NECESSARY MEASURES

by Alexander, Hannah

  “I’m experiencing some complications.”

  “How?”

  “I’m trying to download some of these pictures from my watch camera.”

  “I thought you already gave those to Tony.”

  “I gave him the ones from the other cameras but I never could figure out the software for this one. He wants these extra shots for positive ID on Peregrine.”

  “Why don’t you bring your stuff here so I can do it on ours?”

  “Because I’m in the middle of this and I’ve already downloaded the software. I think.”

  “I’ll come and help you.”

  “Thanks. Meanwhile we’ll keep trying.”

  ***

  Simon pulled to the end of the alley in front of the school and stared with unholy anger at the glow of lights from the third story windows. Somebody was there!

  He reached across and smacked Kent on the chest. The stupid kid’s grunt of surprise blended with the growling echo of the engine.

  “That still the publications department?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What’re they doing in there this late?”

  “I don’t know, I never took that class.”

  Simon switched off the motor. He needed his stuff. He had to have it to establish himself again. “Get the supplies. We’re going in.”

  Kent caught his breath. “But somebody’s in the building.”

  “Yeah. Somebody in Publications.” Peregrine reached beneath the seat and pulled out a Sig Sauer, a beautiful weapon that gleamed in the pale glow from the school security lights. He heard Kent’s gasp and he smiled. “Maybe we’ll make a social call.”

  Chapter 29

  Grant had never been to Lambert’s Cafe but he’d driven past it on Highway 65 en route from Springfield to Dogwood Springs. He wasn’t surprised by the number of cars in the brightly lit parking area or by the line of diners congregated out on the wooden front porch of the building. The “polished hillbilly” atmosphere and the noise and laughter—and particularly Lauren’s friendly, “never met a stranger” attitude—added special warmth to the brisk night air.

  In the surprisingly short time between their arrival and the moment they were seated, Grant and Lauren had become acquainted with the people in line around them. Grant felt himself relaxing completely. Soon they were seated at a booth in the raucous laughter-filled dining room and the throwing of rolls commenced. The term “casual dining” was appropriate.

  “Heads up!” Lauren was prepared and caught the first hot roll then gave it to him and held her hands up for another one.

  He turned in time to duck. Lauren laughed. “Now you know how it’s done.”

  He unbuttoned the sleeves of his silk shirt and rolled them up to his elbows. “Now I know why Beau didn’t want me to wear this.”

  Lauren grinned at him and he was captivated; this friendship had grown far past simple affection.

  He rested his chin in his hands and allowed himself the pleasure of watching her as the party voices tumbled around them. A telltale blush across her cheeks told him she was affected by his scrutiny.

  A server in denim overalls and a red-checked gingham blouse stopped and set plates and flatware on the table and asked for their order.

  Lauren gave Grant a wicked grin. “Ever eaten hog jowls?”

  “That isn’t funny.”

  “Have you?”

  “No, and I’m too old to be grilled by an attorney and then eat a pig’s jaw all in one day.” Before she could argue he ordered chicken-fried steak and handed his menu to the server.

  Lauren laughed and ordered the hog jowls. It was impossible not to be affected by her laughter.

  “Did I ever tell you about the time I had a heart-to-heart with Brooke about my dating again?” Grant asked as soon as the server walked away.

  Lauren tore a paper towel from the dispenser on their table and wiped her hands. “When was that?”

  “Soon after we arrived in Dogwood Springs.”

  “Judging by her reaction to me the first time we met I can imagine what she had to say.”

  He chuckled. “We were at City Hall when I casually mentioned that I was considering the possibility of dating again. In retrospect I realize it was bad timing. It was a busy day there and I wasn’t familiar with small-town curiosity. Within twenty-four hours of the time she gave me her opinion, everyone in town knew about it.”

  “Of course,” Lauren said. “I never have to wonder where I stand with her.”

  “Then you must realize that she’s done a hundred-and-eighty-degree turn in her attitude since then, at least about you,” Grant said.

