The Unrepentant, page 10
“Come on.” He withdrew his head. The door shook. “Hurry up.”
“No!” Charlotte said, forcefully. She stood.
The door shook harder. “Come on.”
Charlotte’s anger surprised her. She twisted the lock and shoved the door out.
It smacked the man in the face. He staggered backward, bumped into the sink. He was short and thin with short brown hair and glasses.
“What the fuck’s wrong with you?” he asked.
Charlotte grabbed her bag and swung it at his head. The man raised an arm, went back even further, ended up leaning against a sink. She bent down, grabbed his legs and pulled. The back of his head smacked the counter as he fell.
“Shit,” he said, sitting on the ground. Charlotte kicked him in the ribs. He cried out. She did it again.
“Okay,” the man said, and he stood and limped to the door. He unlocked it and let himself out.
Charlotte ran to the door, watched him hurry away.
She went back to the sink, splashed water on her face, rinsed her mouth. Ran some water through her hair. She was breathing fast.
She felt like that little man had been some sort of test, as if his harassment was part of running away, becoming herself.
Until then, she’d never thought of herself as a fighter.
That morning, Charlotte ate breakfast next to a young couple heading to Tucson. They offered to give her a ride.
The trip took two hours but, once Tucson came into view, things seemed better. Charlotte felt lighter. Tucson rested inside an uneven ring of mountains; a potter’s broken bowl half-buried in dirt. A few tall buildings were clustered in the middle of the city, as white as sunbaked bones. They drove past dry brown land as they got closer, punctuated by the kind of cacti Charlotte had only seen in cartoons. She couldn’t believe how tiny Tucson was compared to the surrounding mountains. Nature dominated the city.
They drove in on wide roads with low buildings on either side. The streets weren’t crowded with cars or people until they reached Fourth Avenue, where Charlotte and the couple parted ways. Fourth Avenue was full of shops and shoppers, and Charlotte loved the feeling of getting lost in people, disappearing into the cheerful crowds. She wandered into stores of trendy clothes or southwestern souvenirs; an overabundance of turquoise stones and long soft dresses.
Charlotte had no idea where she was going to spend the night, but she had about six hundred dollars between what she’d saved and stolen from her uncle. She kept walking down Fourth, turned on a few side streets and stumbled upon an outdated two-story motel.
A week cost her a hundred and fifty dollars. She figured it was worth it. Her room had peeled blue paint and a stained comforter covering the bed. She didn’t care.
She was hundreds of miles away, but Charlotte still worried about her uncle finding her. That first night, worry shook her awake whenever she caught a few moments of sleep. She kept the lights and television on. At dawn, the sun rose over Tucson’s mountains, like a cover slipped off a painting. Charlotte opened her door, stepped barefoot into the warm, beautiful morning. Watched the little city wake.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“I never knew you were in Tucson,” Mace says.
Dory, Eve, and Charlotte all look at him.
“That’s what you took from everything she’s told us?” Eve asks.
“Well, I mean, I heard Tucson’s nice.”
Eve turns toward Charlotte. “How’re you doing?”
“I’m okay.”
Dory stretches her neck. “We’ve been talking for a while. Let’s take twenty minutes. I’m going to get some water.”
Charlotte lifts her arms and slowly exhales. Dory stands, rubs her knees, and heads out of the bedroom. Eve follows her. She hears Mace ask Charlotte, “It’s a dry heat, right?”
Dory waits for Eve and they head down the stairs together. They reach the lower level and walk to the kitchen. Eve waits until she’s sure they’re out of earshot before she speaks.
“I think we need to call the police.”
Dory stares at her with patient, relentless eyes.
“Why?”
“Half of what she’s telling us may not even be true. I’m not sure I trust her story, but I trust what Mace said. About the man she killed.”
Dory walks to the kitchen entrance, glances out, and walks back to Eve.
“Seems like they had to do that.”
