by Karen Rose
She looked into his eyes, seeing so many things. Her old friend, the boy he’d been. Her new friend, the man he’d become. Her new lover. It was overwhelming. “There were times I thought I knew you better than I knew myself,” she murmured. “Why didn’t I see how you felt?”
“You were so shy about certain things,” he murmured back. “Anything academic was a breeze for you. But anything that had to do with yourself, your self-confidence . . .” He shrugged. “I was afraid to push. Afraid you’d run the other way and I’d lose your friendship. Then that night of the junior prom, I don’t know what came over me. I took a chance. Asked you to dance. You were so scared at first, I could tell. But you relaxed and laid your head against me and I thought my heart would beat right out of my chest. I thought: This is the time. Make your move. But I guess I was shy, too. It was always easier to write letters to you than to talk to you about things like that in person.”
“They were lovely letters, Christopher. You should have been a poet.” His cheeks darkened and she smiled, delighted. “You do! You write poetry, too?”
“Not very good poetry,” he admitted. He tilted his head, his eyes suddenly very serious. “We were careless last night, Em.”
Emma caught her breath. They’d made love three times and not once used a condom. That wasn’t careless. That was insane. Gathering her thoughts, she sought to reassure him as best she could. “Will was the only man I’d ever been with. There were no others after his death. But I’ll get a test if you want.”
“That’s not necessary, Emma. And I did get tested when I found out Mona had cheated. Luckily I was clean. I was thinking more about pregnancy.”
Oh, Lord. Rapidly she counted days in her mind. “It’s dicey, but probably okay.” A shadow of disappointment crossed his face and she blinked at him. “You wanted me to be pregnant? Christopher.”
He slid back down to the pillows and closed his eyes. “I always did. Do you remember that project in Mr. Bell’s health class where we got a pretend spouse and had to take care of a doll for a week as our pretend kid?”
“How could I forget?” she grumbled, still reeling. “I was ‘married’ to Skip Loomis.”
A smile flitted about Christopher’s lips. “I wanted to kill him because he thought the project gave him a right to touch you.”
Emma shuddered. “Don’t remind me. You got hooked up with Bethany Rigonelli who left your doll at a pot party,” she said smugly. “I hated her.”
Christopher chuckled. “So did I. I had to explain to Mr. Bell why my doll smelled like the child of sixties flower children. I wanted so badly to be your husband then. I’d watch you carry that doll around like it was real and I’d wish it was real. And mine.”
“Oh, Christopher, that’s so sweet.”
“Emma . . . Why didn’t you ever have children with Will?”
Emma hesitated, then shrugged. “He couldn’t. He’d had mumps when he was a little boy and it left him . . . You know. We were planning to adopt a child. We’d even filled out the initial paperwork. And then he was killed.”
His eyes opened, regarding her intently. “If we made a baby here, we get married.”
She sighed, unable to think that far ahead at the moment. “Why don’t we cross that bridge when we get there? For now, I just need to get back to my room before your child wakes up. She doesn’t like me as it is. I don’t want to add fuel to the fire.”
“I’m sorry, Emma. Mona should never have told her those things. I’ve got to think of a way to undo that damage.”
Emma slid off the bed and pulled on her nightshirt. “Counseling will help her, Christopher. But I say we get through this current crisis before we tackle any new ones. Will you send Megan to school today?”
He frowned. “I think she’s as safe there as anywhere, as long as she doesn’t leave the campus. I’ll drop her off, then go see Tanya’s parents.”
“Megan may not want to go to school today,” Emma said gently. “Someone she was close to is dead. She’s going to need time to deal with that.” She kissed his forehead. “Sleep. We’ve got a few hours before she has to wake up and decide.”
Christopher watched her go with a sigh. He’d been careless on purpose, he admitted to himself. At least the second and third times. The first time he’d needed to be inside her so badly, everything else just seemed irrelevant. He had a whole box of condoms in his nightstand. They’d use them next time. And the time after that. He’d give her all the time she needed to come to terms with her own feelings, but when all was said and done, they’d be together. He just knew it.
