Never smile at strangers

Opening her bedroom door, Haley saw her mother at the kitchen sink. Wrigley, the eleven-year-old greyhound who rarely left her mother’s side, eyed her drowsily from her place on the floor.

“Mama? Can I get you something?” Haley asked, walking to her.

Her mother shook her head. “No Possum, I’m just getting a little drink for Wrigley.” Possum. Her mother hadn’t called her that since before the accident.

She placed a hand on her mother’s boney shoulder. “Are you sure? I made a gumbo. I can heat some up real quick?”

The older woman’s hair was disheveled and greasy, her eyes just slits. Outside of the nightmares, this was the first time Haley had seen her awake in nearly five days.

“I’m not hungry, darling,” the woman said, shutting off the water. “Wrigley just needed to go out.”

Haley caught a whiff of the odor that clung to her mother. Sour and unclean. She also noticed she held two pills in her hand.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, honey. Just fine.” She placed the pills on her tongue and washed them down with a cup of water. “These are just the sleeping pills Dr. Broussard prescribed me. They help me. . . get by.”

She walked past Haley with a bowl of water and headed across the living room, back to her room. Her body moved under her tacky yellow robe, not with the feminine sweeps it had before the accident, but as though she were transporting the whole world beneath it. Arthritis-ridden Wrigley grunted as she rose to follow her.

“Tiffany’s missing,” Haley said.

The older woman loosened her grip on the bedroom doorknob and regarded her daughter. “Missing?” Her face twisted with confusion. “How awful. I should call Julia,” she said, referring to Tiffany’s mother. “When did this happen?”

“No one’s seen her since Saturday.”

“Today’s Monday?”

“Thursday.”

“Oh.” The bowl of water trembled in her hand. “Is she with a boy?”

Haley shook her head. “No. She would have told me.”

“Yes, I guess so, darling. But I’m sure she’ll turn up. I’ll say a prayer.”

“Sheriff Hebert came by but you were sleeping. He said he didn’t want to disturb you. There’s a detective going around with him, too. He said he’ll want to talk to everyone in town, so I’m sure he’ll be by again.”

Her mother nodded. “How’s your sister?”

“Fine.”

“Good. That’s good.” she said, and flashed a weak smile. Haley noticed her teeth had yellowed in the last several months. “And you, Haley?”

“I’m doing good, too.”

“How’s school?”

Concerned that it would only worry her, Haley hadn’t told her mother that she didn’t sign up for summer classes. Her original plan had been to take them to somewhat catch up for her lost first semester. “Good,” she said.

“You having any trouble getting back and forth to Lafayette?”

Haley shook her head.

“Good, good. I need to get me a little rest now. Goodnight, darling.” She and Wrigley went into the room. The door closed behind them.

Haley stood next to the door for a long moment. “C’est l’heure du lit,” she whispered, remembering Nana’s soft words at bedtime. “Goodnight, Mama.”

***

HALEY OPENED HER eyes for the second time that night. She sat up and peered at the clock radio. It was almost four in the morning. What had woken her this time?

She heard it again. Someone was screaming. She bolted out of bed and ran into Becky’s room. The overhead light was on, and Becky was crouched in the corner behind her bed, dried pimple cream caked across her nose and chin.

“Someone’s outside the window,” a voice behind her whispered. Haley turned and saw Seacrest kneeling against the side of the dresser. Her face was also dotted with pimple cream, and she was pointing to the window.

“Becky, go to my room,” Haley whispered.

Becky didn’t move.

Someone tapped softly at the glass and Haley’s heart raced faster. A hushed voice was calling out from the other side. Then a face was at the window, but she couldn’t make it out.

Holding her breath, Haley took a step forward. “Who’s there?” she called out. “Tiffany? Is that you?”

The voice called out again: “No, it’s Charles.”

Chapter 24

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 stood, 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.”