Running on Envy

by Felicity Nisbet

  “I’m just wondering how long it will take.”

  His sigh cut through me as if it were my own. He was not going to attempt to wager a guess on that one. Wise man. I snuggled closer into his embrace. This time his sigh was one of pleasure. I laughed.

  “Mmm, a sound I enjoy immensely.” He kissed me softly on the mouth, recognizing that I was in turmoil and not up for anything else.

  “I keep thinking things will be better in the morning. But this time I’m not so sure. And I think Josh was a little hurt that we didn’t take him over to meet her.”

  “He understood. She was tired. None of us went over.”

  “True. Maybe I’m projecting. It just feels so strange. She hasn’t even met Josh yet. Or Rocky.” Automatically I reached out from under the covers in the direction of my dog’s bed, pulling my hand back under the warmth of the quilt when I remembered Rocky was spending the night in Josh’s room.

  “She’ll like Rocky, I think. She was always sad that Joe never wanted a dog.”

  “She’ll like Josh too, darlin’, once she gets to know him.”

  “And doesn’t see him as my ‘new kid.’”

  MacGregor laughed and shook his head. Holly was pretty much the embodiment of everything he did not understand about women.

  “I’m worried about something else,” I said.

  He propped himself up on his elbow so he could look at me against the moonlight. “You needn’t be, Jenny.”

  I smiled. He rarely called me by my first name. “I needn’t be what?”

  “Worried about how she responds to me.”

  How was he reading my mind so easily these days?

  “I’m not worried. Holly and I have always been close. It may take a while, but she’ll get back there.”

  This time it was my sigh cutting through him. “Shelby and Carter have been married for two years. Jillian still hasn’t come around.”

  “We don’t know what her relationship with Carter was like before.”

  “He and her dad are best friends.”

  “Good point.” He lay down and pulled me back into his arms. “You’re really focused on Greg Rallings, aren’t you?”

  “I am. Not sure why. It’s not even that I suspect him of being behind this. I just keep thinking about him. That must mean something.”

  “Well, maybe we can put someone else on the job then.”

  “Who?”

  “My wee red-headed friend.”

  “Maureen? You think she’d be willing to betray Jillian’s confidence?”

  “Well, when you put it that way!”

  “Okay, maybe if we put it more diplomatically and ask her to give us input so we know how Jillian is doing because we’re worried about her and ask her what she knows about the relationship of the three adults.”

  “Better. Perhaps I should handle it,” he said with great confidence which I appreciated. “Now, do you think we could turn out the light and get some sleep?”

  Just as he said that, my cell phone vibrated and I reached over to the nightstand to retrieve the text message. Matt. He would know I was still awake. “She’s okay. Or at least she will be. She loves you, you know.”

  “Matt or Charlie?” MacGregor asked.

  “Matt.” I held up the phone so he could read the message. Then I sank back down into the comfort of his arms.

  * * *

  Josh offered to walk Rocky but I wanted to do it. I needed to do it. I had a half hour before we were leaving for the college fair. I headed directly over to Charlie’s. From the street, I peered into the picture window that offered a view of the Sound. Charlie and Matt were up. Charlie was dressed in jeans and his favorite navy blue and white Scottish national rugby jersey with two purple bands. Matt was walking around in a pair of dark blue and green plaid flannel pajama bottoms and a T-shirt, a cup of coffee in his hand. My guess—Holly was still sleeping.

  She could have been awake, in the shower, in her bedroom, anywhere awake, but I knew she wasn’t, just as I always knew when she was the one on the other end of my ringing telephone.

  I walked back across the street and into the park. There were still signs of police activity, with crime scene tape across the area where the kidnapper had been and gone. I walked up to it and stood looking out at the direction he and MacGregor had taken. Then I walked along the path where Shelby had pushed the stroller as she sang to Ally.

