Halos (18 page)
“I’m fine here.” Alessi looked at the storefront, elegant and festive. Steve had done that without feminine prodding, though probably following his father’s tradition. She smiled. “Diana offered too. But it’s only for a couple of weeks.”
“Then what?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“You could stay.”
Not if someone had taken her car, pitted her in some way against the town, or at least the sheriff. He’d been markedly cold since she’d asked people to help him do his job. She opened the car door and found the store key in her pocket. “Thanks for the ride.”
A
LESSI LET HERSELF INTO THE FRONT DOOR and locked it behind her. It was strange to live in a bookstore, but at least she was earning that space. She didn’t freeload easily, and with Diana’s extended family coming in tomorrow, it would be too reminiscent of the six years with Aunt Carrie, everyone belonging but her.
She took off Steve’s jacket and headed for the back. Diana’s meal had left her satisfied but not stuffed, in spite of all the courses. She hung the jacket on the nail inside the storeroom and settled onto the cot with Dickens. She opened to her place mark and jumped at a car horn out front. Had Karen forgotten something?
The night-lights made traversing the store easy, but they cast eerie shadows between the shelves. She hurried forward to the window and stopped short as her Mustang swung onto the sidewalk and jerked to a stop. The top was down, and she stared at the driver.
In the half light his head seemed misshapen and enormous. She screamed when he turned, then realized it was a mask, a horrible rubber mask with one side of the face peeled away to reveal gore and bare eyeball; the other half leered. She staggered backward into the rack of paperback mysteries.
The driver raised a black-gloved hand and pointed at her, then put the car into reverse and pulled off the sidewalk. She stood unmoving until her heart stopped thumping her ribs like a rabbit in a cage. She would not chase after him, not give him the satisfaction of her desperation. He was sick.
She stalked to the desk, found the phone number, and dialed. Someone had to be home. It rang twice, then, “Hello?”
“Ben?”
“Is that you, Alessi?”
She pressed the phone to her ear. “Ben, I—”
Then Steve came on. “What’s wrong?”
Her voice shook; tears had sprung to her eyes. What was she supposed to say? “He’s out there again. In my car.”
Steve was quiet a long time. If he asked whether she was sure, she’d hang up, but he didn’t. Instead he said, “Don’t go out. I’ll be right over.”
“You don’t have to come. I just thought someone else ought to know.” Though what possible good would it do? She drew a jagged breath.
“I’ll be there in a minute. Don’t bean me with a mailer.” He hung up.
She felt like a fool, but she was shaking and the tears came harder. Good. Get them out before Steve got there. She searched his desk for a tissue box, found none, and went to the bathroom for toilet paper. Pressed against the bathroom wall, she cried, then blew her nose and assessed the damage. She splashed her face with cold water, then papered it dry.
She jumped, then realized she’d heard Steve’s key in the lock. She drew herself up tall and met him at the door. He stared into her face, reached for her shoulders, and pulled her to his chest.
Steve sensed her fear. Anger he would understand, fury of the sort she’d shown the other night. But fear? “Tell me what happened.”
She sniffed and drew away. “Karen drove me back from Diana’s dinner. I’d just come back here to read when I heard the car horn. I thought it was Karen, but it wasn’t. He pulled the Mustang up to the window.”
“The store window?” He would check the sidewalk to be sure.
She shuddered. “He had a horrible mask on.”
Steve seethed. “He thinks it’s a prank. Did he see you?”
She nodded. “He pointed at me and then pulled off the sidewalk. I heard him spinning out in the intersection.”
At least she hadn’t chased him again. But there was no doubt he knew whose car it was and where to find her. The bra incident no longer seemed a joke at all.
She gripped herself in her arms. “He was gruesome, all mangled and gory.”
“He’s trying to scare you.”
“He’s doing it.” Her throat worked. “Just like the snowball.”
“Snowball?”