  “That much I’ve gathered recently. I do know that she doesn’t think of me as a female John Boy anymore.”

  “Has she been nagging you as often as she has me about us?”

  “Probably.”

  He looked around the dining hall, gestured to the young man with the basket of rolls, and held his hands up for the pitch. He caught it and gave it to Lauren. “May I ask a personal question?”

  “Depends. How personal?”

  “What changed your mind about going out on this-here bona fide date?” He failed horribly at affecting the down-home Branson twang the server had used but Lauren didn’t seem to notice. “Did you just finally give in to Brooke’s pressure?”

  “No.” She frowned and shrugged. “Well, that could be part of it.”

  “Oh really?” He was learning to appreciate his daughter’s big mouth.

  “Brooke isn’t the only one nagging me. Several friends have hinted that I might not have had a complete handle on God’s perfect will for my life when I decided to remain single.”

  “They sound like good friends.”’

  She tore open her roll and studied it for a moment. “Something else that affected my decision was the discovery that my priorities have changed since last summer. Now having a relationship with God has become the most important thing to me. A few months ago I was more interested in getting married and starting a family before it was too late.”

  “And that’s what convinced you it was okay to go out with me tonight?” The woman could be an enigma. “Because dating and marriage were no longer a priority?” Oh well, whatever worked.

  Lauren dipped her roll into the molasses. “I needed to become content as a single person in order to move forward with my life. And I have been content.”

  “Meaning now you feel comfortable moving on?”

  Her smile returned. “I know it’s convoluted. But as you say, another reason was probably Brooke.”

  “My own outspoken mischievous daughter, Brooke,” he said lovingly.

  “And Beau.”

  “My twins ganged up on you then?”

  “On the way back from Knolls the night they drove me to my parents’ house after Hardy died, they gave me reasons why you and I should be more than friends.”

  “I’m sorry. They had no right to do that.” He was going to give them both a hug as soon as he got home tonight.

  “They’re no worse than my family. Actually, they aren’t as bad. Mom’s worse than Brooke. She has no finesse. She can be a little wacky when it comes to her only remaining single daughter.”

  Grant had seen that for himself but he knew better than to comment on it. He shoved his plate aside and leaned forward, allowing the din of voices around them to provide some privacy. “I’ve been doing a lot of dreaming lately.”

  She dipped another piece of roll into the molasses on her plate. “Hope they haven’t been nightmares. It runs in families, you know.”

  “Not that kind of dreaming.”

  She grinned up at him with a mischievous twinkle. “What’s your dream?”

  “I would like someone to share my life with me again someday.” He watched the flutter of her eyelashes and pressed on. “I’ve even found the courage to pray about it.”

  She put the bread down and all evidence of humor left her face. “That’s risky.”

  He nodd
ed.

  “I prayed very hard last summer for God to place someone in particular into my life,” she said. “I received an answer I didn’t want at the time.”

  “That’s always a risk. You lived through it and you’re still great friends with the object of your prayers. If that’s God’s answer for me, I’ll live through that too.”

  A roving server stepped to their table with a large bowl of macaroni and stewed tomatoes. “Heads up!”

  Grant leaned back but before he was out of range of the plate, a diner passed by and accidentally nudged the server’s arm. A few dribbles of stewed tomato juice spattered over Grant’s upper sleeve.

  He breathed a sigh of relief. “There. Now I don’t have to worry about staining my shirt.”

  Lauren laughed.

  Was it too soon to tell her he was falling in love with her?

  ***

  Simon-Peregrine-Simon…he couldn’t remember his own name now…led the way to a stand of cedars huddled against the huge three-story school building. Much as he hated trees right now he needed his stuff. At least he didn’t see anyone hiding in them. The whiskey he’d found with his stash of supplies had taken the edge off but it wasn’t enough. He felt as if he could wrap his fingers around somebody’s neck and squeeze—

  “You’re not gonna cook the stuff right here at the school are you?” Kent whined.

