“Listen, I-”
“Oh, look,” Joan interrupted with forced excitement as a faded red Ford Explorer whipped into her driveway. “That’s Carlson’s dad. You really should meet him. Carlson! Your dad’s here!”
I had no interest in meeting the man, but didn’t feel I could vanish now. The father, a lean, wiry man who may have been in a suit but whose hair was too long and straggly for him to have a bank job, came up the walk. He had a kind of slow swagger. Nothing over the top. The kind of thing I’d noticed in bikers-I’d had one or two work part-time for me over the years-and I wondered whether this guy was a weekend warrior. He looked me up and down, just enough to let me know he’d done it.
Carlson slipped out the door, didn’t stop to greet his father and headed straight for the SUV.
“Carl, I wanted you to meet Glen Garber,” Joan said. “Glen, this is Carl Bain.”
Interesting, I thought. Instead of “Carl Jr.” his kid was named Carlson. I offered a hand and he took it. His eyes darted from Joan to me. “Nice to meet you,” he said.
“Glen’s a contractor,” Joan told him. “Has his own company. He lives right next door.” She pointed to my house. “In that house right there.”
Carl Bain nodded. “See you Monday,” he said to Joan, and went back to his Explorer.
Joan waved a little too enthusiastically as he drove off. Then she turned to me and said, “Thank you for that.”
“For what?”
“I just feel safer having you next door.”
She gave me a friendly look that seemed to go beyond neighborly as she retreated into the house.
FOUR
“What’s it like?” Emily asked.
“What’s what like?” Kelly said.
“Not having a mom. What’s it like?”
They were sitting on the floor in Emily’s bedroom amidst piles of clothing. Kelly had been trying on Emily’s outfits and Emily had been modeling the clothes Kelly’d come in, and the one extra outfit she’d packed. Kelly had been asking if they wanted to swap tops for a week when Emily blurted out the question.
“It’s not very nice,” Kelly said.
“If my mom or dad had to die, I think I’d pick my dad,” Emily said. “I love him, but it’d be worse for your mom to die because dads don’t know a lot of things about stuff. Do you wish it was your dad instead?”
“No. I wish it hadn’t been anybody.”
“Wanna play spy?”
“How?”
“Have you got your phone?”
Kelly had it in her pocket and dug it out. Emily said, “Okay, so we hide in the house and try to get pictures of each other without the other person knowing about it.”
Kelly grinned. This sounded like fun. “Like, just pictures, or video?”
“You get more points for video.”
“How many?”
“Okay, you get one point for a picture, but you get one point for every second of video.”
“I think it should be five points,” Kelly said. They debated this briefly, and came up with five points for each picture and ten points for each second of video.
“If we both hide at the same time, how do we find each other?” Kelly asked.
Emily hadn’t considered that. “Okay, you hide first, and then I’ll try to find you.”
Kelly was on her feet. “You have to count to five hundred. And not five, ten, fifteen, twenty, but one, two, three-”
“That’s too much. A hundred.”
“But not fast,” she stressed. “Not one-two-three-four but one, two, three-”
“Okay! Go! Go!”
Kelly, phone firmly grasped in her fist, tore out of the room. She ran down the hallway, wondering where to hide. She looked quickly into the bathroom, but there really wasn’t anywhere good there. If she was home, she could stand in the tub and draw the curtain across, but the Slocums had a shower with a glass door. She opened a door that turned out to be a linen closet, and the shelves came out too far to squeeze in.
She opened another door and saw a bed the same size as the one her parents slept in, although now her dad had the whole thing to himself. The spread was off-white and there were tall wooden posts at all four corners. This had to be Mr. and Mrs. Slocum’s room. It had its own bathroom, but again, the shower-the best place to hide-had a glass door, and the tub was wide open without a curtain.
Kelly ran across the room and opened the closet. It was jammed with hanging clothes, and the floor was littered with shoes and purses. Kelly stepped in, nestling herself into the shirts and dresses that enveloped her. She didn’t shut the door all the way. She left a two-inch gap so that when Emily came in, she’d be able to film her poking about the room. And then, when she opened the door, Kelly would scream, “Surprise!”
She wondered if Emily would wet her pants.
She tapped her phone and the screen illuminated. She activated the camera function and pressed the video icon.
Her foot nudged against something. She thought it was a purse. Something inside it jangled. Kneeling, she reached her hand in, felt what she thought had made the sound, and took it out.
She heard some motion. Through the crack, she saw the bedroom door open.
She tucked the item down into her front pocket. She kept her phone in her hand.
It wasn’t Emily coming into the room. It was her mother. It was Ann Slocum.
Kelly thought, Uh-oh.
She wondered whether she’d get in trouble for hiding in the woman’s closet. So she kept very still as Emily’s mother came around the bed and sat on the edge. She reached for the phone on the bedside table and punched in a number.
“Hey,” she said, holding the receiver close to her mouth. “Can you talk? Yeah, I’m alone… okay, so I hope your wrists are okay… yeah, wear long sleeves until the marks go away… you were wondering about next time… can do Wednesday, maybe, if that works for you? But I have to tell you, I’ve got to get more for… expenses and- hang on, I’ve got another call, okay, later-Hello?”
Kelly wasn’t getting even half the conversation, what with Mrs. Slocum whispering so much. She listened, holding her breath, petrified she’d be discovered.
“Why are you calling this… my cell’s off… not a good time… kid’s got someone sleeping… Yeah, he is… but look, you know the arrangement. You pay and… something in return… mark us… down for a new deal if you’ve got something else to offer.”
Ann Slocum paused, glanced toward the closet.
Kelly suddenly felt very frightened. It was one thing, hiding in a friend’s mother’s closet. That might make Mrs. Slocum angry. But hearing her private conversations, that might really make her mad.
Kelly dropped her arms to her sides and held them rigid, soldierlike, as though this might magically make her thinner, less noticeable. The woman started talking again.
“Okay, where do you want to do this… yeah, got it. Just don’t be stupid… end up with a bullet in your brain- what the-”
Ann Slocum was looking right into the crack now.
“Hang on a sec, there’s someone-what the hell are you doing in there?”
FIVE