“Someone followed me home from Mary’s a while back. I sensed it, but he stayed out of sight. Just before I reached your house, a snowball flew past my head. It had a rock in it.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
She shrugged. “I forgot about it in the fun of decorating Dave’s tree.”
His mind went back to that day when he’d put in a stellar performance of jealous accusation. But the situation was escalating if she was being followed on foot and frightened through the window. She had stirred up the kind of trouble he’d feared.
He cupped her shoulder. “Come back to the house.” She shook her head.
“Why not?”
“Then he wins.” Her face was frank and determined.
Steve released a slow breath. “Look, Alessi …”
“Who is it, Steve?”
He glanced away. “I don’t know.”
“But you can guess.”
He had leapt to one wild conclusion recently, even acted on it and made a fool of himself to Ben. “My last guess was wrong. My perceptions are not very accurate.”
She looked into his face, her eyes absorbing him in a dangerous way. “You should trust yourself.”
He half smiled. “I just don’t want you to think I’m holding back. If I knew, I’d tell you.”
Her throat worked, and for a moment he thought she might cry, but she said, “Would you? Because I don’t get the feeling that anyone really wants to know what happened. Everyone’s sorry, but …”
“No one wants to think badly of his neighbor.”
She shook her head. “It’s more than that. I feel it in the way people look at me—or don’t. They wish I wasn’t here.”
Steve couldn’t meet her gaze. He could probably count on one hand the people who weren’t wishing her gone. And that didn’t include the one who was playing cruel games. She shouldn’t stay alone, but she was obviously determined. “If you need anything, hear anything, call me.”
She swallowed but didn’t answer.
“You don’t believe I’ll help?”
She dropped her gaze.
“Alessi, I’m trying to. There’s—”
“I know. Things I don’t understand.”
How could she? She was not part of Charity, not one of them, not bound by the pact or delivered from evil. All the frustration of his efforts to reach people flooded back to him. He’d tried, but they were of one mind. Nothing bad could happen when you’d slain the devil and cast him back to hell. No one washed in blood would violate the new covenant.
In renaming the town Charity, they’d made their mission clear: Love, faith, and righteousness. Charity could not produce a thief. But after tonight, Steve wondered if theft was the worst they had to fear. Taking something in secret was not the same as terrorizing. And if the culprit knew they’d all turn a blind eye, how far would he go?
Steve frowned. It struck him that Alessi was the perfect target. No family. Drifting. Something had certainly happened. Her fear was tangible. She’d been targeted, but by whom? Steve wanted to take her with him by force if necessary. Adrenaline surged. “Alessi …”
She closed herself in her arms. “I’ll be fine.”
Maybe that really was all she had, the determination to stand her ground. He admired her resolve. In fact, he admired
her
. These last ten days she’d done her best in the situation, with precious little to go on.
And he could be way off base with his concerns for her safety. Besides, it wasn’t his decision. He hardly even knew her. He sighed. “Okay. Good night.” He locked the door and stood outside a long minute before getting into his truck. He’d talk to Cooper in the morning. Like it or not, Cooper was the one with legal authority. He should at least know about this incident.
He looked at the store through his rearview mirror as he pulled out of the small back parking lot. Shadows around the Dumpster could hide a man, or that alley between the stores…. He’d drive himself crazy. He had to let it go. She wanted to stay there. He pulled around and parked a short distance from the front of the store. He didn’t want her to see him checking, but he had to know. There on the sidewalk were tire tracks right in front of the window. She was telling the truth. He straightened. The relief of believing her was countered by a renewed concern. Someone had been out there, and whoever it was didn’t seem to understand the pact.
S
TEVE WENT TO SEE COOPER AND TOLD HIM about both the bra on the door and the tire tracks at the window. “Don’t tell me she’s making it up, Coop. I felt her trembling.” Cooper scratched the cat under its chin and didn’t ask how he’d felt it. He chewed the stump of his cigar. “What if I believed it? What then?” The cat made a rolling motion under his hand and flopped onto its side in Cooper’s lap. An open can of cat food added ocean whitefish to the scents of Cooper’s office. “I can’t question people as though there’s a guilty party. Not with the pact.”
