Page 14 of Traces of Kara

“Maybe, yes, but not always. Heck, we didn’t find out about old Harvey Pullmaker until his affair had gone on for three years. People are sneaky.”

“Oh, Charlene.” Mimi sat back in her chair and sighed. “What am I gonna do? If I lose Kara, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“She’s not going anywhere. Listen, that girl is tied to you like the umbilical cord was never cut, regardless of how she acts these days.”

Mimi smiled.

“Give it until noon. If you don’t hear from her, then go bang on her door and demand your mama time.”

Mimi looked at her watch. It was nine a.m. “She has class today. Maybe I’ll swing by and try to meet her in the parking lot. I just need to touch base with her. I think I need to apologize, or at least hug her.”

Charlene rested her hand on Mimi’s forearm. “You do that, doll. It’ll make you feel better.”

Chapter Thirteen

A familiar tune floated through the air. Mimi’s ringtone on Kara’s phone. Kara’s eyes lit up. My phone! Oh, God! Help! Kara whipped her head around, looking for her phone. Her heart raced. Where was the damn thing? Mimi must be looking for her.

The man scrambled across the room and into the darkness behind Kara. He plucked at the buttons on the phone. The ringtone stopped, but the red light blinked.

“How do you turn this damn thing off?” He shoved the phone toward Kara.

She grabbed the phone with trembling hands, clutching it until her fingers hurt. She stared at the blinking light. Text messages. She looked at the man who stood above her.

He stared at her expectantly.

Could she read the messages? Could she respond? She wiggled as if she were getting more comfortable, angling her body just slightly away from him, shaking her head so her hair fell in a curtain around the phone.

“Hurry up,” he said.

“I’m…I’m doing it.” Oh, God, oh, God. Kara pushed the Home button. Two messages from her mother, one from Daryl. Her finger hovered over the keys. Could she? Should she? She pushed Reply and held her breath.

“Give me the damn thing.” In one quick swoop he snagged the phone and threw it against the wall, sending shards of metal and plastic across the concrete floor.

Kara cowered against the pole. “I was trying. I swear.”

He stared at her, his eyes cold and distant, like a Rottweiler assessing its prey.

Kara dropped her eyes, certain he’d lunge for her next. She didn’t know how to get onto his good side, but she had to find a way to connect with this monster. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, the man sat beside her, his arms resting across his knees.

“Marissa,” he said.

Marissa? Who the hell is Marissa? Kara kept her eyes trained on the ground, her hands on the concrete floor, ready to push away at any second.

“Tomorrow is our birthday.”

Our? “Birthday?” she managed.

He looked at her with softened eyes. “The 28th of October, our birthday?” He looked at her expectantly.

“Right, I know. I know,” she said quickly. What the hell?

“Remember the first birthday we spent at Lowreys?” He looked straight ahead, as if he were watching a film. He smiled. “Remember the cake? Remember the doll you got?”

“Mm-hmm,” she lied.

He reached into his pocket and took out a blood-streaked Barbie doll, and handed it to Kara.

Oh, shit. He’s psycho. Kara took the doll. She ran her hand over its hair. The plastic felt familiar in her hand, though she had no memory of ever playing with Barbie dolls. Despite herself, she had the urge to smell the plastic doll. She brought it to her nose, and smelled it, cringing and turning away at the tangy aroma. Memories of playing with similar plastic dolls tugged at the periphery of her mind.