The girl remained silent.
Bitty turned to Allie. “This young lady is my daughter, Allie,” she said, motioning to her.
Daughter.
Allie’s heart swelled at the word because Bitty was the only real mother she’d ever had—and it had taken her sixteen years to find her. She still pinched herself sometimes, stunned that out of all the children Bitty had fostered over the years, she was the one the woman had chosen to adopt.
It still made no sense to her . . . why she had been the lucky one.
“Hi,” Allie said, smiling one of her confident smiles. One she’d practiced thousands of times over the years. Confidence had never been something that had come easy to her. She’d had to work hard on it.
The brunette girl, Zoe, studied her with big, watchful eyes.
“Would you girls like something to eat or drink?” Bitty asked. “I made cookies.”
Her eyes still on Allie, Zoe shook her head. Carrie remained silent.
“I have chocolate chip,” Bitty said.
Neither girl responded.
“I’m afraid we found them in dire conditions,” the caseworker said. “Covered in urine, vomit. We tried to clean them up a little at the hospital, but they didn’t—”
Bitty cut her off with a raised hand. She didn’t like people talking about the children in front of them as though they couldn’t hear. She believed that children should receive the same respect any adult would expect. “Allie, please show the girls to the bathroom and run a bath,” she said.
“Yeah, sure.”
“Help them if they need it, then show them to their bedroom while we finish talking, okay, honey?”
“Okay.” Allie stood up and crossed the room. “C’mon, follow me,” she said, motioning to the girls.
Eyes cast downward, the twins dutifully followed.
Both girls stood quietly in the bathroom doorway as Allie prepared a warm bath. Now much closer to them, she could smell the stink of urine and vomit the caseworker had been talking about.
Allie stood on the toilet seat and gathered supplies from the upper shelves of the overhead cabinet, then climbed down. She placed everything neatly on the counter. “These are for you. There’s also shampoo and conditioner next to the tub,” she said, gesturing to both bottles. “Can I get you guys anything else?”
Zoe was staring at her again. Up close, Allie could see how bloodshot and frightened the girl’s big green eyes were.
“No, thank you.”
“Carrie?”
Carrie stood silently, hugging her bear and watching the bathtub fill with water.
“Did they call Grandmother?” Zoe asked, her voice quivering.
“Who?”
“Grandmother. Is she . . . is she coming for us?”
“I don’t know,” Allie said. “Bitty didn’t say anything about her, but I’ll ask.”
“We won’t go with her,” Zoe said, shaking her head. “There’s no way,” she said, sounding both obstinate and terrified.
Allie nodded, then squeezed past the girls. She stepped out of the bathroom to give them some privacy. “I’ll be out here. Just let me know if you need anything, okay?”
“Okay.”
Allie left the door open a crack. She listened to the girls undress and step into the water. Then she moved closer to the living room, where Bitty and the caseworker were sitting, talking on the couch.
“I’m afraid they haven’t had the best home environment,” the caseworker was saying. “About three years ago, their younger brother was hit by a truck and killed. The girls were there when it happened. Witnessed the entire thing.”
Allie winced. She went to the bathroom door to listen in on the girls again. Hearing water sloshing around, she went to the closet where Bitty kept extra clothes for the kids. She chose two cotton nightgowns and pairs of underwear that looked like they would fit the twins.
A few minutes later, she led the freshly scrubbed girls to the bedroom where the foster kids slept. It was decorated in warm browns and soft blues, and outfitted with bunk beds along the far wall and a twin bed on the opposite wall. Functional and comfortable.
“This is your bedroom. You can sleep wherever you like,” Allie said.
Zoe bristled. “This isn’t our bedroom,” she said, her green eyes icy. “This isn’t even our house. We’re only here until our dad gets back from his run and picks us up.”
A strangled sound came from deep within her sister’s throat. She buried her pale face into her teddy bear and sobbed.
“Their father’s dead, right?” Allie asked after she and Bitty had left the girls’ bedroom, leaving the two curled up together on the lower bunk, a plate of chocolate chip cookies and some almond milk on the nightstand next to the bunk beds.
