Hunted (3 page)

Not wanting to sit and stare at a perfect stranger while he ate, Lanie grabbed her purse and got to her feet.  “I’m going to head home, guys,” she said, willfully not glancing back at the young man.

“Do you need a ride?” Brady asked her, his brows lowered.  “You probably shouldn’t be walking around alone right now.”

Lanie smiled at Brady, the sight of his handsome face and large blue eyes giving her a surge of warmth.  He was a running back for the football team and even though he was one of the most popular boys at school, he was the nicest person that Lanie knew.  He was sweet beyond words and would give a person the shirt off his back if they really needed it, which Lanie thought was a rare thing in an eighteen year old boy.

“I’ll be fine,” she told Brady.  “It’s only a fifteen minute walk and I doubt that whoever…did this…is out there trolling the streets right now.” 

Stacy had only just been found a few hours before, so whoever did it would have to be crazy to be out skulking around looking for another victim, especially with everyone in town so on edge and wary.  But, then again, they probably were crazy.  They’d killed a girl and left her body right out in the open, hadn’t they?

“Well, text me when you make it home,” Devyn told her nervously.  “I want to know that you made it alright,
fershtay
?”

“Yes, Devyn, I understand.  I will text you as soon as I get home,” Lanie promised and turned to head for the door. 

“Devyn, you
are not
Jewish,” Lanie heard Finn say as she walked away from the table, and she couldn’t help but smile a little.

CHAPTER TWO

Stepping outside into the cool, crisp October afternoon, Lanie pulled in a long breath and let it out again, tasting the change of the seasons, the dying grass, the just turning leaves, the smoke from fireplaces.  The summer had been the hottest one on record and she was glad it was over.  She needed to be able to breathe in air that wasn’t thick with humidity or go for a walk without feeling like she was being burned alive. 

She’d thought this Fall would be one of the best of her life, the last Fall before the end of school, the last Fall she’d get to spend with her friends before everyone graduated and went their separate ways.

But, it wasn’t turning out like that.

Finally finding herself alone, Lanie allowed her shoulders to droop and her insides to unknot.  She hadn’t been alone since last night, when her dad had gotten that phone call.  Her Aunt Gretchen had come over to stay with her and Aunt Gretchen was very…in touch with her feelings.  And very concerned about everyone else’s, whether they needed her to be concerned or not.  “How does that make you feel, sweetie?” was her aunt’s favorite question.  As much as Lanie tried not to let her aunt’s touchy-feely personality, as well as the woman’s need to talk every single thing to death, bother her…it did.  She wasn’t proud of it, but…Aunt Gretchen got on her nerves.

However, despite her protests against it, Aunt Gretchen had stayed all night with her while her dad was out, and then she’d gone to see Mrs. Miller that morning and had stayed there for a couple of hours before meeting her friends at The Pub.  She hadn’t had a moment alone just to think and…absorb things.  Which was why she wanted to walk home instead of accepting a ride from Brady.

Lanie pointed herself away from The Pub and started down the tidy brick sidewalk that ran along Broad Street, passing by all the colorfully painted storefronts that she’d stopped seeing long ago, and letting her thoughts run loose.  They didn’t run too far, though.  They stopped running at the night before, when she’d found out that Stacy had been found in the park, murdered.

She still couldn’t seem to come to grips with it.  She’d just been with Stacy yesterday evening.  They’d met at Green Sleeves Ice Cream Parlor and had talked about the theme for their float for the Harvest Festival and Homecoming Parade.  Stacy had come up with the idea for a Mardi Gras theme.  They’d gone over all the ways they could pull it off so that it would look better than the cheesy Western theme from last year.  They’d had fun, eating Sundaes and talking about where to find Mardi Gras masks for everyone on the Spirit Squad and then they’d said goodbye and went their separate ways.  Just like that. 

She’d said goodbye to Stacy just as if it was a normal day, just as if she’d see the girl again in a few hours.  If only she’d known…if only she’d had an inkling that something was going to go wrong for Stacy.  She almost felt as if she should have known, as if she should have somehow sensed that Stacy was in trouble and should have warned her.  But, she hadn’t known.  She’d just waved goodbye and walked away.  For some reason, that was stuck on a continuous loop in her mind.  Waving goodbye and watching Stacy walk away down the sidewalk, looking all happy and excited.  That was the thing that was…haunting her.  That happy expression on Stacy’s face. 

The girl had no idea what was coming.

Lanie found that, deep down, she was glad that…what was left…of her friend had to be sent away for a while.  She didn’t think she could get through a funeral right now.  Maybe in a few weeks it would be easier, but for now, she didn’t think she could stand looking at Stacy lying in a coffin and remembering how excited and bright she’d been…before.

Lanie passed by the little parking area at the end of Broad Street and glanced in that direction, her gaze instantly getting drawn to what was the biggest car she’d ever seen in her life.  She had no idea what make or model it was, but it was enormous!  A four door monstrosity that could have held at least half a dozen people, it looked like.  It was a faded yellow color, with a bit of rust in a few places and a crack along the back windshield.  The word jalopy came to mind as she looked at it.

The enormous, faded yellow car was parked right next to the sidewalk and just passing by, Lanie could see into the back of it.  There was a pillow and a crumpled up blanket lying on the backseat and a large black duffle bag lying in the floorboard.

Someone was sleeping in their car, that much was obvious.  And then it dawned on her that the staggeringly handsome man from The Pub was most likely the one sleeping in this car.  She’d never seen it before and there were no other unfamiliar faces around, so it must be him.  The thought of that stunningly good looking young man sleeping in the backseat of a jalopy sent a sharp pain through her. 

