by Mary Carter
“That’s when I knew Carrie Ann had to go,” Jody said. “She strangled Brady. That’s when she had to go.”
“Dad?” Grace said.
“Gracie, let’s not keep this conversation going,” her father said. “You two just have a good time.”
“Is she telling the truth?”
“Who are you?” Jody said.
“We’d better go,” Jim said.
“Dad. Answer me. What about Brady?”
“We didn’t have any proof, darling,” Jim said. “But we had to play it safe. It was your pink scarf.”
Grace’s hand flew up to her mouth. “Couldn’t it have been one of the boys?” she said.
“They weren’t allowed in your room,” Jim said.
“That didn’t mean they wouldn’t go in.”
“It was just—the way Carrie Ann reacted when we told her Brady was dead. I can’t explain it, honey. But I saw her eyes. She already knew. And she wasn’t sorry. Not one bit. I’m telling you, sweetie, I think your mother was right about that girl.”
“Oh my God. Oh my God.”
“Honey, that was a long time ago, okay? The last person we need to ever think about is Carrie Ann.”
“I’m sorry, Dad. I have to go.”
“No problem, darling. Tell that handsome boy we said hello.”
“I will.” As soon as I find him. “Bye, Mom. I love you.”
“Who are you?”
“Wait,” Jim said. “Jake’s mother called me.”
“She did?”
“It seems her boy isn’t as good at keeping in touch. She wanted me to tell you to give him a swift kick in the behind next time I talked to you. Make sure he calls his mama now, darling.”
“No problem!” Grace and her father said their good-byes. Grace felt a pang as he disappeared from her computer screen. Oh, no. Just what she needed. Barbara Hart’s getting a whiff of something wrong. That woman was an alarm-puller in the best of times. She had to find Jake ASAP.
“Is your mom okay?” Jean Sebastian said.
“She’s fine,” Grace said. She didn’t want to talk about her mother with just anyone. Jean Sebastian kept his eyes on hers. “She has cancer,” Grace said. “The doctors give her one to six months. Her memory comes and goes.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Jake and I are supposed to be videotaping this trip, sending her little movies of our wonderful time.”
“I couldn’t help but overhear,” Jean Sebastian said. “Did she say Carrie Ann strangled your cat?”
“I don’t know. I mean that’s what she said—but the medicine makes my mom confused at times.”
Although it certainly explained everything. Why her mom had suddenly announced that Carrie Ann had to go. Grace had thrown a horrendous fit that day. She’d screamed at her mother. “I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!” Not once did her mother tell her the real reason Carrie Ann had to go. Would Grace have believed her? Did Carrie Ann kill Brady? Had her mom warned the Gales?
That girl is evil, her mother had once said. It all made sense now. Brady, lying on the steps, his neck drooped down the step. Oh, God. She did it. She did it. You know she did, a little voice inside Grace said. You know she did. That’s why Carrie Ann had gone to live with Stan. And Lydia. And Lionel Gale.
“Stop,” Grace said out loud.
“What?” Jean Sebastian said. “What’s happening?”
“Nothing. I just can’t think about the past right now. We have to find them.” If Carrie Ann had killed Brady, it had been because she was jealous. Because of how much Grace loved Brady. And it wasn’t near as much as Grace loved Jake. This was insane. “Let’s see if Stefano is back.”
Jean Sebastian looked flummoxed. “Stefano?”
“The guy at the desk.”
“Right.”
Grace sailed down the steps. Stefano was just walking out the front door. Grace ran after him. “Hey,” she yelled. He didn’t turn around. “Hey,” she yelled louder. He must have headphones on. Grace sprinted after him and touched his shoulder from behind. He spun around, crouched, and threw up his hands. Even after he saw it was her, it took him a few minutes to recover.
“Sorry I—” He had lowered his hands. He had a fresh black eye. “Oh my God,” she said.
“It’s no thing.” He spoke like they were in the Bronx instead of Barcelona. He’d been watching too many American movies.
She briefly wondered if one of the females in the building had gotten sick of his leering and let him have it. “What happened?”