“You know that won’t matter much in court,” Eve presses. “They killed a man and burned his corpse in a deliberate attempt to hide evidence from an enemy they can’t produce. Or even identify. And that means we may have two threats. The men hunting Charlotte. And Charlotte.”
“How’s Charlotte a threat?” Patient. Relentless.
“She’s a killer. And an unrepentant one.”
“I’m not a psychologist,” Dory says, “but I’ve worked with enough survivors to understand that trauma strikes people in different ways. Most respond in somewhat predictable fashions, but there is an occasional outlier. Right now Charlotte’s hurt, and she’s scared. And I don’t believe we need to worry about her in that way.”
“I bet the man she killed had the same thought. And so did her uncle.”
“Her uncle?” Dory frowns. “She didn’t kill Raúl.”
“Are you sure?”
“I don’t know. But I feel like she’s telling us the truth. And I know she’s someplace, mentally and emotionally, that we can’t understand. Or even bridge. But I always give victims the benefit of the doubt, and there’s something about her I trust. In my gut.”
“Yeah,” Eve says, uneasily. “I feel like she’s being honest, I get that. But my mind keeps questioning everything. Even if my gut hasn’t steered me wrong yet when it comes to people.”
“To be fair, you married Mace, and now you’re separated.”
“My gut had indigestion that day?” Eve smiles. “Sorry, that’s a Mace joke. I catch his sense of humor whenever we hang out. It’s awful.”
Dory offers a small smile back.
“We’ll listen to what else she tells us,” Eve concedes. “And I’ll think about if I should go to the police or not.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Charlotte lived in the motel, which was shady but cheap, and found a job as a hostess at a nearby Applebee’s. She didn’t have a lot of money, but she didn’t need a lot. She had enough for the motel and her manager let her eat for free.
Charlotte loved Tucson’s relaxed prettiness. She spent her days exploring the city, reading in her room, sitting by the teardrop-shaped motel pool, watching television on the bed. She grew familiar with the cleaning staff and the other long-term residents: the old woman a floor below her, the creepy guy a few doors down, the mother and infant she’d occasionally see at the vending machine. It was an unspoken rule that no one asked questions about each other’s past or what had brought them there. They talked about the weather and television shows and, in the case of the mother, her baby. Charlotte occasionally inquired about babysitting—not for money, just because she thought the baby was cute—but the other woman politely declined. Charlotte understood.
She didn’t trust anyone either.
One day Charlotte was reading an Anne Tyler novel by the pool when a girl, about her age, sat in the chair next to her.
“I’m Sofia.”
“Charlotte.” She’d given to calling herself Charlotte rather than Carlota. The Spanish version reminded her too much of Raúl.
Sofia was wearing a long T-shirt over a two-piece swimming suit, and she pulled the T-shirt off and set it next to her. She had dark eyes, long hair, and a natural tan. Maybe Hispanic or a mix.
“How long have you been here?”
“At the pool?”
“The motel.”
“Oh.” Charlotte laughed. “I live here. What about you?”
“Yeah,” Sofia replied, absent-mindedly running a hand through her hair. It was thicker than Charlotte’s, and more styled. “My daddy’s here for work for a few weeks. Wish we’d stayed somewhere nicer. Like, in the car.”
“It’s not that bad. I kind of like it.”
“What about your folks?”
“I’m here by myself,” Charlotte told her, and it was hard not to say that without a touch of pride.
“Really?” Sofia seemed dutifully impressed. “Or, like, with a boyfriend?”
“Just me.”
“I was seeing this one guy a while back, but we broke up.”
Charlotte felt like Sofia mentioned a boyfriend to try to compete with her independence. But she didn’t mind. “Why?”
Sofia swept her hair to her other shoulder with a quick motion. Charlotte smelled the flowery scent of her shampoo or lotion. “He turned out to be a freak show. Wouldn’t leave me alone. I needed my space.”
Charlotte nodded.
“You date much?”