“Yes, I’m afraid so.”
“Zoe told me he’s just out of town. That they’re expecting him to pick them up.”
The woman exhaled loudly. “The caseworker said she hasn’t fully accepted that her parents have died.”
“So what do I say if she says it again? About her father.”
“I’d gently remind her about the conversations she’s already had with her caseworker and the psychiatrist at the hospital,” Bitty said. “Tomorrow morning, I’m taking them to the Child Advocacy Center. The police want to find out what they know about the murders . . . and they’ll also start seeing a counselor there on an ongoing basis. Hopefully, the sessions will help.”
“Did the caseworker mention a grandmother?” Allie asked. “Zoe’s worried that she’s going to pick them up. She seemed scared that they’ll have to stay with her.”
“I was told the maternal grandmother was contacted, but she refused to accept the girls.”
Allie frowned. “God. That’s awful.”
“Yes, it is. It happens far too often, I’m afraid. People can be selfish . . . and cold.”
Yes, they can, Allie thought.
Over more tea, Bitty filled Allie in on everything the caseworker had shared. About their three-year-old brother being hit by a truck, about the $1.2 million the family had just won in the lottery, and their recent move from a trailer on the edge of town to Sherman’s Landing.
“Guess the good life didn’t end up so good,” Bitty said. She stood and carried the plates to the sink.
“Yeah, I guess not.”
Zoe’s fear-filled eyes flashed into Allie’s mind. She remembered how miserable Carrie had looked . . . like she’d simply wanted to fold into herself and die. Although all of the foster kids looked pretty miserable when they first arrived, Allie found that she felt worse for these girls because their family had been ripped apart by murder.
Just as hers had.
She also had a good idea of what the road ahead of them would look like . . . and it wouldn’t be pretty. People never healed from the horror of murder.
Not completely.
Her eyelids suddenly heavy, Allie said good night. Back in her bedroom, she kissed Sammy’s soft cheek. She pulled away and stared at his little face, letting pure joy wash over her.
She still couldn’t believe he was hers. That he had actually come out of her body. Before Sammy, she hadn’t understood the meaning of joy. Now she felt it several times every day.
Sammy was her world.
He and Bitty were her everything.
Trying to block further thoughts of the girls from her mind, she crawled back into bed and closed her eyes. Almost instantly she drifted off, into the comforting arms of sleep . . . where she rested soundly until the first of the horrible screams rang out.
CHAPTER 3
ALLIE LEAPT FROM the bed and ran toward the screams. They were coming from the girls’ bedroom.
She flipped on the overhead light to find the blonde twin, Carrie, standing in the middle of the room, her eyes wide, her arms rigid at her sides. She was screaming at the top of her lungs.
Zoe was standing a few feet from her sister, holding her ears. “Stop, Carrie! Stop! You’re freaki
ng me out,” she pleaded. “Stop, Carrie! You’re scaring me!”
Carrie’s voice was so loud and shrill, Allie’s brain vibrated in her skull. Allie hesitated, staring at the screaming girl. She didn’t know what to do.
She knew someone more normal would reach out to Carrie and embrace her in a hug. But Allie couldn’t. As she looked at the girl, she noticed several angry red lines on the insides of both arms, just below her elbows.
They looked like cutting scars.
Bitty flew into the room. She immediately went to Carrie and wrapped her arms around her. Carrie, her face nearly purple, continued to scream, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Shhh, honey. It’s all right,” Bitty soothed.
Bitty freed a hand, grabbed a blanket from the twin bed, and pulled it tightly around Carrie’s shoulders.
Feeling useless, Allie wrung her hands and turned to the doorway, expecting to see a frightened Sammy, but the doorway was empty. She glanced at Zoe, who was still holding her ears. There was raw terror in her eyes. She hummed and rocked back and forth on her tiptoes. Allie watched her, her own pulse racing.
