Never Smile at Strangers Read online

  “No shit,” Seacrest muttered, shaking her head. She giggled. “I don’t care how bad you have to pee, you always turn on the bathroom light before sitting on the toilet.”

  “Huh?” Becky said absently, still focusing on her own magazine.

  “This chick was at her friend’s house and ran into the bathroom without turning on the light. She pulled down her pants and went to sit on the toilet and ended up sitting on this dude’s lap,” Seacrest said, shaking her head again. She rose to her knees and pulled her long hair back. “And she had a crush on this guy. She peed on him. Right on his lap. How stupid is that?”

  Becky giggled.

  Seacrest stretched and exposed her abdomen. Her full lips parted in a yawn and the emerald nose ring glistened. Haley realized, with a touch of envy, that even when the girl didn’t try to look stunning, she did.

  Seacrest turned to Becky. “You said your sister is friends with that girl, right? The one who disappeared?”

  Becky laid her magazine on her chest. “Tiffany? Yeah, they’re best friends.”

  “Think she’s dead?”

  “No way.”

  “Then what do you think happened to her?”

  “I don’t know,” Becky said slowly. “But things like that. . . they don’t happen around here.”

  “Bet she’s dead.”

  Becky’s brow furrowed. “Don’t let Haley hear you say that. She’d have puppies.”

  But Haley had heard it.

  “Bet that boyfriend of hers killed her,” Seacrest said. “Happens all the time. Sometimes they don’t find people until years later when they start finding pieces of them in different towns. Fingers, feet, arms. Sometimes their heads. They found a head in that dude Dahmer’s apartment. He was a necrophiliac.”

  Haley crawled back in bed, burying her head in her pillow. She didn’t want to hear anymore. She wished Becky hadn’t met Seacrest. She was what Mama would call canaille, mischievous and wayward. Bad news from the other side of the tracks, or at least the other side of town, Grand Trespass being a town without tracks. Foul-mouthed and a questionable dresser, she was a bad influence for her younger sister Becky, who like the rest of them, still didn’t know quite who she was.

  And to talk about Tiffany like that. What right did she have to say she was—

  A floorboard creaked in the living room. Haley propped herself back up and saw that both of the girls were still in Becky’s bedroom, silent and reading.

  She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood, pulling on a pair of shorts. She felt grit beneath her feet. Fine sawdust from her father’s work on the wall nearly a year ago. Sometimes she even felt it in her sheets. Feeling it always made her think that her father was close by.

  Once, when she was nine, they visited a house that was under construction. Every time Haley got a whiff of the dust, she thought of that big house. The big house they hadn’t been able to afford because her father was a community college professor.

  “Educators are damned to modest means, I’m afraid,” Haley had heard her mother say once to Mrs. Perron when she’d asked when they planned to replace the old station wagon. Unlike the Perrons, their family hadn’t invested in Wal-Mart years ago. An investment that landed the Perrons a small fortune.

  Opening her bedroom door, Haley saw her mother at the kitchen sink. Wrigley, the eleven-year-old greyhound who rarely left her mother’s side, eyed her drowsily from her place on the floor.

  “Mama? Can I get you something?” Haley asked, walking to her.

  Her mother shook her head. “No Possum, I’m just getting a little drink for Wrigley.” Possum. Her mother hadn’t called her that since before the accident.

  She placed a hand on her mother’s boney shoulder. “Are you sure? I made a gumbo. I can heat some up real quick?”

  The older woman’s hair was disheveled and greasy, her eyes just slits. Outside of the nightmares, this was the first time Haley had seen her awake in nearly five days.

  “I’m not hungry, darling,” the woman said, shutting off the water. “Wrigley just needed to go out.”

  Haley caught a whiff of the odor that clung to her mother. Sour and unclean. She also noticed she held two pills in her hand.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, honey. Just fine.” She placed the pills on her tongue and washed them down with a cup of water. “These are just the sleeping pills Dr. Broussard prescribed me. They help me. . . get by.”