“What do you want? Are you following me now?” He glanced up and saw Jean Sebastian coming out of the building and threw his hands up again.
“He’s with me,” Grace said. “What happened to you?”
“Looks recent,” Jean Sebastian said. He gestured to the black eye.
“Do not worry. It’s no—”
“Thing,” Grace finished for him. “If you say so. Listen. We had some trouble of our own last night. Have you seen Rafael, Carrie Ann, or my boyfriend, Jake, since last night?”
Stefano threw his arms up and began ranting in Spanish. The only words she understood were Carrie Ann and American. She wished she hadn’t taken French all four years in high school. She turned to Jean Sebastian.
“He said an American man claiming to be Carrie Ann’s husband did that to him.”
“Oh my God.”
“Then he stormed up to the room. Stefano called Rafael to warn him. But no one answered. When the guy came back down, he thought Stefano had sent him to the wrong room on purpose. They fought. He said—basically the Spanish equivalent of ‘You should see the other guy.’ ”
Jean Sebastian held out money to Stefano. He snatched it up and walked away. “Wait,” Grace said. Jean Sebastian held out his arm to stop her. “I have more questions.”
“Give him some space.”
“You paid him?”
“We might need to ask him more later.”
“I thought your wallet was stolen.”
“It was. I keep cash in my pocket too just in case.”
“We need to find out everything he knows.”
“He said the American guy beat him up and then left. For right now that’s all we know.” He turned, crossed his arms, stared at Grace.
“What?”
“Carrie Ann is married?” He sounded upset.
So Grace was right. Jean Sebastian did have a thing for Carrie Ann. So much for thinking he liked her. Not that any of that mattered—then or now. “Was. They’re separated—I think she even filed for divorce. She said she came here because she was afraid he was going to kill her.”
“And you’re just telling me this now?”
“I wasn’t even sure if I believed her. I’m still not sure.”
“After what Stefano just said?”
“He could’ve been paid to lie. I wouldn’t put it past her.”
“I have a feeling there is a lot more to this story.”
“And I don’t have time to tell it. We have to go to the police.”
“Police? So soon? Are you sure?”
“Jake is in trouble. I have to find him.”
“What is this American husband’s name?”
“Stan,” Grace said. “His name is Stan Gale.”
CHAPTER 23
Grace put her hands on her hips and looked up and down La Rambla. As usual, it was swarming with activity. She had filled Jean Sebastian in on Stan with as few details as possible. She just wanted to get to the police station. Jean Sebastian told her there was one nearby.
“Lead the way,” Grace said.
“But they could be up in Carrie Ann’s flat.” Jean Sebastian gestured back toward the apartment. “If their drugs have not worn off, they might not have heard me knocking.” Shoot. That was a good point. She wasn’t thinking. And did Spain have that missing-twenty-four-hour rule? She hoped not. That was way too long to wait. Either way, they needed to gather as much information as possible. Once at
the police station, they were going to have to know exactly how many people were missing. It was so strange. Grace knew she had passed out—that was her last memory. Just before that she had been making out with Jake on the dance floor. No wonder she’d felt so free to be so intimate in public—the drugs had been working their way through her system. She remembered Carrie Ann’s saying “Stan” or “plan,” and then she remembered falling and Carrie Ann’s trying to hold her up. Did Grace regain consciousness after that but she couldn’t remember? Carrie Ann wouldn’t have just left her in a crowded bathroom. Then again, maybe she would have. But the club had still been packed at that point. Somebody would have helped her. Oh, why couldn’t she remember? Grace turned back toward the building. “We need to get into their apartment. And a phone—we need to get to a phone. We’ll call Jake, Carrie Ann, Rafael—we have to know if their cell phones are on.”
“You have all their numbers?”
“Just Jake’s. The others were in my phone.”
“Carrie Ann’s was in my phone too.”
“Okay. Well, we have to get to a phone and call Jake. Maybe he is somewhere and he’s been trying to call me. He must be worried to death.”
