Blood Wounds Page 2

  "I'd better not," I said. "Mom'll be mad if I don't study during vacation."

  "You could study on the plane," Alyssa said. "I do all the time."

  "You don't study anywhere," Brooke said. "Besides, I have a better idea. Come with me to Maryland, Willa, for the dressage test. Alyssa's right about one thing. Gram's always saying what a nice girl you are. She'll listen if you tell her how I'm longing for a new horse."

  "Longing?" I said.

  Brooke laughed. "Gram likes a little drama," she replied. "Come on, Willa. Say yes. You and Terri and Gram and me for the weekend. It won't be Madrid, but it'll still be fun."

  Brooke, I knew, would be having fun, since she'd be hanging out with her riding friends. But Mom would probably appreciate having me along, since it was hard for her to socialize with Val's parents.

  "I'll ask Mom," I said.

  Brooke hugged me. "Remember," she said, "I'm longing for that new horse. I won't survive freshman year without one."

  "I'll remember," I said. "But I'll still miss Sweetbriar."

  "Well, I'm not going to miss these sweaters," Brooke said. "I'll take them downstairs now. See you in the morning. Lyss, you be nice to Willa. I need her!"

  Brooke left the room, waving the sweaters over her head. Alyssa went back to her laptop, and I tried to concentrate on my French.

  Alyssa fell asleep first. She always did, exhausted from her tennis practices, her workouts, and her running. She didn't set the alarm, but I knew she'd wake up around five. She liked to jog for an hour before school. Maybe she'd get her homework done, and maybe not.

  I lay in bed. I usually had trouble falling asleep. That night, like most others, I tried to synchronize my breathing with Alyssa's. Sometimes that worked. That night it didn't.

  I was still awake when Jack and Mom came upstairs. I heard them knock softly on Brooke's door and whisper good night to her. They peeked in on Alyssa and me. I pretended, as I always did, to be asleep, so they wouldn't worry.

  The lights went out, first in Mom and Jack's bedroom, then in Brooke's. I was alone, as I was so many nights, surrounded by my family but alone with my thoughts.

  Everyone was asleep. I could get out of bed, leave my bedroom, walk quietly downstairs to the kitchen and then down to the basement, and go to my spot, my private spot by the furnace where I kept my razorblades and peroxide and bandages, all hidden where no one could find them.

  Only a little cut, I told myself. A quick one on my left calf. A half inch long. Just enough to get me through the night.

  Sometimes when I cut, I can't explain to myself why I need to. But that last time, five days earlier, I understood exactly what was going on.

  I'd come home from choir practice to find the house was empty. Mom had left a note saying Alyssa was at tennis practice and Brooke had needed a lift to the riding academy.

  I was glad to be alone. I had known as soon as I entered the house that I wasn't going to make it through the rest of the day without cutting.

  Mrs. Chen, the choirmaster, had assigned solos for the spring concert. To my astonishment and delight, I'd been given one.

  I thought about how excited Mom would be when I told her, and then I decided not to, to keep it secret until the concert itself. Jack loves surprises, and Mom would be thrilled, and Brooke and Alyssa would get a big kick out of it too.

  Just picturing it, the solo and how my family would react, made me happier than I could ever remember being.

  But after practice ended, Mrs. Chen drew me aside. "You know I reserve the big solos for seniors at the spring concert," she said. "But you have a very special gift, Willa. I don't think you understand how good you could be."

  "I love singing," I said. "Just being in the choir is wonderful."

  "I don't want you to think I'm pushing you," Mrs. Chen said, then laughed. "All right. Maybe I am pushing a little. But I hate to see a talent like yours go to waste. Have you thought about getting a voice coach?"

  I shook my head.

  "There are so many excellent ones in Philadelphia," she said. "Where does Brooke get her violin lessons? Locally or in Philly?"

  Brooke is first violinist for the school orchestra, so there was no way Mrs. Chen was unfamiliar with her. Still, her question surprised me.

  "Locally," I said. "She's had the same teacher for years."

  "I'm sure there are good local voice coaches," Mrs. Chen said. "But I really think you'd be in better hands with one in Philly. I can come up with a few recommendations if you'd like. How about if I talk to your parents about it?"

