The Summoning: A gripping psychological thriller (Secrets of Redemption Book 4)

by Michele PW (Pariza Wacek)

  Helen studied me, one hand clutching her chest. “You’re safe here, you know,” she said softly.

  My blood turned to ice. She couldn’t know. How could she? I hadn’t told anyone. “I don’t know what you’re taking about.”

  “Redemption will protect you.”

  “Redemption is a town,” I said, exasperated. “It can’t do anything.”

  “Redemption will protect you,” she insisted. “You’re supposed to be here, Charlie. You and I both know it.”

  “No,” I said, my voice nearly a shriek. “I do NOT know that. All I know is I have to leave. As soon as I can. If I don’t, he’ll ...” I clamped my mouth shut, already sure I had said too much.

  Helen gave me a twisted smile. “He’ll find you?”

  “Who told you?” I hissed. “How do you know?” An awful thought occurred to me. “Has someone been snooping around?” What if Annabelle had already told Alan where I was? What if he had sent someone to spy on me? Oh God, I had to get out now.

  “You know how,” she said. “But that’s not important. What you don’t understand is none of that matters. It doesn’t matter if he knows where you are. The town will protect you.”

  I briefly closed my eyes, trying to get myself under control. This was going nowhere. I needed to get out of the house and as far away from Helen as possible. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I have to go. This is delusional. And dangerous. People could get hurt. You could get hurt. I won’t have that on my conscience.” I deliberately turned back to the door. “Your lock is stuck.”

  “It’s not stuck,” she said. “All you need to do is turn it.”

  “It’s stuck,” I insisted. I reached out to show her, but to my surprise, it easily and smoothly unlocked with a gentle click.

  I wrenched the door open. A fresh, cool breeze rushed to meet me, the air a welcome relief on my overheated cheeks. Every part of me wanted to dash out and never look back, but the good manners my mother instilled in me kept me in place.

  “Thank you for showing me your house,” I said stiffly. “It really is lovely.”

  “Thank you for dinner,” she said. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay?”

  I forced myself to smile. “Alas, I really need to get going. I hope you enjoy it. Oh, and thanks for the tea, as well. It was really good.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  I stepped outside, carefully closing the door behind me. I forced myself to walk, not run, down the driveway and toward the neighborhood where Claire lived.

  I refused to turn around, even though I could feel her watching me. Or maybe it was the cat. Either way, I wasn’t going to look back.

  I wasn’t going to acknowledge how painful it was to be walking away from my destiny, or how every step broke my heart a little more.

  It was for the best.

  Chapter 13

  “Hey Charlie,” Jonathan called out. He was standing by the counter, hands in the pockets of his work jeans. “I was hoping to run into you today.”

  He gave me a smile, but there was something strained about it, and I noticed puffiness around his eyes. I wondered if everything was okay.

  I hoisted the empty tub under my arm. “Where else would I be?” I asked, returning the smile.

  He pushed his hands deeper into his pockets. “Got a minute?”

  “Give me a sec to put this back,” I said, gesturing toward the grey plastic tub I used to collect dirty dishes. I returned it to its spot in the corner of the diner before joining Jonathan by the counter. “Are you eating?”

  “Getting something to go,” he said. “Busy day today. But I have news. Your car will be done Wednesday.”

  I blinked in surprise. “Wednesday? As in the day after tomorrow?”

  He nodded. “That’s the day.”

  “Really? Well, that’s great to hear.” I tried to sound happy, but inside I felt ... well, I wasn’t sure what I felt. Disappointed. Sad. And shocked. A part of me didn’t really believe the day would ever come. And, well, relieved. There was no question it was time for me to go. I had stayed too long as it was. And I knew the longer I stayed, the more I put everyone in danger.

  But, still. I looked around the diner that already felt like more of a fit for me in the short time I’d been working there then I had ever experienced in a job. As much as I had loved my job at the art gallery, I still felt more at home here.

  “What’s great to hear?” Claire asked, balancing a couple of Styrofoam boxes as she emerged from the kitchen.

  “My car is ready,” I said.

  “Well, it will be on Wednesday,” Jonathan corrected me.

  “Oh my God, I forgot about your car,” Claire said, reaching below the counter for a plastic bag. “Wow, you weren’t kidding when you said there were problems,” she said to Jonathan.

  He gave her a crooked smile. “They’re all fixed now. Shouldn’t have any more trouble with it.”

  “Well, that’s good to hear,” Claire said, her attention on bagging the boxes. “Should keep you safe as you ... wait a minute.” Claire paused, the boxes half in the bag, and turned to me, her eyes wide. “Does this mean you’re leaving us?”

  I swallowed, tried to smile. “’Fraid so,” I said. “I guess tomorrow will be my last day.”

  Claire’s mouth fell open in a round O. “Oh no,” she moaned. “I don’t want to say goodbye. Can’t you stay a little longer? Liz isn’t supposed to be back for another couple of weeks.”

  I shook my head. “I’ve already stayed longer than I intended. I’ll get my car and probably head out Wednesday or Thursday.”