“I sure would be.” Grace glanced at Jean Sebastian. He was looking at her intensely. She didn’t know what to make of the comment, and even if he was hitting on her at this totally inappropriate time, she didn’t have time to analyze it. “I’ll bet Stefano has the key to Rafael’s apartment. Wait. Rafael is a street performer. We can look for him out on La Rambla.”
“Okay. Try to get in the apartment. Find a phone and try calling Jake. Look for Rafael.”
Grace and Jean Sebastian hurried back to the apartment building, dashed through the lobby, and headed up the stairs. It did feel good to have some sort of plan. “And then go to the police,” Grace said.
“And tell Jake to call his mother,” Jean Sebastian said.
They banged on the door. No answer. Grace tried the knob. She even tried ramming the door with her body while turning the knob. It was locked, and if anyone was inside, he or she was still too heavily drugged to answer. Grace remembered that Rafael had climbed down to their window, so it was within the realm of possibility that they could climb upstairs. But she’d had enough of that with the dance club ledge, so she kept her mouth shut. “I have to find someone’s phone,” Grace said.
“Why don’t we just buy a disposable?”
“I need more money,” Grace said. “I’ll check the room and meet you downstairs.”
“Why don’t you send Jake an e-mail?” Jean Sebastian said.
“An e-mail?”
“E-mail, Facebook—whatever he might be able to check.”
“Okay,” Grace said. She didn’t think Jake would stop to check his e-mail, but she guessed it didn’t hurt to cover all bases. She ran into the apartment. Her money was still in the drawer near the bed. But her debit card was gone. Instead, there it was, Carrie Ann’s credit card. Damn it. Carrie Ann’s ID, her ring, her credit card. Was this all another Carrie Ann plot? If she was messing with Jake, she was going to be sorry. Grace left Jake a quick e-mail.
I’m home from the dance club. Looking for you. My phone is gone. Where are you?
She didn’t want to waste time saying much more. Jake never checked Facebook anyway, and she had resisted posting their every step on her own page, so Grace skipped that part. A hundred euro would be enough for a disposable phone and then some. She still had Jake’s warning in her ear about carrying all her ID. Not that it had done her much good—
Her passport. Oh, God. She hadn’t seen her passport in the drawer. She ran to the drawer and pawed through it. Gone. Her passport was gone. Jake’s was too. Did Jake move them? She was going to have to toss the apartment. But all she wanted to do right now was get a phone and call Jake. There was a kiosk right on La Rambla.
“Anything?” Jean Sebastian asked when she came down to the lobby.
“No. Except my passport is gone. Jake’s too.”
“My God,” Jean Sebastian said. “This is a thought-out plan.”
This wasn’t part of the plan. . . .
“Let’s go get a phone.” They found the nearest kiosk, and Jean Sebastian helped her negotiate. They paid forty euro. Grace called as fast as she could. Thank God they’d had that conversation about memorizing each other’s numbers. Jake’s phone immediately went to voice mail. That wasn’t good. Usually there were a few rings before voice mail kicked in. Did it mean the phone was turned off? “Jake. Jake. It’s me. Where are you? I have a phone.” Grace left the number, twice, in a clear voice. “Call me. I’m going to the police.” By the time she hung up, tears were streaming down her face. Jean Sebastian pulled her in and hugged her, and she didn’t stop him. She thought of her second day in the square, how Jake had gone to hug her and she wouldn’t let him. Now here she was hugging a total stranger. Who, she’d already admitted to herself, she had a chemical attraction to. She’d been a selfish girlfriend, and she was a selfish girlfriend. She pulled out of the embrace. Please, God. Help me find Jake. I’ll never hold anything back from him again as long as I live.
“We’ll find them,” Jean Sebastian said, rubbing her back. “Try Carrie Ann.”
“Right.” Grace stared at the phone. “Her number is in my other phone,” she said. “I don’t have it memorized.”
“We have to get into that apartment.”
“Let’s look for Rafael. He dresses like some kind of black bird with a white face.”
“Really?”
