Eleventh Grave in Moonlight(29)
Reyes finished taping the bandage. I scooted a chair over so he could stay close to her, then I scooted one over for Cookie and myself. Uncle Bob could just stand there and stew. The bully.
“I didn’t figure you would, actually,” I told her. “You’ve done this before.”
“Done what?”
“Prophesied.”
Cookie shook her head. “Charley, you don’t mean that time at the school carnival.”
Amber was pretending to be a fortune-teller at a school carnival, only when I went in, she didn’t have to pretend. She slipped into a trance and prophesied about the Twelve, a dozen hellhounds that, we didn’t know at the time, had been sent to protect Beep. And she prophesied about Beep’s war with Satan. She’d nailed it, too. Every word.
“She’s very powerful,” I said to Cookie. “I tried to tell you.”
Cookie hadn’t wanted to listen when we spoke about Amber and her sensitive nature. Her gift. Cookie’s cousin was also touched with a gift, but she’d gone a little insane. The thought of Amber having the same abilities terrified her.
“Surely … no, you can’t be serious.”
“I am serious. And don’t call me Shirley.”
Cookie deadpanned me. Maybe she hadn’t seen the movie. After taking a moment to absorb what I was saying, she shook her head. “Okay, so maybe she does have … abilities. What does that have to do with her cutting herself in her sleep?”
I sat back in the chair. “I wish I knew. Do you remember anything, hon?”
Amber shook her head again. “I just remember waking up on your dining room table and Uncle Reyes pouring peroxide on me.”
“Sweetheart, why have you been so stressed?” I asked her. “I felt it, so don’t even try to wiggle out of this one.”
Uncle Bob took a chair a few feet away.
She folded her arms. Pursed her lips. Lifted a shoulder to her chin.
“Stress can bring on bouts of sleepwalking and apparently self-mutilation and prophesying.” Leaning forward, I tucked a strand of hair behind an ear. “You can tell us anything. No matter who is in this room. You know that, right?”
She nodded.
I let her relax a little, then hit her with, “Are you afraid of your stepdad?”
I knew if she were afraid of him, she probably wouldn’t answer with him sitting right there. But her emotional reaction would give me all the proof I needed, at which point I would promptly order him to leave the room and we would get to the bottom of this. Instead, she jumped to his defense.
“What?” She straightened in her chair. “No. Not at all.”
Relief washed over me like a welcome tidal wave. I was really worried. I gave him my best “You’re lucky, punk” look.
He gaped at me.
I turned back to her. “Okay, sweet pea. Spill.”
“It’s nothing. Really.”
“Amber,” Cookie said, her mommy voice in top working order.
“I’ve just … I think someone is stalking me.”
Uncle Bob bolted out of his chair.
I took Amber’s hand. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve been, kind of, getting texts.”
“What kind of texts?” Cookie asked.
Uncle Bob stormed out of the apartment and came back thirty seconds later with Amber’s phone. He thrust it into Cookie’s hands, whose face, as she read the texts, went from shock to disbelief to absolute horror.
She pressed a hand over her mouth.
“May I?” I asked Cookie.
She handed me the phone. I didn’t want to embarrass Amber, but stalking should never be taken lightly.
I read three texts and sat in such shock, Uncle Bob took the phone to see for himself.
“It started when I was at the mall with Brandy.” She dipped her head, ashamed. “We were taking selfies, and we stuck out our tongues. Five seconds later, I got a text that said, Stick out that tongue again, and I’ll show you what to do with it.” Amber looked at me as though pleading. “We were so scared, we called Brandy’s mom to come pick us up. We went to her house and were watching a movie.”
“This happened when you stayed the night with her?” Cookie asked.
“Yeah. Dad let me. About three weeks ago.”
Amber had been staying with her dad because Cookie was in New York babysitting little old me. I’d gone crazy and forgotten my name. Along with everything else. She was gone when Amber needed her because of me.
“You were watching a movie?” I asked her.