  “Give me the keys.” Simon held out his hand and waited while Kent dug into his pocket and drew them out. “Follow me. Stay behind the bushes. Don’t rustle the leaves.” He plunged into the shadows beneath the glow of light from the windows on the third floor.

  He’d gone about thirty paces when he heard voices and froze. “Shh! Listen.” He grabbed Kent by the sleeve of his jacket.

  All they heard for the next few seconds was the crackle of leaves beneath Kent’s feet as he shuffled back and forth. Simon stomped down on the punk’s toe.

  There was a quiet grunt then silence.

  Three breaths later a young male voice floated down from above. “I got him!”

  A surge of terror rocked Simon backward. He shoved Kent deeper into the shadows of the cedars and felt the branches clawing at his skin until he was leaning against the rough bricks of the building. Kent’s breathing came in panicked gasps of air. Simon would have choked him right then if he wasn’t afraid they’d be heard.

  They waited.

  Nothing else happened. Nobody grabbed them—nobody aimed a light in their faces. Kent’s breathing slowed.

  Simon had almost decided the danger was past when they heard another voice, a girl, almost directly above them.

  “Evan, why did you open this window? I’m freezing!” There was a noisy squeak of wood against wood and the voice was cut off as the window latch snapped into place.

  Simon listened to Kent’s breathing a few more seconds and then the rage hit him again with a force that made him tremble. “She called him Evan!”

  Kent didn’t reply. The coward.

  “We’re going up there.”

  “Wait,” Kent whispered. “I thought you wanted to cook a batch of—”

  “Shut up and get in the building. We’ll do it as soon as we settle a score with our biggest troublemaker.”

  ***

  “All right! It worked.” Evan tapped his fingers on the computer screen and smiled proudly at Brooke over his shoulder. “Looks like this one was a perfect shot. What do you think?”

  Brooke leaned forward and studied the picture that Evan had downloaded from his watch camera. “Perfect.”

  He basked in her rare praise. “Thanks.”

  “Now send it to Tony so we can get home. Beau’s going to come walking in here any second and then he’ll give us this long sermon about taking too many chances—”

  “I think I’ll e-mail a copy of these pictures to Beau. This downloads fast now that I’ve figured out how to do it. Let me do a few more, it won’t take much longer.” He pressed the Send key and waited. It didn’t respond. “Where’d Miss Bolton go?”

  “Library. She said for us to turn out the lights and lock the door when we’re fin—”

  “Rats!” He pressed the key again. No response. Nothing.

  “What?”

  “It froze up on me.”

  “Then unfreeze it.”

  “I’m trying.” Rats! He didn’t want to start all over again. “I thought Beau’d be here by now.” Evan leaned back in his chair and stared with disgust at the screen, which glared back at him with three enlarged pictures of Simon Royce—aka Peregrine. “I wish he’d hurry.”

  ***

  Lauren had never realized how much Brooke and Beau imitated their father. She’d never realized how much he used facial expressions and hands when he talked, particularly on the subject of his kids. She sat watching him in silent admiration as he described the harrowing experience he’d had teaching Brooke how to drive a car with manual transmission.

  His deep voice imitated the grinding of gears as he mimicked the hand movements one would use with a four-on-the-floor and Lauren’s laughter rang out across the dining area. No one noticed. All the other diners were just as noisy.

  “I’d never heard Beau laugh so hard.” He lowered his hands to the table. “Of course he was buckled up in the backseat. For three days I thought she’d given me whiplash. It’s a good thing I have a low-stress job. I couldn’t handle that much pressure.”

  “An ER medical director has low stress?”

  “It beats being a driving instructor. Think of the terror those poor people endure every day. At one point I thought Brooke was going to make Beau walk back to town.”