  Westbridge High may not be a private school, but the kids here are rich. Their parents, like Val, earn hundreds of thousands of dollars, and the kids, like Brooke and Alyssa, take tennis and golf and dressage and music lessons.

  But Jack earns maybe ten percent of that, and Mom doesn't get paid for looking after us. The money I'd earned last summer as an au pair was going to help pay for college.

  I could understand why Mrs. Chen figured if there was money for Brooke's lessons there would be money for mine, but she was wrong, and I certainly didn't want to put Mom in the position of having to explain that.

  "I'll ask my mother," I said, knowing I wouldn't. I'd learned a long time ago not to ask for the things I couldn't have.

  I had never thought about voice lessons before Mrs. Chen suggested them. I should have been happy Mrs. Chen complimented me, excited to have the solo. I was lucky to go to a school with such a great choir.

  I knew all of that, but I'd run to my private space in the basement anyway and cut my right thigh. I'd cut deeper than I'd intended, so it was a relief no one was home to hear when I cried out in pain. The kind of pain I needed to keep me from thinking about all the things I wanted and could never have.

  Five days. My rule was never cut more than once a week, and better still to wait ten days or even two weeks. Last year there'd been a stretch when I'd gone seventeen days without cutting. I hadn't told myself I couldn't. I just hadn't felt the need.

  I felt the need then, though, as I lay on my bed, listening to Alyssa's steady breathing. I felt the need as I thought about my happy family. But it had only been five days.

  I closed my hands into the tightest fists possible, my fingernails pressing into my palms. It wasn't as good as cutting, but it was all I allowed myself.

  That's what I remember from that night. The sweaters, the planning, the laughter, the invitations, the need.

  Three

  I WAS THE FIRST ONE home from school. I usually was, since Brooke and Alyssa had so many more activities than I did, and Mom had either her classes or her chauffeuring. Jack wouldn't be back until after supper.

  We keep two charts in the kitchen, one to remind everyone where we all were scheduled to be, and the other to tell us which chores we were expected to do around the house. The chores rotated, so we each had a week of them every month, regardless of other obligations (although we all traded on occasion). It was my week for dusting and vacuuming, and I figured I'd get to that after I'd checked for phone messages and before I began my homework.

  That was what I was thinking about when I picked up the phone to see if there were any messages. Whether I should dust and vacuum before I did my homework or after.

  There were four messages, all in the past two hours.

  That was a lot, but not unheard of. We knew that if there were any last-minute changes in our schedules we were to call home and leave a message. Then whoever got in first could call Mom or Jack and let them know what was going on. Jack called the voice mail our bulletin board, and it was a pretty good system.

  The first message was from Faye Parker, Mom's best friend since first grade. They live two thousand miles apart now, since Mom and I moved to Pennsylvania when I was four and Faye stayed at home in Pryor, Texas. Faye had visited Mom and me only once, when Jack took the girls to Shanghai for the first time, but she and Mom talked regularly.

  "Terri, this is Faye. I'm at work and I can't find your cell numbe
r. Do me a favor and call when you get in. Thanks. It's kinda important."

  We keep a pad by the phone in the kitchen. I wrote down, "Call Faye," and went to the second message.

  "It's me again. Terri, I don't want you to get concerned or anything, but there's an Amber Alert for one of the twins. I'm not sure what's going on, but I really need you to call me as soon as you get in."

  Faye didn't have any kids, so I tried to figure out who the twin might be, and why Faye or Mom would care. It was possible Mom's brother, Martin, had twins. Martin and his wife live in Idaho, in some kind of cult. The last Mom heard, they had eight daughters, but since Martin thought Mom was an infidel for leaving her husband, he'd stopped talking to her. Martin's ten years older than Mom anyway, and they were never very close. He might have twins, although most of his daughters were older than I was, so I couldn't see why there'd be an Amber Alert for any of them. Maybe the twin was one of his grandkids; Mom figured he must have a boatload by now. I wasn't certain how Amber Alerts worked, but maybe they were national and Faye had heard about it somehow.

