Run Like Hell (9 page)

“Ricky Smith,” he confirms.

“Why aren’t you in the yearbook?” My heart is racing. What if his brother is here too?

“Yearbook?” he looks confused. “I’m a freshman. The yearbooks haven’t been printed yet.” He gives me an odd look. “Anyways, the reason I wanted to talk to you is because my brother keeps talking about you.”

It occurs to me that Ricky is the boy in the hall I’d seen earlier today when I thought I was being watched. “You’ve been spying on me all day,” I accuse him.

His hollowed cheeks turn red. “Yeah, I guess I have been. I didn’t mean to, though. My brother keeps saying you’re Caroline and I had to see for myself what he was talking about.”

“Who’s Caroline?” The sounds and sights are returning. The crowd is dissipating in the hallway. The hum of the people in the gym vibrates. The game will start soon.

“His ex-girlfriend. You look exactly like her.” Ricky has a way of staring that is very uncomfortable. His glassy eyes hone in on me with such scrutiny I have to glance away.

“Ricky, I’m not following you. So what if I look like Caroline? Why is it a big deal?”

Ricky sighs and his small shoulders slump. Inside the gym I hear the horn blow, indicating the game is starting. I don’t have time to talk.

“Ricky, talk quickly,” I prompt him, anxious to get back inside the gym.

“It’s a big deal because I don’t want to see you get hurt,” he shouts above the cheer of the crowd. The players must be back on the court now.

Despite the thunder inside the gym, I hear every word out of his mouth. And I freeze. He has my complete attention now. “What are you talking about?” My voice shakes as I speak and he steps close enough to hear me without me shouting.

Ricky pauses, as if deciding which words to use. He doesn’t have time to explain because suddenly Traci shouts my name, “Morgan!”

I jerk around and can tell from her alarmed expression that something happened.

“Jack’s hurt!” she hollers.

Her message echoes throughout the hall. Torn between Ricky’s warning and Jack’s injury, my indecisive feet are glued to the waxed linoleum floor and my heart hammers in my chest.

“Morgan, hurry!” Traci waves dramatically.

Without looking at Ricky, I run toward Morgan. When I reach the doorway to the gym I turn around but he’s gone. I’m surprised by his sudden disappearance but don’t dwell on it because Jack needs me.

The crowd is on their feet cheering. I spy Carlos dribbling the ball down the court and effortlessly shoots and scores. Our side of the gym goes wild, the rooftop shaking from the excitement. On the sidelines, Jack face contorts in pain as the coach assesses his leg and ankle. His mom and dad weave their way toward him from the bleachers.

I hurry to his side and squeeze his hand. “Jack, what happened?”

“I think I twisted my ankle. It hurts to move it.”

“Stay still, Jack. Sit tight for a minute.” The coach intercepts his parents as they reach the court, allowing Jack and I a moment alone.

“The cards aren’t in our favor, Morgan. I’m sorry about tonight.”

Jack touches my cheek and I could care less about our plans later. “Jack, your ankle is more important.” It will kill him if he can’t play in the district championship games. His thumb rubs over the back of my hand as I kneel beside him. I block out the noise and commotion of the ongoing game and focus on his warm, soft gaze.
Ahem.
His coach and parents have returned.

“Jack, Coach thinks it’s a sprain but we’re taking you to the ER to get your ankle examined. Morgan, do you need a ride home?” Jack’s dad kindly asks.

“Thanks for the offer, Mr. Miller, but my friends can drive me home.”

Jack squeezes his eyes shut as he attempts to stand, wincing at the inevitable pain when he puts pressure on his right foot. His father immediately leans down and offers his solid shoulders for support. Jack graciously wraps his arm around him and leans against him.

“Call me when you know something.” Helplessly, I watch as he hobbles off the court with his father’s assistance.

“I will,” Jack calls back to me.

