Charley's Web (34 page)

“I moved it so it wouldn’t disturb you.”

“…I threw up in the bathroom.”

Alex touched her face. “I’m so sorry.”

“Then I came in here, found the phone, tried calling my mother. But she wasn’t picking up. I think I fell asleep again. I don’t know for how long. What time is it?”

“Almost noon.”

“Oh, God. I must have fallen asleep. The phone woke me up. It was Jill.”

“You’re sure?” Alex questioned. “You’re sure you weren’t dreaming?”

“I’m not sure,” Charley answered honestly. Had it been a dream? “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

“Okay. What exactly did Jill say to you?”

Charley recounted the conversation to the best of her abilities.

Alex listened carefully, then jumped to his feet, looking anxiously around the room. “Where’d you put the phone?”

“I don’t know. I threw it….”

Alex was already on the other side of the room, his eyes traveling back and forth along the floor. He finally located the phone against the far wall.

“What are you doing?” Charley asked, watching him.

“Calling the state police.”

“I don’t understand. If you think I was dreaming….”

“Nobody’s dreams make that much sense,” he said simply.

Charley burst into tears.

“Hello? Hello? Yes. I need to alert the police in Kissimee,” Alex said forcefully. “What? Yes, all right. Please hurry.” He put his hand over the receiver. “They’re trying to connect me to the right people.” He started to pace. “What really pisses me off is that I didn’t make the connection before. Of course it was no coincidence she picked you…. Hello, hello? Yes, this is an emergency. I need to get ahold of the police in Kissimee…. My name? Alex Prescott. I’m an attorney…. Yes, Prescott. Two
t
’s. Look. My girlfriend’s children are in danger. They’re with her brother, and we have reason to believe that…. No, don’t put me on hold. Shit! They have me on hold again.”

“Oh, no. What do we do?” Charley tried to stand up, but her knees refused to hold her weight, and she fell back down again.

“You take deep breaths and try to clear your head. As soon as you feel strong enough, you go into the bedroom and get my cell phone out of my briefcase. Then you keep trying to reach your mother. Hello? Hello? For Christ’s sake, where the hell are these people?”

Charley took a succession of deep breaths, trying to reassure herself that everything would be all right. Alex was here now. And there was still a chance, however slim, that this whole stupid day was just a nightmare of epic proportions. She’d wake up to find the kids asleep in their beds, her mother and Alex on their way over, and her brother…her brother making blueberry pancakes in the kitchen.

The man may hate his mama, but he sure loves his Aunt Jemima.

“This can’t be happening.”

“It’ll be all right, Charley,” Alex assured her. “I promise you everything will be all right.”

Charley nodded, Alex’s strength pushing her off the sofa and out of the living room. By the time she reached the bedroom, she was out of breath and sweating profusely, and she had to grab the wall for support. It took her a minute to remember why she was there, another minute to locate Alex’s briefcase on the floor beside his desk, and yet another minute to figure out how to open it. The phone was immediately visible on top of a bunch of official-looking papers, and she grabbed for it, the motion sending the contents of the briefcase flying out of her hands, the official-looking papers scattering like so much debris. “Oh, God. What am I doing?” She quickly tapped in the number of her cell phone. “Please pick up. Please pick up,” she prayed, falling to her knees and trying to corral Alex’s papers inside her shaking hands.

This is Charley Webb. I’m sorry I can’t take your call right now…

“No! No!”

Alex came running into the room, pulled her to her feet. “Charley, what are you doing?”

“I spilled all your papers….”

“It doesn’t matter. None of that matters.”

“Nobody’s answering my phone.”

He sat her down on the bed. “Okay, listen to me. Are you listening to me?”

Charley nodded, although his words were blurry and indistinct, as if he were underwater.

“I talked to the state police. They promised to send somebody to the motel in Kissimee.”

“Thank God,” she sighed before her panic returned. “What if they’re not there?”

“Then they’ll turn Disney World inside out. I’m going to drive up there now and meet with them….”

“I’ll come with you.” Charley tried to stand up.

“You’re staying put. You can barely move.”

“What about you? You were sick, too.”

“Not half as sick as you are.”

“Oh, God, Alex. If he hurts my children….”

“He won’t.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.” He kissed her. “Now I’m going, and I’m taking my cell phone so that you can contact me as soon as you reach your mother.”

“I don’t know your number.”