  The third message was thirty minutes old. "Terri, call me as soon as you can. It sounds like Budge is in a lot of trouble. Have you heard from him? Just call me, okay?"

  I underlined "Call Faye" three times and tried to figure out who Budge was. I didn't think it was any of Faye's exes or if it was, why Faye would think Mom would have heard from him.

  I knew I wasn't going to like the fourth message. But I played it anyway.

  "Terri, look, I've gotta talk to you. The news about Budge, it sounds really bad, and not hearing from you has got me worried. Call me the second you get in. I need to hear that you're all right. As soon as you get this message, call. I'm starting to go crazy."

  I called Mom's cell. I got her voice mail.

  "Mom, something's going on with Faye," I said. "Someone named Budge is in trouble, and there's an Amber Alert for a twin, and I have no idea what she's talking about. But call her, okay, and then call me?"

  I hung up, and almost without thinking, I called her again. "Call me first," I said. "I'm home. Call here."

  I realized then that I was shaking, like Faye's craziness had infected me. Someone I'd never heard of thousands of miles away was in some unknown trouble, and all I felt was terror.

  I called Jack. He answered on the first ring.

  "Jack, I'm scared," I said. "Something horrible has happened and I can't find Mom and I don't know what's going on."

  "Where are you?" he asked. "Willa, are you all right?"

  "I'm fine," I said. "It's Faye. She called Mom four times to tell her something bad's happened to someone named Budge. I don't understand any of it, but there's an Amber Alert for a twin and I guess this Budge person's involved, and Faye's really scared for Mom. I called Mom twice now, but she didn't pick up her cell, so I'm scared too." Just telling Jack all that made me feel better, made me feel foolish.

  Jack said the right things. Jack always said the right things. "I need you to do two things," he said. "First, look on the chart and see where Terri is scheduled to be."

  The chart was right in front of me. "Alyssa has practice from two to four," I said.

  "All right," Jack said. "I'll call the club. It could be Terri turned off her cell. Now I need you to give me Faye's phone number."

  "She's at work," I said. "Let me get her work number and her cell number."

  "Do that," Jack said. "I'll call and find out what's going on."

  I dug through the address book until I found both numbers. "Do you understand any of this?" I asked Jack, after I read him the numbers. "Do you know who Budge is?"

  "No," Jack said. "Look, I'll find out from Faye what's going on, and I'll track Terri down, and then I'll get back to you. Meanwhile, try to get your homework done and don't worry. All right?"

  "All right," I said. I hung up the phone and stood frozen with indecision. I knew I couldn't concentrate on homework or dusting. I wanted desperately to go to the basement, hide in my little corner, cut deep and hard before the pressure inside me exploded. But there's no phone in the basement and I didn't dare miss another call.

  It's been less than a week, I told myself. I can't cut anyway.

  I decided to pour myself a drink of water. I took a glass out from the cabinet, but my hands were shaking so hard, I dropped it. The glass shattered into a hundred pieces. I picked up the largest of the shards, and I can't be sure, but I think it was an accident when it cut into my palm. I was bleeding pretty hard, and the pain was intense, and that helped me focus. I went to the bathroom, cleaned the cut and bandaged it, then went to the kitchen and swept up the broken glass. When we'd first moved in together, Brooke went through a stage where she dropped things. She broke glasses and coffee cups and Mom's favorite vase. Alyssa never broke anything. I guess I fell somewhere between the two.

  I had just finished throwing out the broken glass when the phone rang. I dropped the dustbin and ran to answer it.

  "Sweetie, I don't want you to worry," Jack said. "I can't track your mother down, but that doesn't mean anything."

  "Did you speak to Faye?" I asked. "What's going on?"

  "I just got off the phone with her," Jack said.

  The doorbell rang. "There's someone here," I said, not giving Jack a chance to say anything more. "Hold on."

  I could hear him calling my name, but it didn't matter. I ran to the front door and opened it.

  There were two police officers standing there, a man and a woman. They showed me their badges and their identification. "I'm Officer Schultz, and this is Officer Rivera," the man said. "May we come in?"

