Saving Charlie (Stories of Serendipity Book 9) (2 page)

She pulled up outside the motel and used the maid’s key. Silently entering the room, she looked around. Sounds of weeping from the bed stole her attention, but as soon as she closed the door behind her, they stopped.

“It’s okay. I’m here to help. Are you alone?” Charlie whispered into the darkness, willing her eyes to adjust to the light.

“Y-yes…” the broken voice replied. She sounded really young.

Too easy. They never left them totally alone, especially during the seasoning period. Charlie knew they weren’t far away. She had to work fast.

Quickly, Charlie moved over to the bed, removing the bolt cutters from her knapsack, along with a knife. Noticing the girl was cuffed to the bed, she slipped the knife into her back pocket.

Using the bolt cutters, she freed the girl’s hands and helped her to sit up.

“I’ve got clothes in the car for you. Can you walk?”

The girl, who couldn’t have been older than twelve, nodded. “Where are you taking me?” The inexperienced ones didn’t ask questions, just following blindly. This girl had some sense, which could bode well or not. The ones with sense meant they were usually repeat offenders, and would be a flight risk.

“Someplace safe. Come on. They’ll probably come check on you soon.”

Charlie led the girl out of the room, checking for lookouts, before rushing her to the truck. She sped out of the parking lot, handing the girl a sweat suit to put on, and drove away quickly. As always, she bit her tongue against the questions she wanted to ask. While part of her wanted answers, another larger part wanted the whole thing buried even deeper. Instead, she pulled out her cell phone and dialed a number from memory.

“I’ve got her. We’re on our way.”

From Carla May’s journal — written July 1995 — Age: sixteen

Shrinkage says I need to start a diary, so here it is. I call her that because she’s old and shrinking. And she’s a shrink, so the name seems to fit in more ways than one, if you know what I mean. I don’t know if she’s ever going to read this or not, but I should talk about some messed up shit, so she’ll give me some good drugs, you think? Not that my life all by itself isn’t messed up enough. She wants me to write about why I do what I do, if I can. So here goes…

I like sex. I shouldn’t, because of everything that’s happened to me. But when I have sex, I have someone’s undivided attention, and that’s the only time it ever happens. Shrinkage has been talking a lot about different types of attention, and how I’ve been looking for the wrong kinds. But that’s honestly the only attention I’ve ever really gotten. I mean, The Man gives me attention sometimes, but it’s usually right before I give him a blow job. He says I give the best head.

I used to really love The Man, and he’s the only person I’ve ever really known. Until Adam rescued me.

I don’t think Adam will stick around if I don’t have lots of amazing sex with him. He doesn’t love me like I love him, and I need him to stay. Especially since the people here tell me The Man’s gone. Adam’s the only good person who’s ever shown me any sort of attention.

He’s so out of my league. Both of his parents love him, and have jobs and stuff. He’s got everything he’s ever wanted. Adam plays football, and will probably get a scholarship to one of the huge colleges or something. He’s got a car, an old Camaro. He doesn’t really drink much, which is weird, but at that party he found me at, he was the only one who wasn’t totally wasted, although I could still smell beer on his breath. But when he took me home with him, his parents were throw-uppy nice to me. They’re the ones who brought me to this place, and Adam comes in to visit sometimes too. When he does, I manage to sneak him off somewhere and kiss him. Once I went down on him. He liked it so much, even though he tried to get me to stop. It’s only a matter of time before I can get him alone long enough for sex, and after that, he’ll be mine forever.

Well, my hand hurts so I’m stopping for now. Shrinkage didn’t say how much I have to write, just that I have to do it every day. So there, I’m done for now.

Charlie sat at her desk, going over the books, drinking her fifth enormous cup of coffee when her phone rang.

“Charlie’s Recycled Restoration, how may I help you?” She stifled a yawn, anxious for interaction. Maybe an actual conversation would wake her up. Between her dirty caller and the rescue run, she hadn’t managed too much sleep last night, especially after getting Justin to finally leave.