“Christopher! Come here! Now. Please.”
He bolted upright at the sound of Emma’s panicked cry. Pulling on his pants, he ran to her room, only to find her standing in Megan’s open doorway. Megan’s room was empty and Emma held a note. His heart was pounding, so hard he thought he’d pass out. “Where is she, Emma? Where’s Megan?”
Emma’s face was tight with fear. “She’s run away.”
“Why? She just wouldn’t run away! Dammit.” He grabbed the note and read it in disbelief. Dear Daddy. I got up for a glass of water and found your houseguest’s door open and her bed empty. How could you? I won’t stay in the same house with that woman another minute. I’ll come home when she’s gone. Megan.
Emma stared up at him, her brown eyes pained. “You call her friends. I’ll call Detective Harris. We’ll find her, Christopher.”
The fear that gripped them both went unsaid. Before somebody else does.
* * *
Wednesday, March 3, 7:15 a.m.
“He’s gone.”
Megan slid out from under her friend’s bed. “Thanks.”
Debbie sat on her bed with a frown, her arms crossed over her chest. “I don’t feel right about this, Megan. I just lied to my mother and your father.”
Megan’s jaw set. Her friend had denied having seen her, but this wasn’t Debbie’s problem. It’s mine. “I’m sorry.”
“Your dad’s so worried, Megan. You need to call him, let him know you’re safe.”
“When that bitch leaves, I will.”
“How will you know she’s gone?”
“I’m going to go back to my house and watch from across the street. I only came here last night because it was too cold to sleep outside. The bitch’ll be going home soon,” Megan said with satisfaction. “Dad won’t make the same mistake twice.”
Debbie bit her lip. “Doesn’t sound like he really made a mistake the first time, Meg. You said he didn’t cheat on your mother with this Emma person.”
“No, I said he said he didn’t cheat with this Emma person,” she said with contempt, narrowing her eyes at her best friend. “Promise me you won’t say a word. Promise.”
Debbie nodded miserably. “I promise. Call me later. Let me know you’re okay.”
“I will.” Megan stuck her head out of Debbie’s bedroom window and looked both ways. “Coast is clear. I’m gone.”
Keeping to backyards, Megan made her way home. She’d never left the house in the middle of the night before. Never skipped school for that matter. It was all Emma’s fault. When she was gone, everything would be back to normal. She and her father did fine on their own. Besides, if she lived with them, her mom would never come home.
Her father’s old car was gone from the driveway. He’d be making the rounds to her friends’ houses. All would say they’d never seen her. She stood in the shadow of her neighbor’s garage, the morning sun growing bright enough to make her easily seen. So I’ll stay out of sight. Her teeth grated when the front door opened and Emma came out, clutching the cordless phone in one hand, shielding her eyes from the sun with the other. She’s watching for me. Wearing a sweatshirt that belongs to my father.
To Megan’s surprise a strange car pulled in the driveway and the man who’d come to the lab last night got out. Detective Harris.
What was he doing here? Oh my God, she thought, horrified. The bitch has called the cops on me. He went inside the house with her. A few minutes later he came out, giving her shoulder a squeeze. Like she cares, Megan thought sardonically. Like she gives a shit about me or my dad. If she did, she wouldn’t be here. The cop drove away slowly, checking out the street.
I can’t stay here. He might come back. She couldn’t go to her friends’ houses—they’d all have left for school by now and their mothers wouldn’t go along with her plan.
Then a few minutes later salvation arrived. Uncle Jerry’s SUV pulled into the driveway. She’d go with him. He’d understand. He was her father’s friend, but he’d been her mother’s friend first. Her mother had told her so. Megan bit her lip. Her mother had told her a lot of other things that she didn’t want to think about now.