  Rocky forced me to stop for a minute while he read his doggy newspaper, sniffing every other bush. Perhaps a skunk had been there or a raccoon. Or just another dog. When I looked up again, I was eight feet from a man who too was staring at the yellow tape that by some inherent power forbade anyone from crossing it. His expression was solemn, his thick light brown hair as messy as a physicist’s, his chin unshaven, and his eyes bloodshot from having spent a sleepless night. Greg Rallings.

  “Hello.” I spoke softly, holding Rocky off to one side. My dog was gentle as could be, unless he was in protective mode. But being an Australian shepherd-Bernese mountain dog mix, his size alone seemed to frighten people.

  The man looked up from his trance, clearly not having noticed me coming toward him until I spoke.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Hello.”

  I reached out a hand to shake his. Bewildered, but polite, he did the same. “I’m Jenny McNair.”

  “Nice to meet you. I’m Greg Rallings.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “You know?”

  “Jillian’s father.”

  “Yes, how did you—? Have we met?”

  “I saw you arrive last night.”

  “Oh. Yes. Last night. I should have come sooner. I would have come sooner. I was in Spokane. Had to get a flight. Got one as soon as Carter called.”

  Well, that answered one question, not that I’d suspected that he was the one who had actually taken Ally, considering that at over six feet tall and weighing at least two hundred pounds, he did not match the description of the runner. But if he was involved in the kidnapping and had hired someone to do it, would he have been out of town? Wouldn’t he have been here to collect the stolen baby? Equally possible was that he would have placed himself out of town to reduce any suspicion of guilt.

  But judging from the state of disrepair he was in this morning, he was no more guilty of kidnapping a baby than Shelby was. Unless he was a remarkable actor and an incredibly devious person. Ignoring Charlie’s caution to never rule out anyone, I immediately aborted the other questions I’d planned to ask him.

  “I’m sorry, I’m not myself this morning. I—who are you again?”

  “I’m Jenny McNair. Carter and Shelby have hired my father and me to help find their baby.”

  “Oh. Of course. They told me. I’m just—” His sigh was so deep that I thought he might collapse from lack of oxygen. “I just keep thinking that if I stand here long enough, I’ll figure it out. I’ll figure out who did this and bring their baby back to them.”

  Did he love his friends so much or was this more about a desire to be the hero? Shelby’s hero?

  He opened his eyes wider and met mine. “I can’t imagine who would take Ally. Why? Why would someone take her? Who would do this?” He looked into my eyes, and I realized these were not rhetorical questions he was asking.

  “We’ll do our best to find out,” was all the comfort I could offer.

  His sigh was deep and ragged, causing his body to shudder. “Shelby said you’re very intuitive.”

  So, Shelby had been more aware of the exchanges between Charlie and me than I had realized.

  “Do you think—? Do you think Ally is okay? Is she still—?

  “I believe she’s still alive.” That information was based solely on my sixth chakra. Hopefully it would not let me down. “I believe she’s okay.”

  “God, I hope so. I’m so—We’re all so concerned. Shelby is frantic. I don’t think she slept at all last night. Carter and I were up with her most of the night. And Jillian too. She’s not only worried about Ally,
but her mother as well.” A hint of pride was revealed in his cheerless smile. “She’s a wonderful daughter. She’s so loving and kind. Not your typical teenager.”

  “I noticed that. She’s been wonderful with Shelby, taking care of her ankle and comforting her.”

  “Yes, she would do that. I only wish—” He hung his head, then looked up again and finished his words. “I could have been here sooner. For all of them.”

  The three best friends. I remembered Scott’s words. How had that not changed over the years? How, after a divorce and two marriages, had their friendships remained intact?

  When I spotted Charlie heading for MacGregor’s Range Rover that he’d allowed Josh to back out of his driveway, I excused myself and headed in their direction.

  Josh jumped out of the driver’s seat to let MacGregor take over. He came around the car to get Rocky. “I can take him inside for you.”

  I handed off the leash and gave Charlie a hug good morning. Before I could ask about Holly, he shoved a slip of paper inside my hand. Greg Rallings’ address and phone number.

