Touch of Death (8 page)

“Footage indicated that the deer was most likely hit by a car. It runs with a severe limp in its right leg, and there’s a definite gash across its shoulder.” That got my attention. I whipped my head back toward the TV. A video of the deer half running, half hobbling through the farmer’s field was on the screen.

“Oh, God,” I gasped. “I think that’s the deer I hit.”

Mom took another sip of coffee. “Impossible, honey. But speaking of the deer, your car is going to the body shop today.”

I forced myself to look away from the TV. “Can we afford that right now?” I’d expected to be without a car for a while. Like months, not a few days.

“We’ll manage.” She moved her waffle around on her plate, avoiding my stare.

“You don’t want me taking the bus to school, do you?”

She put her fork down and laid her hands on her lap. “After you had to call the police because of that boy following you around… well, I’ll feel better knowing you’re not taking a bus that he could get on, too.”

“I could get rides with Melodie or Matt.” At least, I hoped Matt was still up for giving me rides.

“I thought about that, but what if they’re busy? I don’t want you getting stuck at school or having to take the bus.” She brushed her hands across her pants. “I’ve already made the arrangements with the body shop. I’ll drop your car off on my way to work today. The mechanic said it would be okay to drive it that short distance.”

“How will you get to work?”

“Martha said she’d pick me up at the body shop and take me to the office. She even offered to drive me home after work, too.” Martha was the only person at the office that Mom actually liked.

“You don’t need to do all that. I can take the car to the body shop.”

“Absolutely not. The car will have to be there for a few days, so you’d need a ride home. And besides, you’re busy today.”

“I am?” I didn’t remember her asking me to do any chores around the house today. Saturdays were usually my lazy days.

“Did you forget you volunteered to help rebuild the community center? You said you needed more community service to put on your college applications next fall.”

“Ugh, I completely forgot.” I looked at my sweater and favorite comfy jeans. Not exactly construction site appropriate. I’d be devastated if my favorite lounging outfit got paint splattered on it or torn on a nail. I checked my watch. “I should go change.”

“And I should get moving if I’m going to drop the car off before work.” Mom grabbed her car keys from her purse by the door and tossed them to me. “Be careful. And look out for rabid deer.” She smiled.

“Funny. Really funny.” As soon as she left, I focused on the TV again.

The farmer was being interviewed. “It killed two of my sheep. Just attacked them. There’s definitely something wrong with that deer. Something really wrong.”

It couldn’t be the same deer. Could it? I sighed and turned off the TV. I had to get changed. I put on a pair of old faded jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt I got at the one and only 5K race I ever ran. Stupid college applications. Why did they insist on their students being well-rounded? I layered Grandpa’s old plaid coat over it. He used to leave it here for working around the house in the winter. But then his back started acting up, and he stopped doing work for us, so I had claimed the jacket for shoveling snow and things like that. Thankfully, we were having the mildest winter in a long time and hadn’t had a snowstorm in over a month.

Melodie knocked on the door. We’d planned to walk to the community building together. I’d conveniently forgotten to tell Mom about that. I’d be home before her, so she’d never know.

“Why didn’t you call me last night?” she asked the second I opened the door. I knew she wasn’t going to let me answer, so I locked up while she ranted. “I stayed up until two A.M. Do you see the bags under my eyes? Not pretty. I used half a bottle of concealer, and I still look awful.”

“You don’t even wear makeup.” Melodie had never worn makeup. Well once, but that was on Halloween. She hated the feel of it on her face.

“Fine, but I thought about it.” She elbowed me, her hands shoved in her coat pockets. “So, what happened? I want details. Were you too exhausted from making out to call me?”

I wished. “Not exactly.”

“Please, tell me you guys kissed. It’s physically impossible to not have kissed after the number of dates you two have had.”

“Trust me, it’s not impossible.”

She looked at the ground and shook her head. “Spill.”

“Remember that guy I told you about? The one who was following me?”

