Pursued (3 page)

“Do what he says,” Jennie whispered. “He has a gun.”

A strangled gasp escaped Lisa's throat. Jennie eased away from the car, trying to keep Lisa behind her. Slowly, she turned toward the voice.

She didn't see him at first. Then as he waved the gun, the streetlight reflected off the barrel. He stood at the corner of the house, partially hidden by a large lacy-leaf maple. “If you two want to live to see another sunrise,” he rasped, “you'd better get out of here.”

Jennie grabbed Lisa's hand and ran, stopping only when they had reached the safety of Jennie's yard. Jennie took a deep breath to steady her erratic heartbeat. “Go on in,” she whispered to Lisa. “Call 911 and tell Mom what's going on. I'll be there in a minute.”

“What are you going to do?” Lisa pulled her cell phone out of her pocket as she backed toward the house.

“I just want to see if I can get a better look at him or maybe get the license number.”

“No, don't go…”

Lisa's plea faded as Jennie hurried back to the Murray place. This time, however, she stayed under cover of the shrubs. As she reached their lawn, the car's motor roared to life. The intruder backed out of the driveway and tore down the street, burning rubber as the tires squealed around the corner. Jennie stomped her feet and turned back, nearly colliding with Michael.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “Lisa called the police. They should be here any minute. You'd better come inside where it's safe.”

“He's gone. I tried to get a look at the license number, but even with the streetlight it was too dark to see much.”

“What were you two doing out here alone? You shouldn't have gone back there. You could have been killed,” Michael admonished as they walked back to her house.

So who died and made you king?
Jennie bit her lip and held back the caustic remark. “I just wanted to…never mind. You're right. It was a stupid thing to do.”

“Not stupid…let's just call it an unhealthy choice.”

Michael reached out as if he wanted to put an arm around her shoulders, then, apparently changing his mind, reached up to rub the back of his neck. “So, did you see anything?”

Before she could answer, Lisa, Allison, B.J., and Mom spilled out of the house and ran toward them. At the same time a squad car, with lights flashing and sirens wailing, pulled up to the curb in front of their house. Two police officers jumped out. “You the people who called about a prowler?”

The officer directed his question at Michael, but Jennie answered. She and Lisa filled them in on the car and the gunman and were surprised at how much they actually remembered. The car was a newer model—metallic gray, with gray interior, fancy spoke hubcaps and whitewall tires. Jennie closed her eyes trying to remember every detail like Gram had taught her. “Envision it,” Gram had said. “Let the scene flow back into your mind. You'd be surprised at how much you can recall.”

“It had Oregon plates,” Jennie said. “Two zeros on the end.” She envisioned the gun pointing at them. He'd been holding it away from him, arms stretched. Jennie mimicked the stance and raised her arms, letting her fingers take the form of a gun. He'd aimed the gun down at her chest, which would make the gunman just a little taller than her own height.

Jennie related her observations to the officers and pointed to the one whose name pin read Greg Donovan. “He was about your height and build.”

When Jennie and Lisa had finished their report, one of the officers, a tall, dark-haired Hispanic named Tony Mendoza, left to radio in the report.

While he was gone, Officer Donovan smiled at Jennie and Lisa. “You kids did a great job. You're very observant.”

Jennie flushed while Lisa gave him a wide smile and said, “Our grandmother used to be a police detective. Maybe you know her—Helen McGrady?”

“You're kidding,” Greg's grin broadened. “McGrady's your grandmother? Hey, we worked together a couple times when I was a rookie. Tell her hi from me when you see her.”

When Mendoza returned, the two officers got the Murrays' key from Mom, then she and Michael went with them to check out the house to see if the guy had gotten away with anything.

“You girls go on inside and lock the door,” Mom said before she left. “We'll be back in a few minutes. And, Jennie, you'd better check on Nick.”