“I’ll write it down. Okay? I’ll leave the number on the coffee table in the living room. You keep calling your mother, and as soon as you reach her, you call me. Have you got that? Charley, I need you to focus. Have you got that?”

“I’ll keep calling my mother.”

“And you’ll phone me as soon as you reach her.”

“I’ll phone you as soon as I reach her.”

“I’ll leave the number on the coffee table,” he reiterated.

“You’ll call me as soon as you get there?” she pleaded.

“I’ll call you as soon as I get there.”

She followed him back into the living room, watched as he jotted the number for his cell phone on a piece of paper and left it on the coffee table.

“I’m leaving it right here,” he told her, moving toward the door. “You keep trying to reach your mother.”

She nodded, hanging on to the wall and crying so hard she could hardly see him anymore.

He opened the door, then hesitated, turned back. “You’ll be all right? Maybe I should take you to the hospital.”

“No. No hospital. Not until I know the kids are safe.”

“Promise me you’ll call 911 if you start to feel worse.”

“I promise.”

“You’re sure you’re all right?”

“I’m sure. Please hurry.”

They stared at each other for several more seconds. Charley waited until Alex was gone before collapsing to the floor.

F
or the next hour, the only part of Charley that moved was the thumb of her right hand as it pressed, and then re-pressed, over and over again, the
REDIAL
button on the phone.

Press. Ring.

This is Charley Webb. I’m sorry I can’t take your call right now…

Press. Ring.

This is Charley Webb. I’m sorry…

Press. Ring.

This is Charley Webb…

Press. Ring.

This is…

“Oh, God,” Charley cried, her head lolling from side to side. She had to get up. She couldn’t just sit on the floor forever. She should get up, wash her face, brush her hair, be ready in case Alex called and she had to leave in a hurry.

Press. Ring.

This is Charley Webb…

Slowly, carefully, Charley finally managed to push herself into a standing position, although she had to lean against the wall for support.

Press. Ring.

This is Charley Webb…

She followed the wall around the corner to the bedroom, ignoring the legal documents strewn across the floor as she approached the bathroom. Standing over the sink, she tucked her hair behind her ears and splashed some cold water on her face, then found an old toothbrush in the medicine cabinet, and brushed her teeth. “That’s better,” she said, although it wasn’t really.

Press. Ring.

This is Charley Webb. I’m sorry…

She returned to the bedroom, trampling several legal-size sheets of paper beneath the soles of her sneakers as she walked. Lowering herself slowly to the floor, as if she were sliding through a vat of thick honey, she began gathering the papers together, returning them to Alex’s briefcase.
Pinnacle Books,
she read, the words pulsating off the page like a strobe light.
Charley Webb.
Her book contract, she realized, knowing how elated seeing this would have made her even a few short hours ago.

Press. Ring.

This is Charley Webb. I’m sorry…

She was sorry all right. Sorry she’d ever met with Jill Rohmer. Sorry she’d allowed herself to be seduced by thoughts of riches and fame. Sorry she’d lent a sympathetic ear to Jill’s admittedly horrifying history of abuse, while all the while Jill had been laughing behind her back, plotting with her brother—her beloved brother, was it possible?—to do her children harm.

How could it be?

Press. Ring.

This is Charley Webb…

Charley returned to the living room, moving marginally faster now, and retrieved the bag of groceries from the floor near the front door. She carried the bag to the kitchen and removed the several cans of chicken soup, deciding maybe a little soup would make her feel better. Somehow she managed to get the can open and the soup into a cup. Then she put the cup in the microwave oven and turned it on, watching the automatic timer count down the seconds until the soup was ready.

Press. Ring.

This is Charley Webb. I’m sorry…

This is Charley Webb. I’m sorry…

This is Charley Webb. I’m sorry…

She carried the soup into the living room and sat down on the sofa, the aromatic steam drifting toward her nostrils. She took a tiny sip of soup, felt it hot against the back of her throat. If she could only manage to keep it down, she was thinking, as she tried her number yet again.

Press. Ring.

This is Charley Webb…

“Where are you, for God’s sake? Why aren’t you picking up?”

She pictured her mother looking around in confusion, wondering where that strange wolf whistle was coming from. Damn it. She should have changed it to a traditional ring. Why hadn’t she changed it?

She pictured her children: sweet, sensitive Franny with her big, sad eyes and sharp, analytical mind; rambunctious, carefree James, with his boundless energy and enthusiasm. How could anyone think of hurting them?

She thought of the e-mails she’d received.

I’m coming,
the last one had stated ominously.
Soon.

