by Lisa Orchard
“It sounds like he became dependent on them,” Sarah said.
“I think you can become psychologically dependent on them.” The retired reporter grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck. “But I don’t think they’re like heroin or anything like that.”
Sarah stared out the window. “I can’t believe this whole thing is about steroids. So, because Randy took steroids they made him violent?”
“It’s a possibility.” Scoop sighed and focused his attention on the road. “But we won’t know until we talk to him.”
Sarah grabbed the reporter’s shoulder. “Call the phone number.”
“Okay, let me pull over and I’ll call.” Scoop signaled before he pulled off to the side of the road. Pulling the paper and his phone from his pocket, he pressed the numbers. He held the phone to his ear, frowning, and then sighed. “Looks like that number is no longer in service.”
“Bummer,” Sarah grumbled. “We should tell the FBI what we know.”
“I agree,” Scoop said. “I’ll stop by the police station after I drop you kids off at Jackie’s.”
“I’m kind of scared,” Lacey said as she twirled her hair around her finger.
Scott gave her a reassuring smile. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll go down to the station with Scoop and then call you later.”
Sarah leaned forward and grabbed the back of the front seat, her body rigid. “I think Bill Stevens was on the list of survivors.”
Jackie nodded. “He was. I remember talking about him.”
“This is all starting to make sense,” Scoop said.
“We should all go down to the station.” Sarah leaned forward and caught Scoop’s eye in the rearview mirror.
The retired reporter smiled at her reflection. “No. I’m dropping you off at Jackie’s. I don’t want to worry your aunt.”
Sarah pouted and crossed her arms over her chest. “Man, we never get to do anything.”
Scoop chuckled. “Sorry.”
As the reporter drove through the streets of Harrisburg, Sarah gazed out the window. Leaning her head back, she closed her eyes, but didn’t rest. Questions plagued her. Where are the bombers now? Are they getting ready to set off another bomb, and if they are, when and where?
She sighed again—no answers came to her. As she fidgeted and looked out the window, another question ran through Sarah’s mind. Could steroids have made Randy Ferguson so violent that he turned into a domestic terrorist?
Scoop pulled up in front of Jackie’s house and snapped Sarah from her chilling thoughts. She climbed out of the car and followed Jackie toward the dwelling. She glanced over her shoulder and found Scoop’s car idling at the curb. Sarah smiled; he was waiting to make sure they made it into the house safely. Her heart swelled with gratitude for the reporter.
As she walked toward the door, Sarah spied a gray car parked by the curb across the street. The FBI is watching.
Once inside, Jackie explained to her mother the reason the Cole sisters and their dog had to stay with them. She also explained the gray car at the curb. After her mother peered out the window at the FBI agents, she clucked over the girls like a mother hen, whisking them into the kitchen for a snack.
Sarah excused herself, went into the den and called her aunt. She was relieved to hear her voice.
“Aunt June, how is Uncle Walt?”
“He’s sleeping now, but improving every minute.”
The happiness in her aunt’s voice sent another wave of gratitude flowing through her body. “Are the FBI agents still there?”
“Yes. They seemed to have doubled the security around the hospital.”
“Good. Are you staying up there tonight?”
“Yes, unless you girls need me?”
“No, we’re safe at Jackie’s and tomorrow we have school.”
“That’s right. You have to be at school at seven, right?”
Sarah groaned. “Yep.”
“Well, at least you’ll be done early.” Aunt June chuckled.
“Yeah. Tell Uncle Walt I love him, and we’ll be up to visit after school.”
“Call me first and let me know when you’re coming.”
“Okay. Bye, Aunt June.” Sarah disconnected the call and sighed. She decided not to tell her aunt about the new development with the bombers. She didn’t want to worry her.
Sarah sat down on the sofa. Knowing everyone was safe, she allowed the weariness to wash over her. She closed her eyes and thoughts of the bombers filled her mind. Are they still in town? Was Bill Stevens their target? Another wave of exhaustion ran through her body. The nagging questions drained the energy from her.