  She walked past Haley with a bowl of water and headed across the living room, back to her room. Her body moved under her tacky yellow robe, not with the feminine sweeps it had before the accident, but as though she were transporting the whole world beneath it. Arthritis-ridden Wrigley grunted as she rose to follow her.

  “Tiffany’s missing,” Haley said.

  The older woman loosened her grip on the bedroom doorknob and regarded her daughter. “Missing?” Her face twisted with confusion. “How awful. I should call Julia,” she said, referring to Tiffany’s mother. “When did this happen?”

  “No one’s seen her since Saturday.”

  “Today’s Monday?”

  “Thursday.”

  “Oh.” The bowl of water trembled in her hand. “Is she with a boy?”

  Haley shook her head. “No. She would have told me.”

  “Yes, I guess so, darling. But I’m sure she’ll turn up. I’ll say a prayer.”

  “Sheriff Hebert came by but you were sleeping. He said he didn’t want to disturb you. There’s a detective going around with him, too. He said he’ll want to talk to everyone in town, so I’m sure he’ll be by again.”

  Her mother nodded. “How’s your sister?”

  “Fine.”

  “Good. That’s good.” she said, and flashed a weak smile. Haley noticed her teeth had yellowed in the last several months. “And you, Haley?”

  “I’m doing good, too.”

  “How’s school?”

  Concerned that it would only worry her, Haley hadn’t told her mother that she didn’t sign up for summer classes. Her original plan had been to take them to somewhat catch up for her lost first semester. “Good,” she said.

  “You having any trouble getting back and forth to Lafayette?”

  Haley shook her head.

  “Good, good. I need to get me a little rest now. Goodnight, darling.” She and Wrigley went into the room. The door closed behind them.

  Haley stood next to the door for a long moment. “C’est l’heure du lit,” she whispered, remembering Nana’s soft words at bedtime. “Goodnight, Mama.”

  ***

  HALEY OPENED HER eyes for the second time that night. She sat up and peered at the clock radio. It was almost four in the morning. What had woken her this time?

  She heard it again. Someone was screaming. She bolted out of bed and ran into Becky’s room. The overhead light was on, and Becky was crouched in the corner behind her bed, dried pimple cream caked across her nose and chin.

  “Someone’s outside the window,” a voice behind her whispered. Haley turned and saw Seacrest kneeling against the side of the dresser. Her face was also dotted with pimple cream, and she was pointing to the window.

  “Becky, go to my room,” Haley whispered.

  Becky didn’t move.

  Someone tapped softly at the glass and Haley’s heart raced faster. A hushed voice was calling out from the other side. Then a face was at the window, but she couldn’t make it out.

  Holding her breath, Haley took a step forward. “Who’s there?” she called out. “Tiffany? Is that you?”

  The voice called out again: “No, it’s Charles.”

  Chapter 24

  HALEY FLIPPED ON the porch light and stepped out the front door. Charles sat on the porch swing, a cloud of desperation looming over him. He wore a wrinkled white t-shirt and a pair of loose-fitting jeans and clutched one of the fliers Mrs. Perron had posted. One of what seemed like hundreds. She had posted them on tree trunks, traffic signs, storefr
onts, in public bathrooms, the sides of her and her friends’ mailboxes and automobiles. It was impossible to be in town without seeing at least a dozen copies of Tiffany’s likeness.

  “Where have you been?” Haley asked.

  Charles seemed to ponder his words before saying them. When he finally broke the silence, his voice was low and hoarse. “You know I didn’t hurt Tiffany, don’t you?”

  Less than a week ago, she would have said no to Charles’s question. She wouldn’t have thought in a million years that he’d hurt Tiffany.

  And usually it was important to Haley to set people at ease. To keep them at ease. She hated to see people feel out of place, uncomfortable. . . embarrassed. She always took great pains to choose her words carefully in tense situations. Times of stress. However, that didn’t seem important at the moment. “You didn’t answer me. Where have you been?” she asked, curtly.

  “Home. . . mostly.”

  “I’ve been out there, Charles. Many times. Either no one answers or your mother says you’re not home. You’ve been avoiding me.”

