The Last Cheerleader

by Meg O'Brien

  “Okay,” she said, smiling sleepily. I made her drink more water, and before I was back in the driver’s seat, she had drifted off again.

  Part of me was thankful for that, and part of me worried. Was this sleepiness from the fever? It had come down to 101.4 when I’d taken it in Santa Cruz. Fevers are good, I’d always heard. They’re the body’s sign that it’s ridding itself of the illness. Until we got to Los Angeles, I could only hope that this was the case with Jade, and that nothing really bad was wrong with her. In L.A., I would call Nia’s father and ask him for that referral. If he wasn’t able to help, I’d take her to a doctor I’d heard about at UCLA, a specialist in the immune system. I didn’t know how much he could do for her, but he would keep our visit confidential, and it was a place to start.

  It was only a few miles south to Highway 156, the cutoff that would take us over to 101. As I drove, there was no sign of Roger, and I wondered if I’d actually managed to lose him. The other possibility was that it might have occurred to him that he’d better clean up the evidence of his crimes at home before the police—assuming I’d called them—arrived.

  Whatever had happened, he was finally gone. I began to relax enough to eat some of the crackers and cheese I’d bought at the last gas station. The caffeine from a bottle of Pepsi was doing a nice job of waking me up, and I knew, suddenly, that things were going to be all right.

  Don’t get too comfortable, my mother used to say. It’s like spitting in the eye of God.

  Bless my mother, she was right about that. I just never remembered it until it was too late.

  A few minutes later I turned off on 156. There was a full moon, and the fields and surrounding hills looked like the set of a movie. I heard Jade stir, and when she sat up and yawned I said, “Look at that moon, Jade. Isn’t it beautiful?”

  She leaned over to the window, and I tilted the rearview mirror so I could see her face. She looked sad.

  “My mommy’s up there,” she said. “Isn’t she?”

  I wasn’t sure how to answer.

  “She told me if anything ever happened to her, like when Daddy was hitting her, I could look up at the moon and I’d know she was there.”

  My eyes filled with tears. “I’m sure she will be, honey. But you know what? Right now, I think she’s still here with us, in our hearts. She’s making sure you’re safe.”

  “I don’t even know who you are,” Jade said softly. It wasn’t said meanly, but as if she was trying hard to figure things out.

  “I know you don’t,” I said. “But you will. And I’ll always take care of you, Jade. I promise.”

  “Pinkie promise?”

  I reached my hand back and stuck out my little finger. “Pinkie promise.”

  And God help me if I ever failed this precious little life.

  It was then the car struck us from behind—hitting the back bumper, falling back, then hitting it again. I hadn’t seen it because the rearview mirror was tilted, and the vehicle’s headlights weren’t on. It was nothing but a large black form on the road.

  My heart in my throat, I grasped the wheel hard and tried to speed up. But just as before, Roger’s car was faster. There was no getting away from him, and this road was as lonely, if not more so, than Highway 1.

  I saw him coming at us again, and I knew this would be our last chance to survive whatever Roger had in store for us.

  I called out to Jade as calmly as I could, “Jade, hold on tight. And keep your head down. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  I jammed on the brakes, pulling my car to a dead stop. Roger, who’d apparently been revving up to hit my bumper again, swerved at the last minute to avoid the inevitable crash. I watched as his car went off the road and rolled over and over in the field.

  I’m ashamed to admit it, but I genuinely hoped he was dead.

  The next instant, as if in answer to a prayer, Roger’s car burst into flames. They rose higher and higher, lighting up the surrounding fields and hills with an eerie glow.

  I stepped out of the car and stood there, feeling the heat of the flames on my face, even this far away.

  “Is that Daddy?” Jade said in a shaky little voice from beside me. “Is he dead?”

  “I think so,” I said, picking her up and holding her close. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” she said in a voice that sounded older than her years. “Mommy says it’s going to be okay now.”

  “Your mommy?”

  She nodded matter-of-factly. “A few minutes ago. She was here.”

  Irrationally, I looked into the back seat, as if expecting to see Lindy sitting there.