She lay down on the sofa and pulled an afghan around her. I’ll just lay here for a second. The blanket warmed her and she fell into a deep sleep.
Sarah woke with a start. Someone was shaking her.
“Sarah, wake up,” Jackie whispered.
Blinking, Sarah focused on her friend’s face. She had been having a nightmare. Sarah sat up and placed her hand over her heart, trying to calm it.
In her dream, the bombers had chased her. They always seemed to be getting closer and Sarah couldn’t get away from them. Shuddering, she gazed at her friend.
Jackie sat and put her arm around her. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, just a bad dream.” Sarah shook her head as if to banish it from her mind.
“Are you hungry?”
“Yeah, starving.”
“Well, Mom’s got dinner ready. Come on.” Jackie stood and walked toward the dining room.
After a few minutes, Sarah folded the blanket and crossed the red carpet into the dining room. A glittering chandelier hung from the ceiling and the large, oak table sat underneath creating a comforting atmosphere. The walls were covered with a beige print wallpaper. Sarah had never been able to figure out what the design was, but it worked with the deep red carpet.
Sitting at the oak dining room table with Jackie and her parents, it dawned on Sarah that she hadn’t eaten with her own family in a long time. She missed her parents, and she missed her aunt and uncle. A wave of grief engulfed her and she stared at the table. Sarah clenched her teeth and kept her tears at bay and then began filling her plate.
The meal was delicious, roast beef with mashed potatoes and gravy. It had been a long time since Sarah’d had a home cooked meal and she savored every bite.
After helping Jackie with the dishes, the girls made their way to her bedroom. It was decorated in bright pinks and purples with an elaborate canopy above her bed. As Sarah studied the pillows on the bed, the word “fluffy” came to mind. She giggled. Jackie’s so flamboyant. On her vanity sat an infinite number of tiny bottles of perfume and makeup. Smirking, Sarah rolled her eyes. Whatever.
The girls hung out for about an hour, discussing the bombers and their possible motives. Sarah was convinced the steroid use was a major factor in the crime, but she had no way to prove it.
They decided to call it a night, and Sarah and Lacey made their way to the guest bedroom. After donning their pajamas, they brushed their teeth and returned to their room. Sarah sighed as she crawled beneath the sheets. She wasn’t looking forward to getting up early tomorrow.
Sarah lay in bed and looked around the room, waiting for Lacey to turn off the light. The walls were painted a sea green that accented the bedspreads, which sported a flowery print with bright greens, yellows and pinks. In the corner sat a small desk with a table lamp on it and a picture of Jackie and her family at Yellowstone Park. Against the wall stood a small dresser. It was a comfortable room and Sarah relaxed.
“Sarah?”
“Yeah?” Sarah rolled over and faced her sister.
“I’m nervous about going to school tomorrow.”
“Me, too.”
“Do you think the bombers will try and blow up the junior high?”
Sarah frowned. “I doubt it. I think the target they’re after is in the hospital.”
Lacey whimpered. “I wish Uncle Walt could
come home.”
“Me, too.” Sarah’s eyes filled with tears. “I wish this whole nightmare was over.”
“I know.”
The anxiety in her sister’s voice made Sarah wish she had words to comfort her. “Everything’s going to turn out all right.” The words sounded hollow to her ears, but she didn’t know what else to say.
Lacey sighed and rolled over. “I know. Good night Sarah.”
“Night.”
Sarah lay in bed and thoughts of the bombers invaded her mind. She shivered and pulled her blankets tighter around her body.
The sound of Lacey’s rhythmic breathing filled the room. Sarah sighed, grateful her sister could sleep. Hopefully, the FBI will catch the bombers in the morning, and then I can go back to being a regular teenager. Whatever that is. Sarah rolled over and tried to fall asleep.
Soon her thoughts turned to her parents and tears filled her eyes. Sudden anger seeped through her body. How dare these people, whoever they are, target my family? Gritting her teeth, Sarah vowed that she would get even with them if it was the last thing she did.
