The Southern Book Club's Guide to Slaying Vampires(52)

“Carter,” Patricia said. “You don’t think DSS will do anything to that little girl, do you?”

“What?” he asked. “Like, take her?”

“Yes,” Patricia said.

“No,” he said. “The doctor who sees her is mandated to report signs of abuse, but we don’t just snatch wailing babies out of their mothers’ arms. There’s a whole process. If you’re worried, I’ll ask around and see what kind of doc this guy is tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” Patricia said. “I’m just feeling nervous.”

“Don’t worry,” Carter said. “I’ll make sure.”

Mrs. Greene went into her house and Patricia heard her lock the door. Carter opened Patricia’s car door for her. She clicked in her seat belt and rolled down the window.

“Thank you for coming,” she said.

“I got your note,” he said. “Too many things have happened for you to be riding around all alone out here in the middle of the night. Why don’t you follow me home and we’ll get some rest and talk in the morning?”

She nodded, grateful that he wasn’t trying to make her feel like a fool, and then she followed his red taillights all the way out of Six Mile, down Rifle Range Road, and back to the Old Village. When they passed James Harris’s house she saw Carter’s brake lights flare briefly, probably because he also noticed James’s Chevy Corsica parked in front of his house.

That night, for the first time in months, Carter held Patricia while she slept. She knew because she kept waking up from nightmares about a bloody red mouth chasing her through the woods and each time she felt his arms around her, and went back to sleep, reassured.





CHAPTER 18


Patricia woke up feeling like she’d fallen down the stairs. Her joints popped when she got out of bed, and her shoulders groaned like they were stuffed with broken glass when she reached for the coffee filters. When she undressed for her shower she noticed bruises on both hips from sliding back and forth across the back seat of the police car.

Carter had to go in to the hospital even though it was Saturday, and Patricia let Blue do whatever he wanted because it was light out.

“But be back before it starts to get dark,” she said. “We’re having early supper.”

It wasn’t safe to have Blue out of her sight after dark. She didn’t know what James Harris was, she didn’t care, she couldn’t think straight, but she knew he wouldn’t go out in the sun. She wanted to call Grace, to tell her what she’d seen, but when Grace didn’t understand something she refused to believe it existed. She forced herself to calm down.

She couldn’t bring herself to vacuum her curtains, so she did laundry. She ironed shirts and slacks. She ironed socks. She kept seeing James Harris with that thing on his face, his beard of blood, that little girl on the floor of his van, kept trying to figure out how to explain this to someone. She cleaned the bathrooms. She watched the sun slide across the sky. She felt grateful that Korey was still away at soccer camp.

The phone rang while she was throwing out expired condiments.

“Campbell residence,” Patricia said.

“They took her daughter,” Mrs. Greene told her.

“What? Who did?” Patricia asked, trying to catch up.

“This morning when Wanda Taylor took her to the doctor,” Mrs. Greene said, “he found a mark on her leg, like you said, and he made Wanda wait outside while he talked to Destiny.”

“What did she say?” Patricia asked.

“Wanda doesn’t know, but then the DSS showed up and a policeman stood at the door,” Mrs. Greene said. “They told her Destiny was on drugs and had marks where someone injected her. They asked her who the man was that Destiny referred to as ‘Boo Daddy.’ Wanda told them she wasn’t seeing any man, but they didn’t believe her.”

“I’ll call those officers from last night,” Patricia said, frantic. “I’ll call them and they can talk to DSS. And Carter can call her doctor. What was his name?”

“You promised this wouldn’t happen,” Mrs. Greene said. “Both of you promised.”

“Carter will call,” Patricia said. “He’ll straighten this out. Should I come out to talk to Wanda?”

“I think it’s best if you don’t see Wanda Taylor right now,” Mrs. Greene said. “She’s not in a receptive frame of mind.”

Patricia disconnected the call but held onto the receiver as the kitchen spun around her. She had seen Destiny. She’d been in her bedroom. She’d sat with her mother. She’d seen her tiny, limp body underneath James Harris, while he stood over her, his face covered in her blood.

“I’m bored,” Blue said, coming into the den.

“Only boring people get bored,” Patricia said, automatically.

“Everyone’s at camp,” Blue said. “There’s no one to play with.”

How had this happened? What had she done?

“Go read a book,” she said.

She picked up the phone and dialed Carter’s office.

“I’ve read all my books,” he said.

“We’ll go to the library later,” she said.

The phone rang, Carter picked up, and she told him what had happened.