She didn’t want to talk about her personal life, but she felt like she had to give something. “Not really.”
Saying that left her insecure. Sofia was too pretty not to have had a dozen boyfriends. Leaving Raúl and starting her own life had seemed like a mature decision. Now Charlotte felt hopelessly young.
Sofia reached into her purse, pulled out her phone, glanced at it and frowned. She put it away. “Sorry for grilling you. I’m just surprised. You don’t meet many people who live here. You like it?”
“It took me a while, but now it’s kind of home.”
“Well, that’s sad,” Sofia said, but with a smile. “I’m burning up. Keep an eye on my stuff?”
“Sure.”
Charlotte watched Sofia grab the railing and carefully slip one leg in the water, then the other.
Sofia turned to her back, smiled at Charlotte, and drifted away.
Charlotte saw Sofia at the pool every day. They talked about guys, Tucson, TV, clothes, hair, makeup. They also talked about their families, but not much. Charlotte never saw Sofia’s father. Sofia said he was always working, all day and into the nights. She didn’t seem to mind.
“Are you planning to stay at this motel forever?” Sofia asked once. They were in the pool, holding themselves up with their elbows on the edge.
“Maybe,” Charlotte said. “Are you and your dad leaving soon?”
Sofia gave her an exasperated look. “Hopefully. As soon as he makes enough for us to move somewhere else.”
Charlotte was hurt by Sofia’s eagerness to leave.
“I mean,” Sofia said, “you and I will keep in touch. Or get our own place.”
Charlotte warmed. “That’d be nice.”
“Are you going to make enough to afford rent, being a waitress?”
“I’m not a waitress,” Charlotte corrected her. “I’m a hostess.”
“So, no?”
“No.”
“Maybe we should, like, take out student loans and go to college and better ourselves. Although that seems like a lot of work.”
“Right?” Charlotte kicked her legs slightly, let them drift. She closed her eyes, enjoying the combination of Arizona heat and the water. It reminded her of nice times in California, when she visited the beach, lying between sun and sand, letting her back bake.
Having Sofia with her made things better. She hadn’t thought she was lonely, but talking with her was easy and natural and Charlotte hungered for the connection. She missed Sofia when she would leave and, as they spent more time together, realized her friend felt the same way about her.
She opened her eyes and watched Sofia lift herself out of the water, grab a Corona from her handbag, and slip back into the pool. Sofia dragged the top of the bottle against the edge of the pool and popped off the cap. She took a drink, then turned toward Charlotte.
“Seriously,” Sofia said, “have you ever thought about it? Going to school or something?”
“I don’t plan on staying here forever,” Charlotte clarified. “But for now, it’s fine. I did think about maybe taking a couple of community college classes. What about you?”
Sofia frowned. “My daddy makes enough so I don’t have to work, but I should be more, like, self-reliant or something.”
Charlotte nodded.
“I don’t mind borrowing from him, but sometimes I think it’d be nice to have my own money. My own life.”
“Yeah.”
“Maybe we should find a couple of rich guys.”
After everything with her uncle, the idea of dating filled Charlotte with dread. “Haven’t seen many rich guys at Applebee’s.”
“Yeah, or Tucson for that matter.” Sofia smiled, then turned serious. “Hey, how come you don’t speak Spanish?”
“What?”
“You said your mom was Mexican. She didn’t teach it to you?”
“No. I mean, she was always working on her English. I guess that’s why she never tried to teach me. And the rest of her family was somewhere in Mexico.”
Sofia drank.
“You never tried to find them?”
Charlotte shook her head. “What happened to your mom?”
“She left us.”
Sofia turned away and Charlotte decided not to ask anything else.
She watched Sofia finish off the bottle and toss it into the water.
Chapter Thirty
“Seriously,” Sofia told Charlotte, as she sat on her bed, fastening on a pair of earrings, “I can’t go to Applebee’s for dinner again. Don’t you get tired of it?”
“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of a free meal.”
