Half In Love With Death (24 page)

An unexpected feeling of hope, out of place in the sweat-and-whiskey-scented car, rose up inside me. Maybe Jess really had left the card on the bureau as a sign, and sending a message using the same type of card was another sign. To anyone else it would appear to be just a postcard, but I could see what she really meant.

“She's saying she wants us to come get her.” My voice was tinged with excitement. She was going to wait for us. She would be there.

Tony nodded. “That's what I thought, too. It's the first I've heard from her since that night.”

We sat in the dim light, his arm around me. Though neither of us would say it for fear of jinxing things, we both felt the presence of fate. Everything was happening the way it was supposed to.

I slipped the postcard into my pocket and leaned my face against the window as he drove down my street to the place where the new housing development ended, beyond it only dry scrub and sand. It was like God had started drawing a picture with kids, bikes, and houses, and then stopped. I used to pretend sometimes that this was the end of the world, but before I knew it we were speeding past it, on a dark highway running straight through the desert, the only sound the roar of the engine. When we'd driven a little while, he pulled over to the side of the road.

“Do you a need to check a map?” I asked.

He frowned. “I know how to get there. Reach in your bag and get the shoe. We have to get rid of it before we go any farther.”

I took a deep breath. “It's not in there.”

“What do you mean?”

“My mom cleaned my room and I couldn't find it. I think she threw it away.” I tried to smile.

His eyes widened. “She threw it away?”

“I'm not sure, but I couldn't find it anywhere. All that matters is it's gone, right?”

“That's not all that matters. You know that there is more to this than either of us understands. We have to be sure we've gotten rid of that shoe before we go to California.” He paused. “Otherwise things might not turn out as planned.” The intensity of his gaze made me squirm.

“What am I supposed to do?” I said.

“I'll take you home and you can look one more time. I have a feeling you're going to find it.” He ran his finger down my neck and rested it on my shirt button. “Okay?”

I was embarrassed because I was breathing too loud. He tapped on the steering wheel, waiting for my answer.

“All right,” I said. “At least my parents are out.”

• • •

While I went inside, he stayed in the car with it running in case we had to make a fast getaway. We arranged that if by some chance my parents showed up, he would drive around the corner and I'd meet him there. As I turned the key in the door I stole a look at him.

“Go on.” He smiled.

The house was silent except for the low hum of the air conditioner. The single light burning in the hall illumined the mail neatly piled on the table by the mirror—bills, an advertisement for a Ford Mustang. I walked through the darkened living room, went upstairs, and turned on my pink lamp.

I looked in the closet again, went through the stuff I'd already tossed around, and then I saw it. Mom had placed the shoe neatly on top of the other ones in the back. I'd missed it earlier, though it was right in front of me. I breathed a sigh of relief as I grabbed it, and opened the window. “Found it,” I called out, and held it up so he could see.

As I stepped away I knocked over the laundry basket, scattering clothes everywhere. One of Jess's favorite shirts was lying at my feet. Looking at it gave me a sick feeling. As I stooped to pick it up, I saw something red underneath it. I pulled out the top to her red bathing suit, the same one she was wearing in the photo Tony had given me. I felt like someone had punched me in the stomach.

I picked up the photo from the bureau, praying that my eyes had played tricks on me and she would turn out to be wearing a different one, but she was wearing the same red bathing suit. I could even see the little rose where it fastened in front. I wondered what else I'd missed. The cloud-dusted sky could be a sky anywhere. The people sitting around her were all blurred strangers, Jess the center of attention as always, but behind her in the distance I could just make out a curved shape resting on a tracery of spidery lines. I looked closer. It had to be the roller coaster at Paragon Park. We often went there after a day at the beach back east. I felt like I was on that roller coaster now, barreling down an incline. I clutched her bathing suit to my chest.