  I shook my head. “No longer necessary.”

  “Why not?”

  I nodded in the direction of the man who was still standing in the park staring at the crime scene. “I was just talking to him.”

  “That’s Greg Rallings?” Charlie asked. “Did he give you any information?”

  “Nothing that didn’t convince me that he’s innocent.”

  “You’re certain?”

  “As certain as I can be.”

  “You know I have confidence in your intuition, lass, but it might not be wise to rule out the man completely, particularly if this is a crime of passion, the motive being jealousy or envy.”

  I couldn’t argue with that. “You’re right. When we get back, we’ll ask him more questions. If nothing else, he might be able to offer some insight that the Elliots weren’t able to.” I glanced back at the man who was now walking toward the house, his shoulders slumped.

  I knew the feeling. I too wanted to solve this crime. The sooner the better.

  Chapter 6

  “Okay, now, tell me about Holly, Charlie.” The four of us were settled into the Rover and headed toward the college fair.

  “Och, dinna get your knickers in a knot, lass. She’ll come around. She’s just being . . . Holly.”

  I laughed. Ah yes, my stubborn and vociferous daughter who could try the patience of a saint . . . or a spiritual counselor . . . or a mother. “How long did the venting last?”

  Charlie’s shrug reminded me of Josh. “Only a couple hours. You’d have been proud of Matthew.”

  I was always proud of Matthew. Well, almost always. “How so?”

  “He managed to find ways to bring her back to reality. Without judging or criticizing her, he’d encourage her to vent. Then he would subtly help her see the truth.”

  “The lad takes after his mother that way,” MacGregor said.

  I smiled up at him in appreciation, for believing that and for noticing it. “Is she still sleeping?” I asked Charlie.

  “For a wee while longer. Matt promised to take her to her favorite breakfast diner and then over to the University. She wants to meet some of his friends.”

  “As in girlfriend?” He hadn’t mentioned one, but he never did. At least not to his mother.

  “I think it was more some of his guy friends that he’s told her about. Now that she’s a college student . . . “

  Damn. Was this where it began?

  “When will I get to meet her?” Josh asked.

  I let Charlie answer that question. “Very soon, laddie. When we return from the college, I should think.”

  The smile on Josh’s face told me he was looking forward to meeting the other member of our family. It also told me that he had no idea what he was in for. Nor did any of us for that matter. As Matt had often said in his youth, Hurricane Holly was home.

  “Whoa!”

  I couldn’t dispute Josh’s reaction. It was a wee bit overwhelming. Hundreds of students and prospective students with their parents were milling about the intimate college campus. There was a definite chill in the air, but no drizzle . . . yet.

  “Where do we start?” His eyes were as big as saucers.

  MacGregor nodded toward the track. “Right over there.”

  Between the track and bleachers was a large tent with several tables set up, each holding literature about a specific program and manned by the appropriate athletes. We followed MacGregor as he wove his way through the crowd to a man dressed in a college sweat suit. The best I could tell, the sweatshirt was identical to the one the kidnapper had worn the day before, minus the hood.

  “Athletic director?” Charlie asked.

  “Aye.” MacGregor reached out and shook his hand. “How are you, Harvey?”

  “Well, Malcolm, and you?”

  “We’ll be well once we find the wee bairn. We really appreciate your help in this.”

  “You really think it could be one of our boys?”

  “I’m afraid so. The kidnapping wasn’t necessarily instigated by him. He may have been paid to carry out the task. Harvey Stiles, meet Charlie and Jenny McNair and Josh Mitchell.”

  We all shook hands and expressed our appreciation for his willingness to assist us.

  “As you requested, Malcolm, I haven’t told anyone about this. Not even Coach West—other than to let him know that Josh would like to spend a few days training with the team.”

  “Very good,” Charlie said. “It’s always best to put as few people as necessary in the precarious position of having to keep information to themselves.”

  “I understand. How would you like to do this?”