Had Bram sent them?

She remembered the photographs of children she’d found in the night table beside his bed.
They’re just some neighborhood kids I was thinking of painting,
Bram had told her. Was that what they were? Potential portraits? Or were they potential victims? “No. Please, no.”

Her beautiful, lost brother, who’d spent much of the past decade in a drug-fueled haze—was he really capable of hurting anyone other than himself?

Press. Ring.

This is Charley Webb. I’m sorry…

How many times had she let him down? How many times had she disappointed him, scolded him, turned her back on him? He was the youngest, the most beautiful, and by far the most vulnerable of the four Webb children. His sisters had somehow managed to channel the pain of their childhood into something productive, but Bram’s pain had been relieved only by alcohol and narcotics.

Charley remembered her mother showing her how to hold Bram when he was an infant. She recalled the instructions to rock him gently, never imagining hers would soon be the only arms to do so. She pictured him hanging on to the indifferent skirts of a succession of nannies, the tears in his eyes glazing over, then eventually drying up altogether. She remembered the cruel taunts of the other children that chased him home from school, the crueler admonishment from his father to “take it like a man.”

Press. Ring.

This is Charley Webb. I’m sorry…

She’d abandoned him, too, Charley acknowledged silently. Fled to Florida upon her graduation from college, determined to make a name for herself, her total self-absorption allowing little time to worry about her dissolute younger brother. Eventually Bram had sought her out, driving his ancient MG down to Miami, where he’d rented an apartment and, when he wasn’t too stoned, attended a few art classes. In one of those classes, he’d met Pamela Rohmer. And through Pamela, her sister, Jill.

Jack and Jill.

Was it possible?

Charley pressed the
REDIAL
button again, and listened to the ring, bracing herself for the unwelcome sound of her own voice.

“Hello?” she heard her mother say instead. “Hello? Is somebody there?”

Charley’s breath caught in her throat. She’d reached them. They were safe.

“Nobody’s saying anything,” her mother continued. “I don’t think I’m doing this right.”

“Mom!” Charley yelled, the word an explosion. “Mom? Listen to me!”

“Charley?”

“Where have you been? I’ve been calling you for hours.”

“We were at the Magic Kingdom. It was so crowded there, I guess I didn’t hear you whistling. I tried calling you earlier, but I kept getting your voice mail.”

“Is that Mommy?” Charley heard a small voice ask.

“Franny?” Charley cried. “Is that Franny?” Her daughter was there. She was unharmed.

“Well, of course it’s Franny. Here. I’ll let you talk to her. I have to lie down for a few minutes. My stomach’s been acting up off and on all day.”

Charley heard the phone exchanging hands. “Where are you, Mommy?” Franny asked. “Are you almost here?”

“Not yet, sweetie. But Alex will be there soon. So I need you and James to sit tight, and not go anywhere until he gets there….”

“James isn’t here,” Franny interrupted.

Charley felt her body turn to stone. “What?”

“James isn’t here,” Franny repeated.

“Where is he?”

“With Uncle Bram.”

Charley had to bite down on her lower lip to keep from screaming. “Where are they?”

“They’re still at the Magic Kingdom. James wanted to go into Pirates of the Caribbean, but the line was so long, and Grandma wasn’t feeling well.”

“Let me speak to her again.”

“She’s pretty sick, Mommy….”

“Franny, put your grandmother on the phone,” Charley snapped.

“What’s the matter?” Franny started whimpering.

“What is it, darling?” Charley heard her mother ask Franny.

“I think Mommy’s mad at me….”

“Charley?” her mother asked, returning to the line. “What…?”

“You left James with Bram?”

“Is that a problem? They were having such a good time, and I didn’t want to ruin it for everyone just because I wasn’t feeling well. Franny wanted to keep me company.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Not long. Not more than half an hour ago. Why? Is something wrong?”

“Yes,” Charley told her. “Something’s very wrong. We have to find James. We have to get him away from Bram.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I can’t explain it to you now. Have you talked to the police?”

“The police? Good God, no. Why would we…?”

“They probably came when you were in the Magic Kingdom. Hopefully they’ll be back….”

“Why? What is this about?”

“Alex will explain everything to you when he gets there. In the meantime, don’t let Franny out of your sight, and if Bram comes back with James, make sure you don’t let them leave.”

“You’re starting to scare me.”

“Don’t be scared. Just do it.”

“When will Alex be here?”

