After a terse conversation, he clicked off. "That damn robber and his girlfriend are holed up in a convenience store with three hostages. I have to get over there."
From a few blocks away, Kerry heard a siren scream. "Sounds close."
"About a mile," he said. "On Lambert near the freeway." With a distracted kiss, he was on his way.
Kerry cleaned up their picnic and tried again to whip up some interest in the newspaper. It was a lost cause.
She wanted to be near Chris. What could it hurt if she cruised by the convenience store? Maybe the creeps had been arrested by now and the whole thing was over. Feeling better for having made a decision, she hurried out to her car.
It wasn't hard to find the convenience store; a barricade of police cars blocked off the parking lot. Kerry halted just behind a paramedic unit and an ambulance.
A plainclothesman started toward her; she recognized Sergeant Rogers from the bowling alley about the same time he recognized her. He frowned, then signaled her to stay well back and returned to his post.
She took refuge by a tree, near a young man with a camera dangling from his shoulder and a press card strung on a cord around his neck.
"What's going on?" Kerry asked.
"They've got three hostages, a clerk and a couple of customers," he said. "The negotiator's been on the phone with the robbers and they're making some wild demands—a helicopter, a million dollars, safe passage to Central America."
"What happens next?" She was grateful for the informed company.
He shrugged. "The police could wait it out, but I'd say those guys in there are pretty unstable. Sometimes you can wear them down, but in this case they're more likely to turn violent."
Finally Kerry spotted Chris. He crouched behind one of the police cars near the front of the barricade, holding a megaphone.
As she watched, he called, "We have the building surrounded. Please come out quietly."
A bullet whined out of the building and Chris ducked.
There was a tense pause. Then, inside the convenience store, a woman screamed. "Oh, my God! No, please! Somebody stop him!"
"Go!" She thought it was Chris's voice but couldn't be sure from this distance.
Policemen swarmed across the open parking lot toward the building, Chris in the lead. For a disorienting moment, Kerry thought she must be imagining things. The store looked so ordinary, its windows posted with advertisements for the state lottery and a popular brand of beer. The sun washed the scene with summerlike clarity.
Yet she could hear the zing of bullets, see the glass shatter beneath the impact. One of the policemen fell, clutching his shoulder.
Chris! Oh, Chris, please be careful! She feared briefly that she'd shouted the words aloud, but the reporter next to her didn't react.
What if he was killed? What if she never saw him again, talked to him held him?
From inside the store came shouts and crashes. The reporter edged forward, and Kerry realized he'd been snapping pictures all along.
Finally the thrashing stopped. A uniformed patrolman appeared in the doorway, gesturing to the paramedics. Who’d been injured?
Ambulance attendants were already assisting the wounded policeman in the parking lot. But inside, someone else was hurt. Not Chris, please, not Chris.
Kerry moved forward through the circle of police cars. She had to know, couldn't bear the suspense another minute.
Two paramedics hurried out carrying a stretcher. In it lay the body of a man. About Chris's height—no, more slender— and he was wearing dirty jogging shoes and ripped jeans.
More people emerged. Two officers framed a raggedly dressed young woman with long, dirty hair. One of the robbers.
Behind them, white and shaken, walked a middle-aged couple and a dark-skinned young man, apparently the clerk. And Chris. Chris was asking them questions, reassuring the woman.
Kerry paused near the edge of the barricade of cars. How could she explain her presence here? Besides, the last thing Chris needed was an intrusion from his personal life. He had work to do.
Unnoticed, she retreated. It was over. Chris was okay.
Yet she sat behind the wheel of her car for several minutes before she could turn the key in the ignition. He'd come so close to death.
After starting the engine, Kerry drove along Lambert. Her concentration was poor, but fortunately there was little traffic on a Sunday.
Gradually the shock faded, leaving an image of Chris leading the charge into the store. Chris, putting himself in danger to save innocent people.
