Читать книгу The Babysitter - Nancy Bush - Страница 15

Chapter Nine

Cooper was halfway to the stage, running like a madman, when Harley landed on a sea of hands of students who held her up. Everyone was shrieking in delight. Once down, Harley crossed her arms over her chest as the students passed her across the top of the crowd, while Marissa, face to the ceiling, her hands already folded across her chest, was pushed backward off the stage by a guy in a Grim Reaper outfit onto the now freed and waiting hands below.

“Déjà-fucking-vu,” Robbie Padilla said under his breath to Cooper, his gaze on the Michael Myers masked figure who had threatened and then pushed Harley, when Vice Principal Wellesley’s booming voice over the loudspeaker caught everyone’s attention: “Stop what you’re doing right now!”

The lights came up in a flood and the boys were caught before they could scramble around enough to hide their masks. There were others in “killer” masks on the stage as well. Jason from Friday the 13th in his hockey mask. Freddy Krueger from A Nightmare on Elm Street. Dracula. Varying and assorted zombies, and even Chucky, the vicious “doll” from the series with his name. Senior boys, mostly, Cooper thought, recognizing some of them. Apparently, they’d decided to make Autumn Daze a Halloween party all on their own.

“Call the police!” one of the parents yelled, and others echoed that sentiment. It took close to twenty minutes for the crowd to realize that Cooper, who was already there, was the police. Wellesley and several other chaperones took the miscreants into a back room, where the vice principal could be heard giving them the lecture of a lifetime.

The scare effectively ended the mixer. While Cooper became in charge of crowd control, the DJ was asked to pack up his gear and, when he was convinced that he would be paid in full, did so. By that time there was still an hour or so to go before some of the kids’ parents were due to pick them up. Cooper’s offer to stay on the premises rather than call all the parents was gratefully accepted by the harried chaperones and staff. Some students were picked up, mostly from the younger classes, and left, but almost all the upperclassmen stayed on.

As soon as they were safely on their feet, Cooper had immediately checked with Harley and Marissa, both of whom shrugged off his concern. Marissa, in fact, appeared to be on cloud nine. She was all a-bubble about having been singled out by the seniors, though from what Cooper had seen, it was Harley who’d been the chosen “victim.” Had it been an honor? Marissa was definitely treating it as such, and Harley was being a pretty good sport about it, especially considering it was her first day. But maybe she’d been in on the prank? Still, there were twin spots of color high on her cheeks and her eyes were wide.

“They picked you because you’re new!” Marissa crowed. “I was so scared! Those guys can be harsh . . . well, the girls for sure.”

“They didn’t mean it as a bad thing,” Harley finally spoke up.

“Scary, though, huh? If the kids hadn’t caught you, I would have grabbed Troy by the hair before I let him push me off!”

“Troy Stillwell?” Cooper asked.

“Yeah. He’s a senior.”

“I know who he is.” Cooper was short. “That was dangerous,” he added.

“Yeah, but the administration is so overprotective. They had to do something.” Marissa frowned. “Maybe they’ll be expelled,” she said in dawning horror.

“They’d have to expel half the senior class,” Cooper remarked, looking around at the remaining kids standing beneath the glaring overhead lights. They stood in defiant groups, shooting angry glances toward the adults, especially the ones who were the most righteously offended, Caroline being one of them, who swore the boys in the masks should all be arrested.

“They’re little short of terrorists!” he heard her declare from across the room. Her daughter looked like a freshman. She was caught in her mother’s arms. Two other mothers were hovering nearby, gripping their own daughters tightly. All three girls’ expressions were long-suffering as the moms chattered over their heads in collective outrage.

“You sure you’re all right?” Cooper asked Harley again. “I can call your mother.”

“Don’t call her. Don’t tell her, okay? I don’t want her to know.”

Marissa shot a quick look at Harley and said, in a non sequitur, “Maybe he likes you.”

Harley didn’t respond to that.

Cooper said, “Your mom’s going to find out about what happened, and—”

“Just don’t tell her tonight. Please?” Harley cut him off.

Cooper had no wish to tell Jamie about what had transpired, especially regarding the Michael Myers mask. In Race Stillwell’s account to the police after Emma’s attack, he’d copped to the fact that he’d worn that mask, and that detail had made it into the paper. Jamie would likely remember.

“I don’t want my mom to know about the Halloween mask,” Harley said, which pretty well explained that she knew about it, too.

