HUNTED
PART I
T.M BLEDSOE
HUNTED
PART I
COPYRIGHT@2012 BY T.M. BLEDSOE
SILVER CIRCLE PRESS
FIRST EDITION
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
PRINTED IN THE USA
THIS BOOK IS A WORK OF FICTION. NAMES, PLACES, CHARACTERS, AND INCIDENTS EITHER ARE PRODUCTS OF THE AUTHOR’S IMAGINATION OR ARE USED FICTITIOUSLY. ANY RESEMBLENCE TO ACTUAL PERSONS, LIVING OR DEAD, EVENTS, OR LOCALES, IS ENTIRELY COINCIDENTAL.
THIS BOOK IS FOR MY FAMILY: HOLLY, PHILLY, DADDY, AND DOBBIE.
THANK YOU GUYS FOR PUTTING UP WITH ME!
LOVE YOU SO MUCH!
CHAPTER ONE
“Did you guys hear?” Johnna Delaney asked, plopping down at the table, her brown eyes bright with emotion.
“Of course, we heard,” Devyn Barnes told her, shaking her head at the girl. “Everyone’s heard by now.”
Finn Gellar reached across the table to grab a fry from the plate in the center, letting out a deep sigh. “What’s the world coming to?”
“The world is going to hell,” Brady Cooper stated with a sigh of his own. “And this is the proof.”
“My granny almost had a stroke!” Devyn said, grabbing for a fry. “She didn’t even want me to leave the house to come here!”
“Well, my mom actually drove me here and dropped me off!” Johnna exclaimed, sounding as if that act was an affront to her. “I’ll be on lockdown now! I’ll never be able to leave the house!”
“And we have the bonfire next week! And the Fall Festival!” Devyn gasped, clutching at her chest. “And…and the game! And the fundraiser! What if we can’t do any of it!”
Stacy had helped plan all those things and she wouldn’t get to do any of it, Lanie thought.
Finn let out another sigh. “Calm down, Devyn. You look like you’re about to have a stroke.”
“We all need to calm down!” Johnna exclaimed, sounding very near to hysterics. “We’ll still get to have the bonfire and the festival! We have to! We’ve been working on all this stuff for weeks!”
“It’s alright, you two. You can stop talking in exclamation points,” Brady said, looking between them with his brows furrowed. “Come on. You know this’ll all be figured out soon. Sherriff Bancroft will catch whoever did it. Right, Lanie?”
Lanie Bancroft glanced at her friends, who were all now looking at her with expectant eyes and tight expressions. “Right. My dad will fix this,” she said to them, trying to inject some certainty into her voice.
“See? Sherriff Bancroft will catch whoever did this and everything will get back to normal,” Brady stated matter-of-factly. “You two just have to calm down and give him a minute. It only just happened yesterday.”
Both Devyn and Johnna seemed to pause and take a simultaneous breath. And Lanie took one right along with them. Yes, it had just happened yesterday. Her father would need a little more than thirteen hours to figure out who’d killed Stacy Miller and left her body in the park on the edge of town.
“How are you holding up, Lanie?” Finn asked, taking another fry from the communal plate and popping into his mouth. “You were friends with…her…weren’t you?”
Lanie nodded, pulling in another long breath and wishing everyone would stop asking her that. “I’m fine. I-I went to her house today to see her mom.”
That had been one of the worst experiences of her life. She’d never imagined that anyone could be so distraught and anguished. The look on Mrs. Miller’s face was permanently etched into her mind. But, Stacy had been her friend and she’d had to go and see the family. It was only right.
“Was her mom…alright?” Johnna asked quietly, almost in a whisper.
Lanie shrugged. “Not really.”
Who could be alright when their only daughter had just been killed and dumped out like so much garbage? It would be a miracle if Mrs. Miller didn’t go crazy thinking about what her daughter’s last moments on earth must have been like.
“Maybe we should all do something for the family?” Devyn suggested somberly. “I mean…they weren’t that well off. Maybe we could take up a collection to help with…you know, expenses.”