Finally the screaming stopped. Carrie began to pant, as though desperately trying to pull air into her lungs.
“It’s going to be okay,” the old woman continued to soothe. Bitty’s eyes found Zoe. “Has she had these fits before?”
Zoe shook her head. “No. What’s . . . what’s wrong with her?” She stepped tentatively toward her sister now that she was no longer screaming, and gently touched her back. “It’s okay, Carrie. Dad’ll be here soon to get us, okay?”
Carrie opened her mouth and started screaming again.
Zoe’s hands shot to her ears. She backed away from her sister and sobbed.
Perplexed at the excitement, Piglet jerked her chin to the ceiling and howled.
Zoe blinked at Allie, those watchful eyes of hers seeming to want . . . need . . . something. They reminded her of the look Sammy got on his face when he was upset and wanted to be held. Did she want a hug, maybe? Allie wondered. Allie was pretty sure it was what any normal, caring human being would do in the situation. But she couldn’t.
She always helped Bitty with the foster children, but she never got involved. Not emotionally anyway. She ran errands, prepared food—did the menial stuff—but she never got to know them on a personal level. And she certainly didn’t hug them. She was too afraid of making her world any bigger. The girls’ presence alone was already a disruption. She knew her hesitancy was selfish . . . and she felt bad about it, but she also feared coming undone.
And she couldn’t let that happen.
Realizing Piglet was still howling, Allie gathered the dog in her arms. She stood nervously for a moment, randomly noticing that the cookies and milk on the bedside table were gone, then she went to Bitty. “What can I do?”
The old woman’s voice was calm. “A glass of water, please.”
Relieved to finally have something to do, Allie set Piglet down and hurried to the kitchen for a glass of water.
Before returning to the girls’ bedroom, she stopped to check on Sammy. She was relieved to find him lying exactly where he was before the screams, still sound asleep. Sammy had always been an incredibly deep sleeper. Even as a baby. In the beginning, the fact that he slept so much—and could sleep through practically anything—had concerned her, but his pediatrician said he was simply a good sleeper . . . and told Allie not to worry so much . . . that it was a problem most new mothers would love to have. But she still worried sometimes. She couldn’t count the times over the years when she’d checked just to make sure he was still breathing.
Ears still ringing from the high-pitched screams, Allie took a deep breath and carried the glass of water to the girls’ room.
CHAPTER 4
BITTY CALLED THEM night terrors, and they were definitely terrifying—for the person having them as well as everyone else within earshot. As Allie climbed her way out of a deep sleep the next morning, she could still hear Carrie’s gut-wrenching screams.
When she finally managed to pry her eyes open, Sammy was looming over her. Seeing that she was awake, he grinned. With his blue eyes, fine sandy hair, and dimples on both cheeks, she thought he was the most beautiful sight ever.
Allie smiled back at him. She’d fallen in love with Sammy during her first ultrasound. That was the day she realized her life wasn’t about her anymore. Her life was all about him now, and she knew it always would be. He was going to give her life meaning, and she was going to give him the best childhood she possibly could. She only wished Sammy had a more involved father. Since he’d been born, Johnny had only visited a couple of days a month.
“Who here?” Sammy asked.
“Who is here,” Allie corrected. Sammy was a little behind his peers in verbal skills and was working with a speech therapist twice a month. She answered his question: “Two little girls. They got here late last night.”
Sammy straddled her stomach and plopped his little bottom down. “What their names?”
“Carrie and Zoe. Why? Did you hear them this morning?”
“Yes, they was in the hallway.”
“Want to go and meet them . . . and say good morning to Grammy?”
Sammy’s face lit up. “Yes!”
The girls sat at the dining room table, still in the nightgowns Allie had picked out the night before.
Both had swollen eyes and looked miserable. When Allie and Sammy walked into the room, Zoe looked up, her eyes reproachful. But when she caught sight of Sammy, they softened a little. Allie remembered what the caseworker had said about their little brother, and the gruesome way he’d been killed. She wondered if maybe Sammy reminded Zoe of him.
