Project Produce

by Kari Lee Harmon

  “Go to the main entrance of the park, and I’ll meet you there,” Dylan said.

  “Wait, how do you know where I am?”

  “You just told me.”

  “I did?” I was pretty sure I didn’t, but at the next fork in the path, a group of joggers merged in between us, hopefully blocking Khaki Man’s view of me. “Oh, wait. I think I lost him.”

  “Callie, do not try to nab this guy on your own. Just because you knocked me down doesn’t mean you’re a pro at protecting yourself.”

  “Trust me, I have no plans to nab anyone. I’m just trying to lose him.” I ducked off the path into a group of trees and waited. When the man ran right by, bobbing his head left and right, I breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Do you think it’s the Midnight Molester?” Dylan asked.

  “Not likely. You should see this guy.” I stepped out of the trees, and the man glanced over his shoulder and then did a double-take. “Uh-oh, Khaki Man saw me.”

  “Khaki who?”

  “Hang on he’s headed back this way. I’m gonna haul my butt out of here.” I tucked the phone in my pocket, pulled my mitten back on, and pumped both arms, jogging faster. Okay, bouncy walking slightly faster. This is pathetic, Cal. No more healthy portions for you.

  He power-walked quicker, looking like it was a piece of cake, and he was gaining on me.

  Big surprise there.

  I had to do something, or he’d catch me. Spying a horse just standing there at the edge of the footpath, I didn’t stop to consider who he belonged to. With adrenaline surging through my veins, I stepped on a tree stump and vaulted onto his back. His head whipped up, his hindquarters dropped, and he shot forward like a bullet.

  “Yaaaaaaiiiiiipe!” I screamed, scaring him even more, and he bolted faster. “Oh, no,” I yelled, my insecurity slapping the saddle like a moron on a pogo stick. My fanny would never be the same. Somewhere in the back of my mind, it registered that a man in a uniform, who appeared to be helping a lost child, yelled for me to halt, or freeze, or something like that. I snatched the reins, and I swear I intended to stop, but I was too busy trying not to die to concentrate on getting the horse to whoa.

  For a moment, I thought I’d lost Khaki Man, then I spotted him through the trees. I flopped around in the saddle and tried to get a better hold on Hi-Ho Silver, when he detoured into the woods. Fresh out of Lone Ranger moves, I couldn’t get the crazy horse to respond to any of my movements. I had ridden a couple of times as a kid, but nothing was working, so I just held on tight and let Silver run off his fear.

  I risked a look over my shoulder and saw Khaki Man ditch the path, same as the horse had. I clutched the edge of the saddle, ducking low under branches and shrieking as the horse jumped rocks and fallen tree limbs. Blood rushed through my veins and hoof beats thundered in my ears. I blinked rapidly, struggling to see through the wind whipping my hair in my face. I was going to die. The horse led me on a series of hairpin turns, and my pathetic, boring life flashed before my eyes, until he finally doubled back the way we’d just come.

  Right in Khaki Man’s direction!

  The man came to a stop and held his side, breathing heavy, his head hanging low. Silver didn’t seem to notice, or care, and just kept charging straight for him.

  “Move out of the way,” I screamed.

  Khaki Man’s head popped up just as I yanked on the reins for the millionth time, and the crazy horse chose that moment to finally listen. Digging in his hooves, he stopped short, and I went sailing over his head straight for my stalker.

  I knocked the wind out of Khaki Man in a full-frontal tackle. Sometimes being six foot came in handy. Well, now that I was on top of him, I had to do something. And by something, I didn’t mean check out his produce. I rolled him over onto his belly. He wheezed as though trying to catch his breath, and I wrenched his arm up behind his back as I sat on his butt.

  “Hey, lady. Ow, ow. Aw, c’mon, let up. You’re gonna break my arm. Is it a crime to get a little exercise?”

  “Exercise, yeah right. No way, pal, I’m not buying your bull. I’m going to find that police officer and have him haul your sorry butt off to jail.”

  “Haul my sorry ass off to jail? I’m not the one who stole his goddamn horse. When he finds you, he’s going to throw the book at you, babe.”

  “I’m not your babe,” I ground out, then glanced at Silver.

