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“How does Cassie get to work?” I ask Martha, wondering if maybe there is at least public transportation.
“There’s a bus that will drop you at the end of the lane,” she tells me, and I breathe a sigh of relief. “It runs until nine in the evenings, and then it stops.” Of course it does. Sneaking out at night just became a little harder with both a roommate and no transportation, but I’ve dealt with worse.
Finally, the little lane opens up to a large, two-story, clapboard house that looks like it’s seen better days. The whitewash is a grimy gray, but the garden beds are well-tended, and none of the shutters are broken. I know from the file that this is not actually their house and is private property that the government rents for the purpose of housing unwanted teenagers. The Standishes are just the caretakers and live-in chaperones.
She pulls the car into a carport attached to the house and turns it off. “Well, don’t just sit there, let’s move.”
Chapter 8
Martha helps me carry my meager belongings into the house. We put my purchases and the suitcase down at the bottom of a staircase, and she gives me a tour of the downstairs. Martha shows me the master bedroom, which is hers and her husbands and off limits, office, again off limits, large living area, and combined dining room and kitchen. All are old and in need of updating, but the house is clean and tidy.
She points out the white board where there is a whole heap of initials in columns with different days of the week. I run my eye down the Tuesday column, and the initials CH sit next to the word “work.” That must be the girl at the thrift store. Under it are the letters JL, and they have “cheerleading practice” next to them. I wonder if that’s the Jessica that Cassie warned me about. Next to the schedule is a chore chart with the same initials beside various chores like washing, garbage, dusting, and bathrooms. As I run my eye over the chart, I get the feeling that Martha doesn’t actually have to lift a finger, since she has all the live-in help to do it. Even dinner prep has initials next to it a couple of days a week.
Next, she takes me upstairs. I grab my bags as we go past them. She points to a door where I can hear the low sounds of music playing inside. “This is the boys’ room. Under no circumstances are you allowed in there.” The next door we come to has a lilac-colored star on it. “This is Cassie, Sally, and Stephanie’s room. You met Cassie, she’s a junior, and the other two are sophomores. There are two bathrooms on this level. One is for the boys, and one is for the girls.” She points at two doors at opposite ends of the long hallway. Holy shit, one bathroom for five teenage girls. That must be a shit show in the morning.
She stops in front of another door. “This leads to the loft. The oldest boy has his room and a bathroom up there. Again, you are not allowed up there. Don’t let me catch you trying to weasel your way into using his bathroom or anything,” she threatens, and I just about tell her to chill. There’s no way I’m going to be interested in high school kids, but I can’t very well admit that, can I? I wonder what she would say if I told her I wasn’t interested in boys. Would she still put me in with a girl? Man, I really want to fuck with her assuming ass, but I won’t.
“You don’t have to worry about me, ma’am. I just want to keep my head down, work hard at school, and get myself a college scholarship.” I lay the good girl act on thick, but it must work, because she beams at me and pats my hand.
“Now that’s what I like to hear. Someone who has their priorities right.” She keeps moving to the last door. “This here is your room. You’ll be sharing with Jessica. She’s a senior just like you and popular to boot. I’m sure she can help show you around school tomorrow.” She pushes the door open, and a wave of sickly sweet perfume wafts out.
She gestures for me to enter, so I step over the threshold and look around the room. Twin beds sit on either side, with two sets of drawers separating them. There’s also a desk and chair against a wall next to the door, but that’s about it. Above what is obviously Jessica’s bed is a shelf with knickknacks, perfume, and girlie things, and the chest of drawers on her side is covered in the same.
“This will be yours.” Martha goes over to the other side and points at the bed and drawers. “I expect your room to be kept neat at all times. I don’t tolerate messiness or laziness. The five of you rotate cleaning bathrooms, and you and Jessica will share dusting and vacuuming in here. Now, if you want to get settled in, I need to get started on dinner. You can meet everyone else then.” Without waiting for a response, she turns and bustles out of the room, leaving the door open behind her.
Heaving out a huge sigh, I take a seat on the bed and look around the room. There’s absolutely nowhere to hide my things. The room has no carpet, just floorboards, so maybe there’s a loose one I can pry up where I can hide something in the gap. Jumping off the bed, I crouch down to look under it. I shimmy beneath it and tap the floorboards in the hopes of finding something that is usable. Nothing moves an inch. Fuck! I climb back out and then look at the drawers.
After pulling out the bottom one, I breathe a sigh of relief. There’s a gap between the bottom drawer and the base, which can’t be seen unless you pull the drawer all the way out like I just did. What are the chances that Jessica will snoop that diligently? I look at her set. Unless she’s got something hidden too. Standing up, I walk to the door and peer around the frame. There’s no one in sight, and I took note of how the stairs creak and groan when we walked up them. If I’m quick and I keep an ear out, then I should be able to hear if someone comes.
Hurrying back to her drawers, I crouch down and pull hers out, checking that she has nothing hidden in the gap. Thankfully, there’s nothing but dust bunnies, and I quickly close it and grab my backpack. I pull out my laptop and iPhone and push them into the gap, then I grab my gun and the two spare magazines I have. I wrap them in an old T-shirt from my suitcase and then shove them in as well. Leaning back on my heels, I survey what I’ve done. If she does end up finding everything, hopefully she will be distracted by the phone and laptop and won’t think to check what’s in the shirt. Both devices are password protected, and what are the chances she’s a hacker?