“Hey there, Sweetness. How’s my favorite girl today?” Les’s smooth voice washed over her through the phone.

“Pretty good, Les. How’re you doing?” She flushed at the memory of the call, crossing her legs and leaning back in her chair.

“Better than I deserve.” His standard reply. Les was a sweet guy, and not too hard on the eyes, but Charlie knew better than to try to start anything with him. Except of course for their midnight escapades, which by unspoken agreement, they did not address during daylight hours. “What do you have in the way of crown molding? My client has suddenly decided they need crown molding in the dining room.”

She smiled. “I’ve got an entire shed full of it. You want to come out and look?”

“Awesome. I’ll be there in thirty minutes. Do you ever get a day off?”

“Nope. The boss is pretty strict.” She laughed to herself. Les had assumed from day one that Charlie was a man, who was never there. For some reason, Charlie played along, never correcting him. Oh the games they played. Les was fun though. A great sport.

Judging by his night-time phone calls, a great sport with a filthy mind.

Thirty minutes later, Charlie had splashed water on her face to wake up and changed shirts. It was starting to get hot, so she put a short sleeved button-up over her tank top, exposing tattoos she’d had forever. Living at her place of business had its advantages.

When Les got there, he walked in as if he owned the place, and Charlie’s pulse quickened, in spite of the mental talking-to she gave herself. It was a strange dualistic experience around Les. Her muscles relaxed while everything else tightened. She sort of liked it, even though it was a wholly inappropriate reaction to a customer.

Les wasn’t a tall man, only a couple inches taller than her own five foot six inch frame. But he was a builder, doing most of the labor himself to cut costs, and it showed. He was muscular in all the right places, filling out his jeans and tee shirt well. She noticed with a little disappointment he had pulled on an over shirt today, a red long-sleeved button down he’d rolled up to reveal corded forearms.

“Did you dress up for me?” She instantly chided herself for the flirtatious tone of her voice. Number one, she had a boyfriend, such as he was. Number two, Les was a client, and her business was doing just fine without mixing it with pleasure. And number three, they had their night life, why mess with a good thing? And even without all that, he wasn’t the type of guy she typically dated. Les was, for the most part,
nice.

“Always, Sweetness. I even combed my hair for you.” He leaned on her desk and she could smell his aftershave, a sandalwood scent that did little to mask his natural odor of sawdust and man. She noticed his dark hair was indeed combed back, a departure from his normal tousled curls. He must have used some sort of gel to tame the wildness. She had to admit to herself, she enjoyed the wildness. He kept it a little long on top, and Charlie had had to control herself, on more than one occasion, from running her fingers through it, twirling the curls in her fingers.

“So, crown molding? Any particular size?” She stood and walked around the desk.

“Can I take a couple of samples? To let the customer pick?”

“Absolutely. Come on out back. I’ll show you what I’ve got.” Charlie led the way out the back door to the row of outbuildings where she kept her inventory. She sold architectural details, finishing pieces, so to speak. Stained glass, banisters, flooring, molding, you name it, she probably had it. It hadn’t taken her long to get enough stuff to start her business, and she was constantly going to auctions, and old house sites to salvage pieces most people threw away, and others would pay top dollar for.

The shed at the end of the row held all of her molding and some of her flooring. Filled with stacks of old wood, it was a critter haven.

“Watch out for snakes. ‘Tis the season.” In fact, it was unseasonably warm and dry this year, which had the snakes out and looking for water in unlikely places. “The molding is all over against this wall back here.” She picked her way through the piles of wood, watching where she stepped, leading the way to where Les needed to look.

A low whistle came from Les. “This is some pretty nice stuff. Where’d you get it?”

“Um, some of it came from a remodel Mr. Burt did last winter, some of it came from an auction in Jacksonville, and some of it came from the old Lancaster place on Serendipity Road when they tore it down. I made a deal with those folks. They let me come in and take what I wanted for a small fee.”