“Yeah. Brandy fell asleep, and I was watching the end. We were in our pajamas, and I had my feet on the coffee table, and I get a text that says, Let your knees fall apart so I can get a better view.”
Cookie began shaking.
“Mom, we were in her basement. There was only one tiny window in the basement. He had to be in Brandy’s backyard.”
“Oh, honey,” Cookie said, pulling Amber to her.
Amber still had Reyes’s hand in hers as she clung to her mother with the other. Reyes sat patiently, rubbing his thumb along the back of her knuckles. Warmth radiated through my chest as I watched him. He was going to be such a great dad when we got Beep back.
“I turned off the TV and didn’t sleep that whole night. I was so scared, I just watched the window.”
“I’m sorry, hon,” I said to her.
“Everywhere I go, he’s there. If I go to the movie, he’s there asking me if I’m sleepy yet because he drugged my soda. If Quentin and I go to the park, he’s there, saying, If you don’t stop bending over, I’m going to beat that ass.”
Cookie closed her eyes, frustration and worry coursing through her.
“Then they got even worse.”
I agreed. Even the few I read could have made a porn star blush. To say that to anyone, especially a thirteen-year-old.
“He started threatening to hurt me. Like, one time at school, we were eating lunch and he knew I was wearing a dress. He threatened…” She swallowed hard. “He threatened to cut off my legs if I spread them any farther. He called me a slut and said he could see my wet panties.”
I stilled. I hadn’t gotten that far. I turned to Ubie. “How did he get her number?”
“He even watches her at school,” Cookie said to him.
He was still scrolling through texts. “It could be anyone,” he said a microsecond before he stormed out again.
He came back in with his own phone and began making calls.
“Amber, why didn’t you tell us?” I asked her.
She leaned back into her chair. “I couldn’t. That’s all.”
The look on Cookie’s face was one part astonishment, two parts determination. “That’s not good enough, missy. I want an explanation.”
I put a hand on her arm. I’d never heard her call Amber missy before. It was out of character.
“You were in New York, anyway,” Amber continued, growing defensive. “I didn’t want you to worry.”
“Worry me? Amber, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”
“I’m sorry, Mom.”
Uncle Bob raised his voice. “Now. I need it now.”
“I would block the number,” Amber added, “but then he would text me from a different number. Like every day he had a new number.”
“Why don’t we just change Amber’s number?” Cookie asked.
“And worry for the next year, if not longer, if he will come after her? Cook, these texts are brutal and violent. They may very well be from your everyday neighborhood stalker. The kind who never comes face-to-face with his victim. Completely harmless.” I was lying through my teeth. No stalker was ever completely harmless. There were always ramifications. “But we need to be sure.” I looked at Amber. “Did Quentin know?”
She shook her head. “No. I was afraid he would tell”—she shot a glance at Uncle Bob from under her glasses—“Mom.”
Uncle Bob had stilled. He’d continued scrolling through texts while he was on the phone. He stopped and stared at one, then whirled around to Amber.
She looked down. Pulled the knee of her good leg to her chest. Squeezed Reyes’s hand.
“Is this why you didn’t say anything?” Ubie asked, furious. When Amber didn’t say anything, he yelled, “Amber!”
I stood. “Uncle Bob, that is enough.” I took the phone from him.
“Not at first,” Amber said. “I was being stupid, worried you’d take my phone away if I told you, but then—”
She had texted the stalker back after a particularly nasty message, writing, My stepdad is a detective. He will find you if you don’t stop.
The stalker’s next text was possibly the most chilling: Don’t you ever threaten me, you bitch. The day that pig finds out is the day his throat is cut. The next seven texts were pictures of Uncle Bob, either at work, at Calamity’s, or in front of the apartment building, getting out of his SUV. The guy had clearly done his homework.
Uncle Bob went back to his phone. “I don’t need a warrant. This man is threatening my daughter. My. Daughter. Do it. Now.”
He hung up and curled his fingers around his phone in anger. “I have tech getting every text to and from this number and running traces. If he’s been texting you from different numbers, chances are he’s using burners, but even then there’s a chance we can trace them to the store where they were—”