Once inside, Jennie sent Lisa into the kitchen with Allison and B.J. to make hot chocolate. She ran upstairs to Nick's room and made her way through building blocks, trucks, and cars to his bed. Smiling, she removed the book he'd fallen asleep with…
I'll Love You Forever.
His favorite. It was about a mother's love for her son. The story made Jennie cry whenever she read it.

Jennie pulled a sheet and light blanket over him, kissed his cheek, and turned out the lamp. The night­light cast a surrealistic glow over the room. “Sleep tight, little buddy,” she whispered. He'd be disappointed when he learned he'd slept through all the excitement, but it was just as well. It would have taken forever to get him back to sleep.

Jennie took the stairs two at a time and headed for the kitchen. Lisa was in the middle of her detailed explanation of what had happened.

“I can't believe you actually looked in the window.” Allison reached for the hot, steamy mug Lisa handed her. “Weren't you scared?”

“I guess I didn't think about it. I mean…I never dreamed he'd show up with a gun.”

“Do you think he's the stalker?” Allison asked.

“I doubt it,” Jennie answered. “Obviously the guy's a burglar.”

“How can you be so sure?” B.J. asked as she crossed her ankles, leaned against the refrigerator, and took a sip of hot chocolate.

“Just a hunch.”

Lisa handed Jennie a cup. “Doesn't it seem odd to you that he would pick tonight? That he'd be positioned in a spot where he could look right into your bedroom window?”

Jennie's heart plummeted. Lisa was right. From her side-yard window, she had an unobstructed view of Mr. and Mrs. Murray's driveway.
He could have been watching the whole time.

“You know, McGrady, Lisa could have something there.” B.J. looked entirely too pleased with herself.

Jennie felt like calling B.J.'s bluff. The man was a burglar. Couldn't they see that? While she debated about whether or not to confront her, the phone rang. Jennie answered.

“Hi, stranger,” the faraway voice said. The evening's activities and concerns scurried out of her mind like gray mice into a black hole. She smiled and hugged the phone closer, suddenly breathless and flushed.

“Ryan. How are you? How's the fishing?”
When are you coming home? I miss you like crazy.
She didn't say the last part out loud. It had been too long and their relationship wasn't far enough along. Ryan's summer job had taken him on a fishing boat in Alaska. It still rankled Jennie that he'd gone.

“Great. I tried to call you earlier, but all I got was a bunch of static. When I finally got it to ring, no one answered. I was about ready to give up when I remembered you guys had two lines, so I decided to try this one.”

“That was you?” Relief flooded her. Jennie glanced up at the others who were watching and listening to the one-sided exchange with rapt interest. Jennie quickly explained about Allison and the stalker and how they'd thought the phone call might have been from him.

After telling her to be careful, Ryan hesitated. “Ah, Jennie,” he continued, “I've got some good news and some bad news.”

This is it, McGrady. He's dumping you. He's found a girl in Alaska
…Jennie didn't want to hear Ryan's bad news but listened anyway.

“The good news,” Ryan said, “is that by the end of the summer I'll have made enough money to get me through the first two years of college. The bad news, for us anyway, is that I've signed on for another month—at least. Looks like I'll have to break our date for the end of this month.”

This wasn't fair. Jennie turned away from her rapt audience and leaned against the kitchen wall. She finally found a guy she really cared about and all he cared about was making money.
That's not entirely true, McGrady
, a voice in her head argued, but she ignored it.

“Jennie? Are you still there?”

Jennie took a deep breath, hoping to hold back the menacing tears that threatened to break through her resolve. “I'm here. Just disappointed. I was looking forward to…never mind. I hope everything goes really well for you.” Then something terrible happened. Jennie's thoughts merged with her tongue. Before she could stop them, the angry words had escaped. “In fact, you can stay there all summer if you want. Just don't expect me to be here when you come back.”