“But there is a guilty party.”
Cooper let the cat down. “Bring it to the pastor. If he says we’re wrong …” He spread his hands. “That opens a whole new can.”
“You’re sworn to uphold the law.”
“There are some laws higher than others. I filed a report. I’ve looked for a lost car. Anything more goes against the pact.”
Steve expelled a slow breath. He understood Cooper’s position. It had been easier when he didn’t believe Alessi either. His reasons had been different from the rest of Charity’s but were just as valid: an innate distrust. After seeing the tracks last night, he couldn’t find the skepticism that had sustained his distance, and it was beginning to feel personal.
He went again to Pastor Welsh’s house, but he was out on calls. Pretty early for that, but Madeline sent him sweetly on his way. And it was time for more coffee. He headed back to the house. Maybe Ben had some ideas. But Alessi was there when he went in, and they could hardly discuss the pact in front of her.
They had Dave’s Bisquick pancakes, but she didn’t eat much. She didn’t look as though she’d slept well either. At least it wasn’t his fault this time. He’d handled last night with the utmost integrity, only later wishing he’d kissed her teary face. Definitely better than the other time he’d gone to the rescue.
As soon as she went in to shower, Steve faced Ben. “What happens if someone proves the pact false?”
Ben frowned. “It’s not about proof. It’s belief.”
Steve tried again. “What if it’s wrong?”
Ben glanced at Dave, who worked on his fourth pancake. “If it’s wrong, we’re in a world of trouble.”
“Not everyone. Every single person cannot be responsible, no matter what the pact says.”
Dave swiped his mouth with a napkin. “Pastor says, ‘Inasmuch as we wished it in our hearts, and stoked it with our lips, we share the blame for the actions taken.’”
Steve rubbed his face, then eyed them both. “Okay. Say everyone’s guilty. Why not just accept that and forget the rest?”
“It’s the rest that matters.” Ben’s face pulled down long. “It’s the good that came of it. A whole lot of good, Steve. People like they never were before.”
“One in particular,” Dave added. “And that’s nothing short of miraculous.”
Steve pushed his plate away. “You mean Carl.”
They nodded.
He pictured the young man as he’d been in the pastor’s study. “Well, he’s improved for sure.”
“Delivered,” Dave said.
Steve couldn’t argue, since he hadn’t been around for most of the transformation. Duke’s son had been a terror, and now it seemed he walked toward sainthood like his “father,” Burton Welsh. But he’d seen some expressions on Carl’s face that made him wonder. And Alessi had told him to trust himself. “What if he’s faking it?”
Ben tossed his head to the side. “There you go, Steve, thinking the worst of people. That boy’s had a lot to deal with. His mom running off and leaving him to—”
“Did she?” He surprised himself with that one.
“Did she what?” Dave said.
“Run off.”
The two men shared a look, then turned to him with pure exasperation. Ben said, “What are you saying?”
“She disappeared. And there was some letter, but …”
Dave clanked his mug against his plate. “They verified her handwriting.”
It hit Steve low. Had he somehow wished that Beth had not willingly deserted Carl to the likes of Duke, saving only herself from abuse? Old feelings churned. At least he’d been left to a wonderful father when his mother decided she didn’t care. Who was he to doubt the good that had come to Carl?
“Someone was out there last night with Alessi’s car. Someone who enjoys tormenting her.”
Memories arose in all their minds as they shared looks all around. Maybe they’d slain the devil, but his works were not forgotten.
Alessi sensed Steve’s concern as they walked to the store under cloudy skies that held a smell she guessed might be snow. “Is it going to storm?” Two steps. “Steve?”
“Yeah?” He jolted.
“Are you okay?”
“I should be asking you that.” Definite strain in his tone. She appreciated his concern, but it made her uneasy. It wasn’t his problem.
“Well, there are a few things I’d change, but I don’t guess there’s anyone in history who hasn’t felt that way.”