The crowd gives him a standing ovation and he waves but I can tell that he’s suppressing the pain of his injury and his disappointment. College scouts are expected to be at the district finals and even though Jack is a junior he wants to get on their radar for next year. He won’t have a chance to make an impression if he’s benched during those games.

Once again, fate intervenes with our plans to be together. Maybe fate is telling me to wait. Either way, I’m alone again for the evening. My mind returns to Ricky and his warning, “I don’t want to see you get hurt.” What does he know about Saturday night?

As I weave through the bleachers back to Traci and my friends I wonder what happened between Ricky’s brother and Caroline. Is that why his brother stopped Saturday night? Because I resemble his ex-girlfriend? I search the bleachers for Ricky’s face but can’t find him. Next time I see him, I intend on getting some questions answered.

Chapter Seven

“Wow, are you sure you left enough lights on?” Traci teases as she parks in my driveway.

My house is illuminated like a well-lit Christmas tree. Practically every light must be on inside and outside. A ball of terror drops in my stomach because I know I didn’t leave any lights on and Rory’s car isn’t parked in the driveway or on the street.

“Will you wait here?” My voice quivers with trepidation.

Traci nods as I step out of the car.

I hear music blasting inside the house as I approach but Tiger’s barks are muted.

“If I hear you scream, I’m calling 911,” Traci yells at me.

I nod in agreement and put my hand on the doorknob, alarmed to find it unlocked. The door easily swings open.

“Hello?” I call out, “Rory, are you home?”

I’m not expecting an answer. With my keys clutched between my fingers defensively, I’m ready to strike if attacked. I begin to walk through the house. I lower the volume on the stereo in the living room. Around each corner I’m expecting to find Brian standing in front of me. After a thorough perusal, I’m confident the first floor is empty. Rory must’ve turned all the lights on and left the house unlocked. I’ll need to remind her to be more conscientious the next time she goes out. Where is Tiger? It’s odd that he hasn’t greeted me.

I reach the landing at the top of the stairs.
Thump.
What was that? It sounds like it came from my room.
Thump.
Is Tiger locked in my room? I clench my hands nervously around the keys I’m gripping. My bedroom door is closed but I head toward it, ready to defend myself. I kick the door open with a surge of power and confidence, then instinctively duck and protect my head with my arms as a wooden bat swings toward me.

“Morgan! What are you doing here?!”

I open my eyes and realize the bat is held in mid-air, inches from my skull.

“Rory! You could’ve killed me!” I jump to my feet and grab the baseball bat from her firm grasp.

“I didn’t know it was you.” Her face is panic stricken, ghostly white, and her body is shaking.

“Morgan! Morgan? Are you okay?” Traci yells.

I tear out of my room and see her standing in the foyer with her cell phone in her hand. “The police are on their way. I heard a scream so I called them.”

“I’m fine, Traci. My Aunt Rory is in the house.”

Rory joins me at the top of the landing and we stare down at her. Traci’s visibly shaken and looks ready to cry. I’ve put her through too much these past few days.

After consoling Traci and assuring her I’m fine, I watch her drive away. She was reluctant to leave, even knowing the police are on their way. I know she wants to meet Carlos at Sonic to celebrate the teams win and I don’t want her missing out because of me. Jack has yet to text me what’s wrong with his ankle. For all I know, he’s still waiting in the emergency room lobby.

Rory and I sit on the front porch and wait for the police to arrive. The house is too quiet and Rory still hasn’t explained why she was hiding in my room with a baseball bat.

“Where’s Tiger?” Fear swells in me when Rory looks at me blankly. “Where’s my dog?” I scream. Has something bad happened to him?

“Morgan, he wasn’t in the house or the yard when I arrived,” Rory admits. “I thought he was with you.”

Flashing blue and red lights flood our neighborhood street and the realization kicks in something bad has happened. Rory wasn’t hiding upstairs for any reason and Tiger wouldn’t leave the house on his own.