“You guys get some rest?” Allie asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” Zoe said, quietly, her swollen eyes still glued to Sammy.
Clutching Allie’s thigh, Sammy quietly stared back at her.
“Sammy, this is Zoe and Carrie. They’re going to be staying here awhile.”
Zoe’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not true. Our dad is going to pick us up as soon as he gets back from his run,” she said, angrily. “Didn’t you hear me say that last night? Because I’m pretty sure I said it twice.”
Allie’s eyes stung. No, I’m afraid he’s not. You’re never going to see him again. At least not alive.
“Why, good morning, sleepyheads,” Bitty said, walking into the room and seeing Allie and Sammy. She set plates of food in front of the girls.
“Grammy!” Sammy shouted, and released Allie’s leg. He wrapped his arms around the old woman as she arranged the plates. Bitty picked Sammy up and he kissed her on the cheek.
Allie noticed dark circles beneath the woman’s eyes from staying up so late the night before. And the night before that. As Allie’d guessed, the lack of sleep was beginning to wear her out.
“Are you hungry?” Bitty asked.
“Yes!”
Bitty set Sammy down and smiled warmly at Zoe. “Can I get you anything else, dear?”
Zoe shook her head.
“Okay, just let me know.”
Bitty went to Carrie’s side and knelt down. “Go ahead and eat, honey. You need your strength.”
The blonde girl dodged Bitty’s eyes, but dutifully picked up her fork and moved a little of her eggs around.
“There you go,” Bitty said, patting her on the shoulder.
Bitty gestured to Allie. “Go ahead and sit down. I’ll bring out your plates.”
“Need any help?” Allie asked.
“Everything’s pretty much done. But maybe you can sit with the girls for a few minutes so I can get dressed? I’m taking them to the Child Advocacy Center in an hour.”
“I’ll drive you,” Allie offered. She’d bring her Kindle and the iPad for Sammy to play games on, and they’d wait for Bitty and the girls in the truck, then drive them home.
“Oh. Well, thank you. That would be great,” Bitty said. Allie could tell the woman was relieved she’d offered. Bitty jus
t didn’t like to show it. Although she was always helping others, she wasn’t comfortable accepting help herself. Allie suspected part of the reason was she didn’t want to acknowledge that she was getting older—and that the lack of sleep took much more of a toll on her body than it once had.
The phone rang. Allie reached for it and answered. “Hello?”
There was silence on the other end.
“Hello?” she said a little louder.
She could hear someone breathing. Then, after a few seconds, the call disconnected.
A shiver moved through her.
When she looked up, Bitty was watching her expectantly. “Who was it?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “They didn’t say anything.”
Allie rubbed the goose pimples that had risen on her arms and tried to tell herself that it had been nothing. A bad connection or a wrong number. But given her past, alarms were sounding in her head.
She glanced at Zoe, who had stopped eating her eggs, midbite. “It might’ve been my dad trying to call,” she said, her tone hopeful. “Sometimes when he’s on the road he hits dead areas and he can’t hear us.”
A chair screeched against the tiled floor, making Allie jump.
Carrie stood and burst from the room.
CHAPTER 5
COLD RAIN SLAPPED the gutters of the one-story brown brick building that housed Johnson County’s behavioral services department. While Allie and Sammy sat in the warm truck, Bitty walked the girls in.
Allie lowered the windows an inch to let some of the cold, crisp air rush in. There was something about the chilly, rain-cleansed air that she’d always found soothing. Breathing in the tangy scent of wood smoke, she peered in the rearview mirror and saw Sammy also watching the girls. He’d had a million questions about both of them as he’d dressed that morning. She wondered what he was thinking now.
“You warm enough back there?”
Sammy nodded. “Why we not go with them?”
“Why didn’t we go with them,” she corrected. “Because it’s going to be boring in there. Someone’s just going to ask them a bunch of questions, then they’ll be done. They shouldn’t be long.”
Don't Say a Word (Strangers Series) Page 2