Chapter 31
CHAPTER 31
CARLIE
So far, Chad hasn’t said anything about the fact that I spend most days at his house, helping with the girls and around the house. His call-outs the last few days have all been in the middle of the night, so he doesn’t question me staying when he gets home because he needs sleep.
The atmosphere does feel different, though.
It has to be just me. I’m imagining suspicion in his eyes when I look up and see him watching me or that he seems more tense than usual. This week has been a rough one, and anyone would be off when they’re getting as little good sleep as Chad.
I can’t get Law’s accusations out of my head, and it’s messing with my ability to interpret everything.
But does Chad suspect that I’m on to him killing Shelby? How else can he be so certain she won’t come back? What will Law think of that when I?—
I’ve had to stop myself from thinking about what I’m going to tell Law a lot. He texted me this morning that he’s going with Malcolm back to Nashville for a little while. They’re leaving tomorrow. He gave me all the details in some lame way of proving that he’s willing to tell me everything. I said, Have fun , even though I wanted to beg him not to leave. I will text him. We’ll talk about this, but not until after I’ve proven that I’m right and that this isn’t just about thinking the worst of someone because of my past trauma. That way, Law will trust me.
I’m sitting at the table, doing a math lesson using a Dr. Seuss book, when Scarlett asks, “Do you know my mom, Miss Carlie?”
And Chad walks into the room the same time she asks.
I meet his gaze for a brief moment before turning to Scarlett. “I don’t,” I say, even though I want to take Naomi’s advice and ask Scarlett to tell me about her. I couldn’t do that even if Chad wasn’t in the room. He asked me not to, and worried as I am, I have to try to respect his parenting decisions. Doing something he asked me not to will just put me at risk of getting fired, and I have to be here for the girls.
I turn another page in the book, reading it to them before asking them to count along with me. I glance up at Chad as I listen to them. His back is to me, pouring coffee, but his muscles are tense.
I turn the page when they’re finished counting, but before I can start reading, Zoey says, “Mr. Law knows our mom, doesn’t he, Daddy?”
Oof. Double whammy. “Mr. Law has lived here longer than me,” I say quickly. Please, please don’t let Chad think I’m encouraging this. After our conversation the other day, he might think I’m trying to prove a point. His back is still to me, or I would plead innocence with my eyes.
We finish the book without any more comments about Shelby. “What do you guys want for lunch today?” I ask, nodding toward the chart we keep on the fridge to make their requests simple. I slid three choices into the chart this morning while they were still sleeping: sandwiches, chicken nuggets, and corn dogs. I’ve put off grocery shopping for a few days since I wanted an excuse to be here during the day when Chad was, so we’re out of some of their favorites.
“I’ll take care of lunch today,” Chad says. He smiles at me, but it’s so forced I feel like it’s a sticker from one of the books I got the girls to help them practice letters. Oops, wrong one , I might say to the girls. This face looks like a frown belongs there .
I wave him off, pretending I don’t notice his fake chill-ness with me. “No problem. It’s my job.”
“I’m here,” he points out, still with that stiff smile.
One glance at the girls says they see through it. Scarlett studies her dad with a slight frown, and Zoey has moved closer to me. My heart thumps, but I keep my expression and my body loose. My body language will scream to the girls that they’re safe, if that’s all I can do.
“I don’t mind.” I don’t move any closer to the chart, though. That feels like overstepping my bounds by too far.
Chad does, crouching next to the chart and beckoning to Scarlett. “You think I can’t make sandwiches, sweetie?” he asks, his tone almost normal.
Scarlett giggles and hurries to the fridge, but Zoey stays next to me. I can’t help thinking of a podcast I listened to where they later discovered a three-year-old had seen her mother’s murder. She just hadn’t had the words to tell anyone about it until much later.
“I don’t want sandwiches,” Scarlett’s saying. “I want chicken nuggets.”
Chad slaps his hand over his forehead. “Oh, no. I don’t know how to make those.”
