Run Like Hell (16 page)

“Tiger, let’s go,” I say in a lowered voice. With a final tug on the leash I pull him and begin to jog, anxious to leave the creepy yard. Am I being paranoid? Probably, but I can’t risk another life-threatening incident. Casting a fearful look over my shoulder, I’m expecting Brian to emerge from the other side of the fence. Nobody is there.

My jog increases to a run and as I near my house I don’t slow down. Out of breath, I knock on the window of the police car parked across the street from my house. The officer inside the car appears surprised by my sudden appearance. He rolls his window down and I tell him someone might’ve been watching me. Although it could be my nerves and active imagination, I don’t want to take any chances.

The officer starts his car and drives to Apple Street to investigate. I wait on the porch for him to return. His car turns the corner ten minutes later and he confirms he didn’t see anything suspicious, but I’d done the right thing to report it. Feeling foolish, I thank him and go inside.

I’d gotten a text from Rory on my iPhone while I was gone.

Feeling better?

I refrain from mentioning the incident involving my over-active imagination.

Yes, heading out to visit my friend Ricky at the hospital. Will be home for dinner. I’m cooking.

She responds with a cute smiley face. To cover all bases, I text Mom and Dad, Jack and Traci. I let them all know I’m feeling better.

I grab Mom’s car keys and open the garage. I know Mom and Dad will ground me once they return so what’s the point of worrying about driving Mom’s car? I haven’t driven her car since Saturday night. The hospital is only a few miles away so I’m not concerned with the mileage showing on the odometer and there’s enough gas to get me there and back.

As I slowly back out of the garage I notice the officer watching me. Again, he nods and I wave as the garage door closes and I drive by his car. He doesn’t follow. His instructions must be to watch the house, not necessarily me. I make a pit-stop at the local Rite-Aide and buy three magazines, an assortment of candy bars, and a “Get Well Soon” card for Ricky, and then head to the hospital.

A receptionist directs me to Ricky’s room and I pass patients walking the hallway and several visitors exiting the elevator. I ride the elevator to the third floor and hesitantly exit. Will he want visitors? I lightly knock on the closed door of his room.

“Come in,” he answers.

Ricky smiles when I enter the room and I know visiting was the right decision.

“How are you feeling?” I ask.

“Better, thanks to you,” he grins.

I hold up the pharmacy bag. “I brought you something.” I set the bag next to him and he eagerly dumps the candy bars and magazines onto his lap. He has several pillows propping him up in bed. The television is turned on but muted.

“I don’t know about you, but candy always makes me feel better.” It’s a small token of friendship but I think for Ricky it means a lot. His smile is genuine as he tears the wrapper off the candy bar and takes a big bite. His hospital room is so bare. Have I been his only visitor?

“Thanks, Morgan.” He waves the chocolate bar in the air, “You didn’t have to come, much less bring me something.”

“Why? I’ve been worried about you and besides, you’re my friend.” The shades are open and the afternoon sun is shining brightly in the room. “You have a nice view,” I remark, gazing at the parking lot below.

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve been in bed the whole time, watching TV and sleeping.” He grabs the remote control and turns the TV off. “Morgan—”

“You don’t have to say anything. None of this was your fault.”

He’s wearing a traditional gown but I can see the bandages wrapped around his ribs peeking out through at the neckline of the gown. Quietly, he shifts his attention to the thin hospital blanket pulled to his waist and fingers the satin edging.

“Brian’s still missing. The police have AJ and Tommy in a juvenile facility. Apparently, they’re seventeen. I’ve never seen them at school before.”

“Who knows who my brother hung around with,” Ricky murmurs.

“Do you really think he had something to do with Caroline’s disappearance?” Dead or alive, where is she?

“I think so.” Ricky’s voice is so faint the words are barely audible.

The next hour passes quickly as we watch TV together and he thumbs through the magazines I brought. Several nurses circulate through the room during my visit, checking his bandages and vitals. We keep our conversation to safe topics. We don’t discuss last night. The situation is out of our hands and in the lap of the police.

