Enter If You Dare

by Alyson Larrabee

  So Wyatt and I head into my father’s sanctuary. I turn on a table lamp and the glow reveals the familiar and comfortable furniture, along with everything hanging on the walls: my dad’s framed prints and photographs of sports teams and stadiums mixed in with pictures of us kids in various poses. There are a couple of action shots of Joe and me playing soccer and tennis and one of Clement accepting an award at a college film festival in Boston.

  On top of my parents’ bookshelf filled with mysteries, thrillers and the biographies of famous people, sit about ten trophies the three of us have earned throughout the years. I feel a little less shaky just from seeing that nothing here, in this room, has changed. It reminds me that my parents will always love me and be proud of me even though I’m an idiot at times, like now.

  Putting his arms around me, Wyatt lets me lean against him for a few moments before he speaks. “So, Annabelle, tell me everything.”

  Standing there silently, in the warm, strong circle of his arms, I imagine how I must feel to him, the small shaky figure of a ridiculous girl who got herself shot because of her own stupidity. Who put her family in danger because she can’t use good judgment and control her curiosity.

  “I should be shaped like a question mark, all hunched over in a curve. Even I don’t know what I’m going to do or say next. Why am I like this? Why can’t I stop myself? Why don’t I even want to stop myself when I get going? Why am I so stubborn and stupid?”

  “I don’t know the answers to any of those questions, but I know you aren’t shaped like a question mark. You’re shaped like a girl.” He hugs me closer. “And I love all those things about you, even the stubborn and stupid stuff. Except it’s frustrating as hell sometimes.”

  “Remember all the stupid questions I asked Mrs. McGuire about the closing of the hospital?”

  “Yes.” Wyatt quietly waits for me to continue.

  “When you were over by the car and I was standing at the door with Mrs. McGuire, I told her my father had a friend who used to work at the hospital right before it closed and his name was Mike, but I couldn’t remember his last name. I asked if she knew him and she said no. She didn’t remember anyone named Mike.”

  “But she does remember Mike and she knows him. She sent him over here to shoot you.” Wyatt’s rubbing my back but he’s being careful of my shoulder.

  “It appears to be that simple.”

  “Let’s go tell the grownups.” He doesn’t let go of me just yet, though. He tips my chin up and kisses me, first gently and then when I don’t complain or flinch with pain, he deepens the kiss, holding onto me tightly. When he finally raises his lips from mine his voice sounds a little breathless. “I’m so thankful you’re all right. You have to stay safe. I can’t lose you.”

  “Anthony woke me up and my mother saved us, too. She sensed the guy’s presence and my dad went racing outside with his rifle. Then Mom called the police. Like an idiot, I raced outside. I followed my dad.”

  “Annabelle, you dumbass!”

  “I know. I know. Come help me tell them the whole story. Uncle Johnny doesn’t even know the beginning. He’s family, though, and in my family that means accepting as truth what other families might consider to be really farfetched. He’s off duty by now, so we can tell him everything.”

  Together, Wyatt and I walk into the kitchen to face my family and the others. Oliver, Jackson, Nathaniel and Jeff have all arrived. Jeff comes over to sniff at me and make sure I’m okay. After I hug him and kiss his muzzle, he settles down by Nathaniel’s feet with his head on his paws. Only the perky posture of his ears reveals that he’s still on the alert for danger and not to be messed with.

  All the humans look pretty solemn and Wyatt puts his hand on my unwounded shoulder, to offer moral support. He tells everyone present what I said to Mrs. Mary McGuire about “Mike.” Nobody yells at me or anything. They all obviously feel sorry for me, maybe because of my bullet wound, or maybe just because I’m a dumbass who’s too stupid to live.

  I took a reckless chance and now we all have to face a dangerous situation. We need to find out who Mike is fast and put a stop to his nighttime activities. As it turns out, though, his next move happens in the relative safety of sparkling daylight and much too soon for the cops to get a good handle on the situation.

