Book of Night(26)

Unlike in the hall, though, there was dust covering the furniture.

As though whoever had once slept in this room had been gone a long time. As though someone didn’t want it disturbed.

Charlie took off the coat, placing it gently on the side of the dresser, next to a music box. At the vibration, it gave off a few eerie notes. She toed off her sneakers too, since they were muddy and there was an expanse of pale pink carpet between her and the window. Then her jeans.

In her mind, she challenged an imaginary Rand. See? You didn’t have to tell me to do that.

When she was done, she crossed the room. But instead of going near the window, she opened the interior doors. The first led to a bathroom painted in pink as well, with a crown gathering cloth above the bathtub. A bar of pink soap rested in a little dish by the sink, but it was dried and cracked.

The second led to an enormous closet, so big that there was a sitting area with a vanity. Photographs of a blond girl were stuck to the frame around the mirror with rainbow tape. Hailey. There was her name, on the back of a pink soccer jersey. And there she was, arms around her friends. In another picture, riding an enormous chestnut horse. She looked happy. She looked alive.

But obviously, she wasn’t.

Charlie sat down at the vanity. She understood what Rand had brought her here to do.

She imagined what he was going to say to Hailey’s bereaved parent: Look at your daughter in the window. Want to keep talking to her? Well, I’d love to help, but I am going to require a financial contribution. Yerba mate and mustache wax ain’t free.

Inside the drawers she found a comb, a hair tie, and two sparkly barrettes.

Charlie pulled off the wig and used the tie to pull her hair back so that when she put the wig back on properly, strands weren’t constantly falling out. Then she took the comb to try to arrange the wig like the girl’s hair in the photos.

She stared at someone who was herself and not herself. She felt a little giddy at the thought of sliding into a different life. Of trying on a different self, one that had been loved so completely that her bedroom had become a tomb, missing only its mummy.

Rand still hadn’t signaled, so she went through the girl’s things until she found the most nondescript t-shirt and a bag big enough for the wig and nightgown. She placed those near the door just as the phone buzzed. When she looked down at it, the screen had one word.

Now!!!!!



Charlie moved to the window, careful to keep the gauzy drape between her and the glass.

She expected to see Rand outside guiding the action, but she couldn’t spot him. For a long moment she thought nothing was going to happen, that no one was going to look up. But then a woman did, and she screamed.

It wasn’t a scream of horror or fear, but pure agonized grief. Charlie had never heard a sound like it.

She was glad the curtain was between them. She didn’t want to have to see the woman’s face too clearly.

But when she collapsed, face still upturned, Charlie lifted one hand and pressed her palm against the glass.

Better Hailey’s mom believed her daughter could see her, right? Better to give her some resolution. Something.

Then, realizing it had probably been more than a minute, she stepped away from the window and raced across the floor to her things. Get the hell out, he’d said. Of course, because if you saw a ghost, the immediate thing to do would be to visit the room where you saw it.

Charlie yanked off the wig. She ripped off the nightgown. For a moment, clad only in her bra, Charlie had the terrible feeling that she was going to get caught like that. Then the inside-out t-shirt was over her head, her coat was back on and zipped, and she was moving toward the stairs.

But before she could go down, she heard the sound of voices coming from that direction. Turning, she moved the other way down the hall. It was a big house; there had to be a bathroom she could hide in.

She found another set of stairs, grander ones, and hurried down them to a marble-floored foyer. It was extremely exposed, and the last place that she ought to be spotted.

Darting through the closest doorway, Charlie found herself in a music room. A patterned carpet in greenish tones covered the floor, running up to a sofa that looked both too stiff and too small to be comfortable. Beside it was a stringed instrument that looked a little like a guitar and an upright piano. She was not too old to have a child’s longing to press the keys, even if she had no idea how to actually play. Instead, she contented herself with running a finger over the glossy black lacquer that covered it.

“There you are,” Rand hissed, grabbing her by the arm. “What’s wrong with you? Please tell me you didn’t steal anything. Never mind, don’t tell me anything. Just get out of here.”

“You’re hurting me,” Charlie complained, pulling against his grip.

But he held on, squeezing her arm more tightly as he pressed his keys into her hand. “Wait in the car.”

“I would have gotten caught if I did what you said,” she told him, angry that Rand hadn’t realized she’d been clever. And angrier at herself for expecting him to be fair.

He pushed her toward the front door. “Get gone.”

Charlie took a deep breath and walked out. Past the giant white columns. Down the stone steps. She kept her gaze only on the ground in front of her, so if the woman whose child she’d pretended to be was there, she wouldn’t notice her and panic.