A wave of pride crested inside Kerry. How many people were called upon to display that kind of courage? What Chris did might not make him rich like the people at Tony and Leila's party; it might not win prestige in the arts circles that her parents frequented; but she admired him more than anyone she'd ever known.
She only wished, as her nerves calmed and she steered toward home, that Melanie could share these feelings. Maybe that would come in time.
Chapter Thirteen
"I can't believe the recital is only two weeks away." Melanie flicked on the light in the rehearsal studio. "And in less than a month school will be out."
Jamie lounged in the doorway, camera in hand. "You still haven't said whether you're going to New York this summer."
It was the one issue that separated them, and Melanie knew it was her own fault. Sometimes she wondered at her indecision. After all, she loved Jamie, didn't she?
"Did you have to bring this up on my birthday?" She knew that was cheating, but she didn't want to talk about it now. Not when she was still so unsure of her own mind.
Jamie shrugged. "Suit yourself. Where's Tom?"
"He'll be here." She smoothed down the silver skirt of her costume. "He's never late."
To hide her restlessness, Melanie began warming up as Jamie arranged his lights. She wondered, not for the first time, whether there was something wrong with her. People in love were supposed to forget everything else, weren't they?
So maybe she wasn't in love. Only she couldn't imagine what else she was feeling for Jamie.
Nothing seemed simple anymore after so many years of living for ballet. How could everything have changed so much in one school year?
She had to decide soon. But even if she chose New York, Dad probably wouldn't let her go.
Familiar resentment burned in Melanie's stomach. What right did he have to control her life? Sure, he'd let her move in with Kerry, but he kept close tabs. Like she was still a kid. Like she was a possession or something.
Everywhere she went she heard his imaginary voice in her head, demanding explanations, questioning her judgment. Sometimes, in calmer moments, she had to admit that he wasn't that bad in real life, but other times she felt certain he'd grill her like one of his suspects if he thought he could get away with it.
"Hey, I'm here!" Tom burst into the room, beaming with his usual good cheer and looking terrific in his black-and-silver tunic. Instantly, Melanie felt better. You could always count on Tom to keep things on an even keel.
"Let's get going. I promised Russ I'd meet him and the guys at seven." Jamie strode around the room, checking out the lighting angles.
Melanie glared at him, although he didn't notice. That was part of the problem, part of why she held herself back. She hated Jamie's friends. While she didn't know what they did when they were together, she knew she wouldn't like it. Why did he bother with those jerks, anyway?
"I appreciate this." Tom warmed up quickly. "It'll be great for auditions."
They'd both been flattered when Jamie asked to video the duet they were going to perform at the recital. Although he'd shot rehearsals before, this time they would give a full-blown performance for the camera.
With Tom graduating from high school, this was the last duet he and Melanie would dance together. She had a keen sense that time was passing and that her childhood was nearly gone. Someday the Leaps and Bounds School and Tom would be only memories. At least she'
d have a video to look back on.
The question was, would Jamie be watching it with her?
"Ready?" he called. "Okay, guys. Let's get started."
The session flew by, even though they performed the duet twice so Jamie could intercut different angles. Melanie had intended to relish these moments on camera, but there’d scarcely been time.
As long as she could remember, she'd lived in the future. Now the present, which she'd always taken for granted, was too quickly becoming the past.
"What's eating you?" Jamie asked as he stopped the car in front of Kerry's house. "You brooding because I'm going off with the guys on your birthday?"
"What do you do together, anyway?" She was in no hurry to get out of the car. In no hurry to let more moments slip forever beyond her reach.
"Stuff."
Great answer, she grumped inwardly. Aloud, she said, "Anyway, I want to take the camera with me." She didn't like the idea of his creepy buddies playing with it. "I want a picture of the cake Kerry said she was baking."
"Use your cell phone."
"Hey, whose camera is it, anyway?"
Jamie shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah, it's yours. Only remember I told you there's a special project I'm working on? I might need the camera tonight."