  Chapter 27

  After the Drama, More Drama

  I arrive at school on time, to avoid starting any rumors about last night’s drama. As usual, Wyatt meets me in the parking lot and walks me into the building. I’m exhausted, but thanks to my ability to heal myself, my shoulder doesn’t hurt much and I make it through my morning classes just fine. Word has gotten out that the police were at my house last night. Word always gets out fast in a small town like ours.

  Before Uncle Johnny left, our small group of conspirators concocted a story about my dad shooting into the air to scare off a dangerous pack of coyotes that were cruising too close to the house. The cops who showed up at our house with Uncle Johnny have agreed to keep everything confidential, so our real story’s safe for now. Even the cops on the scene don’t know everything. They all went back to the station before we revealed the preposterous truth to Uncle Johnny.

  At lunch Connor, Ryan, Meg and Jen ask about my ordeal and Wyatt and I skillfully field the questions they throw at us. After I manage to get through my afternoon classes, Wyatt meets me at my locker and we talk for a few minutes before leaving for our practices.

  He tells me I look tired and asks, “How’re you going to be able to run? I’ve never seen you looking this awful.”

  “Thanks for boosting my confidence.”

  He smiles. “You’re welcome.”

  “I’ll just take it easy. I’m sure the coach heard something about last night. He’ll know I was up late. I can run with the first-year people. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. Running always helps me deal with stress and I need that more than ever right now. My uncle’s going to be lurking around the woods, hiding behind trees and bushes, keeping an eye on me. I hope he can keep up with my pace. He’s getting kinda old and the five mile loop might be too challenging for him.”

  Wyatt laughs. “He looks pretty fit to me. Be careful. Call me later.” He kisses my forehead and squeezes my uninjured shoulder. I wish he could come with me, but he has to go to soccer practice. Besides, that would be weird. He lopes off toward the door opening out to the playing fields in the back of the school. I head out to the big yellow bus that’ll bring the team to the town forest where we’ll run along the winding paths in the woods.

  About a dozen trails of different lengths meander through the acres of Eastfield’s Town Forest and I usually look forward to any time spent on this beautiful conservation land. Today, however, I feel tired and scared. The police didn’t find any good fingerprints on our downspout or Mr. Morse’s boat. They found shoe prints, but the intruder wears a common size and he had on a popular brand of running shoe. Uncle Johnny was going to question Mrs. McGuire this morning and I’m anxious to find out what she had to say.

  Oliver and Jackson will be moving ahead with their plans to talk to Dr. Summers and Dr. Peterson. I hate waiting on the sidelines while Oliver, Jackson and Uncle Johnny meet with key people and ask important questions. Maybe I haven’t learned my lesson after all. I still yearn to be in the middle of the action despite the danger. Here, at track practice, however, at least I can keep moving. The exertion of running helps keep my focus off all the anxiety building up inside of me.

  My jogging companions today are agreeable and I have no trouble keeping up with their pace. I’m running with two ninth-grade girls, Amy and Leah. This is the first time they’ve kept up with a varsity runner and I think they’re acting a little shyer around me than they might act with their own friends. When we were stretching and warming up, Amy, the more talkative of the two, asked me if I was going out with Wyatt Silver. When I answered yes, she told me she thought he was hot.

  After we started down the path, I jogged along at what for me is a
relaxing pace and they matched my speed. I was left to my own deep thoughts because my side-kicks, flanking me, were too winded to chat. But they kept running and didn’t complain…

  Every few meters, I glance over my shoulder, expecting to see a dark figure aiming a gun at me. But I don’t see anything, not even Uncle Johnny. Wyatt’s under strict orders to stick with me at school, but I feel like I’m on my own right now with two fourteen-year-old girls in the middle of a forest. If my uncle would peek out from behind a tree and wave to me now and then I’d feel safer.

  What if Mike the Bad Guy, as I’ve begun to think of him, has followed me here? There are tons of trees he could hide behind. Uncle Johnny’s not the only one who’s good at sneaking around the forest. It’s no secret I’m on the cross-country team and lots of people know we run in these woods every day. The branches moving with the wind and the dry leaves crunching underfoot spook me until I’m almost as out of breath as Amy and Leah. So much for the relaxing qualities of long-distance running.