She frowned. Jerry was taking a long time to get out of the SUV. He sat there, his hands clenched on the wheel. Finally he got out and slowly walked up to the house and let himself in the front door. Her frown deepened. Uncle Jerry never looked old to her before, but this morning he walked like an old man. She’d make sure he was eating right, just like she did for her dad. No more KFC for Jerry.
But for now, he was her escape. He’s my godfather. He’ll understand. He’ll let me hang with him until she’s gone. But just to be safe, she’d hide in the backseat until he got far enough away from the house that she could explain without being taken immediately home. Looking both ways for that detective, Megan sprinted across the street. Luck was with her and he’d left his door unlocked. Quickly she climbed in and over the backseats, hiding in the cargo area. She pulled a blanket over herself and waited.
* * *
Emma’s head jerked up when the door opened. “Chris—” His name went unfinished because it was Jerry who stood in the foyer, a haunted expression on his face. Of course, Christopher had called him. He was Megan’s godfather. Of course he’d be worried. She stood up, uncertainly. “Jerry. Christopher isn’t here. Megan is—”
“You have to come with me,” he said heavily. She studied him with a frown. It wasn’t intoxication that made his speech slow. It was dread.
Suddenly his dread became hers. “Why are you here? Everyone else is—”
“You have to come with me,” he repeated, drawing a semiautomatic pistol from his coat pocket. “Don’t make me use this, Dr. Townsend. Please.”
Emma’s eyes darted side to side. The cordless phone was . . . on the coffee table. Just out of reach. But her cell phone was in the pocket of her jeans.
“Dr. Townsend, please. I will use this, I can assure you. Don’t even think about touching that phone. And give me the cell phone in the pocket of your jeans. Let’s go.”
“Why?”
Jerry shook his head. “Just go.”
She didn’t move a muscle, just stood her ground. “It’s you, isn’t it? Darrell and Tanya? You killed them. Or you know who did.”
For a bulky man he moved quickly. In a split second his hand was tangled in her hair, lifting her to her toes. The back of his other hand crashed into her cheek, making her cry out. “I said, let’s go.” He forced her to the door, the gun jammed against the small of her back. “I’m going to let go of your hair and take the phone from your pocket. Then you’re going to walk quietly to my car. If anyone sees you, you will smile and say ‘Hello’ as will I. If you scream, I will shoot you and any innocent bystander that sees us.”
Her heart pounding in her head, Emma did what he said, stumbling as she was forced to his SUV. He opened the back passenger door and pushed her. “Climb in,” he said softly. “Don’t try anything stupid. I really don’t want to kill you.”
She climbed in, her lungs pumping. She had to think. Think.
He slammed the door and walked around to the driver’s side. Emma grabbed the door handle and pulled, but nothing happened.
“I have the child locks set on both doors,” he said, climbing into the front seat. “Now get down on the floorboards and don’t move.”
Helplessly Emma did what he said. “Where are you taking me?”
“Shut up.”
“If you’re going to kill me, I at least have a right to know why.” She knew why. Jerry was the connection between the lab and whoever had falsified those soil tests. But she wouldn’t let him know. Feigning ignorance might be the only thing that saved her life.
“Shut up.”
“But—”
“Dr. Townsend, I don’t want to hurt you any more than I wanted to hurt the others. But I will if I must. Now shut up.”
Emma tried to control her breathing. “Are you the one that broke into my house?”
The SUV made a right turn, slowed, then stopped. Jerry’s arm came whipping over the seat and grabbed her by the sweatshirt. They were in an alley, between two buildings, not a window or person in sight. “I said shut up.” His fist slammed into her other cheek, the pain shocking her. Rage and pain erupted and she stared him down in contempt. Blood filled her mouth and she spat it at him. Furiously he stared down at the stain on his white shirt and cuffed her on the side of her head. Stars twinkled before her eyes and she moaned.
“Now you’ll shut up,” he growled and threw her back down to the floorboards.
Clenching her teeth against what would have been a whimper of pain she was quiet, wondering how this man had become involved in such a mess. He was a physics professor, for God’s sake. Christopher’s closest friend.