As fast as the anger overtook her, it was gone, replaced by exhaustion. She pulled the blankets even tighter around her and fell asleep.
Chapter Twenty-One
Sarah woke to the feeling of water dripping on her. She wrinkled her brow and opened her eyes. “What—”
“Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” Jackie hovered above her with wet hair.
“Have you ever heard of a towel?”
Jackie giggled. “What are those? Get up, girlfriend. It’s your turn to shower.”
Sarah rolled out of bed and made her way to the bathroom. She showered quickly and then pulled on jeans and a pink blouse for the day. After drying her hair, she woke Lacey, before ambling toward the kitchen.
Staring out the window, she looked at the piercing darkness. It seemed like winter, that time of year when everyone went to school in the dark. Sarah shivered. The girls ate a quick breakfast and Jackie’s Mom drove them to the junior high.
The school had set up a reception area and handed each girl her new class schedule and room numbers. The Super Spies huddled together and made plans to meet for lunch then went their separate ways.
Sarah walked the halls of the junior high—they smelled of floor wax and erasers. Since it was her first time in the school, she wasn’t sure where to go. She glanced from her schedule to the room numbers above the doors and hurried through the halls searching for her first class. The corridors were lined with lockers and the sounds of banging doors and voices filled the foyer as students made their way to classes.
Sarah was surprised that everything seemed normal. No other students were worried about bombers—they went about their day without a care in the world. She was separated from them, different. It made her sad.
The morning went by in a blur—Sarah didn’t pay attention in her classes. She kept looking out the window and fidgeting in her seat. At the end of each class, she breathed a sigh of relief. I just might make it through the day.
Finally, the eleven o’clock bell rang and Sarah raced to lunch. She met the rest of the Super Spies in the cafeteria and they all stood in the hot lunch line.
Pizza was on the menu. It was one of the only edible lunches the school provided and Sarah wanted to be as close to the front of the line as possible.
After they picked up their meals, they searched the cafeteria for a place to sit. Finding a place to eat in the center of the lunchroom, Sarah set her tray on the table and sat down. The rest of the Super Spies followed her. Jackie grabbed the seat next to her and Scott and Lacey sat across from them. They ate in silence. Sarah’s eyes wandered around the cafeteria, watching the students and enjoying the carefree moment. She stopped and stared, choking on her soda. Sitting at the next table was the man with the large scar on his arm. Sputtering, she put her drink down and rubbed her watery eyes.
Jackie patted her on the back. “Are you all right?”
Sarah got her coughing under control. “We have to move,” she croaked, and then coughed again.
“What?” Jackie gave her a perplexed look.
Sarah leaned toward Jackie and whispered. “Look over Scott’s shoulder.”
Jackie glanced behind Scott and then bolted upright in her seat. “We have to move.”
“Why?” Scott asked.
“Look over your shoulder,” Sarah said.
Just as Sarah spoke those words, she looked again at the table behind Scott. The second bomber sat there, eating lunch like a normal teenager. He glanced up and locked his gaze on Sarah. His eyes narrowed and he stared at her as a mixture of emotions danced across his face. His expression turned angry and he continued to stare, as if he couldn’t believe she was there.
Scott spun around and faced the girls. “What’s the problem?”
Sarah leaned forward. “That guy is one of the bombers.”
“Are you serious?”
Sarah nodded and gulped. “Let’s go.”
The Super Spies stood, grabbed their trays, and hurried away from the table. They got rid of their trays and left the cafeteria, power walking outside.
“We have to call the FBI,” Sarah said.
“I’m already on it.” Scott pulled his phone out of his pocket and made the call.
“Who is that guy?” Jackie asked.
“I don’t know.” Sarah frowned. “This is just getting weirder and weirder.”
“No doubt.”
Scott finished his call and jogged toward the group. “My dad’s sending the Fibbies right away.”
“Do you know who that guy was?” Sarah asked.
“I’ve seen him around.” Scott furrowed his brow as he concentrated. Then he smacked himself on the forehead. “I don’t believe it! He’s Mike Ferguson! He’s really popular. He’s a senior and the quarterback on the football team. I can’t believe I didn’t see the connection until now.” Scott clenched his fist and grimaced.