It deeply embarrassed Cooper that he’d been part of the group who’d played those tricks on Emma. Robbie Padilla came up at the end of their conversation with his son, Marcus, in tow, one of Marissa and Harley’s classmates. He gave Cooper a look that said he was feeling much the same way. Marcus had been named for Mark Norquist, their horndog friend, who’d died serving in the army in Afghanistan.

“What a way to start the school year, huh?” Robbie said when Harley, Marissa, and Marcus had wandered back to the punch bowl.

“Yeah.”

“I keep thinking about that night. You?”

Cooper nodded slowly.

“And that new girl is Emma’s . . . niece?”

“Jamie’s daughter. Yes.”

“Right.” Robbie nodded. “I remember Jamie.”

“I saw her today.”

“Yeah?”

“She looks a lot like Emma.”

Robbie exhaled heavily. “What a way to start the school year,” he repeated.

* * *

“Well, thank you, all. It was great fun,” Jamie said, grabbing her purse and getting up. She’d barely touched her second glass of wine, and when the women had protested, she’d said, “I’ve got driving in my future. Can’t drink anymore.”

“You can’t leave yet.” This was from Bette, who’d decided not only to include Jamie, but to make her her new best friend. Bette, however, was half-sloshed.

“I’ve really got to go. My daughter’s been texting me. She’s ready to leave.”

“The kids are all going out afterward,” said Vicky. “I’ll text Tyler to make sure he takes care of Harley.”

“No.” All four women’s heads turned at Jamie’s emphatic response. “Please. It’ll only embarrass her. Again, thank you. Really. It was so much fun. Another time . . .”

She sketched them all a bright wave, then hurried out the door. She felt weird. Exhausted. Like she’d just escaped some dire fate by the skin of her teeth. Gulping air, she emitted a half-hysterical laugh. She’d been without friends for so long, it was like learning a foreign language to be accepted by a tight group. It was damn hard work.

She drove back to the house, knowing Harley would never want to come home even a minute early. Sitting outside in her car, she rolled down a window and let the cool, almost cold, October air inside. A smashed pumpkin on the sidewalk and the earthy scent of a pile of red and gold and brown leaves slipped inside as well. A faint breeze sent leaves on the trees whispering.

Jamie lay her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes. She didn’t want to go in yet. Emma would likely be in bed. She’d told Jamie she liked to be in bed by eight-thirty, no later. Mom’s shift was from seven to seven. She’d generally worked three-and-a-half, twelve-hour days a week, and she was back in the morning to take Emma to work. There was also just enough time to pick her up in the evening before starting another shift. It had worked well for both of them, and Mom and Theo scheduled it so that if Mom had to work a Saturday, Emma would be at the Thrift Shop that day as well, so that she wasn’t alone for hour upon hour. Even so, there were those times that Mom was sleeping and Emma was home, but Emma, understanding, was notably scrupulous about keeping the house quiet.

Jamie knew all this from the brief communications she’d received from her mother over the years, along with the somewhat rambling accounts Emma would sometimes relate.

Now, though, she didn’t want to go inside. She didn’t want to go to her bed in the storage closet. Instead she switched on her cell and scrolled through her contact list. Before she could chicken out, she phoned her old friend, Camryn. She hadn’t talked to her in a couple of years, maybe more. The last time Jamie had come home had been two Christmases ago. She and Harley had driven up, but it had been so tense with Mom that Jamie had cut the trip short, and they’d driven home with snow drifting down in the Siskiyous. They’d just gotten out ahead of a major snowstorm.

“Jamie?” Camryn answered warmly. “I heard you were in town! I’ve been meaning to call you, but it’s crazy with work. You’ve got your daughter with you, right? What is she, a freshman? Oh, God. Is she at River Glen High?”

“Sophomore. Yes,” Jamie said. She started to say something more, but was stopped by a thickness in her throat and a sudden sting of tears.

Luckily, Camryn didn’t notice. “Wow. I should’ve had kids. I never found the right guy, though, and the thought of a sperm bank . . . I don’t know. Not for me.”

Jamie, recovered enough to respond, said, “Harley started at River Glen today, and she’s at the fall mixer tonight.”

“Oh my God! They still have those? Where are you? At your mom’s place?”

“For now. I don’t really know what my long-term plans are.”

“I mean right now. Are you free? Come over here! You know where my condo is? Off Fernwood?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Do you have time? When do you pick up Harley?”

“She getting a ride back with . . . Cooper Haynes. He’s got a daughter, a stepdaughter, in Harley’s grade.”

“Ah, Cooper, yes. He still looks good. Have you seen him?”

“He and Marissa picked up Harley, too, and . . . I saw him earlier, at the school.”