Zoey laughs now too and hurries over to him, chiding him. “Yes, you do, Daddy! You make them all the time.”
I should be relaxing that Zoey seems fine with him, Scarlett too, but I can’t get my muscles to obey.
Chad stands, opening the freezer to grab the bag of chicken nuggets. He turns to me, his smile turning false again once it’s on me. “I know your brother’s going through some stuff. I’ll call Amie if I get called out so you can spend some time with him.”
It’s a dismissal, not offhanded like he’s trying to make it sound. If I push any more, his suspicions will just keep rising—but about what at this point, I’m not sure. That I’m talking to the girls about Shelby behind his back and against his express wishes? Or that I think he might have done something to Shelby and I’m on to him?
“Okay.” I nod and wave at the girls, grabbing my bag as I head toward the door. I make sure my smile is as real as possible as I leave. The last thing I want is for them to worry.
He didn’t do anything to Shelby . I chant it all the way back to my house.
There’s no way I’m leaving my house today.
I park myself on my bed. I don’t want anyone walking in and surprising me while I spy on Chad and the girls all day. When he takes them to the park, I slip onto the path once I’m sure they’re past and sit down next to a tree far enough away that he won’t be able to tell it’s me, but close enough so I can see them. I wear a baseball hat and sunglasses and pull my hair back in a bun, hoping that’s enough of a disguise. I pretend to read a book and tell myself he wouldn’t do anything to them in public anyway.
“Carlie!” a voice calls, and I look up to see Chad’s neighbor on the other side, Mrs. Kay, strolling down the path.
I wave enthusiastically and hope she doesn’t call out my name again. The park is busy enough that Chad might not have heard. I risk looking over my shoulder, and his attention is still on the girls.
“Hi, Mrs. Kay,” I say with false brightness when she approaches. “How are you today?”
“Melting.” She laughs loudly, and a glance over my shoulder says that Chad has looked up now. Hopefully he doesn’t know it’s me with her. He gave me permission to go to Kemah to see my family, and instead I stick around to hang out at the park by myself? That’s not weird at all.
“It is pretty hot,” I agree quietly, in hopes that Mrs. Kay will bring her voice down a few notches and stop attracting attention from the whole park.
“Speak up, Carlie,” she says. Stop saying my name, woman! “I can barely hear you.”
I titter. “Oh, sorry. Bad habit. You know, Chad’s had a lot of late-night calls, and me and the girls have to try and be quiet while he’s sleeping. They usually follow my example if I speak quietly, you know?” I’m rambling, and I didn’t increase my volume by much. I can only hope if I keep talking, Mrs. Kay won’t be able to shout my presence here to the whole world.
I take Mrs. Kay’s arm and pretend to casually stroll away from the park where the girls and Chad are playing. “Is your son coming this weekend like he said?” I ask the only thing that comes to mind. Mrs. Kay actually hasn’t mentioned him the last couple times we’ve spoken, but that never deters her from complaining about his infrequent visits when he just lives in Dallas.
“No, of course not.” She gives an irritated harrumph and then stops abruptly. “Goodness, Carlie—” I can’t help wincing every time she says my name. “I’m going the wrong way. I’m doing the loop of the park clockwise today. It’s Wednesday, you know.” She says this like it makes perfect sense.
“Oh! I’m sorry.” She tilts her head at me because I’m still speaking as quietly as I can get away with in a park. “Well, I need to head back to my house. I’ll see you!” I hurry away before she can protest, which I realize is risking her shouting after me again, but maybe I can get back inside my gate quick enough that Chad will decide that Mrs. Kay is going a bit senile.
“I’ll see you soon, Carlie!”
Wince
I wave without looking back, and book it back to my yard. It’s possible I’m really bad at being a spy.