  “I know,” he whispered. He hesitated for a beat. “I haven’t been ready to see anybody. And my mom thought it was best that I didn’t ‘til she turned up.”

  He concentrated on the flier, carefully folding it in half. “I know how this looks, Haley. I’m not stupid. I thought she’d turn up, but she hasn’t.”

  “What happened Saturday, Charles? Where is she?”

  “I don’t know. And I know when I say that I don’t know where she is, it sounds. . .”

  He lowered his head again. “Look, we’ve been arguing. For the last two weeks, nothing but arguments. And on Saturday night, she just. . . disappeared.”

  “Disappeared?”

  “Shit! You see what I mean?” He stood, and the chains on the swing protested under the strain. “I knew once I told you that I didn’t know anything, you’d think I hurt her. That’s exactly what the sheriff thinks. And that sorry ass hick detective who keeps comin’ around my house.”

  He paced up and down the porch, the flier waving with his hand motions. “Tiffany was seeing someone again, Haley. She denied it, but I knew she was. She was acting different. Just like she did with the Anderson dude.”

  So Tiffany hadn’t only thought about being with someone else, she had been? Or, was it just a suspicion?

  He stopped pacing and took a seat on the top step. His foot tapped loudly against the wood, but Haley tried to ignore it. She knew the girls weren’t sleeping. And her mother. . . like she’d wake up.

  Charles shook his head in frustration before he spoke again. “We argued in the parking lot at Provost’s and she just took off. That’s the last I saw of her.”

  “Took off? Where did she go?”

  Charles’s left eyelid fluttered. “Into the woods.”

  “Why would she go in the woods? She hates the woods, Charles. They scare her.”

  He shrugged. “She always takes off when we argue. I guess the woods were convenient.”

  “Well, did you follow her?”

  “Not at first. You see, I’m always chasing after her. She’d come to expect the attention. I didn’t want to play that game anymore, so I waited. But when she didn’t come out for a while, I went in to get her.”

  Haley remembered thinking she’d seen something move in the woods that night. Could it have been Tiffany or Charles, or--?

  An armadillo trotted across the yard, then sensing their presence, froze. Haley watched it consider what it should do as she listened to Charles.

  “I called out to her. Then I just figured she was sitting somewhere, pouting and not answering me. So after about ten minutes or so, I got back in my truck and left. Tiff only does things when she’s ready, Haley. You can’t tell her a damn thing. You know that. And you sure as shit can’t tell her not to do anything she wants to do.

  “If only I’d stayed and waited for her a little longer, maybe none of this would be happening. Trust me, I won’t be able to live with myself if something. . . you know. . . bad. . . happened to her.”

  Haley tried to process his words. As she did so, the armadillo scurried off.

  “Do you think she could have run off with someone?” he asked.

  She shook her head.

  “Do you know who she was seeing?”

  “No.”

  “But you knew she was seeing someone?”

  “I honestly don’t know if she was or wasn’t.”

  “I don’t want to pressure you,” Charles said. “It’s just tough because I know how tight you two are. I know she tells you things.”

  He said are. How tight you two are. Not were. It was a good sign.

  “Charles, Tiffany told me that you’ve been acting strange lately. Obsessed.”

  “Obsessed,” he snorted. “Yeah, sounds like something she’d say. C’mon, Haley, you know her better than anyone. You know how dramatic she can be. If she barely scraped her head on a kitchen cabinet, she’s likely to say that it sliced her scalp wide open. If one guy happened to flirt with her while she was at the supermarket, she’d make it three.”

  He ran his fingers through his coarse hair and studied the porch. “I don’t know what to do. They keep asking me questions. The same questions over and over again to see if I’ll slip up and change my answers. It’s like a really bad episode of Law and Order or some shit. I’m freakin’ the shit out.”

  Haley moved to the swing and sat down. The chattering in her stomach had calmed somewhat and now it just felt queasy.