“He’s a cop. Can you believe it? And Robbie Padilla’s the phys ed teacher at the high school. God, get over here and let’s talk. What do you drink? Wine? I have some vodka . . . or coffee?”

“Coffee,” Jamie said firmly.

“Do you have a cold? You sound kind of stuffed up.”

“Allergies,” she lied, swallowing back the tears that were damn near impossible to hold back.

“They’re a bitch, aren’t they?” Camryn said knowingly.

* * *

“Maybe I should come in and tell your mom what happened,” Cooper said again as they drove into Harley’s driveway.

“No. Please! No. I’ll tell her.” Harley had one hand on the door handle and was opening it the moment Cooper got the vehicle into Park.

Marissa said, “Dad, don’t do that,” the same time Harley protested.

Harley was already out of the car and dashing toward the back of the house. She’d said she knew where the key was, which alarmed Cooper some more. Was Jamie not home?

“The lights are on,” Marissa said. She was seated in the front seat beside him. “Let’s go.”

The truth was, Cooper was heading to the station to meet with, and hopefully pacify, some of the parents, Caroline being one of them. They wanted some sort of police action, pointing out that at least one of the boys had been “brandishing a weapon.” He’d been the one wearing the long, evil-looking Freddy Krueger finger knives, and though they were blunted metal, part of a costume, these parents wanted him arrested for terrorism. Cooper had tried to suggest letting the school take action first. The school had strict rules of their own. But he’d seen that wasn’t going to cut it, so he’d agreed to meet the angry parent posse at the department.

“You’re not going to arrest Tyler, are you?” Marissa asked now. “You’re not going to listen to those crazies.”

“They’re concerned parents and there are school rules,” he began.

“It was just a joke!”

Marissa had come a long way from being sanguine about the senior boys being expelled to out-and-out alarm. She’d fully adopted the general feeling of all her classmates: that the parents were crazy freak-outers just looking to jump off the deep end. Also, she had been particularly interested in several of the perpetrators: Tyler Stapleton, Troy Stillwell, and the kid who’d pushed Harley, Greer Douglas, Dug Douglas’s son.

Earlier, Robbie had said of Greer, “Branch of the same tree.”

Cooper didn’t know the boy himself, but he knew Dug, who’d taken over his dad’s auto and home insurance business, with satellite offices in River Glen and several other Portland bedroom communities. Dug and his wife, who lived in a sprawling home in Staffordshire Estates, had twice been reported for disturbances by the neighbors; they had a tendency to have screaming fights when they’d had too much to drink.

Cooper took Marissa home, and Laura was already waiting outside. He could tell she wanted to talk, but he waved her off and went to the station. There was limited administrative staff after-hours, while two officers worked nights with others on call, if need be, so he was alone except for Howie and the small group of assembled upset parents looking for police action.

Howie was on his feet as Cooper entered, ready to bolt. “You got this?” he said, and Cooper nodded somewhat tiredly. The posse of parents were furious that the boys had been released to their parents’ custody at the school.

“They should all be in jail,” one woman declared. Edina Something. This had been her mantra from the beginning.

He spent the next hour listening to Edina, Caroline, and a woman named Marty, and her husband, Hal, complain vociferously about the boys involved in the incident, the school’s lack of discipline, the deplorable state of the country’s youth, and the problem with lack of respect in the world as a whole. He wrote down notes about the boys and tried to look attentive. He didn’t offer any advice, and as the four of them wound down, Edina, short, sturdy, with a fierce look in her eye, who seemed to be the self-appointed head of their group, asked suspiciously, “You’re not going to do anything, are you?”

Cooper pretended to think that over. It occurred to him that a fair amount of his job was acting. “They’re minors. The ‘weapon’ they brought onto school property is a prop for a costume.”

“They pushed that girl off the stage!” Marty reminded on a gasp.

Cooper nodded. “She was caught by a number of kids who had their hands up, ready to catch her. It was planned. I’m not saying it’s—”

“It’s a conspiracy!” Twin flags of color rode high in Edina’s cheeks.

Hal, a voice of reason Cooper learned, reminded his wife, “One of those kids was ours.”

Marty burst into tears and Edina sucked in her lips, as if she’d tasted something bad. “So, you’ll do nothing?”

“I’m going to let the school make the decisions,” said Cooper, which satisfied none of them, but at least he got a nod of agreement from Hal.

“You’ve got my formal complaint,” Edina said, pointing at the form she’d filled out.

Cooper nodded.