Neither of them spoke for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, Ryan broke the silence. “That was a low blow, McGrady. I thought…Listen, I have to go. Some of the other guys are waiting to use the phone. I'll try to call you sometime next week.” Because cell reception was so spotty in the port where they were docked, Ryan couldn't use his cell phone and had to rely on a public one.

“Don't bother.” After Jennie hung up, she wanted to crawl into the woodwork and disappear. Misery was too pale a word for what she felt. On top of that her guests had overheard every word. She did not look forward to having to explain.

Thankfully, when she turned around, Lisa, Allison, and B.J. were huddled together around the kitchen table talking about the stalker.
Bless you, Lisa.
Jennie stood behind Allison and B.J. and mouthed a grateful “thank you” to her cousin.

“You can relax, Allison,” Jennie announced. “Our mysterious caller was Ryan. He had a bad connection.”
Unfortunately, the second one wasn't that great either.

“I'm just glad he didn't get in,” Mom said as she entered the kitchen through the back door.

“Looks like you girls surprised the prowler before he had a chance to break in,” Officer Mendoza offered when Jennie asked what they'd found. A few minutes later, Mendoza and Donovan thanked everyone for their help and left. The girls washed out their mugs and headed back upstairs.

An hour later, Jennie was still awake, only it wasn't the burglary that haunted her.
You messed up good this time, McGrady. Ryan may never speak to you again.
“What am I going to do, God?” she whispered. “I love Ryan so much. What if he won't forgive me?” Alongside that thought came another.
What if he will?
The more she considered the possibility, the more it made sense. Ryan had been a friend for a lot longer than he'd been a boyfriend. She'd write to him and explain how hurt she'd felt, how disappointed and angry—not at him, but at the circumstances keeping them apart. Knowing she wouldn't be able to fall asleep until she'd accomplished her task, Jennie decided to write the letter right away.

She eased open her nightstand drawer and pulled out some stationery and a pen. Twenty minutes and five sheets of paper later she signed her final draft, stuffed it into an envelope, and leaned it against her lamp. She returned the paper and pen to the drawer and snapped off the light. Ordinarily she'd have shot him an email, but he hadn't taken a laptop with him and had no way to retrieve it.

Still unable to sleep, Jennie eased out of bed and slipped a cream-colored cotton throw over her shoulders. She made her way across the clothes-littered floor, around the bodies sleeping there, and raised the blinds of the window facing the Murrays' house. The driveway was empty, but it didn't take much imagination to envision the car and the driver sitting there watching.
That's just super, McGrady. Now you're getting paranoid too.

She lowered the blinds and tiptoed back to her bed. She'd just pulled up the covers when the phone rang. She grabbed for it before it could ring again, hoping it would be Ryan so she could apologize right then and there.

“Hello,” she answered.

The line hissed and crackled with static. No one answered.

“Ryan?” Jennie spoke in a loud whisper, not wanting to wake the others.

“Jennie McGrady,” the distorted voice broke through the noise on the line. “Shame on you for calling the cops on me. Too bad for you I got away.”

Threads of fear laced through Jennie's stomach and tightened their hold. “Who is this?” Jennie closed her eyes and swallowed back the panic rising in her chest.

“Ask Allison.” He chuckled. “And tell her she can't escape. Wherever she goes, whatever she does. I'll be there. And if you and that snoopy cousin of yours try to stop me, I'll get you too.”

“Come on, Jennie, wake up,” Lisa insisted. “Allison and B.J. have already gone. They said to tell you thanks. Allison had to go shopping for the party.”

Somewhere between two and three in the morning, Jennie had managed to fall asleep. That meant, according to her fuzzy calculations, she'd only slept about four hours.

“Good,” she groaned. “You leave too so I can go back to sleep.”

“You don't have time for that. We have to develop a game plan for how we're going to catch the guy who's been stalking Allison.”