Christopher.
“What will you do to Christopher?” she asked, her speech now slurred. Her tongue felt swollen and her jaw ached along with her head. He said nothing and she knew. Panic gripped her. He was planning to kill Christopher, too.
* * *
Wednesday, March 3, 9:45 a.m.
She wasn’t here. He’d called to talk to Emma, to see if Megan had returned, but the phone rang and rang so he’d raced back home to find her gone, too. Christopher ran from room to room, retracing his steps, checking every closet, under every bed.
They weren’t here. He punched in Harris’s number on his cell, jumping when the doorbell rang. It was Detective Harris himself, holding his ringing phone, looking grim. His stomach roiling, Christopher disconnected his cell and stepped aside to let Harris in.
“Megan’s still missing. I’ve been to every one of her friends’ houses, her school, the mall, everywhere.”
Harris nodded. “I know. I was here earlier talking to Dr. Townsend. Where is she?”
“I was hoping you could tell me. Because Emma’s gone, too.” He could hear the hitching panic in his voice and was powerless to stop it.
“Maybe she went out somewhere.”
“She didn’t have the car. I had the car.” Shaking, Christopher pressed his fist against his lips. “She wouldn’t just leave, Detective. She was staying here in case Megan came home. Something’s wrong.” He frowned. “If you’re not here about Megan, why are you here?”
“I just got Tanya’s cell phone LUDs. Here’s the number she called when she left the lab Thursday night, when she was sick. It’s a disposable cell.” Harris held out a piece of paper with a number scrawled across the top.
Christopher shook his head. “I don’t recognize it.”
“Do me a favor,” Harris said evenly. “Call it.”
His palms sweaty, Christopher complied. And his heart dropped from his chest to his gut like a rock as his phone’s display listed the name that went along with the number. “That’s not possible. It’s Jerry’s cell.”
“Is he answering it?”
“No. It’s still ringing.” Dazed, Christopher sank to the arm of the sofa. “He called me once and I asked what number this was because it wasn’t his normal cell. He said it was a new phone, so I stored the number. This isn’t possible. Jerry didn’t even know Tanya that well.” He blinked at Harris. “But you’re not surprised.”<
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“No. After I left you and Dr. Townsend last night I went by Tanya’s aunt’s house and searched again. This time I went through the dirty clothes in the laundry room. In the pocket of her jeans, I found a matchbook from a place called Le Panoramique.”
“I’ve never heard of it,” Christopher said, still staring at his cell display in disbelief.
“It’s not around here. It’s up past Madeira Beach. I drove up there last night, got there as they were closing. Showed them Tanya’s picture. The bartender remembered her because he thought she had an illegal ID when he carded her. She looked younger than twenty-two, he said. He remembers her showing her University ID, which annoyed her companion. A bulky man in his forties with a black beard.”
“Jerry and Tanya?” Christopher whispered. “My God. That’s against the code of conduct. He’ll lose his tenure.” He closed his eyes. As if Jerry’s breaking University rules was their only problem. “I’m sorry, that was a stupid thing to say.”
“No, Professor, it’s not. That’s why Tanya never told anyone about her boyfriend. It could get Dr. Grayson fired or at least harshly reprimanded. I’m afraid we need to find him, bring him in for questioning.”
“But why would Jerry be involved with Tanya? Why is he involved in any of this?”
“I don’t know, Professor. But we’ll find out.”
The doorbell rang and Christopher bolted. Megan. Then exhaled in disappointment when he saw his elderly neighbor standing on his doorstep. “Mrs. Hewett, have you seen Megan?”
Mrs. Hewett’s face fell. “Megan’s not home yet? I hoped he’d brought her home.”
Christopher straightened slowly. “Who, Mrs. Hewett?”
“That friend of yours. The one who drives the big black Expedition.”
Christopher’s heart stopped. “He was here?”
Mrs. Hewett started when Harris stepped out from behind the door. “Who are you?”