  “Not there, silly,” Jade said with a tiny smile. She patted her heart with her hand. “Here.”

  We pulled in to the driveway of The Abby before midnight, and true to her word, my friend was there to meet us at the door. She hadn’t changed a bit, standing there in jeans, a white shirt and boots. Around her neck was a silver and turquoise necklace. The silver was exquisite, like fine lace.

  Abby had been rich once. She wasn’t doing too bad now, either, but most of her money went into her project here. I knew the jewelry had come from the days of her marriage, and that she probably hadn’t bought anything new in years.

  We hugged, and then she looked down at Jade and said, “She looks just like you, Mary Beth. No mistaking the genes. I can’t wait till we talk.”

  “What’s genes?” Jade asked.

  Abby and I looked at each other, then smiled at Jade.

  “They’re the things that made you so beautiful,” Abby said.

  Jade smiled shyly, but she was nearly asleep on her feet. Abby took what seemed like a two-way radio from her shirt pocket. Pushing a button, she said, “Agatha, can you come down to the living room, please?”

  She took us into a room that had a huge fireplace and was furnished in the Spanish style, to match the rest of the house. Although, the word house might be an understatement. Having been a convent once, The Abby was still very large.

  A woman dressed in a brown nun’s habit came in, her rosary beads clacking as she crossed the floor.

  “Agatha, this is my friend, Mary Beth,” Abby said. “And this beautiful person is Jade. Would you take Jade to the room we’ve fixed up for her, please? There’s a warm nightie on the bed, and you can tell Sister Nella that our new visitor is ready for that warm milk and toast now.”

  She turned to Jade. “Is that all right, Jade? Do you like warm milk and toast?”

  “Yes,” she said, but her voice was soft and she clung to my arm so tightly, I wasn’t sure if she’d go anywhere without me.

  Sister Agatha had a nice way with kids, though. She talked to Jade gently, offering up little bribes for the morning. She told her that if she got a good night’s sleep, and if her fever was down, she’d take her out to see the horses and chickens, and maybe the goats. She might even let her ride one of the horses.

  Jade, who probably hadn’t been out of the house for a long time until that day—and who almost certainly had never in her life been on a ranch—was thrilled. She went off hand in hand with her new best friend, and with hardly a glance back at me.

  Abby placed a short crystal tumbler filled with wine in front of me. “Now, what else can I do for you?” she asked.

  I sighed, picking the glass up and taking a sip. “Oh, this is so good,” I said. The dark, rich wine tasted like blackberries. “Did you make it yourself?”

  “That’s one of the ones we make,” she said. “The income helps to keep The Abby running. Now stop changing the subject. What can I do for you?”

  “Just what you are doing,” I said. “I am deeply grateful for a place to just sit quietly without being afraid. This past day—the last hour, in fact—has been horrendous. And I’m still shaking.”

  “Drink up,” she said. “Wine is the Zoloft of the gods.”

  I followed her advice and took a couple of hefty swallows. Then I sat back and rested my head on the back of the soft, comfy sofa. It
felt like heaven.

  “Is it Jade’s father?” Abby asked. “You told me something about it when you called from Santa Cruz, but there has to be more. Are you and Jade running from him?”

  “We were. We aren’t anymore.”

  Her dark eyebrows lifted. “Something happen between Santa Cruz and here?”

  I told her the whole story, starting with the way I’d become pregnant by Roger, and ending with him killing Lindy and probably Irene, the nanny, then trying to run us off the road a couple of hours before.

  “He’s dead,” I said. “Unless, God forbid, he somehow escaped the fire.”

  “Do you think he could have?”

  “No. I don’t know.”

  “He must have been desperate to silence you,” Abby said.

  “Well, I told him the police had proof against him, a tell-all book about illegal dealings between his company and the Middle East. Roger already knew about the book and I think he killed one of my authors when he got caught trying to find it. He also ransacked my office for the manuscript, and even broke into my home.”

  I told her about the ex-employees named in Craig’s book, and the possibility that they would have testified against Roger.