“That’s a good idea,” Johnna agreed. “We can have a car wash or a bake sale or something.”
“I’ll call the girls and see what we can put together the fastest,” Devyn offered.
The girls were the Fells Pointe High Spirit Squad and they could throw together a fundraiser faster than most people could say Fells Pointe High Spirit Squad. They were quick, they were efficient, and they were very good at raising money for the purpose at hand. It was actually quite impressive, if not slightly frightening, the way those girls could get people to hand over their hard earned cash.
“Whatever you guys come up with, we’ll get the team in on it,” Finn stated. “And I’ll stop by…her…family’s house and see if we can do anything for them. Mr. Miller has his feed store business downtown. Maybe he could use some help there for a few days. It’d give him one less thing to think about.”
Lanie again glanced around the table at her friends, feeling a sudden sense of pride washing over her. She had no idea they could be so thoughtful and compassionate. “I’m sure Mr. and Mrs. Miller will appreciate anything you can do to help. But, you don’t have to be in too big of a hurry. Stacy was…the body has to be sent for an autopsy down state, so it’ll be a couple of weeks, maybe more, before the family can have…it…for burial.”
She wasn’t sure how to refer to…what was left of her friend. Somehow, calling…what was left…by name seemed wrong. It wasn’t Stacy. Not anymore. Stacy was gone. At least, not thinking of the body in the woods as her friend made it a little easier, a little less personal.
“Well, a couple of weeks is more than enough time for us to scrape together something to help the family,” Devyn stated, pulling her phone from her purse and pecking out a text at warp speed. “I’ll have the girls all meet at the field this afternoon. Some of us were going to practice our routines today, anyway.”
“I’ll be there if my granny will let me,” Johnna spoke up, depressed. “No promises, though.”
“She’ll let you come if you tell her that it’s for Stacy,” Devyn stated.
“I’ll pick you guys up and give you a ride there and back,” Finn offered seriously. “They can’t have a problem if we travel in a pack.”
“Lanie? Will you be coming?” Devyn asked, giving Lanie a sympathetic look.
Lanie shrugged. “I’m not sure. It depends. I-I may go back to the Miller’s house. I’ll let you know after while.”
Brady nudged her with his elbow. “Call me if you decide to come. I’ll give you a ride. I don’t think you’re in much of a condition to be driving around.”
Lanie nodded, though she disagreed with Brady’s assessment of her mental state. She wasn’t the one he should be worried about. Stacy was her friend, but she was Mrs. Miller’s daughter. Any concern should be saved that poor, haunted woman with the tormented eyes.
“I still can’t believe something like this happened in Fells Pointe. It’s too…awful!” Johnna whispered, shivering. “Things like this just don’t happen here!”
Lanie had always thought that, too. In fact, everyone who called the town home thought that. Bad things just didn’t happen in Fells Pointe. That was part of the charm of the place.
It was a safe, quiet, well-kept hamlet filled with hard working people who took pride in keeping the town as secure and livable as possible. It was the sort of town with neat, tree lined streets, tidy sidewalks, tidy homes sitting on tidy lawns, and a tidy town square with a bubbling fountain in the center. It was the sort of town that had Fourth of July parades in the summer and tree lighting ceremonies at Christmas
time, the sort of town where no one remembered to lock their doors and neighbors stood outside on Sunday mornings talking to one another over the fence post.
Fells Pointe had a long and prosperous history behind it and that history was still visible in the historic homes and the colorful storefronts that lined Main Street, as well as in the collection of four historic churches that made up what was affectionately called Church Circle, which was a roundabout at the very end of Main Street where the four churches sat on their tree scattered lawns. Those church bells sounded out every Sunday at noon sharp, reminding the God-fearing people that they had been blessed and should be thankful for the Eden they were being allowed to live in.