“It’s totally creepy.” Grace suddenly remembered her drug-induced dream. The thing chasing her down the street, knocking her over, pulling off its mask to reveal a laughing Carrie Ann. Maybe Grace knew deep down inside this was a Carrie Ann game she was playing. She almost hoped it was. Carrie Ann certainly might scheme and manipulate, but she wouldn’t physically harm anyone. Stan, on the other hand—
That was only if Carrie Ann was to be believed. Grace was going to have to try and look up Stan’s number. Call him. She had no choice. But not now, and not in front of Jean Sebastian. She appreciated his help, but that didn’t mean he needed to know every dirty detail. Grace and Jean Sebastian took opposite sides of La Rambla. Grace moved down the line of street performers. Medusa with the snakes. The white man was back on the toilet. She wondered if he changed his newspaper every day or pretended to read the same one. The head was sticking out of the table. She no longer cared whether or not it had kneepads. She just wanted to find Jake and get out of Spain. She wanted to go home. She reached the end of the line on her side. From here there were art dealers and musicians lining the rest of the way to the beach. She tried Jake again. Voice mail kicked in immediately. “This voice mail is full. Please try your call again later.”
No. No. No. Grace wanted to hurl the phone down the street. Would texts go through if voice mail was full? She texted him.
Call me ASAP.
She left the number for the new phone even though it probably would show up with her text. She kept doing things that didn’t really matter, but she had to do something. The police. She had to go to the police. She crossed over and began to scan the street for Jean Sebastian. God, what if she lost him too? What would she tell the police? I don’t know why, but everyone who hangs around me seems to disappear.
Grace wiped her brow. It was slick. The sun was brutal. She was still wearing the clothes she had worn to the dance club, slept on a bathroom floor in. She was going to have to shower and wear something presentable. Otherwise the police might think she was some kind of drug addict; they might not take her claims seriously enough. And she wouldn’t blame them. Grace wouldn’t have believed any of this either if it weren’t for the fact that she knew Carrie Ann. And Carrie Ann was capable of almost anything.
CHAPTER 24
Just as Grace was about to turn into the alley to go back to the apartment, she saw Jean Sebastian waving at her from across the way. She waited for him to catch up.
&nbs
p; “Hey,” he said. “I thought we were going to meet up.”
“Sorry. I didn’t see you, and I have to shower and get to the police station.” She looked at him. “Unless?” Had he spotted them? He shook his head. “So we’re missing Rafael, Carrie Ann, and Jake.”
Jean Sebastian put his hand on her arm. “I need to get my things,” he said. “I think I should stay with you.” Grace hesitated. Jake probably wouldn’t like it if less than twelve hours after he went missing she was already shacked up with another guy. A very good-looking guy from Belgium who used to be the director of an international rescue agency in the Congo. Then again, Jean Sebastian probably had some skills that would come in handy. Plus he spoke Spanish. Lastly, she was terrified of being alone. What if the psycho husband did exist and decided to go after her?
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll take a shower, get dressed, and wait for you at the apartment.”
“You won’t go anywhere else. You promise?”
“I promise. You should shower too.”
“I am European.” At her look, he laughed. “I will shower,” he said. “But it won’t take long. I am going to buy a phone too—let me write down your number.” Neither of them had a pen, so he borrowed one from a passerby and wrote the number on his forearm. His muscles bulged. Strong. He was definitely an asset. That was the only reason she wanted him along. Jake wouldn’t want her to face this all alone, would he?
“Check your e-mail, check your Facebook, everything,” Jean Sebastian said. “Any way someone might use to communicate.”
“Okay. But we’re going straight to the police, right?”
“I don’t like it. But I guess we don’t have a choice.”
“See you soon.”
“Lock the doors,” Jean Sebastian said. She hesitated. Should she ask him to come up now and check the apartment to make sure no one was in there? After all, someone, Rafael most likely, had climbed in before just to move things around. No. She wasn’t going to start sounding like someone who was afraid of her own shadow. Besides, she would be thrilled to see Rafael climbing around her apartment right now. But what if it was Stan? She wouldn’t be thrilled to be alone and in the shower with him roaming about the apartment.