  “He didn’t really admit to the break-ins or my author’s murder, but once that book became public, it would have been over for him. He followed us, I’m sure, just to get his hands on Jade. Then he would have disappeared with her.”

  “What a monster,” Abby said. “If he hadn’t died in that crash, I’d be inclined to kill him myself.”

  Abby had a quiet, classic demeanor, but in her voice now was the angry tone of an avenger. And with good reason. She’d been horribly treated by her ex-husband, and it wasn’t by coincidence that she’d set up this haven for abused women and children. Every time she helped a woman or child in trouble, she felt her mission was being fulfilled.

  A short while later I checked on Jade, and saw that she was sleeping peacefully. I pulled her cover up over her shoulders and kissed her cheek.

  My own dreams that night were not so peaceful, but by the time morning came, I’d forgotten them all.

  I woke late and, after showering, I went into the kitchen, but didn’t find anyone there. I poured myself a cup of coffee and went outside, where I found Jade out in the corral riding a horse, with Sister Agatha holding the reins and walking beside her. Jade was wearing jeans and a shirt that Sister Agatha said had been left behind by another child. Her complexion was healthy, rather than the feverish, mottled state it had been in since I’d first seen her the day before, and I was stunned to hear her laugh. Even more stunned when she called out, “Hi, Mary Beth! Look at me. I’m riding a horse!”

  She went on to tell me the horse’s name, Molly, and all about the colt Molly had delivered a month before. “Sister Agatha says if I come next summer I can ride her colt then, too!”

  “Sister Nella gave Jade some tea with herbs,” Sister Agatha said, smiling. “And her fever broke in the night. She ate a huge breakfast.”

  And how’s that for an angel? that small voice inside me said. I smiled, admitting finally that—no doubt about it—the voice was Lindy’s.

  Thank you, I replied silently. And thank you for raising such a beautiful child.

  We had lunch in the nuns’ former refectory, which Abby had redecorated with bright, happy colors. Lunch was a hearty soup and homemade bread, slathered with fresh butter from a farm down the road. Dessert was old-fashioned rice pudding, with plump juicy raisins and lots of cinnamon and nutmeg. After the past couple of days, the meal tasted like a feast.

  Jade asked to be excused so she could go out and see the horses again. She looked so much better, I didn’t see any reason why not. Clearly, all this fresh air agreed with her. And Sister Agatha, Abby assured me, would be out there with her.

  Jade slid off her chair with a happy smile, and I watched as she trotted out through the kitchen to the back gardens, and then to the corral. Sister Agatha was there, waiting for her, just as Abby had said, and I saw her take Jade’s hand and lead her around, pointing out things to her and talking. I was amazed at the change that had come over this little girl.

  Abby and I sat across from each other at the table and talked. She sipped iced tea, and I toyed with leftover raisins in the pudding.

  Abby and I had met when we were both working on a story years ago, in L.A. I was working at the television station, and Abby was a reporter with a small local newspaper. We were both following a story about a major crime. I hadn’t seen Abby in three years, and I would have liked to stay longer than overnight, but I was anxious about whether I should get Jade to L.A. and good medical care.

  “Tell me what you’re thinking,” Abby said, smiling. “Before you do in that raisin.”

  I shook my head. “I’m wondering if I should ask to leave Jade here, since she’s doing so well. Not for long. A couple of days, at the most. It might be better than taking her to L.A. before I know what’s waiting for me there.”

  “You know I’d say yes. She’s a delightful child.”

  I shook my head. “I just don’t see how I can leave her, though, Abby. I promised her I never would, and that I’d always take care of her.”

  “We’d take good care of her,” Abby said. “She could stay as long as you like.”

  “Thanks. I really appreciate that. It’s amazing how much she’s improved in the few short hours we’ve been here. Her fever is gone, she seems happy….”

  “But you just found her, and you don’t want to be separated from her.” Abby smiled.

  “True,” I admitted. “And regardless of how well she looks, she still has an immune system problem. I promised her mother I’d get her to a good doctor, and it’s got to be my first priority.”