“What’s his name?” Jackie asked in a shocked voice.
“Mike Ferguson.”
“For real?” Sarah asked. Numbing coldness invaded her body, as if she’d been pulled under by a huge wave of icy water. Her stomach churned—she felt sick.
“Yeah.”
“He’s got to be related to Randy Ferguson.” Sarah swallowed the wave of saliva that flooded her mouth. She willed herself not to puke.
“They’re brothers,” Scott said.
Sarah stumbled. She choked back the nausea that wormed its way up her throat. “Oh my—” she croaked as she struggled to breathe.
“You mean he’s related to the bomber?” Jackie shrieked.
Scott nodded grimly.
Sarah steadied herself and took huge gulps of air. “Okay, we need to follow him.” She looked around at the students lingering outside for the last few minutes of the lunch hour. “But he knows Jackie and me, so you guys have to do it.” Sarah pointed at Scott and Lacey.
“What?” Lacey whimpered.
Scott nodded. “You’re right. Lace and I’ll go back inside. You guys stay away from him.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Jackie crossed her arms over her chest and scanned the area. “I don’t see him, so he must still be inside.”
Sarah grabbed Scott’s arm. “Keep in touch by phone.”
He nodded, grabbed Lacey’s arm, and propelled her forward. “Let’s go.”
They rushed back inside. Sarah and Jackie huddled together in front of the school. Sarah paced, and after a few minutes, Jackie walked with her. She chewed on her thumbnail as she walked. Why in the world would Randy and Mike Ferguson bomb the high school?
“Stop chewing your fingernails. They’re going to look horrible.”
Sighing, Sarah pulled her thumb from her mouth. “I know, short nails aren’t fashionable, right?”
Jackie gave her a mock glare and grabbed her hand. She examined Sarah’s nails. “No they’re not, girlfriend. These nails are atrocious.”
“Tsk, don’t change the subject. I’ve got my nail file in my purse. At least we can get rid of the jagged edge.”
Jackie searched her purse, while Sarah looked around. The students were ambling back inside.
“Don’t we have bigger things to worry about?” Sarah asked.
“Shut up, this makes us look normal.”
Sarah sighed. There were no longer any students outside. “Can’t do it now, lunch is over.”
Just as the words left her mouth, Sarah’s world went dark. She screamed as strong arms picked her up and carried her. Jackie’s shrill shrieking filled the air, and Sarah heard her struggling.
Sarah gasped for breath. There was a huge pain in her chest and she felt like she was suffocating. Rough fabric scratched her cheek as she struggled. Cloth. Some sort of rough cloth is covering my face.
“Washington, Adams.” She choked on the words. She swallowed the lump of fear that had lodged in her throat.
She was heaved onto a hard surface. Landing with a thud, Sarah winced. Pain radiated up her hip and down her leg. Her breath whooshed from her lungs and she gasped, trying to regain it. The sound of a thud and the vibration of the surface told Sarah that someone or something had landed next to her. “Jackie?”
“Yeah, it’s me.”
“What is going on?”
The surface they were on moved forward and her heart increased its painful pounding against her ribs.
Jackie moved. Sarah reached up and pulled the dark cloth off her head. It was a burlap bag that served as a makeshift hood. Scanning the area, she gulped. “We’re in the back of a truck.”
The pain in her chest eased and her breathing became less labored.
“Where are we going?” Jackie asked.
Sarah peered at her friend. Jackie had the wild-eyed look of a cornered animal.
“I don’t know.” Sarah looked toward the front of the truck and her deepest fears were confirmed. In the driver’s seat sat Randy Ferguson, clutching the steering wheel with white-knuckled hands. “I don’t believe it,” she moaned.
“What?” Jackie asked.
“We’ve just been kidnapped by the bomber.” The bile rose in Sarah’s throat. What are we going to do now? She coughed and kept from throwing up. Sitting up, she brushed the hair out of her face with trembling hands. Think! Think! Think!