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Charlie stays silent. Partly because she’s terrified and partly because she senses someone nearby, hovering by the corner of the diner, startlingly close.
Josh.
Charlie slams the phone back in its cradle as Josh emerges fully around the side of the building.
“Something wrong?” he says.
Charlie wills herself to speak. She has no choice. Trying with all her might to keep her tone even, she says, “I dialed the wrong number.”
“You don’t know your boyfriend’s number?”
“My finger slipped,” she says with a silly-me shrug.
“You’re not going to try again?”
Charlie lifts her backpack. “I’m all out of change.”
“Allow me.” Josh reaches into his pocket and pulls out a handful of coins, which he holds out to her. Charlie takes them, even though the feel of Josh’s skin on hers prompts an internal cringe she hopes doesn’t make its presence known on the outside.
Stay smart.
Stay brave.
Stay careful.
“Thanks,” she says, the coins hot in her palm. So hot they feel like coal, glowing orange. She resists the urge to drop them to the ground.
“Go on and call him.” Josh jerks his head toward the phone. “Don’t mind me. Just here for some fresh air.”
Charlie has to call Robbie now. There’s no other choice. If she dials 911, Josh will hear every word she says and could easily make sure she’s no longer here when the police arrive. She knows how small she is, how weak. It would take Josh no effort at all to grab her and drag her back into the Grand Am. Or, worse, he could just stab her right here in the parking lot. End it all with a few quick jabs of a knife, yank a tooth out of her mouth, and be gone.
Charlie dials quickly, pressing the numbers through muscle memory. Because of course she knows Robbie’s number by heart. Josh is right about that. She couldn’t misdial if she tried.
Through the receiver, she hears a recorded voice instruct her to insert seventy-five cents into the phone. Charlie does, her fingers trembling so hard it’s a struggle to get one quarter into the pay slot, let alone three. With the coins deposited, each one landing deep inside the phone with a metallic clang, the phone begins to ring.
One ring.
Charlie looks to Josh, who’s backed away a few feet. Standing at the corner of the diner, he has his hands thrust deep in his pockets.
Two rings.
Josh glances her way, smiles, looks to the sky.
Three rings.
Josh begins to whistle. A light, impatient trill. Hearing it reminds her of Uncle Charlie inShadow of a Doubt. He whistled, too. A tune different from Josh’s, but just as unnerving.
Robbie answers on the fourth ring, croaking out a groggy hello.
“Hey, it’s me.” Charlie knows her voice sounds off. Tremulous. A tad too quiet. “Just checking in from the road.”
“How’s the drive? Smooth sailing, sweetheart?”
Charlie shoots a glance at Josh. Even though he doesn’t appear to be listening, she knows he is. The whistling has stopped.
“Actually, things took a detour.”
“Very funny,” Robbie says.