  “Thursday,” Claire said firmly. “Since you’re working tomorrow, you’ll need a day to get packed and organized. Plus, we need to go out at least one more time before you go. Maybe twice. I’ll give Lou a call, make sure she can find a babysitter.”

  “Okay, Thursday,” I agreed, although in my head I was already planning on leaving shortly after getting my car. The sooner I got on the road, the better, especially since I couldn’t be sure how soon Annabelle would tell Alan.

  Claire was staring at me, her eyes shiny. “Oh, I’m so sad. I’m going to miss you.”

  “I’m going to miss you, too,” I said, feeling a lump in my throat. I didn’t dare look at Jonathan; I didn’t want to see what was in his eyes. Not that it mattered, either way. He was still off-limits. “I better get back to work. Want to end on a high note.”

  I scurried back into the kitchen, careful not to look at anyone else. It was only when I was back by the dishwasher that I let a few tears fall.

  The rest of the day passed in a blur. There was almost a surreal, dream-like quality to it. Even though I had known the day was coming, it still didn’t feel right. I couldn’t possibly be leaving now, could I? This place felt like home. I had friends. I already belonged to the community.

  No. I needed to go. The last thing I wanted to do was cause anyone around me harm. The sooner I left, the safer they would be, too.

  At the end of my shift, Sue hugged me. “You were such a Godsend,” she said in my ear. She smelled damp—a mixture of sweat and grease. “I don’t know how we would have made it without you.”

  “Well, I don’t know what I would have done with myself without this job,” I said.

  She pulled back, sniffing. “I’m not working tomorrow, but I’ll make sure your check is ready by the end of your shift.”

  “Thanks,” I said. I turned away quickly before she could see the sheen of tears in my eyes and headed to the locker room to collect my things.

  Claire was already there, standing by her open locker and fiddling with her hair. “Want to grab a quick drink?” she asked. “I’m buying.”

  I sat down heavily on the bench. “Tempting, but I should probably pass. I have a lot to do.”

  She came over to sit next to me. �
��One little drink? C’mon, it won’t hurt.”

  I gave her a tiny smile. “You have no idea how much packing I have in front of me. Not to mention all the errands I have to run.”

  “But you’ll have Wednesday for that,” she protested. “There’s plenty of time. Plus, running errands will be so much easier and faster once you have your car.”

  I picked at a thread in the corner of my apron. “That’s true,” I said, careful not to meet her eyes. I didn’t want her to guess the truth.

  I might as well have not even bothered. After a long moment of scrutiny, she said in a flat voice, “You’re leaving as soon as you get your car, aren’t you?”

  “I have to, Claire,” I said. “I’ve already stayed too long.”

  “Why do you say that? Is someone expecting you?”

  “Well ... not exactly.”

  “Are you supposed to be somewhere? Meet someone?”

  I tugged harder on the thread, and the fabric began to unravel under my fingertips. “It’s not really like that,” I said.

  “Then, what is it like?” she pressed. “You had always made it sound like you had no real plans. That you were just kind of finding yourself.”

  “Well, yeah, that’s sort of the right idea ...”

  “Then why do you have to leave so suddenly?”

  “Because my car is ready ...”

  “That doesn’t mean you have to leave the second you get it back,” she said. “You could stay here a few more days. Or even longer.”

  I started shaking my head. “No, I need to go.”

  “Is it money?” she asked. “Is the Redemption Inn too expensive? Because if that’s the case, you could bunk with me until you’re ready. We have an extra bedroom.”

  “I couldn’t,” I said, although I was touched by the offer. “That’s too much.”

  “But it’s really not,” she said. “You have no idea how wonderful it’s been to have you around. And not just because we needed the extra help with Liz out. We will all miss you.”

  “I know,” my voice cracked, and I ducked my head so she couldn’t see my face. “I just have to go.”

  She threw her hands up. “But why? I don’t understand.”

  “Just ... because,” I said. “It’s better this way. Trust me.”

  She stood up. “No, I don’t accept that.” She yanked off her apron and tossed it into her open locker. “Take off your apron. We’re going for that drink.”

  Shocked, I stared at her. “But I just said ...”

  She slammed her locker door shut. “No. I don’t accept any of this. Something is wrong, Charlie. It’s clear you don’t want to go, and yet you keep insisting you have to. And I want to know why.”

  “But ...”

  Claire put her hands on her hips. “Helen offered to sell you her house, didn’t she?”

  I stared at her in confusion. “What?”

  “She offered to sell her house to you, but you said ‘no.’ Why?”

  My mouth fell open. “How did you know? Did Helen stop by again?”

  The night I left Helen’s, I didn’t immediately go to Claire’s house. Instead, I wandered down one of the paths through the woods and discovered a hidden park tucked away in the trees. I sat there for a while, watching the sun set while trying to get my thoughts and emotions under control. Helen had known things she really shouldn’t have. Someone must have said something. Maybe I called out in my sleep at the hotel, and Nancy overheard and told Helen.

  I knew I was grasping at straws. But that made far more sense than the alternative …

  … that Helen had dreamed of me just as much as I had dreamed of her.

  It was just beginning to get dark when I finally left, carefully picking my way to Claire’s. She had been excited to hear everything that happened, but I purposefully shared as little as possible, much to her disappointment.