  “The sheriff and that asshole detective who know dick about solving a missing persons case think I’m behind this and they’re making me out to be some kind of freak. And it sure as hell doesn’t help that I’m a black man in a town of backwoods racist fucks. They’ve searched my mom’s house twice. My truck. I don’t know how many hours I’ve spent at that station for questioning. I think they’re downright pissed because they can’t pin anything on me.” He wringed his hands together. “My God, I didn’t do anything to her. I never would. She’s created a world of hurt for me, but I still love that girl like crazy.”

  Chapter 25

  ON SATURDAY, HALEY returned to work. She was taking a customer’s order when Tyler Jeffries walked into Luke’s, holding the hand of a girl who looked to be Becky’s age.

  Her chest tightened and the notepad in her hand plopped onto the black and white checkered tiles. She was overcome with the sensation she was going to pass out.

  “Lookie what the cat dragged in!” Kim gushed, hurrying around the counter to give her first cousin a hug. “Where have you been, Mr. Tyler? I haven’t seen you for ages!”

  As Haley knelt to pick up the notepad, she, not for the first time, imagined what Tyler must have looked like that night seven months ago out on Coontz Road. The night he killed her father.

  He must have been sweaty, his eyes wide as he realized what he hit.

  Haley’s hands trembled as she debated what to do. She didn’t think she could bring herself to walk across the diner, to the front door, not with him there. But what were her choices? Sweat snaked along the back of her neck.

  “It’s a tough decision. Everything looks so good, but I think I’ve settled on the beef pot pie,” her customer was saying. But she didn’t hear him. She was staring at Tyler. He looked so fresh-faced and happy. Too happy. He didn’t deserve to look so—

  She was still looking at him when he glanced over and saw her. His face clouded over and he quickly looked away.

  The cowbells clattered, and Mac walked in. He nodded hello to everyone. Tyler peered hesitantly at Mac.

  “Miss? Miss, are you okay?” her customer was asking.

  Haley saw Kim glance at her, the realization finally creeping into her ruddy face. She pointed to where Haley stood, and Mac headed toward her, concern flooding his big, brown eyes.

  “You okay?” Mac whispered. Then, “No, of course you ain’t. Go sit in my truck.” He handed her the keys. “I’ll tell Kim you’re ta
king the rest of the day off.”

  ***

  THE VINYL SEATS in Mac’s truck burned the backs of her legs and arms, but Haley barely noticed.

  “I realize it could have happened to anybody,” Haley said, her hair blowing in her eyes. She rolled the window up a little. “After all, Daddy was walking on the side of the road and it was dark and raining and there was the sharp turn. . . But he was my father. And Tyler killed him. I can’t just forgive him like nothing happened.”

  Mac rested a hand on Haley’s knee. “I know, Babe. I know.”

  Haley watched the trees whiz by, trying not to think about that night. The one that inhabited her nightmares.

  “Think you can stay over tonight?”

  Mac slowed the truck and turned onto her road. “I don’t know. I’ve got to work pretty late. That’s why I was stoppin’ by the diner. . . to say hello.”

  “You’ve been working late so much lately,” Haley said. But she instantly felt a little guilty for complaining. After all, it wasn’t unlike Mac to need his space. He had always needed it. And a lot of it. She was the one who was changing, not him.

  But she was desperate for the company, so she decided to play the neediness card. If there was anything Mac desired, it was being needed. And she did need him. She needed more help through this. In the seven days since Tiffany had been missing, they’d barely talked about her.

  “Please? I need you.”

  Mac’s face slowly eased into a smile. “You do need me, don’t you?” he said, patting her knee. He parked the truck in front of her house. “How about I come on over around ten? We’ll drive by Luke’s to get your car, and then we can come back here. Sound like a plan?”

  Haley nodded, relieved that he was coming over.

  “What do you think happened to Tiffany?” she asked, the words just tumbling out.

  He shook his head briskly. “Aw, don’t worry yourself about her none. I’m sure that wherever she is, she’s just fine. You have enough to worry about as it is, Hale. Her mother’s just paranoid. Got everyone in an uproar right now, but it’ll all die down once she calls someone.”