  I thought, There's been an accident. Mom's dead.

  Things started swirling around, and one of the cops caught me before I fell to the floor.

  "Here, sit down," he said. "Put your head between your knees. That's right. Rivera, get her some water."

  Rivera ran in the direction of the kitchen. I heard her pouring water into a glass. Within seconds, she was in the living room, helping me hold my head up while I took some sips.

  "Are you all right?" she asked me. She must have noticed my bandaged palm. "Are you cut bad?"

  "No," I said. "It was an accident." I swallowed hard, waiting to hear about another accident, a worse accident.

  "We're looking for Terri McDougal," Officer Schultz said. "Are you her daughter?" He looked down at his clipboard. "Willa Coffey?"

  "Yes," I said. "Why are you looking for her? Is she all right?"

  "That's what we're trying to find out," Officer Rivera said. "When did you hear from her last?"

  "This morning," I said. "Before school. My stepfather's trying to find her too." I remembered Jack was on the phone. "Oh," I said. "We were talking when you came. I'd better let him know you're here." I got up a little faster than I should have, and things got dizzy again.

  "I'll talk to him," Officer Schultz said. He walked to the kitchen, and I could hear him saying something to Jack, then hanging up.

  "Your sister is at her tennis lesson," he said, as he joined us in the living room. "Your mother dropped her off and said she'd be back around four o'clock to pick her up. No one knows where she went from there." He looked at his watch. "It's three thirty now," he said. "If she isn't there in half an hour, we'll start looking for her. Meantime, we'll keep you company."

  "I don't understand any of this," I said. "Mom got some messages from her friend Faye about an Amber Alert and someone named Budge being in trouble. But why are you here?"

  "A woman called our precinct and said she was worried that a man named Dwayne Coffey might be trying to get to your mother," Officer Rivera replied. "There's an APB out for him, so we took the call seriously."

  "Dwayne Coffey is my father," I said. "Faye must have called. Look, if you don't mind, I'm going to call her."

  "That's a good idea," Officer Schultz said. "We'll wait here."

  I went to the kitchen, found Faye's cell number, and called. "Terri, is that you?" she asked, befo
re I even could say hello.

  "It's Willa," I said. "Faye, what's going on? There are two police officers here, and they said there's an APB for Dwayne Coffey. Only they won't tell me why. Who's Budge? What does the Amber Alert have to do with us?"

  "Oh, sweetie, Budge is your daddy," Faye said. "That's his old nickname. When I couldn't get through to your momma, I called the police."

  "But why would my father be trying to get here?" I asked. "Mom and I haven't seen him since we left Texas."

  I could hear Faye inhale sharply. "Look, sweetie, I'm not the person to tell you," she said. "That's for your momma to do. Just have her call me as soon as you hear from her, so I can stop worrying, all right?"

  "Faye!" I said, but she'd hung up. I called Jack, but I got his voice mail. There was no point leaving a message, so I hung up and went back to the living room.

  "Budge is Dwayne Coffey's nickname," I said to the officers, who were still sitting there. "An APB means the police are looking for him, right? Did he kidnap someone? Is that why there's an Amber Alert?"

  "Why don't we start with you first," Officer Schultz said. "When was the last time you heard from your father?"

  "I never hear from him," I said. "He and my mother got divorced when I was little. Mom and Jack got married when I was five, and as far as I'm concerned, he's my father, not some guy I hardly remember. So you can tell me whatever you want about Dwayne Coffey, because he means nothing to me. Who did he kidnap? Who are the twins?"

  The officers exchanged glances.

  "We don't know much more than you do," Officer Rivera said. "There was a domestic disturbance at his house. Coffey and one of his daughters are missing."

  I was a lot more shocked to hear my father had other daughters than I was to learn there'd been a domestic disturbance at his house. Mom never talked about what went on in Texas, but there had to be a reason why she'd run off with me.

  "How many daughters does he have?" I asked. "Besides me, I mean."

  They looked at each other again. "There were three little girls," Officer Schultz said.

  "Were?" I repeated. "What do you mean there were three little girls? What kind of domestic disturbance was there?"