The townsfolk truly believed they had, indeed, been given their own Eden, which had not yet been tainted by the ills the rest of the world had been forced to suffer. Life was good, things were grooved and comfortable, and crimes were a rarity. Most of the calls to the Sheriff’s Office boiled down to neighbors squabbling over a dog that was barking too loudly, or old Mr. Krueger threatening someone who cut across his yard on their way to the Jiffy Market. And even the most heinous offense was usually in the realm of a kid shoplifting from Mr. Wallace’s Newsstand or someone getting caught in the speed trap out on Old Chapel Road.
Truly awful things did not happen in Fells Pointe. Lives were not snuffed out before their time. If someone died in Fells Pointe, it was not by the hand of another. God brought life into the town and only God took it away.
Lanie had lived in Fells Pointe for every day of her nearly eighteen years and never once during those years had she given a thought to one of her friends dying so brutally. Sam Bancroft, the Sheriff of Fells Pointe and also Lanie’s father, had always made it his personal mission to keep the streets as clean and safe and livable as they always had been. Things were so steadfast and settled that the Sheriff’s Office had only two cells and one holding cell, which was mostly taken up by the people who got a little too tipsy at The Pub or Stoney’s Bar on Friday nights. Sam just let them sleep it off and then sent them on their way home.
Sam Bancroft had taken it personally when Stacy Miller had been found in Borden Park, lying next to one of the swing sets with her throat slashed, Lanie had heard. Her father wasn’t saying much yet, but someone had committed a monstrous crime in his town. Someone had killed a young girl, an innocent child, and with her life had gone the feeling of security that everyone in Fells Pointe cherished.
Lanie had been a witness to the look on Sheriff Bancroft’s face when he’d gotten the call. That look had been…chilling. It was at that moment she realized that she would not want to be the person who had tainted Sam Bancroft’s town by spilling the blood of an innocent girl.
Lanie brought herself out of her thoughts and glanced around The Pub, which was the oldest bar in town and served the best chili cheese fries in the state. Usually, the atmosphere in the place was lively and easy, with music and laughter spilling out onto the sidewalk, but not today. Today, the air was oppressive and the people gathered at the tables and booths and at the gleaming wooden bar were all talking in hushed tones and casting wary glances at their neighbors. Today, there was no music flowing from the old fashioned juke box, no pool balls cracking against one another, no waitresses flirting with the football players.
It wasn’t fair. That one horrible act had already changed things for everyone. It had only been a few hours and people were already suspicious of one another, they were whispering behind their hands and glancing around as if they thought they could spot the person responsible sitting at the table across the way. People had never regarded their friends and neighbors with anything less than light hearted cordiality and fondness. But, it was all…different now. And a little piece of Lanie feared that it might never go back to the way it used to be.
Lanie hoped her dad found the person responsible and she hoped he threw them under the jailhouse. Not just for what they’d done to Stacy Miller, but for what they’d done to everyone else along with her.
“Hey! Who’s that!” Johnna’s voice sounded out just as her elbow landed in Lanie’s ribs.
Lanie let out a loud oof! and brought her gaze up to Johnna, who was looking straight ahead, across the bar. Glancing in that direction, and trying to ignore the fact that she might now have a fractured rib and a punctured lung, it took Lanie a second to spot the person Johnna was referring to. And when she did, she heard herself let out a little gasp of surprise.
The person, a young man, was sitting at a small table in the far corner of the bar, away from the pool tables and the bustle of the main floor. The table was nearly hidden in the shadows and if Lanie hadn’t had her attention brought in that direction, she wouldn’t have seen him at all. And that would have been a shame because the young man actually took her breath away.
Even from across the room and through the dim light Lanie could see just how…staggeringly handsome he was. He was the most…staggeringly handsome…person Lanie had ever seen!