My hands trembled as I took the postcard out of my pocket, held it under the lamp and read it again. In the bright light it didn't even look like her handwriting. I turned it over and touched the place where the stamp should have been. There was no postmark. As I dropped it on the floor, I wanted to cry, I felt like such a fool. Tony must have written it. Or maybe he'd gotten Edie to. The only thing I was sure of was that Jess hadn't sent the postcard, and she wasn't in California.

I sank down on the pink rug, and tried to breathe more slowly so I could think. There was the necklace, what Edie said about Tony killing a girl, what Billy had said about seeing Jess in Tony's car. How many other things were there that I'd failed to notice?

Tony honked impatiently. If Jess wasn't in California, where were we going? I picked up the shoe. Maybe he'd have an explanation for all of this. My stomach sank—another explanation. The only one that made sense was too terrible to believe.

I went over to the window again. He'd gotten out of the car and was standing below, looking up at me, his face masked in shadows. He called out, “Are you ready?”

I stared at him grimly, not knowing what to do. “I'll be down in a minute,” I said. He walked toward our front door. I ran downstairs, through the dimly lit living room, and into the front hall with its coat rack bereft of coats, its single light still burning. My heart hammered in my chest. I was still holding the shoe. I dropped it on the floor. Feet scuffed on the front step. I went over to the door, hesitated, and latched it.

From the other side I heard him say, “Caroline, you there?”

As the doorknob turned, I was breathing so hard I could barely utter the word, “Yes.”

The doorknob turned again. “What are you doing? Caroline, open the door.”

I pressed my face against the smooth panel of white wood separating me from him. I could almost feel his large hand as he grasped the brass doorknob, and his heavy boots on the step. Those blue eyes on the other side would never reassure me again. “My parents are coming home soon. You need to go.”

“They aren't coming home soon.”

I stepped back, the doorknob still turning this way and that. “You can't come in.”

It stopped moving. “Did you lock this?”

“I did.”

“Why?”

“I don't know.”

“Jesus Christ, what is the matter?” He pressed his eye against the small peephole in the door.

I caught my breath. “I know what you did.”

I heard him stepping back. There was a silence and then he said slowly, “What did I do?”

The door was reflected at an angle in the round hall mirror, like something in a funhouse. Everything in the room felt twisted and strange.

I tried to keep my voice steady. “You lied about the postcard. Jess didn't write it. You did.”

“So what?” It was like he was biting off each word. “It's nothing. It's a postcard. I wanted to make you happy.”

I went on, “You lied about the photo of California, too. I found the bathing suit she was wearing in the picture in my room.”

He sighed loudly. “It's just a photo. Come on, let me in.”

“I can't.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” he said. “I thought we were a team. I didn't want you to worry about Jess. That's why I faked the photo.”

“I don't believe you.” I looked down. My small feet in my shiny black shoes looked like they didn't belong to me. Tears streamed down my face.

He tried the door again, shaking it. “Why not?”

“Because you lie about everything,” I said through sobs. “Nothing about you is real. I bet you're not even a good swimmer. You're nothing.”

“Caroline, I am not nothing,” he shouted.

“Please be quiet,” I said. “Someone will hear you.”

There was a pause. “You think anyone's listening, that anyone cares? News flash, Twinkle Toes, everyone in happy town is drunk or asleep. No one listens here. I'm not the fake. This whole world is fake.” There was not a drop of love in his voice, just a coldness that tore my heart to pieces.

I tried to hold myself together. “No,
you
are the fake. You lied about the necklace. It didn't belong to your mother. It belonged to Geraldine.”

I waited for his answer but everything became quiet. There were no cars, no sirens, no televisions. Even the ringing in my ears stopped. I shuffled backward, my shoes whispering on the carpet. Outside, a branch cracked. Leaves rustled by the picture window. Was it locked? I didn't know. I turned toward the kitchen. The sliding glass door might have been left open. We often did that. That was how Jess always snuck back in.

There was a thundering crash. The whole door shook. He kicked it again. The sound reverberated all around me, as if the walls of the house were as thin as the sides of a cardboard box holding a diorama.