Melanie wavered. It wasn't Jamie's fault his family couldn't afford a good quality camera. And she didn't really need it. "Well, okay."
"Thanks, Mel." He leaned over and kissed her. "I promise I'll edit the video by the recital."
"Thanks." Somewhat pacified, Melanie lifted her costume from the back seat and got out.
She paused on the threshold, hearing Jamie pull away. Her father's car was in the driveway, which meant he must be inside with Kerry. It was nice of him to come, she supposed, and he'd probably brought her a present, but not the one she really wanted: freedom.
With a sigh, she trudged inside.
Instantly, the scent of chocolate cake wrapped itself around her stomach. She'd eaten only a granola bar for dinner.
"Hi." Kerry poked her head out of the kitchen. "How'd it go?"
Melanie hung the costume in the front closet. "Fine. I can't wait to see the video." She bit her lips as her father appeared behind Kerry.
He stood there awkwardly, as if not sure whether to hug her. In the end, he stayed where he was. "We were about to attack the ice cream without you."
"Let's eat," Melanie said. "I'm starved."
She dumped her bag in a corner and they tucked into the cake and ice cream. She knew she shouldn't eat too much, but it was hard to be perfect all the time. After some internal debate, Melanie helped herself to seconds.
"Time for presents," Kerry said, glancing at Chris. To her surprise, Melanie realized her dad was nervous.
"If you want," she said. "I mean, it's not really necessary...."
"Here." Kerry produced a package from the living room. "From me."
Inside, Melanie found an oversize volume on the history of dance, with zillions of color illustrations. "Wow! That's terrific." She gave her teacher a hug.
Chris cleared his throat. "Mine's a little smaller." He handed over an envelope.
Curious, Melanie opened it. Inside was one of those typical to-my-daughter birthday cards and two other things: a receipt and a key.
A car key.
"What's this?" she asked.
Her father was trying not to watch her reaction too closely, she could tell. "I can't afford to give you your own car, but it's a duplicate key to mine. That receipt is for driver's training. You can start whenever you're ready."
She stared down at the objects. They hadn't discussed getting a driver's license; she'd figured her dad wouldn't like the idea. And here he was offering it to her, key and all.
"Thanks." She felt as if she ought to say more. "I mean, that's fine. I'll do it." She leaned across the table and pecked his cheek.
After they cleaned up, it was time for a special dance presentation on PBS. Sitting in front of the TV, Melanie sneaked a glance at the older couple. Kerry had curled up, leaning against Chris's shoulder. His head was tipped so his cheek rested on her hair.
It made Melanie feel funny. Dad and Kerry. How strange. But sweet, too.
Would she and Jamie ever be that easy and comfortable? She wondered if they’d even stay together, or whether she’d meet somebody else. She hoped she found the right man to raise children with.
It was hard to imagine having your own kid. Mostly, little children seemed to be a lot of hassle. But what if she had a daughter like Suzie?
With a sudden, intense pang, Melanie realized that if she had a daughter she'd smother her with love, fight to protect her, do anything in her power to smooth that little girl's path. To keep her safe.
Just like Dad was doing.
A lump clogged her throat. Why had she been so angry at him these past few months? Look at how hard he was trying to please her, giving her the car key and driving lessons. And letting her live here with Kerry when he must miss her terribly.
Like she missed him.
Her father was her rock. Even while she'd been angry with him, deep inside it had hurt that he let her go so easily. Now she understood that it hadn't been easy at all.
"Dad?" she said.
"Mmm?" His eyes met hers over Kerry's head.
" I'm ready to move home now."
He didn't react right away, just looked at her for a while. Then he said, "You're sure?"
"I love you, Dad," Melanie said.
There was a catch in his voice when he said, "I love you, too."
"I know." Nestling into the pillows, Melanie settled down to watch the program.
Chris still couldn't quite believe she was home, even after two weeks. Melanie's stay with Kerry had stretched from one month into nearly three, and during that time his little girl had changed. Or maybe she'd begun changing before then, and he hadn't noticed.