He stared at her. “That’s it?”
Uh-oh
. She’d set him off again. What did he want from her anyway?
“What things, Alessi? Tell me what you’d change.”
If she said he already knew, he’d bite her head off. She looked straight ahead toward the place her Mustang had jumped the curb. “Well, I’d have my car back, for one. And a place of my own and people who wanted me around.” She couldn’t help the sinking stone in her stomach.
He frowned. “And how much of that is your fault?” His tone was clipped.
If they were laying blame, she’d have to look no farther than herself. “All of it, I guess.”
“You’re serious, aren’t you.”
She swallowed. “No one forced me to leave a perfectly good opportunity at Dippin’ Dots and Dogs. I’ve made all the choices that put me here.”
“So you chose to lose your car.” He hedgehogged his hair again. She shrugged. “I guess whoever took it chose that too.”
“And last night?” He was practically barking. “You chose to be scared silly?”
Why was he making this an issue? The reminder of that dreadful, helpless feeling was not pleasant. “I’m not responsible for other people’s choices. But I got myself in this position. It’s no one else’s fault.” Mom had never made apologies for her choice.
“I knew what I wanted and what God wanted for me. I left and never looked back. One choice leads to another, and regret is worthless.”
Steve reached the door and jammed in the key. “So if you found your car, you’d just say ‘thank you very much’ and be on your way?”
She swallowed the tightness in her throat. “That’s about it.”
“No charges, no recriminations.” He pushed the door open.
What good would pressing charges do in a place where she was guilty for just living? “Maybe he’d be more inclined to bring it back then.” She stepped past him into the store.
“Bring it back?” He turned her toward the window where her car had been, with that horrible face in it. The hands clasping her shoulders from behind were tight and definite. “Do you even remember last night? Or am I the only one?”
Her lungs tightened on her breath. “I remember.”
“It just doesn’t matter?”
She closed herself in her arms. What good would it do to dwell on it? “It matters.”
He turned her. “Last night you wanted to know who it was. Now you say it’s all your fault anyway. You get behind a podium and demand action, then say you’re not supposed to have it right now. You can’t have it both ways. Either you want your car or you don’t.”
She looked into his face, pain crawling into her throat. “I want it.” She squeezed her arms, wanting it so much, just because it was hers. No, it was
her
; something more than anyone expected, something lovely and worthwhile, fun and jazzy and strong. She had never driven it with the reckless detachment this thief had shown. She’d babied and lavished it with meticulous care. Yes, she wanted it. How could Steve think otherwise?
There was some disconnect. There had to be. Steve stared at her, trying to grasp her conflicting moods. She had stalked out the other day, insistent on finding the Mustang—he’d even lent her his truck—and had come back peacefully claiming she wasn’t supposed to have it. Now it seemed as though the scare last night that had set her shaking was no longer registering in her gray matter. It had to be a disability, though not one he could easily put a name to.
Maybe there was some disorder that made a person take the blame for anything that happened. He caught that thought and pondered it. Not so far from Charity’s own position, as Dave and Ben had expressed. Maybe he was the only one who put blame on others outside himself. Was he out of step?
Was it his fault his mother walked out? Must be. He’d been there. It happened. Was it his fault Barb left? More of a chance on that one. He hadn’t always given his best. But this idea that everything was of your own choosing….
He expelled a slow breath. “For what it’s worth, I informed Cooper about last night … and the other thing too.”
She flushed. “Oh.” She dropped her hands to her sides. “Did it make any difference?”
“Probably not.”
She smiled. “At least you’re honest.”
He softened his hands on her shoulders. “So you trust me?”
“I don’t have any reason not to. Unlike some people around here, I start out thinking the best.”
And it must take something astronomical to shake her from that resolve. “While I’m grateful for that on my account, I think you need to consider that someone out there is not behaving well.”
She sighed. “I know.”
He let go of her. “Be careful.”
She nodded, but once again it was as though his words bounced off her. He was not at all sure she did know.