How unfair the world was.  People were being forced to sleep in their car and rely on the kindness of strangers for their food.  Other people were now being sent away from their family so they could be dissected and studied when they should have been having lunch with their friends instead.

Suddenly having a hard time keeping her eyes from filling with tears, Lanie picked up the pace and moved along Broad Street until she reached the intersection and then turned the corner onto Vine Street. She crossed her arms over herself and huddled into her oversized cardigan to chase the sudden chill away, though the cold seemed to be coming from inside her rather than from the environment surrounding her.

Walking up Vine Street, past the Second Time Around Consignment Shop and the Elite Lady Day Spa, she kept on until she crossed over onto Cherry Street, which was the start of the residential area.  Walking along beneath the canopy of large oak trees that were just tinged with oranges and yellows, she passed by all the stately, well-kept homes that lined the street, so used to them she didn’t even see them anymore, but she was still aware of them looming there, the same as they had for centuries. 

She made it to the four-way stop at the end of Cherry Street and then took a left onto Rosetree Lane, which was where her house was located.  The third house from the stop sign belonged to Sheriff Bancroft and in Lanie’s opinion, it was the prettiest house on the street.  It was a two story clapboard painted bright white with forest green shutters, sitting on a neat lawn surrounded by a white picket fence.  Aunt Gretchen had planted colorful fall mums and pansies all around the house and along the front walk and since it was October, her dad had set a few bales of hay, a pile of bright orange pumpkins, and a fancily dressed straw scarecrow by the front steps.  It was a lovely old home place and usually walking up the street toward it gave Lanie a sense of homecoming and joy. 

Not today, though.

Today, there was no joy to be found, no warmth in her heart at the familiar sight of her family’s home.  Today, there was only a need to get inside, get up to her room, lie down on her bed and…try to process things.  Turning in at the gate of the white picket fence, Lanie hurried up the cobblestone walkway, past the bunches of russet and gold mums planted there, past the fancily dressed straw scarecrow and pile of pumpkins, and up the front steps and across the wide front porch that was filled with comfortable rocking chairs and several dozen potted mums.  Aunt Gretchen clearly had a thing for mums.

Lanie turned the doorknob, fully expecting the door to open, but the knob wouldn’t turn.  Gretchen must have locked the door when she left.  That knowledge stung Lanie.  She’d never come home to a locked door before.  Not once. 

Feeling oddly rattled, she dug her key from her purse and let herself inside, firmly shutting the door and then leaning against it and letting out a hard breath.  The house was silent around her and for a long minute, Lanie stood, just listening to the nothingness pressing on her ears.  The silence was so much better than someone asking her if she was okay every five minutes.  She wished everyone would stop worrying about her and start worrying about Stacy’s family. 
She
would be fine.  Mr. and Mrs. Miller were the ones who needed to be worried about.

Lanie hung her purse over the coat tree by the front door and turned to go toward the staircase, but caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror hanging on the wall of the foyer.  She paused for a second, the way she always did when she accidentally glanced at her reflection. 

She wasn’t one of those girls who pretended they were hideously ugly just to have something to whine about.  In fact, she didn’t talk about it at all.  She was pretty and she knew it, so there was no reason to discuss it. 

Her mother had been Italian American, her father was Romanian American with just a soupçon of Bulgarian thrown in for good measure, and the child those two people had created was quite a striking looking person.  She had skin that was slightly olive toned, giving her a healthy, sun kissed glow, even in the winter when everyone else was as white as snow.  Her hair was a deep brown, so deep and dark it was almost black, and it hung down her back in a wavy, sometimes stubbornly unmanageable, curtain.  She had fine, sharp features, high cheekbones, high forehead, sharp chin and a bow shaped mouth.  Her eyes were large, almost too large for her small face it seemed, and were fringes by thick lashes and framed by dark brows.  The color of her eyes was quite striking.  They were a clear, vibrant blue, the blue of the Caribbean Sea her dad always said.  Add in her slight frame, some not so slight curves in all the right places, and she was fairly well put together.  She might not be runway model material, but she was never lacking a date when she wanted one.

That thought brought her around to her date with Chase that night.  She was supposed to go out with him to catch a movie or something, but it didn’t really seem like an appropriate thing to do under the circumstances.  She had to cancel, and she felt bad about it. 

Chase Wylie, Mayor Wylie’s son, had been hounding her to go out with him for the past year and for some reason she couldn’t even explain to herself, she had finally relented and agreed to a date.  Canceling might hurt Chase’s feelings, but she just couldn’t go and sit through a movie or go to The Pub for a plate of fries and think about having a good time after…what had happened.  Well, she’d either call him or tell him at the field, if she decided to go out there and watch practice.  They could always go out next weekend, if things were better. 

Lanie turned away from the mirror and moved through the bright entryway over to the staircase, her next thought going to the young man from The Pub.  She hoped he’d eaten what she’d bought for him.  He really looked like he could use it, the poor guy.  The poor, staggeringly handsome, ruggedly beautiful guy. 

Whew!  That boy was one hot potato!  His rugged features, his stubble covered jaw, his head full of mussed hair, his leather coat and combat boots…he was absolutely gorgeous!  And what an intriguing and…lonesome figure he made, sitting in the shadowy corner all by himself, looking all worn and weary.  Remembering him sitting there with nothing but a coffee cup in front of him, did something very strange to her insides, something that made her want to stop thinking about him. 

Whatever was happening to him, she hoped it got better.  It seemed that someone that good looking shouldn’t be living so poorly.  It was hard to accept a beautiful person sleeping in his car or having to rely on the kindness of strangers just to eat.  Beautiful people were typically The Haves, but that poor guy had somehow wound up getting shuffled over into The Have-Nots.