  He perked his ears and snorted as if to say, You are so busted, lady.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid. How had I missed the NYPD logo on the side of the saddle? And with my contacts in, no less. Besides, who else but a cop would have a horse in the city?

  When the horse started to trot away, Khaki Man said, “Better get lost, Annie Oakley. If he’s running, it means his partner’s close by.”

  I hated that he was right. I wanted to question him further and get to the bottom of what was going on, but I had to get out of there before the officer caught me. He’d throw me in the slammer for sure.

  Khaki Man didn’t waste any time jumping to his feet and sprinting into the trees, laughing as though he’d won. For that alone, I considered giving chase, but then the officer in question came barreling through the trees like the Jolly Green Giant. Or in this case, the Angry Red Beast. I jumped behind a shrub but couldn’t miss the dark look stamped across his face. Oh, boy. That didn’t bode well for me.

  His horse came to a stop right in front of him, and he checked the animal for injuries. My cue to get lost, so I made a mad dash for the trees in the opposite direction before he saw me.

  So much for blending in and hiding out.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Once I was deep in the woods, I glanced over my shoulder but didn’t see anyone following me. Then I proceeded to run smack into a tree, throwing my arms around it to keep from falling. Feeling safe for the moment, I hunched over, hands on my knees, and sucked in a few quick breaths.

  Note to self: Twenty, I am not.

  The cold air stung my lungs, exiting in a billowy white cloud of steam. I’d lost the Angry Red Beast, thank God, but I wasn’t foolish enough to think the cops weren’t still looking for me.

  Exercise? What the heck had I been thinking? Jogging on the shoveled path had been doable, but detouring into the woods might as well have been a ten-mile hike up a vertical glacier. Wet snow had slipped into my sneakers, squishing between my frozen toes.

  I tugged my mittens on tighter and my hat down lower as I looked up. The sun had started to set, the February days growing dark so early, and the rumble in my stomach told me it had to be around dinner.

  Crunch!

  I whipped around and surveyed the bare trees swaying in the breeze. Paranoia strikes again. I shook my head and tried to catch my breath but started walking. I didn’t dare linger any longer. Even I knew this section of the park wasn’t safe. Besides, that officer was still looking for me. Having my face all over the news was not something I wanted to relive, ever.

  Snap!

  I froze, honing in all my available senses. I wanted to believe that noise had been a brittle twig breaking off its branch. But the sound grew closer. My skin prickled, and a creepy feeling washed over me. My heart pounded harder than it had when I’d attempted to run. Maybe it was an animal.

  I started to walk faster this time. Why had I gone into the woods like an idiot? Being arrested topped being murdered, any day. I started to hyperventilate, struggling to keep my cool. I couldn’t even make it through the entire showing of the Blair Witch Project, and now I was the freaking star in my own version.

  I reached for my cell but came up empty-handed. I must have lost it. Where are you, Zuc? You were so right, I really, really, really need you right now.

  I peeked over my shoulder, and saw something tan dart behind a tree. Maybe it was Gadget. I didn’t get a good enough look, but after our last disastrous encounter with Jack--my special friend that wouldn’t die--I sure as heck wasn’t sticking around to find out.

  I started pumping my arm
s and legs, but my numb feet wouldn’t move faster than a ridiculous, bouncy walk-jog. The footsteps behind me pounded the frozen ground, growing closer. Closer. Closer. Oh, God, he was gaining on me. Afraid to look behind me, I focused on the clearing up ahead. Just before I reached the opening, I had to know. Holding my breath, I whipped my head around.

  Sweet Jesus, could that be Flasher Freak?

  I gasped. Something about him seemed different, more menacing, not so puny anymore. What I would have given to see Dylan right about now. Giving one last surge of everything I had, I came barreling out of the woods onto the footpath and into the street, full-throttle.

  “Look out!” a familiar voice yelled.

  “Huh?” I turned back around and, “Ahhhh!” flipped over the hood of Big Betty, landing hard on my back and bumping my head on the icy pavement. Stars danced behind my eyelids, and my ears rang something fierce. Way to read minds, Zuc.

  “Jesus, Callie, are you all right?”