Caroline, who’d taken in the whole debate, but had said nothing, lingered after the other three trooped out the door. While Hal looking back dolefully at Cooper as he pushed through the exit door, clearly already over the whole debacle, Caroline asked Cooper, “Do you have a number where I can reach you, just in case I need to?”

Cooper flashed on how he’d shown himself to be receptive to her earlier. He could have kicked himself now. What had he been trying to prove? That he wasn’t interested in Jamie? That he just needed to meet other women? He saw that Caroline may have used this excuse to keep their earlier connection alive. Somewhat reluctantly, he gave out his cell phone number, though he tried to press upon her that it was best to reach him at the station. He could have denied her, but that felt like it would be inordinately rude, especially after he’d acted interested earlier.

After she’d gone, Cooper picked up said cell phone and scrolled through it for Jamie’s number, which he’d gotten from Marissa before he’d dropped her off. She’d made him swear on her life that he wouldn’t call Jamie and tell her about Harley and her being pushed off the stage, so he wouldn’t, but he was going to follow up later to make sure Jamie eventually got the straight story.

* * *

Jamie sat at the small kitchen table in Camryn’s condo, feeling tensions slip away as her old friend regaled her with stories about friends of theirs from high school. Camryn, whose hair was cut in a short, blondish bob and who always seemed to wear a smile, was an aide at the grade school and was in contact with lots of their schoolmates through their kids. Only a few of them had high school kids like Jamie. Camryn said, “Dug Douglas, Icky Vicky, and, well, Cooper, sort of. Some others, I think, but mostly the parents have grade-schoolers or no children at all, like me.”

Camryn had moved to Portland after college and married an older man with kids who’d been in high school. They’d divorced about four years earlier, and she’d ended up with enough money to buy her condo outright with enough left over to make it easy for her to support herself. “I should do like you and become a teacher. I like it. I like being around the kids. I probably should have had children when I could.”

“It’s not too late, is it?” Jamie asked. Camryn tried to refill her cup of decaf coffee, but Jamie waved her off. She’d laid out a plate of assorted crackers and cheese, and Jamie, who’d managed half a peanut butter sandwich at home with Emma and Harley, dug in, famished.

“It’s way too late. For me anyway. I just don’t see it happening. If I’d started when you did and had one already in high school, that would be okay. I think maybe I’m too lazy. I like just taking care of me, and I volunteer at Luv-Ahh-Pet Animal Shelter, a great place. It’s just outside the River Glen city limits.” She pointed northeast.

Jamie thought of her own responsibilities. The uncertainty of her life was enough to make her yearn for what Camryn had.

“Oh, by the way. You know whose twins are in one of my classes? Teddy Ryerson’s.”

Jamie moved sharply in surprise and knocked into her mug, sloshing coffee. Apologizing profusely, she jumped up to help, but Camryn told her not to worry, she’d find a sponge. Luckily, only a little liquid had spilled onto the table and Camryn easily swiped it up.

“His wife died. Leukemia, I think. So, he’s in charge of the twins, Oliver and Anika. They’re seven now. Second-graders. And Teddy’s some kind of investment guy. He lives at his parents’ old house. You know they divorced. Of course you do.”

“Yes.”

Dr. William and Nadine Ryerson had split not long after the terrible attack on Emma, citing irreconcilable differences. Teddy and Serena had stayed with Nadine in River Glen, while William moved on to a new relationship and a new life in a new area.

Palm Desert, maybe? Jamie wasn’t sure. As soon as Teddy and Serena were of age, Nadine left River Glen as well and had also chosen to live somewhere in the Southwest.

“She gave the house to Teddy and Serena, right?” Jamie asked. Anything that touched on Emma’s attack made her feel like she was gossiping about her sister.

“Yes. Serena lives in Portland. She’s a nurse. I think she worked at Glen Gen for a while. Oh, right. Your mom knew her.”

Jamie nodded. Mom had been very circumspect and careful about Serena Ryerson. She couldn’t look at any of the Ryersons, or their house, without thinking about Emma’s attack. She had made a few remarks about Serena to Harley, whom she spoke with more often than Jamie, but in the long run, she’d grudgingly admitted Serena worked hard and did a good job. Somewhere in the last few years, Serena had moved on to a Portland hospital, and Jamie had heard she worked in the cardiac unit.

She knew next to nothing about Teddy Ryerson.

“So, Teddy has twins,” she said now.

“Yep. They’re cute as buttons. Oliver’s fairly outgoing, but Anika’s shy.”

“A lot like Teddy and Serena.”

“Ah, yes. You babysat for them.”