  Now, she looked triumphant. “I knew it,” she exclaimed. “That settles it. We’re going for a drink, and you’ll tell me everything.”

  “But you don’t understand,” I said. “I can’t tell you.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s not safe.”

  The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them, and I clapped a hand across my lips. “I’m sorry,” I said, my words muffled as Claire stared at me. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  But she was already moving toward me, gathering me in a hug. “No, you should have told me,” she murmured in my hair. She smelled like sweat, deep-fried food, and coffee, but I found it strangely comforting. “I had a feeling you were running from something. I’m glad you finally said it out loud.”

  “But it’s not safe,” I said. “ I don’t want to tell you because I don’t want to put you in any danger.”

  She gave me one last squeeze before letting go of me. “Don’t worry about that right now,” she said. “There are a couple of drinks with our names on them.”

  Chapter 14

  “So, who is it?” Claire asked once we were safely wedged into a booth at the very back of the Tipsy Cow, drinks in front of us. “A boyfriend? A family member?”

  “A fiancé,” I answered with a sigh.

  Her eyes widened. “Oh, that’s right. You said you were engaged.”

  “Yes, I was,” I said, emphasizing the “was.”

  Claire swirled the straw around her rum and Diet Coke. “What did he do?”

  I sighed again. “He tried to kill me.”

  Claire’s hand jerked, spilling her drink. “What?”

  “He pushed me down the stairs.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I told him I was going to leave him.”

  You can’t leave me; I won’t allow it. Alan’s face instantly reappeared in my mind, his expression flat as he pressed his lips together so tightly, they turned white. My scar ached.

  Claire reached for a napkin to wipe up the spill. “Wow. So, what about the cops? Did they arrest him?”

  I played with my own straw. I would never hurt you on purpose. “The cops think it was an accident.”

  “What?”

  “For that matter, so does my family.”

  A variety of expressions crossed Claire’s face. “So ... no one believes you?”

  I started bending the straw back and forth. “Alan was ... is ... very charming. I met him while I was working in the art gallery. He wanted to buy some art. He was so ... sweet. And handsome. I was flattered when he asked me out. My family loved him immediately. In fact, my father even helped him get a job with the firm that manages our trust fund.”

  Claire’s eyes widened. “Wait. You have a trust fund?”

  “Guilty as charged.”

  “So ... you’re rich?”

  I gave her a self-conscious grin. “Something like that.”

  “Wow, I’ve never met a rich person before.”

  “Believe me, rich people are just as screwed up as normal people. They just sometimes know how to hide it better. Money helps with that.” I reached over and pulled my shirt up, revealing my scar. “Rich people know how to hide their bruises, so you can’t see them.”

  Claire peered over the table, her expression turning sad. “Oh, Charlie.”

  I pulled my shirt down. “You don’t have to feel sorry for me. It’s my fault. I probably should have figured it out sooner.”

  Claire violently shook her head. “No! This is NOT your fault. Don’t you ever believe that.”

  I gave her a small, dejected smile, wishing I could believe her. “At first, everything was wonderful. He was so romantic. Flowers and fancy dinners … he literally swept me off my feet. But, after he proposed, something changed. He started to become more controlling. Didn’t want me to see my friends or even keep my job. At first, I told myself it was just because he loved me so much
. But then ...” I paused and picked up my drink. My hand shook, and some of it spilled on my chin.

  Claire didn’t say anything, just waited for me to get myself under control.

  “Alan had a jealous streak. At first, I was flattered. See how much he loved me? He wouldn’t be jealous if he didn’t love me so much. But gradually, I started to see something darker in it.

  “The first time he ...” I swallowed hard. “… hurt me, we were at his going-away party for work. He accused me of flirting with his old boss. His old boss, whose wife was standing right there. He ... shook me, grabbed my upper arm, here,” I started rubbing the area, still feeling his fingers painfully digging into my flesh. “My arm was sore for days. I had bruises for a week. Of course, the next day, he apologized. Bought me flowers and a beautiful necklace. Promised never to do anything like that again. And I accepted the apology. We had both been drinking, you see. I told myself we both had too much to drink, and it wasn’t a big deal. Figured he didn’t realize how hard he had grabbed me.

  “But it still gnawed at me. No one had ever hurt me before. And no matter how much I wanted to push it away, I couldn’t.

  “Then, a few weeks later, we were out to brunch.” I stopped talking and closed my eyes, my cheeks burning with shame and humiliation. “He accused me of flirting with the waiter because I had been joking with him. As we were leaving, I could see how angry he was; his lips were pressed tightly together. I tried to tell him it was nothing. We were just having some fun, and he pulled his hand back, like he was going to slap me. Right outside the restaurant.

  “But there was a little girl there, with her mother. And the little girl started saying ‘Mommy, mommy, that man is going to hit that lady.’”

  I paused again, overcome with emotion. Alan, his eyes narrow with anger. The shock and disbelief I felt when I saw his hand go up. He wasn’t going to really hit me, right? We were going to get married! He loved me. He wouldn’t hit me. People like him didn’t hit their wives.