  I made a garbled sound, but no words came out. Something gently squeezed my arms and legs and then pressed my ribs.

  “Nothing feels broken.” When I didn’t speak, he said, “Callie, talk to me. Say something.”

  I pried my eyelids open, struggling to uncross my eyes and catch my breath. “Dylan here?” I blinked up at his double image and tried to form coherent words. “Khaki Man chase. Horsie crazy. Copper mad.”

  “What are you talking about?” He ran his hands over the back of my head and checked my pupils. “Well, it doesn’t look like you have a concussion, but I can’t be sure.” He glanced around. “Come on, Mac, a crowd’s gathering. I’m taking you home.”

  “O-Okay.” He lifted me into his arms, and I bit my lip on a groan. I was going to be one sore cookie tomorrow.

  “Almost there.” He carried me to the passenger side of Big Betty and helped me into the seat and then buckled me in.

  I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, feeling the car rock, then I winced when he slammed the door.

  “Sorry,” he said as Big Betty roared to life and began to move.

  “It’s okay, I’ll live.” Good, I sounded normal again, even if I felt like I was going to die. I touched the back of my head. “If my skull stays in one piece, that is.”

  “That’s it. I’m taking you to the hospital.”

  “No, I really don’t want to go. I just need to go home and take some aspirin.”

  “You sure? Because I really think--”

  “I’m sure. But I have to tell you--”

  A blip of static came from Dylan’s walkie talkie, followed by, “Big Daddy, you copy? The hounds are on the lookout for Annie Oakley. Over.”

  “Annie Oakley?” I asked, wondering why he had a walkie talkie when his car was equipped with a CB. I stared at him with my head still pounding and ears still ringing, waiting for him to answer.

  Dylan ignored me. “Copy that, B4. Big Daddy bagged Oakley himself. Cover for me. Gotta hit the road before the cruisers arrive. Over and out.”

  “But I still have to tell you--”

  “Hang on a sec, I need to concentrate.” He glanced in the rear-view mirror as we exited the park. “I just saved your hide from being thrown in the slammer. Care to tell me what you were thinking, stealing an officer’s horse, Annie Oakley?” He shot a glance over to me.

  I felt my cheeks flame. “It wasn’t my fault, really. Khaki Man was chasing me. How was I supposed to know Hi-Ho Silver belonged to the Angry Red Beast? And I didn’t steal him, I only borrowed him.” I stared at Dylan until he turned to look at me. “Am I in trouble?”

  “Not anymore.”

  I wilted with relief.

  “I had a friend smooth things over, but no more borrowing any horses. You don’t always have to go it alone, you know.”

  “I know,” I said quietly. “And I promise, I’ll ask for help next time.” When he raised a brow, I clarified, “I mean, there won’t be a next time, because I’ll be more careful. Deal?”

  “Deal.”

  “How’d you know I was Annie Oakley?”

  “You called me about a stalker named Khaki Man, then your phone went dead. The police radio started buzzing like crazy about Annie Oakley stealing a police horse.” He shot me a pointed look. “I took a wild guess. You’re lucky I found you first. If Tank had caught up with you, he wouldn’t have let you off so easy.”

  “Well, thanks.” And I was thankful. I’d seen Flasher Freak’s face just before I flipped over Big Betty. I’d never witnessed eyes so filled with hate. He didn’t look like he had molesting on the brain today. He’d looked like he wanted to murder me. I swallowed hard. “Flasher Freak was in the woods chasing me.”

  Dylan stomped on the brakes, and Big Betty’s tires screeched as she skidded to a stop on the side of the road. I held onto my head and the Holy-cow-I’m-gonna-die bar at the same time.

  “Dammit, Callie, why didn’t you tell me before now? He’s probably long gone.”

  “I tried. Twice!”

  He cursed as he picked up his CB radio and called the station to let them know he had reason to believe MM was in the park.

  “I’m really sorry.”

  He looked at me, and I swear I saw a flash of real worry in his eyes, but all he said was, “It’s okay.”

  I stared at him, more confused than ever. “You mean you’re not angry that you missed your chance to catch Flasher Freak?”