Jamie nodded slowly.

“It’s still hard, isn’t it? Especially with Emma, the way she is.” Camryn sighed. “I still wish I knew what happened that night. We all do, I guess.”

“Yeah.”

They talked for a while more, but Jamie was starting to feel tired and worn out. It had been a stressful day. “I’d better go,” she said, putting her empty mug by the sink. “Harley’s probably back by now. I’m kind of surprised she hasn’t called me already. And I want to check on Emma.”

“If you need anything? Any extra help, or anything, anything at all, I’m around, with a lot of time on my hands since I broke up with my last boyfriend. More like a friend really. It never got out of the gate, truth be told.”

“I’ve had a few of those,” Jamie admitted. Friendships that couldn’t seem to turn the corner to romance, although she suspected it was more her fault than theirs.

“I was dating this guy for a while . . .” She seemed to want to continue, then said, “Well, it was never going to go anywhere.” She made a face, then changed the subject. “No one in your life either?” she asked curiously.

“Nope.”

“You know who I was dating? Nate.”

“Nate Farland?”

“He lives in Seattle, so it was kind of whenever he was in the Portland area. His job’s something in tech. He used to live here. We connected on the tail end of that, but then he moved. He made a half-hearted attempt to get me to move to Seattle, but I’m stuck in River Glen. By choice,” she added.

“Nate . . .” Jamie smiled and shook her head. He’d been a sometime buddy of theirs in high school, never anything more.

“I know, right? I kind of thought, hey, maybe this’ll turn into something now that we’re mature adults.... Ha! I kept thinking about how he was such a goofball. Couldn’t get past it!”

They both laughed. It felt good.

Jamie said, “I’m glad you’re here. It’s nice to have a real friend.”

“Me too. Did you know Gwen Winkelman’s a psychologist in town? You were good friends with her.”

“Once upon a time. We don’t really keep in touch.” Jamie felt that same twinge of guilt she always did that she hadn’t been quite fair to Gwen as a friend.

“Her parents left her the house, too. A lot of that going around in River Glen.”

“Did she get rid of all the weird tchotchkes and fake Spanish moss and other decorations around the outside of the house?”

“God no. I think she likes being ‘mystical.’ It’s worse than ever. I talked to Rosie, too, about a month ago. She lives in Florida now. I keep telling myself I should go visit her, maybe in January when the weather’s cold and wet. We should go together.”

“Yeah.” Jamie knew that was never going to happen with her current responsibilities.

Jamie hadn’t mentioned that she’d met with Icky Vicky and her crowd for drinks earlier. Hadn’t wanted to. She’d enjoyed just listening to Camryn and not having to add much input. But now she let her friend know about meeting them for wine, admitting she felt she was invited because she was a curiosity to them.

“Because of Emma,” Camryn said, and Jamie nodded. “Well, they’re nice enough, I suppose. Very protective of their boys, Vicky, Jill, and I don’t know Bette well, but she’s right in there. I remember Phil Kearns. Kind of supercilious.”

Jamie remembered that about Bette’s husband, too. “People change.”

“Not that much.”

Later, as Jamie was driving home, she got a call from the house phone. Harley.

“Hey, finally. I was getting worried,” she answered before Harley could say anything. “I didn’t call because I didn’t want to wake Emma. How was the mixer?”

A pause. “You didn’t wake me,” her sister said. “Harley did. She’s in bed crying.”

* * *

Jamie broke the speed limit driving home and screeched into the driveway. She ran to the back door to find it locked. Of course. She banged on it with the flat of her hand, then whirled around and went for the gnome that held the key. Not. There.

She just managed to keep from screaming before Emma appeared at the door. “Be quiet. You’ll wake the dead,” she said in her flat voice.

“Where’s the key?” Jamie demanded as she brushed past her and racewalked for the stairs.

“Harley forgot to put it back. Tsk-tsk.”

Jamie ran up the stairs and took a moment at the top landing to pull herself together. Her heart was pounding. It would do no good to scare her daughter. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe everything was okay. It was just that Harley never cried.

She walked down the hall with measured steps, forcing herself not to race. She hesitated outside Harley’s door. There was no sound.

She heard Emma come up the stairs and stop at the top, like Jamie had. Jamie looked back at her sister. Emma wore sweatpants and a loose, white T-shirt with “River Glen General” stitched across the breast pocket.

“Are you going in?” asked Emma.

Jamie nodded, then tapped softly on the door. “Harley?” When there was no answer, she twisted the knob and cracked the door about two inches. “Harley?”