  The coach divided the team into thirds and each group’s running a different route. The other people in our group are either way ahead of us or way behind and I begin to fret silently about the solitude. I listen for crunches and thumps not made by our three pairs of sneakers. My head swivels left and right as I scan the forest on either side of the path for movement or shadows that don’t belong. Patting the right-hand pocket of my shorts, I feel the reassuring presence of my cell phone. It’s bouncing up and down, but still there.

  A twitch of movement and an impression of something large catches my attention a few feet ahead, where the trees open into a large field. Shooting my arms out to either side, I effectively stop Amy and Leah in their tracks. “Shh,” I warn as if they could control their panting. I point left into the distance and the three of us focus through the trees and peer at the meadow beyond.

  A huge deer with his white tail stuck straight up races across the open field with four others close behind him. Leah gasps and Amy whips out her smart phone. She aims, fires and shows us she got a couple of decent pictures for Instagram. We stand still and watch the deer disappear into the woods before resuming our jog through their forest, being careful to tread as quietly as possible.

  After we finish our five-mile loop we join the rest of the team. Everyone’s sitting and chatting and guzzling water and Gatorade while we wait for the stragglers. Finally, the bus can leave and we head back to Eastfield High. In the school parking lot, I spy a familiar van and I’m happy and relieved to see Nathaniel, big, solid and reliable in his wheelchair, with Jeff by his side, sitting at attention, ears perked up, sniffing the air.

  “I’m on duty to make sure nobody takes any potshots at you while you’re getting into your car. We figured someone should be here just in case you got out of practice before Wyatt. The soccer coach is keeping the team later than usual.”

  I bend to kiss the fuzzy flat space between Jeff’s ears. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

  “No problem. What, the dog gets a kiss and I have to sit here all lonely, ready to take a bullet for you?”

  I laugh and bend to kiss his cheek.

  Rubbing my thumb against Nathaniel’s stubble, I tease him. “Shave much?”

  “Actually not today and not yesterday, either. I’m going for the ‘drunk guy who slept on a park bench’ look.”

  We share a laugh but then I get down to business. “Have you heard from Oliver or Jackson? Is there any new news?”

  “They’re meeting with Dr. Peterson as we speak and they have an appointment with Dr. Summers tomorrow. We figure that everyone should sit down with your uncle the cop tomorrow night and go over what we’ve found out. Maybe your dad’s heard from him already. Anyway, the parking lot here’s pretty peaceful. I got here fifteen minutes ago and nothing suspicious has happened. You probably should’ve parked in the middle of the lot, though, not over there by those trees.”

  He points at my car, which is squeezed into the very last space, right at the edge of the woods.

  “I was running a little late this morning. You have to get here wicked early to get a good space. So I had to park over there.”

  I jog toward my car then stop as I get close enough to see it clearly. “Nathaniel!”

  He speeds over, Jeff at his side. Together, we stare at my car. Jeff begins sniffing all around the ground surrounding it.

  In the grime on my back windshield someone’s written Next time I won’t miss.

  Nathaniel whips out his cell phone and calls Uncle Johnny.

  Chapter 28

  Can Anyone Keep Me Safe?

  Nathaniel shouts into his cell phone, “It had to be him!”

  After glancing left and right and then behind us, he softens his voice. “No one at the school knows she got shot. It could only be the guy from last night. Good idea to keep that detail quiet. Come in your own car, not a black and white, and no uniforms. Annabelle doesn’t need a lot of attention. She’s stressed out enough. As soon as you get here I’m bringing her home.”

  Nathaniel tells my Uncle Johnny what to do, a pretty bold move. My medium friend’s used to taking charge and ordering people around.

  He pockets his phone and looks up at me. “Try not to worry about it. The guy’s a first class creep. We can keep you safe. I promise.”