  “Why don’t you take Josh over to meet the coach and some of the members of the track team,” Charlie suggested. “Jenny and Malcolm can accompany you. I’ll just wander about for a wee while.”

  “Did you get that list of names and numbers of the runners that I emailed you?” Harvey’s frown was transparent. The thought of one of his students being involved in a kidnapping was affecting him. It would anyone in his position, especially when it was possible that the person who had put the student up to it could be someone he knew well, such as a faculty member or one of his coaches.

  “I assume the police have started interviewing students as well?” Charlie asked.

  “More like harassing, but they’re covering all the sports. What made you zero in on the track and field team?”

  MacGregor answered. “I was able to look at the footprints. The kidnapper was wearing very serious running shoes. Also judging from his size and speed. It’s possible he was a soccer player, but we’re focusing on the runners first.”

  “Not just a pretty face.” Harvey gave MacGregor a gentle slap on the cheek before leading us over to where the coaches and runners were gathered.

  “Just relax,” I told Josh.

  “Easy for you to say, Jenny. You’re not the one who will be training with a bunch of college runners.” He had a point.

  When we stopped adjacent to the track, we were staring at close to thirty kids, all dressed in running shoes and sweatshirts. Not just any sweatshirts, but brown sweatshirts with an insignia on the front and two white circles on the back with the name of the school between the circles. Every single one of them was hooded. And it wasn’t even a grey day. But it was Seattle. The clouds could drift in at any point. So could the rain.

  “The boys will be alternating events and demonstrations with the girls’ track team,” Harvey explained, nodding toward a group of girls warming up near the bleachers.

  “Are all the lads here?” MacGregor asked.

  “Not quite. Six kids are out of town, left for the holiday. Fortunately most of our students are local so they’re still here.”

  That helped considerably. Charlie would be checking on the missing students’ departure times and their alibis if the police hadn’t already done so.

  “Three are out sick apparently.
Flu.” He laughed sardonically. “Most likely brought on by exams.”

  Or Friday night partying, I thought.

  The head coach was a good six inches shorter than Harvey and eight inches shorter than MacGregor. His frown seemed entrenched, even when propriety dictated a smile or at least a pleasant demeanor, such as upon greeting a potential student. This was not a good sign. Were we throwing Josh into the ring with a bulldog?

  Coach West quickly excused himself to attend to his team.

  Harvey too had noticed the grim expression on the balding man’s face. “He’s a little bent out of shape because I made the mistake of telling him Josh would be training with his boys instead of asking him.”

  Ah. The ego. Something to look forward to.

  Since the coach appeared to be shirking his duties as dictated by propriety, Harvey found the captain of the track team, Rob Carlyle, and asked him to introduce Josh to some of the runners. The boy was good-looking, confident, and unlike the coach, apparently not threatened by Josh’s or our presence.

  After Rob kindly introduced Josh to several runners whose names he would undoubtedly forget within seconds, MacGregor and I made our way from student to student, asking questions that parents were likely to ask. I let him focus on the more popular questions. He asked several their best times for some of the different events, focusing on those who ran what he called the middle distances such as the eight hundred and fifteen hundred meter races, and even some of the longer distances, claiming that his interest in those were because he had run them in his youth.

  I learned something. Actually I learned a lot. Since Matt had always been more serious about soccer and rugby than he ever was about running, I had not been that exposed to the sport that wasn’t only track. It was track and field and included different jumping activities as well as throwing. And the running didn’t only involve single runners making their way around a track. It included a variety of distances and jumping over hurdles and even team activities such as relays. No wonder there were so many students involved. But we would be focusing on the runners rather than the jumpers and throwers.

  I asked the motherly-type questions such as if they were likely to corrupt our “son” or were they well-behaved serious athletes. After this, Josh would be far too embarrassed to ever attend this school. Of course, he had no plans to. His intentions were to study hard enough to get accepted into the university where MacGregor and Charlie taught so he could take their classes.