Charley checked her watch, although it was a useless gesture. The numbers on its face refused to stay still. “In about an hour.” Was that right? How long had he been gone? She saw the piece of paper with his cell phone number lying on the coffee table. “I’ll call him as soon as I get off the phone. Just keep your eye on Franny. Don’t let her out of your sight,” Charley said, the same thing she’d told her brother this morning.

I’ll watch them like a hawk,
he’d replied.

Was it possible he’d been planning all along to kill them?

No, it couldn’t be. It couldn’t.

Charley pressed the portable phone’s
OFF
button, then immediately pressed in Alex’s number. It scarcely had time to ring before Alex picked it up.

“Charley?” he said. “Were you able to reach your mother?”

“I just spoke to her. She’s with Franny at the motel.”

“Where’s James?”

“Still at Disney World. With Bram.”

Silence, then, “Okay, listen. At least we know Franny’s safe.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m almost there. And I’ll call the police and fill them in. Did your mother say anything else?”

“Franny said James wanted to go into Pirates of the Caribbean, and that there was a very long line.”

“Those lineups can take hours,” Alex agreed. “With any luck, they’ll still be standing there when the police arrive.”

“Do you really think so?”

“I think there’s a chance. How are you feeling?”

“A little stronger,” Charley lied.

“Good. I’ll call you as soon as I know anything.”

“Call me no matter what.”

“I will. Try to stay calm.”

Charley sat on the sofa for at least ten minutes without moving after Alex said good-bye. Everything’s going to be all right, she assured herself repeatedly. Franny was safe. Alex was on his way. He’d find James before Bram could hurt him. Everything would be okay.

Except nothing would ever be okay again. Not if it was true Bram had been Jill’s accomplice. Not if it was true he’d drugged her in an attempt to separate her from her children. Not if it was true he was as deranged and cold-blooded as Jill.

Could it really be true?

Could it?

It was one thing for Jill to fool her, and quite another to be taken in by someone she’d known literally his entire life. Her own flesh and blood. Sweet, sensitive, beautiful Bram. Yes, he was troubled. Yes, he was irresponsible. But he was also a loving brother and a wonderful uncle—no way was he a sadistic psychopath. No way could he ever hurt the children he’d doted on since the day they were born. No way would she ever believe that.

And why should she? she asked herself suddenly. Because Jill had said he was? Why would she believe anything Jill said to her?

Because she knew things, Charley reminded herself. She knew about Aunt Jemima and the blueberry pancakes. She knew about Bram’s decision to go to Disney World. How would she know any of that unless…unless someone had phoned her and provided her with all the pertinent information?

In the next minute Charley was on her feet, pacing back and forth across the room. “It can’t be. It can’t be.” And yet it was the only thing that made sense. Charley raced back into Alex’s bedroom, began rifling through his dresser drawers. What was she doing? What was she looking for? “There’s nothing here,” she said out loud, pulling loose T-shirts and sweaters from the drawers and dropping them to the floor, then careening toward Alex’s closet, and pulling open its door as she fell to her knees. “Just a lot of shoes,” she said, flinging them aside. It was then that she noticed a large stack of magazines pressed into a corner, and dragged them toward her. “No. Oh, no,” she said, staring at the top cover—a naked woman, bound and gagged, her body twisted into an unnatural position, her face contorted in obvious pain. The other magazines were even worse, the inside pictures growing increasingly graphic, the images more horrific with each flick of the page. Charley looked up, saw a shoebox on a high shelf. She knocked it to the floor with one swipe of her hand. Its lid fell open, the contents of the box spilling to the floor. Charley stood there crying as pornographic pictures of children fell about her head like ashes from a crematorium.

She grabbed her stomach, fighting the renewed urge to vomit as she ran into the living room. Her eyes darted toward Alex’s collection of classic old movies, a few of which were still scattered across the floor.
White Christmas, Casablanca, An Affair to Remember.
She began tossing aside one cassette after another. What was she looking for?

Any idea where the tapes are?

None whatsoever.

You’re sure she didn’t give them to you for safekeeping?

Lawyers aren’t allowed to hide evidence, Charley.

What if you didn’t know what was on the tapes?

What if he did? What if he knew only too well?

“I’m so sorry, Bram. I’ve been such an idiot.”

Which was when she saw it.

It was at the very back of the shelf, squeezed between
Lawrence of Arabia
and
Citizen Kane.
A simple black cassette with three handwritten words printed on its side.

Jack and Jill.