  I don’t believe him for a second, but I don’t feel afraid anymore, either. My fear and anxiety have evolved into anger. Whoever “Mike” is, he probably killed Daniel and Anthony and now he’s literally gunning for me. This has to stop. I desperately want him to pay for his crimes. I want it with all my heart, more than I’ve ever wanted anything before in my whole life.

  The student parking lot’s sparsely populated with only the cars belonging to kids who are involved in after school activities. My Uncle Johnny makes a low key entrance in his silver Honda Civic and heads right for my old Chevy Prizm, which sits alone in a row of spaces near the woods bordering the parking lot. Large oaks and pine trees curve around behind the parking spaces at the forest’s edge and form a big arc around both the playing fields and the tennis courts. When I got here this morning, I could barely maneuver my way into a space because the lot was so full. Now most of those cars are gone.

  My uncle might be out of uniform and driving his own car so he won’t attract attention, but there’s nothing low-key about his mood. He hops out and rushes over to where I’m standing, in between Nathaniel and Jeff.

  “No wonder I didn’t spot him creeping around the town forest. He was right here in the parking lot. Damn. Don’t worry, honey. We’re going to get him. We know who he is now. There’s no way he’s getting away with this.”

  “Who is it? Who’s doing this to Annabelle?” Nathaniel’s tone of voice is quiet but urgent.

  “His name’s Mike Donahue.”

  Why does the last name Donahue sound familiar to me?

  Before I can place the name or ask my question out loud, Uncle Johnny answers it.

  “He’s Mrs. McGuire’s son from her first marriage.”

  That’s why the name sounds familiar. I remember the way her prim, old lady voice sounded when she said it. “My first husband, Mr. Donahue, may he rest in peace.”

  A discreet duo of police officers in jeans and polo shirts is examining my Prizm quickly and efficiently while Nathaniel, Uncle Johnny and I discuss the newest information about our case.

  My uncle continues. “We knew the old lady had to be directly connected to the attack on Annabelle, because it happened right after their visit. So we began looking into Nurse Mary McGuire’s background, to see if she was closely associated with anyone named Mike or Michael. The name Mike turned up right away because he’s her son. He worked at the hospital in 1986, at the time it got closed down for good, too. We ran a background check, to see if he has a sheet and we found out that he doesn’t have a criminal record. However, he’s been fired from several jobs over the past twenty years since he worked at Wild Wood. He has no special training or degrees in the he
alth field, but he’s always worked at hospitals and other healthcare facilities. We made a few calls to his former places of employment and it turns out that wherever he worked, the medication inventory never came out right. No one could prove anything, but his last few employers were suspicious that he was stealing drugs and they let him go because of it.

  “He’s a difficult guy to locate, because he has no permanent address. His mother’s address is the one on his driver’s license, but he hasn’t lived there in years. The old lady isn’t being helpful at all. She denies any involvement in the shooting and claims she thought Annabelle was a charming young lady. She wishes she’d visit again.”

  “I bet she does.” Nathaniel raises his eyebrows and presses his lips into a thin line.

  I think about what kind of ambush would be waiting for me if I ever showed up at Nurse Mary McGuire’s house again.

  Uncle Johnny continues. “She has no memory of Annabelle asking about a hospital employee named Mike. She claims her son has been staying with some friends down the Cape in an off-season rental and she thinks he’s working in a restaurant, but she can’t remember the name of it or his temporary address, not even the town.”

  “You wouldn’t believe the details she remembers about things that happened over twenty years ago.”

  Nathaniel looks disgusted. “She very conveniently becomes a confused and forgetful senior citizen whenever it suits her purpose.”

  “She can stonewall us all she wants. We’re going to find him soon and bring him in. Don’t worry, Annabelle. He knows we’re watching you closely, so he had to make do with writing on your car when you weren’t around. But he’ll slip up soon and we’ll catch him. He’ll make a false move out of desperation and we’ll be there. Meanwhile, you keep a low profile and either Wyatt, Nathaniel or I will stick with you whenever you’re not at home.”