  He studied me for a long minute. “Yes, I want to be the one to catch the bastard, but not at your expense. You’re safe. That’s all I care about right now.” He smiled. “You hungry?”

  I smiled back. “Starved.” A warm, fuzzy feeling swept over me. A guy who thought about me before himself. That was a first for me. Looking down at my dirty, wet warm-up suit, I cringed. “I’m a mess. Not exactly restaurant attire.”

  “You look great even in slush, Mac. We’ll order take-out and go park.”

  He wanted to go parking? I stiffened. I knew he had an ulterior motive. He hadn’t thought about me first. He’d thought about his Mr. Winkie. “You want to go park?” The last time I’d gone parking with a guy, we’d broken in the back seat, steaming up the windows good. Until the cops had knocked on the window, embarrassing me to death. Twenty-nine years old caught necking in a car with Marc Hillerman, a man I hadn’t even known was married. To the officer’s sister, no less. Not one of my best moments.

  Dylan glanced at my dirty, soaked clothes. “Bad idea. So we’ll take it back to your place.”

  “My place. Riiiight.” The last time he’d come over, we’d attacked each other on the couch.

  He shook his head. “You really don’t think much of me, do you?”

  I didn’t answer. It wasn’t him so much. I didn’t trust myself to be alone with him.

  “Look, I won’t lie. I still want you just as much as I did the other night, but I agreed to be friends. I’m going to give it my best shot, even if it kills me. Or you do, Annie.” He smiled, looking sincere. “Deal?”

  I laughed. “Deal.” Softening a bit, I had to admit it felt good that he still wanted me. But I was relieved that he had agreed to being just friends. I liked Dylan, and with Gloria so busy, I needed Dylan. Not only for my project, but for someone to talk to.

  For the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel so alone.

  ***

  Ten minutes later, I sat in Big Betty while Dylan ran in and ordered us some food to go. Once again, Super Cop had come to my rescue. I know I had called him, but still. Every time I got into trouble, he miraculously appeared to save the day. It was uncanny how he knew exactly when I needed him and where I was. Uncanny and a bit suspicious, given the fact that Khaki Man had called me Annie Oakley, too.

  What the hell was up with that?

  I didn’t get it. I was being so careful, like everyone had warned me to be, but the most bizarre people kept coming into my life. As crazy as my life was, it had never quite resembled such a three-ring circus before. I couldn’t help wonder why Dyla
n was being so kind to me. Could it be because he truly cared about me? Or maybe he was just trying to worm his way into my bed through friendship. I decided to play along to see if my theory was right.

  Note to self: Zucchinis think with their winkies above all else.

  Dylan exited the restaurant, balancing several cartons of Chinese food as he rounded the hood of his car. Leaning over, I opened the driver’s side door and pushed it wide. He slid behind the wheel and set the cartons on the seat between us with a killer smile. “Thanks, Mac.”

  “No problem, buddy.”

  His striking blue eyes flashed once, but otherwise, his expression didn’t change. “Let’s go eat. I’m starved.”

  He drove by the harbor, and the full moon reflected its pale image off the sparkling water. Boats were docking, their fog horns honking in greeting. And if I looked far enough, I could even make out the Statue of Liberty’s silhouette.

  “Wow,” I said in awe. “This is breathtaking.”

  “It sure is,” he responded in a raspy voice.

  Turning to him, I blinked. He wasn’t looking at the stunning view, he was staring straight at me. Mmmm, hmmm. That look had definitely come from his winkie, not his brain.

  “Better hurry up, it’s gonna get cold,” I said, looking at the food cartons. “Why’d you get so much?”

  He barked out a laugh and headed away from the harbor in the direction of Queens. “I’ve seen you eat, Mac.”

  “Oh.” Dipping my head, I felt the heat climb up, up, up my face. I had always been an emotional eater, and let’s face it, my life was one big puddle of stress.

  “Trust me, it’s a good thing,” he said gently, and flicked my chin with his fingertip. “I like women who aren’t afraid to eat more than a salad.”

  “Then you’re gonna love me. I think I’ve out-eaten every date I’ve ever been on. Not that this is a date.”

  “Of course not.” He grinned. “But let’s just say, hypothetically, if we were on a date, you wouldn’t stand a chance.”