I find a stepstool at the guesthouse and haul it to the back of the fence where I can peer over the fence at them. I also grabbed a pair of hedge clippers that were in the storage box at the back of the house. There’s nothing near me to trim, but only Chad will know that. I’m doing a pretty good job of ducking every time he glances this way.
He gets a call at the park that I know is a call-out. He nods officially as he listens. His company is the only call he takes that he uses that nod. I silently will him to have dismissed his suspicions about me, to call me because it’s easier.
But when he gets off the phone, he shouts for the girls, waves them over to him, and then makes another call. My phone doesn’t vibrate in my pocket.
I slip into the backyard in time to see his car back up and pull into the street. I have no way of knowing if he’s really taking them to his sister’s house. I don’t know if that call at the park, when he nodded officially, was really a call-out. What if he knew I was watching?
I head back to my house and pace up and down my hall. I can’t stop thinking of Law’s accusation, how he believes I’m really overthinking this, believing the worst about Chad, and that I’m letting all my fears about Xavier color everything. All the stuff with Caleb and Ivy is bringing up old fears and making me paranoid. He’s wrong.
But hearing his voice telling me the girls are alright would make me feel better about watching them drive away with Chad.
I could call him. We could talk about all this. He’s not leaving until the morning. Since Malcolm drove here, Law’s driving back with him. He told me all about how long the drive’s going to be—twelve hours—and how Malcolm was crazy for driving instead of flying.
I text Jenna to try to clear my mind about Law.
Carlie
He should have told me about Malcolm and not wanting to move to Houston.
She already has the full story, and she responds exactly as I expect her to.
Jenna
Of course.
Carlie
Should I forgive him?
Am I overreacting because of Xavier?
She doesn’t answer for long enough that I know she’s thinking hard about how to word something.
Carlie
Am I only seeing the worst in him?
After a few more seconds of the dots dancing, she answers.
Jenna
Maybe you are, but I don’t blame you. But I also think he deserves a chance. Do you?
Carlie
Probably.
Jenna
I plop down onto my couch and watch Chad’s house, hoping they come back. What will I tell the police if something happens? When they ask why I didn’t say something sooner? I’ve listened to this story before, to the people who saw all the signs and didn’t say anything. The ones who just couldn’t believe it was real, and the podcaster swears as they chide people for not saying anything when something was clearly wrong. Don’t be afraid of standing out, especially in a bad situation. That’s what the host would say to me now.
What will I tell Liz?
This is what Law doesn’t understand. Maybe Chad is totally innocent. Maybe I’m building things up. But what if I’m not?
I must have drifted off on the couch, because the next thing I know, light spills out into the backyard from the family room of Chad’s house. I clamber back to my bedroom, checking on the security cameras. Chad’s cutting a hamburger into quarters and putting it on two plates. The girls sit at the kitchen table, smiling and legs swinging underneath.
They’re fine.
See? Law’s voice says in my head. Overthinking it.
I stay glued to the computer, though, not even playing a movie on my iPad like I was before. I watch them eat dinner, watch Chad read them books, then put them to bed. He’s a normal dad. He loves his girls.
Chad settles in the family room, watching something on TV. He folds his arms and looks as tense as when I left earlier today. I sigh and stretch. I need to pee, and I have to sleep sometime. If I called Law and told him how worried I am, how off Chad’s been acting, would he believe me? Or would he just chalk this up to me thinking the worst of people?
I pick up my phone. He could come over, and we could talk, maybe figure out some kind of middle ground. He’s friends with Chad and has so much more information on the issue than I do. I could give him a chance to explain why he didn’t tell me about how bad he wanted to play for the Blues, or why he purposefully left Ivy’s name out when he told me about his brother. I could admit that the way he didn’t tell me such small things threw me off, but they’re not dealbreakers. I like him too much.
I really, really like him.
But first, I need to pee.
I pick up my phone as soon as I come back, but my gaze strays to the computer out of habit. I gasp. Chad is striding through the family room, then into the entryway toward the stairs.
He’s carrying a shotgun.