harley let that sink in as Greer left their group and headed back toward the upperclassmen, where he grabbed Dara from behind, scaring her. She turned around and shoved him hard, at which he just laughed.

“Dara and her friends live to make our lives miserable.” Marissa pulled Harley back toward the DJ. Harley let herself be moved, recognizing the wisdom of Marissa’s advice. She saw Tyler Stapleton put a hand on Greer’s chest and push him away; not aggressively so, just to get him out of earshot of the others as he leaned down and said something in his ear. Greer said something back that caused them both to grin like devils.

“Something’s up,” Harley said.

“What?” Marissa followed her gaze.

“I don’t know. But something.”

“Whatever it is, we’re out of it. My dad’s here and I don’t want to get into any trouble or my mom’ll go batshit crazy and ground me, or worse.”

Harley looked toward the main door, where Marissa’s stepdad was talking to one of the women who was looking up at him in that way that older women did sometimes. Kind of eager and disgusting.

“Okay?” Marissa asked, a little tense.

“Okay,” Harley agreed.

* * *

The wine and superficial talk had given Jamie a headache. She finished her glass, tried to pay, was waved off, and Vicky poured her another before she could escape.

Jill lifted her nose and said, “I loved Emma. She was so smart. Sassy. I don’t know who could have it in for her.”

“I don’t know that they ‘had it in for her,’” Jamie responded. “She was just in the wrong place, the wrong time.” She wasn’t certain she really believed that, but she never liked anyone saying anything about Emma.

“Maybe they were after you?” Vicky suggested with lifted brows.

“Victoria.” Jill looked scandalized.

“We all heard that Jamie was supposed to be babysitting that night.” Vicky turned her attention on Jamie. “All I’m saying is, maybe they thought Emma was you.”

“You think I haven’t thought of that?” Jamie questioned. She tried to say it lightly, but her guilt was so deep that she couldn’t stop the catch in her voice.

“Oh, no.” Alicia, the sensitive one, shot Vicky a dark look. “Come on, guys.”

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry. Shoot me. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.” Vicky looked chastened.

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” assured Jamie. “I don’t really think it had to do with me. I agree that it could have been a burglary gone wrong. Maybe they didn’t know Emma was there. It didn’t seem like it at the time—it seemed so personal—but maybe that’s what it was. It’s just that the police have never figured out anything, and it stole Emma’s future.”

“Let’s not talk about it anymore,” said Alicia. “It’s . . . how long ago?”

“Twenty years, about.” Jamie could’ve told them to the day if she’d wanted to.

Bette said, “Can we get back to me for a minute? If I divorce Kearns—”

“When you divorce Kearns,” Jill interrupted.

“If I divorce Kearns, I’m going to take a terrible hit to my lifestyle. I don’t know what I’ll end up with. The house has a mortgage I can’t afford, and the kids are expensive. And he’s turned them against me anyway, so maybe I should just spend some money now . . . take a trip to Hawaii, or Bora Bora. I’d really like to go there.”

“Expensive,” Vicky pointed out.

“Kearns would never take me,” she said, her lower lip protruding. She was clearly feeling sorry for herself.

Alicia said, “Maybe you can work things out.”

Jill and Vicky both gave short, aborted laughs. “Sorry, Bette,” said Vicky when Bette turned hurt eyes on her. “But when Kearns finds out about . . . stuff . . .”

“Your extracurricular activities,” Jill said.

“It’s just not going to work,” finished Vicky.

Jamie finally remembered Phil Kearns from high school. Studious. Maybe a tad humorless. Was he the guy Emma had labeled “repressed”? “What does your husband do for a living?” she asked.

Bette sniffed. “Whines about his job. He’s in commercial real estate. He’s never happy. He says I’m never happy, so we’re never happy.”

“For God’s sake, get a fucking divorce,” Jill said.

Alicia asked, “What can we do to help?”

Bette managed to pull herself out of her pity party. “More wine?” she suggested.

And Vicky started waving for the proprietress again.