As she carried her recital costumes carefully into the living room, Chris noticed how her face had thinned and how she walked with more confidence. But mostly the difference was too subtle to describe, the beginnings of an adult peace with herself that impressed the hell out of him.
How he loved her. And he was being so careful not to stir up any trouble. He supposed, now that she was sixteen, there wasn't much influence a parent could wield anyway. You had to assume you'd instilled the right values and hope for the best.
"Your hair looks terrific." Leila had stopped by earlier to pin it up and twist a strand of fake pearls through the light brown locks. "Very sophisticated."
"Thanks, Dad." Melanie laid the two costumes cautiously over the back of the sofa. The silver dress was for her duet with Tom, the purple-and-white puffed-sleeve affair for the gala dance featuring the advanced students. Both looked professional, although he knew she and Kerry had made them. "It was nice of Tony to volunteer his restaurant at cost for our cast party."
"We're going to have a great time," he said, meaning it. "And, honey, if you want to ride to the party with Jamie, that's okay."
"Oh, Dad." Melanie cocked her head at him. "Jamie's sister is in the recital, too, you know, and he should be spending time with her. Besides, I'm proud to be seen with my dad."
He hugged her, wondering where this new rapprochement had come from and how long it would last. "Let's go. We don't want the star to be late."
"Some star." Melanie wrinkled her nose. "But thanks." She adjusted her purse, scooped up the costumes and led the way to the car.
They were pulling into the parking lot at the high school where Leaps and Bounds had rented an auditorium when the call came over his radio.
A firebombing at the Ahmeds' house.
"Damn," Chris said.
"Was anybody hurt?" Melanie glared at the radio. "Why doesn't the dispatcher tell us?"
"Honey, I've got to get over there right away." He halted in front of the school. "I'll be back as soon as I can but..."
"It's okay, Dad." Melanie picked up her costumes and opened
the door. "Jamie's giving me a copy of the video tonight, so you can see the duet later. And I can ride home with Kerry."
"I wanted to be here." This was a special night for her; hell, it was a special night for him, too. But it was a frightening, maybe tragic night for the Ahmeds, and he was needed there. "I wish..."
Before he could finish, a wave of dancers engulfed his daughter, chattering excitedly, and she bobbed off in a sea of eager youngsters.
Grimly, Chris pulled away from the curb, the loving father already mutating into the hard-nosed policeman.
The quiet neighborhood had been transformed into a crisis scene. Fire trucks clogged the street and police cars were parked helter-skelter.
The firebomb had burned part of the garage and filled the house with smoke, causing considerable damage. Mrs. Ahmed and her daughters had been lucky to escape serious injury. On the porch next door, a neighbor tried to comfort the shaking woman and her sobbing little girls.
"I saw the smoke as I pulled in the driveway," the professor was telling a uniformed patrolman. Chris joined them on the front lawn, stepping over a tangle of fire hoses. "I feared the worst. This is unthinkable!"
"Did anyone see anything?" Chris asked the patrolman.
He shook his head. "So far, everyone I've talked to was inside, eating dinner or watching TV."
"This has gone too far," the professor said angrily. "I will have to send my family away while I finish the semester. Then, if the culprits are not caught, perhaps we will be forced to move."
"I hate to see it come to that." Chris clenched his fists with frustration. With all the modern technology at his disposal, why couldn't he catch one carload of hoodlums? "We'll be going door-to-door this evening, Professor. Perhaps something will turn up."
"We will stay at a hotel." Ahmed gave him the details. "You can reach me there."
"Professor, please understand. We're doing our best. This situation outrages me almost as much as it does you," Chris told him.
"I do understand," the man said. "It is not your fault, Lieutenant."
But he felt as if it were, especially later that night after hours of interviewing people yielded nothing tangible. It wasn't until he headed home at nearly midnight that Chris remembered he had missed both the recital and the party.
By Leaps and Bounds Page 18