“Did you kiss
him?”

“What? No! Would you focus?”

She shrugged. “Sorry.”

“Okay, well, his name is Alex. He showed up at the club, and he cornered me in the girls’ bathroom. Matt got really mad. I’ve never seen him that upset. But I convinced him to take me home instead of pounding on Alex.”

“You almost had two guys fighting over you?” She had way too much excitement in her voice.

“You’re kidding, right? Alex totally ruined my date with Matt. We were this close to kissing.” I held my index finger and thumb an inch apart. “And then Alex grabbed my arm and pulled me away from Matt.”

“Whoa! So, this Alex guy likes you?”

“If by ‘like,’ you mean broke into my house, trashed my room, and left a dead rat in my closet, then yes, he likes me.”

Melodie stopped short. “He did what?”

I nodded, not about to repeat any of that.

“You’re the only one I’ve told. My mom thinks the rat got in my room because it was such a mess. I tried straightening it up before she saw it, but then I found the rat and… well, Mom and Matt helped me get rid of it.”

Melodie squeezed her head in her hands. “Information overload, Jodi. What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. I tried calling the cops on him, but he found a way around that. I’m not sure there’s anything I can do to stop him.”

We turned down the next block.

“What does he want? Has he told you?”

“Yeah. He said he wants to talk to me.”

“So, maybe you should talk to him. It might be the only way to get him to leave you alone. I could come with you if you want.”

“He wants to talk to me alone. He said we needed privacy.”

“No way. After all he’s done to you, you can’t talk to him by yourself. It’s crazy.”

“I know. But what else am I supposed to do?”

We reached the community center and walked inside. There were volunteers everywhere. Who knew this many people would willingly give up a Saturday to fix an old, falling-down building?

A man carrying a clipboard greeted us. “Names?”

“Jodi Marshall.” He flipped through his list and checked off my name.

“Melodie Sinclair.”

“I’m Mike, but you can call me Chief. Have either of you girls done any construction before?”

We shook our heads.

“No problem. Most of the volunteers we get don’t have experience.” He looked around. “I’ll need one of you to help remove the rusty nails and the other to sweep up the sawdust.”

“I’ll sweep,” Melodie said.

Mike, or Chief as he wanted to be called—although I doubted anyone really used his nickname, pointed to a broom in the corner. “Have at it.” Melodie waved to me and went to work. “Okay, so hammers are over there on the table. You do know how to remove a nail, right?”

“I’ve done it a few times.”

“Great. Have fun.”

“Fun. Sure.” I grabbed a hammer from the table and brought it to the first of many boards. It wasn’t hard to pull the nails, and I got into a pretty good rhythm after a while.

“Look out!” someone yelled.

I’d heard that anytime someone yells at a construction site, you’re supposed to drop what you’re doing and cover your head. So, I dropped my hammer and threw my arms up, shielding my head.

I heard a sickening thud. Not at all the sound a hammer would make falling on wood. I uncovered my head and looked down. The hammer had fallen on a squirrel.

“Ooh,” Mike said. “Well, this is why animals shouldn’t be on jobsites.” He put his hands on his hips and looked around. “Someone want to clean this mess up?”

I watched the blood pool on the floor. “I-I didn’t mean to hurt it. I didn’t even know it was there.”

Mike waved it off. “Don’t sweat it. Tommy over there should’ve yelled ‘squirrel’ instead of ‘look out’ when it ran out from behind those boxes. Not your fault at all. In fact, you did the right thing protecting your head. Smart girl.”

Not my fault? I’d dropped a hammer on the poor thing. How many animals was I going to injure or kill this week?

Mike pointed to my hammer on the ground. “You better get that before the squirrel bleeds on it anymore. You can rinse it off in the portable sink we have in the next room. I’ll get one of the guys to get rid of the squirrel for you.”