The cops exit their squad car and run over to us. “Are you okay? We got a call you had an intruder in your house. Stay here while we go inside.”

Rory nods and we silently wait until the two cops return and assure us the house is empty. A backup squad car is parked in my front lawn. The two officers tell the backup car it’s safe to leave and the car backs up and drives off. Mom’s going to wonder why there are tire marks on our front lawn.

The two remaining officers are familiar and I realize they’re the same cops who responded to my call last night.

“What happened?” one asks.

I turn to Rory, waiting for her explanation.

“Well,” Rory begins, “when I arrived after work the house was dark.” She looks at me sternly. “You should always leave a porch light on when you leave for the night. By the way, where were you tonight?”

The officer’s exchange glances but don’t interrupt.

“I’m sorry I forgot to leave the porch light on. I was at Jack’s basketball game tonight at the high school.” I want to remind her she isn’t my mother and I don’t need her permission to go out at night, but now isn’t the time. “By the way, where’s your car?”

“Oh, my car is in the shop for an electrical problem on my dashboard. My co-worker dropped me off tonight.” Rory continues, “So, I arrived at the house to find it totally dark so I thought my niece was out walking her dog. I have a house key and I let myself in and began to make a snack while I waited for her to return. I was in the kitchen, eating several stalks of celery with peanut butter, when I heard a noise on the deck. I went to the living room, turned on the deck light, and saw a young man standing on the deck looking in at me. I screamed and ran away.”

An officer pulls out a notepad. “Can you describe this young man? Teenager, twenties? Anything usual about him? Glasses, facial hair, tattoos, piercings?”

Rory shakes her head. “I don’t know. I saw him for a second before he ran off and before I ran back into the kitchen. He looked kind of tall, with brownish hair and brown eyes. Honestly, it was dark and we really surprised one another so I didn’t get a good look at him.”

Kind of tall, brownish hair and brown eyes. That describes the guy who picked me up Saturday night. Ricky’s brother. Now is when I should tell the police about the incident on Saturday night and report this guy who is now trespassing on my property. But I’ve been withholding this information for several days and I hadn’t told these same officers about him last night when they responded to my call. How can I tell them without getting myself in more trouble?

My father always told me it’s easier to tell the truth then to lie. I’m beginning to understand his advice. If I’d told an adult or the police about Saturday night’s events they could be investigating him and these reoccurring incidents wouldn’t be happening. But now I have to lie, to pretend I have no idea who this guy is or why he’s roaming around my house. I should confess, even if it’s just to ease the stress building in my chest and to slow my nervous heartbeat.

I need to speak to Ricky first. I’ll give him a message for his brother — I’ll go to the cops if his brother doesn’t stop stalking and harassing me.

Rory elbows my arm, startling me. “What are you thinking about? I’ve been talking to you and you’re not listening.” Rory and the two cops are staring at me.

“Is there anything you’d like to add to her story?” one of the officers asks.

“Um, I was at a basketball game tonight and my friend dropped me off. The lights were on all over the house and when I went inside it was empty. I heard a noise upstairs and my aunt almost clobbered me with a bat when I went in my room to investigate.”

“I was scared!” Rory admits. “After he ran off the deck I ran throughout the house and turned on all the lights, inside and outside the house. I thought you were out walking the dog and didn’t want you coming home to a dark house.”

“Ok, but why the bat and why did you leave the front door unlocked?”

“I grabbed a bat because I thought I heard him banging on the windows and doors. And I didn’t leave the door unlocked. I double locked it.”

We stare at one another. “You’re positive? The door was unlocked when I got home. And where is Tiger?”

“Ok, ladies, calm down. Who’s Tiger?”

I glance at the officer’s name badge. “Officer Whitman, Tiger is my German shepherd dog and he’s missing.”

“Missing? When was the last time you saw your dog? And what about the locked door? You didn’t unlock the door when you came home?” The officer looks at me and I nod my head in agreement.