As Alex neared where Joanie’s body had been found, she hugged the creek bank, hoping to find Charlotte at the water’s edge, but she wasn’t there. The campground was deserted. Even Gladys Knight’s tent was gone. That left the thick woods at the south end, a trek she wasn’t certain she could make. She sat on a tree stump to catch her breath, peering into the creeping dusk for a sign of the girl, a flickering light at the base of the bluff catching her eye.
Taking a deep breath, she made her way toward the light. The closer she got, the more the light danced, and then she realized it was flames coming from a campfire shielded by a low rock wall. A moment later, a voice called out from behind it.
“That’s close enough.”
Alex stopped. “Gladys? Is that you?”
“Who else would I be? The question is who the hell are you?”
“Alex Stone. I talked to you the other day. How are the Pips?”
“Just dandy. Now, go away.”
“What happened to your tent?”
“Blew away. Got me a nice little hollowed-out cave instead. Suits me just fine.”
“I’m looking for the little girl I told you about. Her name is Charlotte.”
“Get lost. Don’t know anybody named Charlotte.”
Alex heard someone rustling around in the cave, then the sound of something being scraped against the rocks and a child humming, though it sounded more like a closed-mouth whine.
Alex scrambled over the wall, finding Gladys sitting cross-legged in front of the fire and Charlotte banging her spatula against the cave. Gladys jumped to her feet, putting herself between Alex and Charlotte.
The hollowed-out cave was exactly that, extending no more than five feet into the base of the bluff, as if it had been carved out with a giant ice cream scoop, the ceiling just high enough for Alex to stand. The campfire was at the mouth of the cave. Gladys’s belongings, including a stack of milk crates filled to the rims, were piled against the back wall.
“You got no right,” Gladys said.
“How long has Charlotte been here?”
“Hmph. Her name’s Charlotte? Never knew what to call her, so I didn’t call her anything. She showed up in the middle of the night last night, same as usual.”
“She can’t stay here. The police are looking for her.”
“Who said anything about staying? She’ll go home when she’s ready like she always does.”
“She can’t, not anymore.”
Gladys scratched her cheek, looking over her shoulder at Charlotte, who was tracing an invisible pattern on the cave wall, oblivious to them. She motioned to Alex to follow her. They walked around the mound of rocks, Gladys leaning against them.
“Why not?”
“Charlotte was living with her mother and aunt in a mobile home park not far from here, and now they’re both dead. Her mother was the woman whose body was found in the creek. Her aunt was murdered last night. Charlotte might have seen who killed both of them.”
Gladys squeezed her eyes tight, shaking her head. “What’s gonna happen to that poor child?”
“I don’t know, but she can’t stay here. I have to call the police and tell them I found her. Someone from Child Protective Services will pick her up, and they’ll probably put her in foster care for the time being.”
“I don’t want no goddamn police coming around here.”
“Then I’ll take her.”
“Like she’d go anywhere with you! She don’t know you. You try and make her and she’ll just run off, sure as hell.”
“Can’t be helped. It’s either me or the cops.”
Gladys tugged at her hair. “Ah, hell! She’ll go with me, so you’ll have to take both of us, but we ain’t goin’ to no goddamn police station.”
“Where else would we go?”
“You got a house, don’t you? Child could use a bath.”
Alex smiled. “Sure. That’ll work.”
They went back into the cave. Charlotte had knocked over the stack of milk crates and was sitting on one of them, hugging a black dress. Alex stepped toward her, but Charlotte retreated, swiveling around on the crate, giving her back to Alex.
“Gladys, where did she-where did you-get that dress?”
Gladys spit in the fire, cocking her head at Charlotte. “She brung it.”
“When?”
“What difference does it make?”
“A lot, maybe. Charlotte’s mother was wearing a black dress the night she was murdered.”
Gladys cocked her head, her rheumy eyes fluttering. “I wouldn’t know nothing about that.”
“I’m not saying you do, but that dress could help us find whoever murdered Charlotte’s mother and aunt.”
Gladys circled the fire, muttering.
“Okay, goddamn it. I mind my own business and see what it gets me! That child showed up in my tent last week with that dress, and when I heard about the body they found in the creek, well, I ain’t stupid.”
“The killer probably stripped the body in the woods and while he was dumping it in the creek, Charlotte must have taken the dress. Which means she could have seen her mother die.”
“Way I figured it.”
A wave of dizziness came over Alex. She pressed a hand against the cave wall to steady herself, the other hand to her forehead.
“What’s the matter with you? You look feverish.”
Alex couldn’t think of a reason not to tell Gladys the truth.
“Somebody stabbed me last night.”
“And people say being homeless is dangerous.” Gladys put her hand on Alex’s cheek. “You’re burning up.”
Alex turned away from her. “I’ll be okay.”
“Not if you keep bleeding like that.”
“What?” Alex reached behind her, feeling her back. Some of her stitches had given way and she was oozing blood.
“You better see a doctor.”
“I’ve got one waiting for me when we get home.”
“Well, ain’t you the lucky one. She know you’re gallivantin’ around?”
“No. She’s called me half a dozen times today and I told her that I was watching television.”
“Well, if she’s waitin’ for you at home, that story ain’t gonna get you too far, but it might be fun to watch you give it a try.” Gladys reached out to Charlotte. “Let’s go, child.”
Holding on to the dress, Charlotte took her hand.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Alex pulled into their garage just as Bonnie drove in behind her. Bonnie’s expression morphed from stony-eyed anger to wide-eyed worry when she saw Alex, pale and dripping with sweat, swaying as she stood in the garage, holding on to the car door.
“Holy crap, Alex!”
Bonnie rushed to her, throwing Alex’s arm across her back, using her shoulder to support her, doing a double take when Gladys took Alex’s other side and recoiling at Gladys’s odor.
“Who are you?”
“Gladys Knight. The Pips got lost on the way over. The little girl is Charlotte.”
Bonnie swung her head around. “What little girl?”
“That one.” Gladys pointed to Charlotte, who was standing in the corner of the garage, drawing air circles with her spatula.
“I can explain,” Alex said.
“Not until I stop the bleeding,” Bonnie answered.
While Bonnie cleaned and stitched her wounds, Alex told her about Judge Steele and Robin and about Bethany, Charlotte, and Gladys and the black dress.
“Put that dress in a plastic bag. I’ve got to preserve some kind of chain of evidence for it. And put it where Charlotte can’t find it. By the way, she’s autistic. She doesn’t talk and you can’t touch her, but she loves her spatula.”
“Noted.”
“I need to call Detective Harris and tell him that I found Charlotte.”
“Fine, but if you get out of that bed before tomorrow morning for any reason except to pee or poop, I’m going strap you down.”
“Promise me you’ll use the fake-fur straps you got at Erotic City.”
Bonnie grinned. “What am I going to do with you?”
Alex smiled. “Love me.”
“I might as well. Hate for the toys to go to waste. I’ll check on Gladys and Charlotte.”