“I’ll stop by tomorrow after school to see you.”

I’m ready to leave when a woman enters the room. She’s wearing worn jeans and a shabby t-shirt. Her long, greyish-brown hair is pulled back in an unkempt ponytail. Weariness is etched on her face and displayed in her pale, blue eyes, showcased by dark circles under them. Despite her worn façade, her faces lights up at the sight of Ricky.

“Hi, Honey,” she greets him with a light kiss on his forehead. “How are you feeling today? And who’s your friend?”

“Hi, Mom. This is Morgan.” Ricky nods in my direction.

“Nice to meet you,” I tell her. “Actually, I’m on my way out. I’ll leave the two of you alone.”

His mother stares at me. Her warm expression suddenly concerned. “You’re the girl Brian attacked?” she asks quietly.

I look uncertainly at Ricky, but he nods slightly. “Yes, I guess I am,” I answer.

Pity washes over her expression. “Oh, Sweetie, I am so sorry for you.”

She approaches me and circles her thin arms around my shoulders in a hug. I limply hug her back, surprised by her reaction.

“I’m so sorry for what my son did to you.” She pulls back and stares at me.

I want to leave, to run out of the room. I’m at a loss for words.

“Mom—” Ricky thankfully breaks the silence.

Her weary arms release me and she steps back, looking apologetic. “Sorry Morgan. I feel awful about all of this.” She shifts her attention to her son. “And you, I’m so sorry Ricky. I had no idea what Brian was doing to you.”

Tears well in her eyes. I don’t know Ricky well enough to witness such a personal moment.

“Ricky, I’ll visit soon. Nice meeting you.” I nod to his mom, grab my purse, and leave.

Sitting in Mom’s car, I’m overwhelmed by thoughts of Caroline, missing and possibly dead. Brian, inflicting pain onto his own little brother, and Ricky’s mom – claiming to be unaware of Ricky’s abuse but perhaps avoiding it for her own reasons. Regardless of what really happened to Caroline, she’s still missing. Ricky and his mom will have a lot to deal with themselves. And Brian – what compels him to beat his own brother? Was he beaten too? And where’s Ricky’s dad?

I want my mom. I miss her and long to feel her arms around me. Like Ricky’s mom, is she blind to the fact that I’m hurting emotionally? Do I mask my own pain the way Ricky masks his? I take several deep breaths before I start the car. My parents will be arriving home soon. I need to get back to the house to fix dinner and to be there when they arrive.

But first I want to visit Jack. When I arrive at his house his mom is unpacking groceries from her car. She seems happy to see me and tells me Jack is upstairs in his room, studying. I grab the remaining grocery bags and follow her into the house and set the bags on the granite kitchen countertops. She thanks me for my help. As I ascend the stairs I bend over and affectionately pet Jack’s dogs – Marley and Barley. They lift their heads appreciatively as I scratch under their chins.

Jack’s door is closed so I lightly knock.

“Come in,” he shouts.

He’s resting on his bed with his legs stretched out and his bandaged ankle elevated by several pillows.

“Morgan.” A sexy smile spreads across his face.

I close the door and sit beside him on the bed. Leaning forward, I kiss him lightly. “Hi. I missed you,” I whisper softly.

“Me too. I’m so happy you stopped by.” His hand threads through my hair. “You’re a good distraction. I’m tired of studying for my Science test.”

His urgent lips press against mine. This kiss is longer and more passionate.

“How’s your ankle?” I ask after we break for air.

“Better. Doctor says I’ll be on crutches for a few weeks before I can walk on it.” His hands lightly pull my hair back, exposing my bruised neck. “How’s your neck? Sore?”

“Yes,” I pull my hair from his grasp and cover my bruises.

“I’m so sorry that happened to you, Morgan.” He pats the bedside and smiles. “Here, lie down next to me.”