“There are so many other places,” Sofia whined. “We could go for Mexican. That’s super cheap.”
“How cheap is super cheap?” Charlotte tried to remember how much money she had. Less than two hundred, about one hundred and eighty. And that had to last five days.
“I dunno. Like fifteen bucks or something.”
A key scraped the door lock. The door opened. Charlotte turned and saw a man she’d never seen before. She glanced at Sofia.
“Hi, Daddy,” Sofia said. She fastened her second earring. “This is my friend Charlotte. I told you about her.”
“Nice to meet you.” Sofia’s father was tall with bushy dark hair and small eyes. Everything about him seemed big—easily over six feet with a long gut and thick arms and legs. He wore an open flannel over a T-shirt and jeans with a large, fist-sized belt buckle.
“Good to meet you, too.” She’d been about to add “sir.” Something about Sofia’s father seemed to command authority.
“We’re going out to eat,” Sofia told him. “You want us to bring you back anything?”
“I’m good.” He closed the door behind him but stayed standing in the doorway, staring at Charlotte.
“She’s broke,” Sofia complained. “We’re going to have to go somewhere gross.”
“It’s not that…” Charlotte started.
“How much do you need? Fifty dollars cover you?”
“That should be good.” Sofia bounced off the bed, trotted over to her father, gave him a quick kiss on the lips.
“Charlotte, you live here, right? By yourself?”
Charlotte didn’t like that Sofia had said anything about her to her father.
“Yeah.”
He nodded but didn’t move from the doorway.
Sofia stood a few feet in front of him, arms crossed over her chest, foot tapping. She sighed and marched back to Charlotte.
“Give me a kiss,” Sofia told her.
“What?”
“It’s my daddy. He’ll give me the money if I kiss you.”
Charlotte tried to laugh it off, but the motel room seemed darker. “Are you serious?”
Sofia laughed with her, rolled her eyes. “He’s, like, such a sicko. But come on, just do it so we can get out of here. I’m hungry.”
“But I’m not, I’m not like that.”
“Me neither!” Sofia seemed offended. “But come on, you’ve never kissed another girl? Like, just to show off?”
Charlotte felt embarrassed when she shook her head. She glanced at Sofia’s father.
He hadn’t moved from the doorway.
“Come here,” Sofia said. “It’ll be quick.” She turned to Charlotte and, before Charlotte had time to respond, kissed her.
Charlotte took a step back.
“You call that a kiss?” Sofia’s father asked.
Sofia looked at Charlotte, sadness in her eyes. And something in Charlotte broke.
She remembered Raúl.
Maybe this was just how men were.
The second kiss lasted longer. Charlotte didn’t stop until Sofia did. The entire time, she hoped it would be enough to make Sofia’s father happy.
He was holding out a fifty-dollar bill when they stopped.
“Have fun tonight.”
Chapter Thirty-One
“Are you okay?” Mace asks.
“Yeah, why?”
He and Eve trade uneasy glances. “Because you’re crying.”
“I am?” Charlotte touches her eyes, surprised.
“Maybe we should take a longer break,” Eve suggests.
“I do feel kind of shaky inside,” Charlotte admits. “Could we stop for the night? Start again in the morning?”
Dory seems reluctant, but agrees instead of pressing her point. She says her goodbyes and leaves.
“I’m sorry about your uncle,” Mace tells her, when he hears Dory walking down the stairs. “That sounds awful.”
“It wasn’t that bad.”
Again, that uneasy glance between Mace and Eve.
“What do you mean?” Eve asks.
“I went along with it. It’s not like he held me down and made me. Except for a few times.”
“You were a child!” Mace sounds alarmed. “He took advantage of you.”
“But I went along with it. Most of the time he didn’t force me.”
Mace stands. “You weren’t old enough to choose. He manipulated you.”
Charlotte looks down at her hands. “I guess. It’s just that I knew Raúl so well, it’s hard to hate him.”
