Before she could finish her sentence, Doreen lunged. Nails raked across Charlie’s cheek.
A cop grabbed Doreen and hauled her back, although she kicked like she thought she could get free. “Calm down,” he said. “Jesus, lady.”
“Ow,” Charlie said, putting her hand to her face. “Fuck.”
“This is because of you,” Doreen shouted. “You were supposed to help him. You were supposed to bring him home.”
Hard to be too sympathetic when he’d been hanging around waiting to hurt her, but she saw Doreen’s point. Adam might have screwed over Balthazar and Doreen both, but Charlie had certainly screwed him.
“You are the devil, corrupting everything you touch,” Doreen shouted. “Remember that favor my brother was supposed to do for you? Well, it’s undone. You’re in default.”
Charlie shrugged, turning to head toward the doors. “You can’t threaten me with what’s already happened. You got him to do that the minute I gave you the ring.”
Doreen, held back by two policemen, still managed to spit in Charlie’s direction.
Exhausted, Charlie walked back from the station to her car just as dawn was breaking on the horizon. The Corolla was where she’d parked it, metal box tucked under the seat. She slid in and looked at her face in the mirror, studied the fresh red marks, which stung like hell.
Abruptly, she tasted salt in the back of her mouth and her eyes stung. She blinked back tears.
“Pull yourself together, Charlie Hall,” she told herself in the mirror.
It was Thursday morning, which meant she had two more days before Salt’s event. Two more days to discover what Vince’s shadow wanted, where Vince was, and who was lying. Two more days to know what she was going to do with the book in the lockbox.
But what she needed right then was sleep. She couldn’t go inside her house, since it was an active crime scene, cordoned off with tape. And she wasn’t sure she could bear going back to Mom’s place. The thought of sleeping on the air mattress while they moved around the room, of fending off questions, of telling more lies, made her feel claustrophobic and panicky.
Not to mention the threat of a Blight out there, one looking for a book she might have in her possession. Maybe looking for her. So, she couldn’t go to Barb’s either. Not to any of her friends.
You are the devil, corrupting everything you touch.
The devil, like Suzie Lambton said. With the devil’s own luck.
But maybe her luck was changing, because Charlie remembered something. Suzie Lambton had gone on a yoga retreat, leaving behind an empty condo for Charlie to break into.
* * *
Suzie’s place was within walking distance of the center of downtown Northampton. When Charlie pulled up, she realized right away that getting in was going to suck. The units were newly built, with large windows, and no trees or overgrown bushes to hide her from Suzie’s neighbors while jimmying the door. The last time she’d been there, she’d admired the place but hadn’t done nearly enough casing.
Charlie parked three streets over, tucked the lockbox into her bag, got supplies from the trunk, and walked. It was just after six in the morning and she was sure people inside the units were just getting up, getting ready to send their kids to school and take themselves to work.
Cutting behind the units, Charlie noted they had patios in the back. That was promising. People were more likely to give someone hanging out in a backyard the benefit of the doubt, and sliding glass doors were incredibly easy to open.
People put dead bolts on their front entrances, with keypads and steel doors, and then neglected the back. Charlie positioned a screwdriver under the bottom of the patio sliders, then pushed up hard at the same time she turned the handle. Ten seconds later, she was inside, and the doors, no worse for wear.
As she walked through the modern white kitchen with thick marble counters and pristine subway tile, Charlie’s steps echoed. She had a moment of feeling entirely out of place, as though she wasn’t just an intruder, but a traveler from another world.
She made herself climb the stairs. Suzie’s bedroom was wallpapered in a cheerful pattern of tropical leaves. The door to the walk-in closet was open, and clothes were scattered on the floor, as though Suzie had packed in a hurry.
Charlie staggered to the bed. She fell asleep on top of the coverlet, with early-morning sunlight flooding in through the picture window, still in her clothes.
She woke to the red and golds of sunset. Her head felt cottony and her mouth was dry. For a disoriented moment, she didn’t know where she was. Then everything came flooding back, and along with it, a stab of panic.