“You little fool,” he said. “I s'pose next you're gonna say I killed Geraldine, that I drowned her. Is that the evil thought in your little pink flower brain? Is it?”

I backed up. My heart slowed. Oh God, what had he done?

He pounded on the door. “You think you know everything, but you don't. You know nothing.” He smashed the door again. “You're a stupid little girl. I loved your sister. You're nothing like her. If you don't want to come, I'll get her myself and you'll never see either of us again.”

“She isn't in California.” I froze.

He lowered his voice. “Just let me in. I'll take you where she is, but we've got to leave now.”

I looked back at the kitchen. Moonlight fell on a sugar bowl, the clock-patterned wallpaper. I didn't want to go where Jess was. She wasn't anywhere.

“No,” I said. “You have to go home.”

He shouted, “Let me in now.” His voice was so loud it made my head hurt. He hit the door over and over like some kind of madman. I feared he would break it down. I put my hands on my ears. He stopped. The knob moved again. He was working something between the door and the frame. The lock jiggled. I stepped back until I was standing in the kitchen. I held my breath. My hand shook as I opened the drawer beneath the sink and slid a paring knife into my pocket. I reached for the phone, but then the front door opened. I dropped the receiver, pushed aside the sliding glass door, and ran out into the backyard.

I looked around frantically. The only way out was to climb the fence. I rushed over, and tried to hoist myself up. My feet slid against the wood. The pointed slats on top hurt my hands. I couldn't do it. I wasn't strong enough. I hung there hoping if I remained still he wouldn't see me. The sliding glass door smacked against the frame. I held my breath.

“Caroline,” he called out.

I was almost over the top when I felt his hands around my waist. He pulled me down and turned me to face him.

He smiled. “What are you running from? It's just me.” He didn't look like himself. His bandana was twisted and his eyes had a broken-glass look as if he wasn't seeing me or anything else. He grabbed my wrist. “You're still coming with me, right?”

“I guess.” I looked down.

“What did you say?” he said sharply.

“Yes,” I said.

He stared at me. “Better. You be good now, and do as I say. Geraldine never listened. Jess didn't, either, but I know you will.” He tightened his grasp. “Jess only brought one shoe that night. She did it on purpose. She left the other one with you. She did that on purpose, too.”

“What do you mean?” I said.

“You know what I mean. I gave you the necklace like I gave Jess the shoes. You're as deep in this as if you'd pushed Geraldine under the water, and kept pushing until she didn't come up, with your own bare hands.”

I felt myself grow cold. “You gave Jess the shoes?”

“Yeah.” He looked away.

“Where is she?” My voice was a dry whisper.

“You know where she is.” He leaned so close his lips brushed my cheek.

“I don't know,” I shouted, trying to twist free. “All I know is what the police said was true. Geraldine broke up with you, so you killed her. You couldn't stand the thought of someone not loving you.”

His slap came hot against my face. “If that's what you think, you're more of a fool than I thought you were.” He laughed, holding my wrist so tight it hurt. “It was an accident. The little freak should have watched her step.” His gaze was unflinching.

“Let me go.” I tried to pull away. He slapped me again.

When I started to scream, he put his hand over my mouth. “Take it easy,” he said. “No point trying to run away. I found the shoe. It's over there on that table. We got everything we need. We can leave now.” I looked toward it. All I could see were the small moon-washed oranges dangling from the gnarled tree.

I felt for the knife in my pocket. “I don't want to go.”

“I know that. But you're still going.” He smiled as if this was the happiest thing. He lifted my chin.

I was crying.

“Don't you worry, where we're going, honey, everything will be a lot more real.” He brushed my sweaty hair from my face. “There now.” He kissed my forehead, and stared past me at the pool. I felt as if the slightest breath of air might blow me away, but there was no air. My mind filled with crazy thoughts—I would never go to prom, never graduate, Jess in the front seat of the car rubbing her hands in her red mittens, her blonde braids, frost on the window.