Placing the drawer back in the sliders, I push it in. All that’s left in my backpack now is a paperback book I grabbed at the bus station before I boarded the bus, as well as my wallet and cheap burner phone that’s for my cover. I toss it back onto the bed and open my suitcase. In it is Miller’s T-shirt, which I refused to give back. I also kept his boxer briefs. Who knew men’s underwear was so comfy? I would have brought them and more with me, but I thought that might confuse Martha, so I reluctantly left them behind. There are also a couple of other things that I thought would work for this assignment and some bras and shoes. I pull everything out and shove it into the top drawer before placing the shoes at the end of the bed. I put most of my purchases from the thrift shop in the next one, and lastly, I shove the jeans in that bottom drawer. There is nothing exciting to see, and hopefully she stays out of it.
I push my now empty backpack and the bags the clothes came in under the bed before standing up and brushing myself off. Jessica obviously hasn’t vacuumed under that bed for a while. Now, there’s nothing left for me to do for the moment.
It’s half past five in the evening. I’m assuming everyone will be arriving home soon or emerging from their rooms, so there’s no point in getting my laptop out to see if the nerd herd has come up with any more information. So far, there isn’t much to go on. I’m going to have to do some snooping and poking around. There’s bound to be people who know things. It’s just a matter of turning over the right rock and flushing them out, but that’s a worry for tomorrow, because right now, I’m going to suss out this household. I need to ask questions about the teens that went missing, and I’m not sure how to do that with Martha without seeming suspicious. Why would a foster kid know about that kind of thing? I’ll need to ascertain who’s been here the longest and then tell them I heard rumors about missing kids or something, but to do that, I need to play happy family. Well, not too happy, since I’m a shy, beaten down foster kid.
I make my way downstairs, moving slowly so I can take note of all the creaks and groans the floors make. I’d like to know if they can be heard downstairs just in case I need to sneak out. I didn’t think to look out the window and see what my chance would be for climbing out there. Hopefully there’s a tree or a gently sloping roof as an alternative option. I’ll check them out when I get back.
The music is still playing in the first boys’ room as I pass it, and I’m tempted to knock and introduce myself, but that won’t fit my character. Instead, I slink downstairs, avoiding all the creaky parts of the steps that I noted on the way up and finding a couple more. Jesus, I hope Martha and James are heavy sleepers, otherwise it’s not going to be as easy as I hoped.
Noise coming from the kitchen/dining room tells me more than just Martha is in there, so I wrap my cover persona around myself and slink in, darting my eyes around the room to take in everything. Two teenage girls are setting the table and chatting animatedly to Martha as they do. They are telling her about what happened at volleyball practice, and how one of their teammates spiked the ball into another teammate’s face. Both girls are tall and slim with red hair and freckles, and I’m guessing they are twins but not identical. There are differences in the shades of their hair, and when they look up at me, I can see one has green eyes and the other brown.
“Holy heck, you look like you got spiked in the face with a volleyball too,” the green-eyed girl exclaims as her eyes widen when she sees the state of my face.
“Nope, it was a fist,” I tell her, not having to lie, and she winces and exchanges a glance with her sister.
“Ah, Mackenzie, there you are. Come in and sit down. Sally and Stephanie were just telling me about their day.” She points to each of the girls. Sally is the green-eyed one, and Stephanie has brown. “Girls, this is Makenzie. She’s going to be a senior, but I hope if you see her looking lost, you’ll help her out. Sally and Stephanie are sophomores, but they are both on the junior varsity volleyball team. Both of them are super athletic, and we’re hoping they’ll be able to get scholarships for college,” Martha says, sharing personal information with me, and I have to frown. I’m practically a stranger, so why is she telling me this? Stephanie’s and Sally’s backs are to her, so she doesn’t see the annoyed eye roll either. I guess they feel the same way.
“In fact, all of my kids are on track for scholarships,” she brags, bringing a large, steaming casserole dish over to the table the girls have finished setting, just as the back door opens and Cassie and a pretty black-haired girl walk in. Ah, this must be the famed Jessica.
“Oh good, girls, you’re right on time.” Martha beams as Cassie smiles at me, and Jessica eyes me with icy indifference. “When you put your things in your rooms, please tell the boys dinner is ready.”
They both go and do as Martha instructed, leaving the kitchen just as the back door opens once more and an older man walks in. Martha beams as he leans in to give her a kiss, and I study them together. He’s a handsome man with broad shoulders and gray streaked dark hair. His facial hair has the same smattering of gray in it as well. When they pull apart, he turns to me, and his piercing blue eyes seem to see right through to my soul. I can’t control the goosebumps that break out across my skin. Holy shit, that’s one hell of a visceral reaction, and I always trust my gut, but in a blink, the look is gone, and he smiles warmly at me.
“You must be Mackenzie. I’m James.” He walks toward me and holds out his hand. My reactions are a little slower than normal, but that fits with my persona, so I give him a small, limp handshake before snatching my hand back.
“Nice to meet you,” I mumble, not looking at him.