His features were a study in rugged perfection. His jaw was square, his chin strong and proud, his nose straight, but not perfectly so. His mouth was full and hard, his cheekbones were high, his forehead broad. He had a headful of unruly wheat colored hair that was just mussed enough to look appealing, and thick, wheat colored brows that sat low over his eyes, giving him a rather somber, brooding sort of look. He had matching wheat colored stubble covering his chin and jaw, and there was something about his look that she couldn’t put her finger on, but which gave him a very outdoorsy, masculine, capable sort of air. Lanie couldn’t see what color his almond shaped eyes were from that distance, but she could see that he was on the pale side, though still healthy looking, which sort of spoke against that rugged, hardy, outdoorsy vibe. He wasn’t exactly dressed like someone who spent a lot of time in the outdoors hiking or camping, either. On the contrary, his clothes would imply that he was very…urban and had probably never even seen a tree up close before. He was wearing dark jeans, tall combat boots that seemed to be only half laced up, a dark red shirt, and over that a dark brown, obviously well-worn leather coat that, even from a sitting position, Lanie could see must at least hang down past his knees.
Everything added together, the young man—who looked to be in his early twenties—struck a very handsome picture. Staggeringly handsome!
Yet, once Lanie managed to get over the initial shock of just how good looking the young man was, she began to notice other things about him, things that gave her the impression that he perhaps wasn’t exactly…well off. His mussed hair was maybe a bit too long. His wheat colored stubbled maybe a bit too untrimmed. His red shirt appeared slightly rumpled, his leather coat maybe a bit too well-worn. He sat slightly slumped in his chair, the only thing on his table a white coffee cup and saucer. He was gazing alertly around, his eyes scanning the people coming and going from the bar, but there was a weariness about him that was unmistakable, that made Lanie think he was on the brink of falling asleep right there in his chair.
“Who is that!” Johnna repeated, again elbowing Lanie in the ribs and causing her to let out another pained oof! “He’s cute!”
Devyn and the boys all turned to glance at the young man half hidden in the shadows, the boys shrugging their shoulders and quickly turning back to the plate of chili cheese fries.
“Oooh! He is cute!” Devyn agreed heartily, looking the young man up and down. “And he’s certainly not from town. He’s probably passing through on his way to Richmond or someplace.”
Lanie agreed. He certainly wasn’t from town. And they did get their fair share of people stopping by to refuel before heading onto bigger places like Richmond or Virginia Beach.
“Humph,” Brady stated, reaching for another fry. “He’s not that cute. And he looks like a bum.”
Brady had a thing for Devyn, which was why he was so opposed to her finding another man attractive.
Devyn narrowed her eyes at the young man, a slightly unpleasant expression wafting across her features. �
��He is a little…nebbish,” she said, turning her attention back to the table. “Moving on.”
Lanie tried not to roll her eyes. Devyn Barnes was about as white bred Southern Baptist as a girl could get, yet she seemed to think she was Jewish and never missed an opportunity to toss out a Yiddish phrase or two. Lanie had known Devyn her entire life and had learned to translate; therefore she knew nebbish meant a person who was less than, a loser, in essence.
“You’re not Jewish, Devyn,” Finn reminded the girl, appearing vastly more interested in the chili cheese fries than the young man at the table in the corner.
Johnna let out a sigh and brought her own gaze back to the table. “It’s too bad. He’s really, really cute.”
Lanie, still regarding the young man, saw him pick up his coffee cup and drain the last swallow, then place the cup back onto the saucer and run his hands through his mussed hair. A waitress came out of the door that led to the kitchen and walked by his table, carrying a plate heaped with chili cheese fries and his eyes went to the plate, freezing there for a second before dropping back down to his obviously empty coffee cup.
A shard of conscience pierced Lanie and she was suddenly glad she hadn’t eaten any of the chili cheese fries. As one of the waitresses happen to pass by, Lanie shot out a hand and grabbed hold of her arm, stopping her short and nearly causing her to slosh the glass of soda she was carrying all over the both of them.
“Crap! If you want something you could just ask for it!” the buxom girl snapped, shooting Lanie a hateful glare.
“Uh, sorry,” Lanie said off handedly, keeping her gaze on the young man, who was now sitting with his head in his hands. “I want to order some food for that table over there.” She pointed at the young man and the waitress followed her finger, her brows shooting upwards in surprise.
“He looks like he could use it,” the waitress said, looking back to Lanie. “What do you want to give him?”
Hunted Page 1