She put her hood up anyway.
The side of the house where she’d been directed had been taken over by caterers. They had a tent up and a grill going. Whole cookie trays of puffs and shrimp and other things Charlie had never seen before were being prepped and then sent inside, presumably to be put on some fancier plate.
Near the door was a small stone patio where some of the staff, in their black-and-white server outfits, were sitting and smoking. One drank coffee out of a paper cup, their breath and the hot liquid clouding in the air.
Another spoke Spanish in a low voice to a coworker. She didn’t understand all the words because she didn’t pay enough attention in class, but she thought he was complaining about a guy who was hot but also terrible.
Even though they were distracted, she didn’t dare walk right past them. They would take one look at her and know she was in the wrong place. Her sneakers were muddy from the walk, and they were sneakers. With glittery laces.
But as much as she couldn’t walk past them, she couldn’t stay where she was either. They’d notice her lurking around the bushes eventually and then she’d have no chance. Her feeling that Rand had no idea what he was doing returned. Maybe she should take the cell phone and call her mother. If she got Rand in trouble, maybe Mom wouldn’t believe anything he said.
“Hey, kid?” His voice startled her. “C’mon. Quick.”
She found him holding the door open. She could see distant movement in other rooms, but no one close by. Ducking her head and not looking at anyone else, she hurried into the house.
For a moment, she was so startled by the fanciness of it that all she could do was look around. Polished wood. Cream-and-gold-striped wallpaper. Paintings in heavy antique frames with no glass protecting them.
He steered her toward the staircase.
“Remember the job.” His voice was low and intense. “Third door on the left. A little kid’s room. Take off everything but the nightgown. When I give you the signal—not before—you stand in the window. Behind the filmy curtain, so your face is blurry, okay? Got it? Not before the signal. Stand there for one minute, then put back on the coat and get the hell out of the house. Your job is not to be seen and to leave no trace.”
Charlie nodded, feeling clumsy and afraid. She was sure she was going to be caught and then he would tell her mother everything anyway.
“Okay, well, don’t just stand there. Go!” He turned his back on her, heading toward the party.
Charlie hurried up the steps.
The air in the upstairs hall was hushed. Crystals hung from sconces, gleaming, spilling rainbows onto the wooden floor.
Her hand turned the knob on the third door and she found herself in a massive room, the whole thing done up in pink with a bed in the shape of Cinderella’s carriage at the center. The walls were muraled in vines.
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.