Memories of the gunman and the early morning phone call zapped into Jennie's mind, ridding her of all desire for sleep. She bolted out of bed. Sometime during the night, whether it was the call itself or the realization that the caller knew her name and had held a gun on her and Lisa, Jennie had made a decision. Like it or not, she was involved and intended to solve the mystery of Allison Beaumont's stalker and put him behind bars.

She told Lisa about the one a.m. phone call.

“So it
was
him.” Lisa looked pleased with herself. “I knew it. I guess that blows your theory about Bethany.”

“B.J.,” Jennie corrected. “And no, it doesn't. It just means she could be working with someone.”

“Why are you so sure she's involved? Just because she's had a rough life doesn't mean she's a criminal.”

“I know that. But Gram says in an investigation you have to suspect everyone—even Allison. It wouldn't be the first time someone has set things up to make themselves look like a victim. Look at all the publicity this has gotten her.”

“You really think that's all this is…a publicity stunt?” Lisa frowned. “Now that I think about it, Allison has gotten a lot of attention. You think she hired someone?”

“It's possible. What we need to look for is motive and opportunity. Allison has always wanted to sing. This could get her the attention she needs to launch her career.” Pleased with the direction her thoughts had taken, Jennie pursued the idea. “If Allison is guilty she has to be working with someone. Who's she dating now?”

“I'm not sure. With all the Rose Festival activities I don't think she's had much time for guys.”

“Well, we'd better start our investigation with Allison and B.J. We need to ask questions and keep our eyes open.” Jennie picked up a hairbrush and began working out the snarls in her hair. “Let's start with B.J. What do you know about her? She made any close friends here?”

“I don't think so.” Lisa pushed one of the chairs back into its corner and plopped into it. “She's only been around for about three weeks. And she's not exactly winning any points with people.”

Jennie nodded, then sighed. “Okay. Call Allison. Tell her we'll help. See if we can stay at her house tonight. We'll help her get ready for her party tomorrow and have a look around.”

“I thought you weren't going.”

Jennie grimaced. “Much as I hate the idea, I think it's probably the best way to find clues and dig up the latest gossip—and find out who Al's friends and enemies are. At the same time we need to learn all we can about B.J.—who she talks to and if she has any guys hanging around.”

Lisa bounced out of the chair and started pacing. “I hate to think that guy last night could be someone we know. Or that one of my friends would pull a gun on us.”

“There are a lot of kids we don't know all that well,” Jennie reminded her as she set the hairbrush aside and headed for her bed. She pulled up the sheets, adjusted the comforter, and tossed the pillows into place. “Besides, remember that discussion we had in political science when Barry Owen's father talked to us about gun-control legislation? About half the class thought people should have a right to bear arms. A few even admitted they had purchased guns to protect themselves.” The thought of some of those kids carrying guns sent chills shuddering down Jennie's spine. She'd seen firsthand what a bullet could do and didn't want anything to do with them.

“You're right. I'd forgotten about that.” Lisa grabbed Jennie's arm. “I just remembered! Allison's dad has a gun collection. I saw it last year at her party when he took some of us on a tour of the house.”

“All the more reason to stay there tonight. I'd like to have a look at it.” Excitement soared through Jennie, lifting her mood and her spirits. She imagined herself waiting until everyone in the house was asleep…then she'd sneak down the wide circular staircase, into the massive kitchen, and down the basement steps. She'd use the key to the wine cellar, which she would have confiscated earlier from the butler.

Jennie would glance around her to make certain no one had followed, then step into the damp, dark cellar and brush away the cobwebs. There in the beam of her flashlight would be…a skeleton.
No…no…no. This is a modern mansion, not a haunted castle in Ireland. The gun case, McGrady, get back to the gun case.
Jennie imagined a massive gun case covering the back wall. In the lower right-hand corner where an antique gun should have been—the one Billy the Kid had used—there'd be nothing but an indentation and an I.D. plaque.

She'd gather all the suspects into the living room and then bring the missing gun to Mr. Beaumont's attention and confront Allison. It would be Allison, Jennie decided, not B.J. It was always the least likely suspect.