He scoots over and makes room for me on this twin bed. I lie beside him and rest my head on his chest. His hand soothingly rubs my back and I listen to his quickened heartbeat. We remain silent. Lying beside one another is enough. I start to doze off when the ringing of my cell phone wakes me up.

“Hello?”

“Morgan, where are you? I need you to come home right away.” Rory sounds concerned.

“I was planning on coming home soon.”

“Fine, but I need you home now. I have to take you to the police station.”

I sit up straight in the bed. “Why?” Jack watches closely. The room is silent and he can overhear Rory on the other end.

“Todd just called me. The police arrested Brian. Todd needs you to identify him at the station.” My heart stills. Jack and I stare at one another.

“I’m on my way.” I end the call and stand up. My nightmare is over. At least I know Brian isn’t hiding in the bushes or lurking around my house, waiting to attack me.

“I’ll go with you.” Jack attempts to stand.

“No, Jack. Stay here. I’ll be fine.” I kiss him and he grabs my hand tightly.

“Let me come with you. I want to see this guy—”

“I need to do this on my own,” I assure him.

Jack sits back down. We have our own battles to fight. Mine is with Brian, his is with himself and his own healing. I can’t heal him. Only he can heal himself.

“I’ll call you when I get home.” He shakes his head and I leave, saying good-bye to his mom as I pass her in hallway.

On the short drive home all I think about is Brian. I remember when he passed my car and stopped twice when I was stranded on the side of the road. I remember when I jumped from his car, fearful of his intent to hurt me. I remember him standing on my porch, returning my wallet. I remember finding Tiger at his house. And it was only yesterday when he and Tommy chased me through the woods. He’d even convinced his friends – AJ and Tommy – to hurt Ricky and me and to hold us captive.

When I pull into my driveway, Rory’s waiting outside with her car keys in her hand.

“I’ll drive,” she says and slides into her car and unlocks the door for me.

I park Mom’s car in the garage and jump into Rory’s Jaguar. The plush, leather seat molds to my body as I sink into the passenger’s seat. Rory keeps glancing at me, as if she wants to say something, but she remains quiet.

At the entrance to the police station she stops and gives me an encouraging look. “Are you ready for this? Todd said they need you to identify him and give the police an official statement.”

“I’m ready,” I say and she hugs me close. I appreciated her support until my parents arrive home in another two hours.

“We can go in now.” I squeeze her hand reassuringly.

Officer Todd Whitman is inside waiting for us. He winks at Rory and flashes me a big smile, all the while thanking us for arriving quickly. We’re led to a bare room housing a table and several chairs. Five minutes later he returns and we follow him into a room with a large mirror.

He assures me the men in the other room can’t see through the double-sided mirror. Each man is instructed to step forward and I immediately recognize Brian, number three.

“That’s him. He’s the guy I was in the car with and who chased me through the woods.” The line-up is over. I follow Officer Whitman back to the first room he asked Rory and I to wait in. Now he instructs me to sit and write down everything – from the beginning – that happened to me. As I begin to write, Rory scoots her chair away from the table and busies herself with her cell phone. Officer Whitman leaves the room, assuring me he’ll be back soon.

My pencil flies over the notebook pages. I hurriedly fill the pages, describing the events that transpired over the past several days. Writing everything down is so cathartic. My bottled up feelings pour out of me in the form of written words. Several times I feel Rory’s gaze rest upon me as I studiously write but nothing distracts me from telling my side of the story. When I’m finally done, I’ve written seven pages. Mentally exhausted, I hand the pages to Officer Whitman when he returns.

“I know this must’ve been very hard for you,” he says.

I’d included all the details of the events and I’m certain nothing is missing from my story. I wearily stand, anxious to be home and for this all to be behind me. Officer Whitman thanks me for cooperating and for coming in.

Rory’s hand guides me out of the room. “I’ll call you later,” she says over her shoulder to Todd as we leave.

Mom and Dad arrive in Dad’s SUV after Rory and I park in the driveway. Mom immediately jumps out of the car as Dad turns the engine off. Her arms fold around me and she hugs me harder than she’s ever hugged me before.