“Cool,” Les murmured as he pulled pieces away from the wall, choosing what he wanted to take with him. Suddenly, he dropped everything with a girlish shriek and jumped back. Charlie was at his side in an instant, gun drawn.

Sure enough, a copperhead about two feet long lay there, coiled up and looking deceptively innocent.

“Good eye, Les. Those things are bad news.” Carefully, she aimed at the head, and as soon as she drew a bead on it, the head disintegrated with a loud bang. Smoke hung in the air along with the gunpowder’s acrid smell.

“My hero. I hate snakes.” Les tried to chuckle good-naturedly, but Charlie could see he was shaken up. “They don’t travel in pairs, do they?” He was looking around them, eyes wild while he shoved his shaking hands in his pockets. Charlie suppressed her giggle. He probably hated clowns, too.

“No, that’s water moccasins. At least, that’s what I’ve heard, anyway.” She picked up the pieces of molding he’d dropped and led the way out the shed, lithely dancing between piles of wood.

“You always packing out here?”

“Yeah, it’s snake shot in a .22 revolver. Won’t really hurt a man, but it’ll blow off a snake’s head in a heartbeat.” This was her home now, and as distasteful as snakes were, she’d learned to co-exist with the non-poisonous ones and she had a bullet for every poisonous one she ran across.

“I feel so safe with you.” The teasing lilt in his voice brought a smile to her face.

“I aim to please,” she drawled.

“Be sure and tell Charlie you need a raise. In fact, I’ll email him this afternoon, as soon as I get back to my office.” He was walking behind her, carrying the pieces he would be taking back to his customers.

“Will do.”

Justin’s Jetta was parked in front of the house when they walked back into the office and the flirty banter was gone. His dark gaze raked over her possessively, before dragging across Les, then he planted a firm kiss on Charlie’s mouth.

“I brought you lunch, sweetheart. I know you probably haven’t eaten yet.” Keeping his arm draped around her shoulders, he handed her a plastic container filled with some sort of hamburger helper.

“Thanks, Justin. That’s sweet. I’ll eat in a little bit.” Stifling her annoyance, she set the container on the edge of her desk and turned back to Les. “Just bring back whatever the customer doesn’t pick, and you can pay for the rest. I’ll write up the ticket for you then. Okay?”

“Sure, I’ll try to get them to look at it this afternoon and choose. Hopefully I’ll be back out here later tomorrow.” He flashed a smile at her, waved to Justin, and left.

“I don’t like that guy,” Justin announced after Les had walked out the door.

“You don’t like
any
guy who talks to me,” Charlie said dismissively.

“So?” He leaned against her desk.

Leaning against the other side of her desk, so she was looking directly into Justin’s eyes, Charlie replied patiently, “So, my business deals primarily with men. You’re going to have to get over that if we’re going to keep seeing each other.”

“Why did you go into a business like this again?”

“Because I like old houses and the details that make them unique. I wanted to do this. I enjoy doing this. And I make money doing this.” She’d had this discussion with Justin before, but he didn’t understand it. He didn’t really like old houses, living in a newer subdivision that had gone up in the last ten years on the outskirts of Serendipity.

He grunted in reply, which was all Charlie could hope for. It was either a grunt or an argument, and she wasn’t in the mood for the latter. She’d been relatively happy with her no-strings attached attitude until she met Justin, but doubts had been rising to the surface of her mind about him for some time. Initially, she’d told Justin they could have a casual thing, since she wasn’t interested in anything else, but he’d convinced her to take things a step further. Charlie was discovering it was a mistake to give it a go. He was hot, good between the sheets, and a relatively good guy. But if this was what a relationship was, having to justify her decisions all the time, she wasn’t so sure about it.

Deciding to keep the peace, because she didn’t have the energy for what she wanted to say, Charlie ate in silence. The food was warm and tasty and Charlie had skipped breakfast. Since she’d been up since the wee hours of the morning, she was starving in addition to exhausted.