You did it, didn't you, Allison?
she'd say.
I suspected you all along. What I couldn't figure out was who was working with you. Now I know that too. There's only one answer. Only one person had the key to the gun case. Only one person knew the old gun still worked. And only one person had the ammunition. It was you, Mr. Beaumont. You wanted your daughter to succeed. You
—

“Jennie?” Lisa's voice interrupted her fantasy. “Earth calling Jennie…come in, Jennie.”

“What…?”

“Where were you? I hate it when you space out like that. It gives me the creeps.”

“I'm sorry. I was just thinking about the gun case. Lisa, do you remember much about the gun the guy was using last night?”

“No. Do you?”

“Just that it was silver and had a long barrel. It reminded me of the kind of revolvers they used in old cowboy movies.” The phone rang. It was Aunt Kate—calling to remind Lisa about her tennis lessons. A few minutes later Lisa left, promising to call Allison and set things up for that night.

Jennie finished cleaning her room, took a shower, dressed, then headed downstairs for a late breakfast. Mom was just finishing the dishes. “Good morning. I saved you some scrambled eggs and bacon.”

“Thanks.” Jennie placed the cooled breakfast into the microwave and turned it on.

Mom plopped a piece of bread into the toaster, then asked, “Want some toast?”

“Do I have a choice?” Jennie asked, grinning as she nodded toward the toaster.

“Oh.” Mom laughed. “Habit. You don't have to eat it.”

“Do we have any freezer jam?” Every year her mother would buy fresh fruit and make her own jam, which was way better than anything storebought.

“Sure.” She retrieved a plastic container from the fridge. “Your favorite. Raspberry.”

The microwave beeped and Jennie rescued the steamy, slightly overcooked eggs and sat at the kitchen table.

“Jennie…”

Uh-oh. Here it comes. She's going to ask about last night. Might as well get it over with.
“Look Mom, about last night—”

“Oh, yes, wasn't it awful…I mean, imagine a burglar right here in our own quiet little neighborhood. It's a good thing no one was hurt.”

“Aren't you going to yell at me for being outside?”

“No,” she said, pouring herself a cup of coffee. “But I would like to know why you went out without telling me.”

Jennie debated about whether or not to tell her the truth. Then decided she'd better. The last time she'd lied to her mother, she'd nearly gotten herself, Gram, and Ryan killed. Mom joined Jennie at the table, and Jennie dutifully filled her mother in on the details of the case while she ate.

“Anyway,” Jennie concluded, “it looks like the guy Lisa and I saw last night is Allison's stalker. I'm going to let the police know about the call after breakfast. Lisa and I thought we'd hang out with Allison for the next few days, see if maybe we can help.”

“I can't believe this. I remember when we used to be able to leave our doors unlocked at night. Now you can't turn on the news without hearing about something horrible. And now…a stalker in our own neighborhood. And poor Allison. She must be frantic.”

“Lisa and I were planning on spending the night with Allison to help her get ready for the party tomorrow. Is that okay with you?”

Mom blinked and gave Jennie a blank stare that seemed to say,
Are you crazy?

Well, that's it, McGrady. Looks like you won't be going to the party after all.
Part of her was relieved that she wouldn't be going, but part of her had been looking forward to working on the case.

“Yes, Allison's mother already spoke with me this morning,” Mom said. “Even though the Beaumonts assured me you girls would be well cared for, my first inclination was to say no. I didn't want you anywhere near that family. But that wouldn't be fair to Allison or to you. She really needs friends around her right now, doesn't she?”

Mom caressed her cup, then a moment later, set it down on the table so hard the coffee sloshed out. “Besides that, I am not going to let some criminal turn us into frightened rabbits who are afraid to cross the street without a police escort. No criminal is going to dictate our lives.” She pulled a couple napkins out of the holder and mopped up the brown liquid before it could run onto the floor.