  Lauren laughed again as she imagined the scene. “I love those kids. One minute I think they’re never going to speak to each other again and the next minute Beau’s helping her with something on the computer or she’s telling him what a good doctor he’ll make someday.” As she spoke she noticed that Grant’s laughter dwindled and his expression grew serious.

  “You mean that?” he asked quietly.

  “Mean what? That they have a special relationship? I had a good relationship with my—”

  “That you love them,” he said.

  The question startled her. His seriousness alarmed her. “Yes.” And it was true. She had always wanted children. Before she met the Sheldons she had never considered the possibility of falling in love with someone else’s children—children raised and loved and taught by another woman. Those children would never be her own and they would always have the memory of their “real” mother against which to judge all others. In the same way, their father would always have the beloved memory of that lost wife and the fact of her death would polish those memories to such a beautiful glow that no one else could ever measure up.

  “I love them too,” he said softly. “I guess that just gives us one more thing in common.”

  ***

  Beau saw the lights glowing from the third floor of the old school building when he turned onto Hickory Street in front of the campus. It was obvious Brooke and Evan were still up there and they might be there for a while. No telling how Evan might have mangled the instructions for the software. He was a seat-of-the-pants kind of guy and he seldom took the time to follow directions when he got excited.

  Instead of driving into the student parking lot Beau pulled along the curb in front of the building. Nobody was around to complain... well, hardly anybody. Miss Bolton’s car was at the end of the teacher’s parking lot about fifty feet farther down. And there was a vehicle parked awkwardly in the shadows at the end of the alley directly across the street from Miss Bolton’s car. Still, he wouldn’t be here long enough to get in anyone’s way. Dad wouldn’t like this. There were supposed to be several other people here.

  Beau got out of the car, locked it, pocketed his keys as he stepped onto the sidewalk, then frowned and peered through the darkness toward the alley again. Something about that vehicle in the shadows bothered him. As he stepped closer he recognized the shape of a t
ruck. It was a light color. It looked uncomfortably familiar...

  Fear tumbled over him like a landslide. It was that stalker’s truck! The one that had rammed them. From the glow of a school security light he could see the dent in its right front fender.

  He pivoted and raced back to the car, unlocked and jerked open the door, fell into the driver’s seat. He pressed the automatic lock, pulse pounding with a huge adrenaline charge. He grabbed his phone. The guy was here. He was here! Watching the school building? Stalking Brooke and Evan? Or maybe he was just waiting to follow them when they drove home.

  He punched Evan’s cell phone number. Don’t panic. I could be wrong. Yeah, I’m probably wrong.

  The phone rang once, twice, then Evan answered in the middle of the third ring. “Let me guess, this is Beau? Brooke thought you’d be here by—”

  “Evan, listen to me! I think our stalker is back. You guys need to lay low while I call the police.”

  “Very funny but if you want us to do this at your house—”

  “I’m serious. It’s the truck that rammed us.” As he watched, headlights flickered along the street and a car came over the hill, casting the truck and the interior of the cab into momentary definition. It was for sure that same truck.

  There was no one sitting inside, which meant—

  “Get out of that room!” Beau screamed. “Get out of there now! Hurry Evan, they—”

  A muffled explosion and shattering of glass rocked through the phone line, immediately followed by an eerie buzz-pop, buzz-pop and a feminine scream. Brooke!

  There was another clatter of sound as Evan dropped his cell phone.

  “No!” came Evan’s voice over the receiver. “Brooke!”

  There was a guttural sound of angry yelling.

  Beau punched the End button with fingers that shook so hard they barely functioned. He keyed in 9-1-1 and prayed hard for protection for Brooke and Evan.

  When the line connected, he didn’t wait for anyone to speak. “This is Beau Sheldon. We need help at the high school, old building, Publications department on the third floor. Please come quickly—I heard a gunshot. There are people in there!”

  He waited only for an acknowledgment that they’d heard him and the command to stay on the line before he disconnected. He jumped from the car and raced across the lawn. There was no way he could stay hidden in the car and wait for the police to get here.