I nodded and bent down to get the hammer. I didn’t take my eyes off the squirrel. I felt terrible. Mom and I always fed the squirrels in our yard. We loved watching them with their bushy tails and tiny paws. I felt the coldness of the hammer and closed my fist around it, stabbing myself in the side of my pointer finger with the last nail I’d removed from a board. “Ow!” I yanked my hand back, dripping blood.

“You okay?” Mike asked, looking completely panicked. “I had you sign a release form, right?” He flipped through his clipboard. “Oh, good. It’s here.” He sighed. “Come on over to the medical kit. We’ve got antiseptic and some other stuff.”

I followed him to a card table set up by the door. He opened a red medical kit and rummaged through it.

“Hey, Mike,” another guy called. “Where’s this squirrel you want me to take care of?”

Without looking, Mike pointed to the area where I’d been working. “Over there. Right by the hammer on the ground.”

I applied some pressure to my finger, trying to stop the bleeding.

“There’s nothing here but a hammer and some blood,” the guy said.

“What?” Mike and I exchanged a glance and walked over to the guy. “Tommy, I don’t have time for games. I’ve got to—” He stopped and stared at the ground. Tommy was holding the hammer, and the only thing on the floor was the pool of blood from the squirrel.

“Where did it go?” I asked.

Mike shrugged. “Guess someone else picked it up already.” He turned back to me, dismissing the squirrel. “You should go get that finger checked out by a doctor. Rusty nails can mean tetanus.”

“I’m pretty sure I got that shot in September, before school started, but I’ll double-check after I finish here.”

Mike considered it for a second and then handed me a Band-Aid. “All right. We’ve got a lot of work to do here, so I’ll let you stay. But I need you to promise me that you’ll go to the doctor as soon as you’re done here.”

“I promise.”

“Oh, and I’ll need to you to sign another form for me. An accident report, stating that you refused immediate medical attention.”

Boy, this guy was afraid of lawsuits. “Sure. No problem.” Of course, I wasn’t sure how I was going to sign since the cut was on my right hand, my writing hand.

Someone screamed. We all turned to see what had happened. Melodie shrieked and pointed at a volunteer, a middle-aged guy who was swatting at his shoulder. He had a brownish lump on him. The lump moved, giving us a better view of its matted fur. The bloody squirrel was digging its claws into the guy’s back. Foam sprayed from the squirrel’s mouth as it sank its teeth into the guy’s neck.

Chapter 8

I didn’t know why, but I grabbed a coat off the table and threw it over the guy’s head. Melodie and Mike were yelling at me, but I couldn’t even process what they were saying. All I cared about was getting that squirrel off this guy’s neck. He fell to the floor, gripping a lump under the coat. He had the squirrel. With a sickening ripping sound, which could only be the sound of his flesh tearing, he pried the squirrel off himself. He cried out, almost dropping the coat and squirrel. I reached for a toolbox on the floor and opened it wide.

“Here!” I yelled over his screams. “Put it in here.”

He held the coat over the toolbox and dropped the squirrel inside. I snapped the box shut, locked it, and backed away like it was a bomb.

The squirrel chattered and must have been going crazy locked up in there, because he was actually moving the toolbox, even with the tools in it. I wasn’t sure how the squirrel even fit in there with all the hammers, screwdrivers, and other things inside. If it didn’t quit moving around, it might end stabbing itself to death.

“Jake, are you okay?” Mike asked.

Jake had his hands pressed to the back of his neck. Blood spilled out around them, soaking his beige Carhartt jacket. His eyes rolled back, and he collapsed, taking out a table on his way down.

“Someone call 911!” Mike yelled.

Melodie already had her phone out and was giving an address to the operator. “They’re on their way.”

Mike was practically cradling Jake in his lap. His jacket was off, and he was using it to soak up the blood. “Okay, everyone else clear out. We’re done for today. Leave your tools where they are.”

“What about the squirrel?” I pointed my foot at the toolbox.

A kid from school—Brian something or other—said, “My dad’s a vet. I’ll call him.”