  “How will you do that if you’re arrested?” she asked.

  “I’ve been thinking about that. I’ll go to a friend’s house when I first get to Malibu, and in the morning I can make some phone calls to doctors before I go to my own house. I imagine there’ll be a detective or two there to greet me.”

  “Now that you’ve found this book and the names of people at the pharmaceutical company who talked to your author, though, they won’t have any cause to arrest you, will they? Roger should be their prime suspect, and since he’s dead, the case could very well go away.”

  Abby was engaged to a Carmel police detective, Ben Schaeffer, and between being around him and her own legal problems with her ex in the past, she had picked up more than a casual knowledge of the law.

  “Unfortunately,” I said, “there are the other two murders I told you about. We haven’t been able to link Roger to them. And until we do, that leaves me.” I laughed shortly. “Though why on earth they’d think I killed Craig Dinsmore—my nearest thing to a cash cow right now—I don’t know.”

  She reached for my hand. “You’re not alone in this. Tell me what I can do. Anything. I can talk to Ben, too. I’m sure he’d be glad to help.”

  “Let me see how it goes first,” I said. “I really think it’s going to be all right. But thanks.”

  “Okay.” Standing, Abby said, “Now, since you’re not leaving until three, how about if we take Jade and go horseback riding in the hills.”

  “A splendid idea,” I said, grateful to have something to take my mind off my impending arrest for a while.

  Around three o’clock, Abby, Sister Agatha and I got Jade settled in the back seat of the rental car with extra clothes and a stuffed dog that she wouldn’t let go of once Abby had given it to her. There was also a bag of healthy snacks, books, pens, crayons and other assorted toys to keep a six-year-old busy on a trip. On the seat next to the bag was a white jacket with pink rabbits on it, in case it was cold at the beach when we got home.

  Jade seemed happy as a clam, sitting back there like a princess, surrounded by her little gifts.

  I’d waited until three to leave as I wanted to get to L.A. after the sun went down. At this time of year that would be around eight,
and it took five hours, more or less, to drive from Carmel to L.A.

  Leaving the Carmel Valley, I crossed over to Interstate 5, the fastest route to L.A. The break at Abby’s had been just what Jade and I both needed, and I even found myself singing old songs that reminded me of trips with my mother. Jade didn’t join me, but when I’d sneak a look though the rearview mirror, I’d see her smiling. Once, she even hummed a bit, but when she caught me looking at her, she got shy and quit.

  The trip was uneventful until we drove down out of the mountains into the L.A. basin. There the traffic was even thicker than the smog. I didn’t think it wise to sit in a bumper-to-bumper parking lot, in case there was an APB out on me, so I cut over to surface roads that I knew would take me—eventually—to Malibu. I wasn’t in a particular hurry, and as long as Jade was feeling well, I figured the later we got there, the better. We wouldn’t be able to go to my house, but I knew where we could go, and that we’d be safe there.

  It was long after dark when I turned onto PCH, and there was little traffic. I was careful not to break any traffic laws, and avoided passing my house. It was around a slight curve from Patrick’s, and it was his driveway I pulled in to.

  The driveway sloped downward alongside the house, and I drove down as far as possible so that the car wouldn’t be visible from the road. Turning off the engine, I sighed, stretched and looked back at Jade, who was snacking on a granola bar that Abby’s cook had made by hand for her.

  “With good healthy herbs from our own garden,” Nella had said. I had to admit that Jade was looking better and better.

  Patrick’s garage lights were out, which helped when we got out of the car. Since I didn’t know who might be in the neighborhood—Detective Dan Rucker and the entire LAPD and ESPD, for instance—it seemed wisest to keep out of sight as much as possible.

  The driveway was so dark I started to pick Jade up, but she wanted to walk. I took her by the hand, and since I remembered how bright Patrick’s deck lights were, we walked away from the beach and up the driveway to the front of the house. I jumped when I heard a noise, sure that someone was in the bushes near the street. My hand tightened on Jade’s, and every muscle went into battle mode.