“Mom?” Few things got her mother riled, but when they did, Susan McGrady went into action. The way she went from mild-mannered bookkeeper to political activist reminded Jennie of Wonder Woman. “You're not going to do anything weird, are you?”

“Of course not. But I am going to call the police and schedule a neighborhood meeting. We need to be prepared.” She placed her arms on the table and leaned forward. “Jennie, I won't keep you from spending time with Allison, but promise me you won't do anything foolish.” Annoyed at the direction the conversation was taking, Jennie asked, “What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means, I don't want you trying to capture this guy by yourself. If you notice anything unusual, tell the police.”

“I'm not stupid.” Jennie pushed away from the table, scooped up her dishes, and took them to the sink to rinse them off.

“I know, but you do have a knack for getting into trouble.”

“Nothing's going to happen.”

Mom rose from the table and set her cup in the dishwasher. “I'm sorry if I seem critical. It's just that you're the only daughter I have. If anything ever happened to you…” she put an arm around Jennie and hugged her.

Jennie hugged her back. “We'll be fine.” When she drew away, she decided to change the subject before Mom changed her mind. “Listen, I cleaned my room. Did you want me to do the laundry or anything?”

“Maybe when you get back.”

Jennie frowned. “Back from where? I'm not going anywhere until late this afternoon.”

“Don't you remember? You have an appointment with Gloria at eleven. That gives you…” Mom checked her watch, “about thirty minutes to get ready.”

Jennie groaned and headed upstairs to her room. The last thing she wanted to do was see a counselor. Just thinking about it brought back a rush of feelings Jennie didn't want to deal with. Anger at Mom for giving up and pushing her to accept Dad's death. Anger at Michael for asking Mom to marry him. Frustration that she had so little time. And fear that she, even with Gram's help, might not be able to find Dad.

A few weeks ago Mom had insisted that Jennie see the same counselor she had been seeing. Gloria had said Jennie needed to “work on grief issues over losing your father.” They wanted to send her to a counseling camp for teens with similar problems. Problems, ha. The only problem Jennie had was with the counseling.

So far, except for her first appointment with Gloria, Jennie had managed to escape counseling camp, but sometime this summer, she'd have to go. She'd promised Mom, and it was either that or risk being grounded for the rest of her life. The same was true of the individual counseling sessions. Jennie hoped Gloria would realize that she didn't need help and that the counseling camp would be a waste of time.

Since she stubbornly refused to acknowledge her dad's death, Jennie doubted that her reprieve would come anytime soon.

An hour and a half later, Jennie backed out of her parking place and drove away from the counseling center. She'd decided to be totally honest this time around. No games, no pretending. She even told Gloria about the box in her closet marked “Dad's Things,” which she took down and examined whenever she got to feeling lonely or depressed. And the journal in which she wrote letters to him.

To Jennie's surprise, Gloria had said, “What a wonderful idea! It helps keep his memory close.”

Her response had softened Jennie a little. At least Gloria didn't think she was totally bonkers. In fact, Jennie realized, when it was time to go, the session hadn't been too bad. Gloria had praised her for being honest about her feelings. The thing that impressed Jennie most was that Gloria hadn't tried to convince her Dad was dead. In fact, Jennie wondered if maybe she had convinced Gloria that Dad really was still alive.

When Jennie got to the main road, instead of heading home she made a left. Since she was only a mile or so away from the Lakeside development where Allison lived, she figured it wouldn't hurt to drive by.

Jennie turned on to Lakeview Drive and checked the addresses. She'd only seen Allison's house a couple of times, when the kids had carpooled to youth meetings. She had no trouble spotting the Beaumont home, though. The mansion-like structure was set back from the road on a knoll overlooking the lake. Some six acres of perfectly landscaped lawn set it apart from the other homes, making it look like an island in a sea of green. Jennie felt suddenly shy and, instead of pulling into the driveway, parked across the street.