Jane Kelly 03 - Ultraviolet

by Nancy Bush

“Why not tonight?”

  “Do Not Enter calls.”

  Dwayne made a sound of frustration and yanked his cell phone from his pocket. “Forget that. I’ll call your buddy Josh and get him to go after Keegan.”

  Quickly, I put a hand over his, stopping him. “Give me tonight.”

  “Jane…”

  “Dwayne,” I responded right back, warning him to quit while he was ahead.

  I left before he could talk me out of my plans. I know myself and I was pretty sure a few well-placed words could break my resolve.

  I got a burger at a fast food restaurant for dinner, then went home and changed into Glen’s oversized Lake Chinook sweatshirt for hopefully the last time. I didn’t know how many of Keegan’s disciples were actual players, how many turned a blind eye, how many maybe honestly didn’t know. I just wanted Keegan.

  On my way to Do Not Enter, I called Dwayne to let him know, and he cut me off to warn, “If I don’t hear from you by eleven-thirty, I’m calling the police.”

  “Midnight,” I argued, glancing at my watch. “It’s an away game. They’ve got to get there.”

  “I don’t like it, Jane.”

  “This, I know.”

  “You don’t have to do this.”

  “I know.”

  I hung up.

  On Beachlake I passed by all the houses Dwayne had been watching: Tab A/Slot B, the Wilsons, the Pilarmos, Do Not Enter, Social Security. Boldly, I turned around in Social Security’s driveway, though the house was tucked back and my headlights would probably be more a wash across the trees than expectation of an approaching vehicle.

  No rain tonight, but I’d opted for the baseball cap anyway. Once again, I threaded my ponytail through the hole in the back. Once again, I filled my pockets with my cell phone and a rock. I ended up locking my purse in the car. I needed to be fleet of foot. It makes me nervous, all that identification inside a parked vehicle, just begging to be stolen. A phobia of mine. I have a recurring dream about losing my wallet, license, credit cards. It ranks right up there with standing naked in front of an auditorium of high school classmates.

  Water still stood in mud puddles and it required some serious concentration on my part to keep my Nikes from getting soaked. My efforts to keep my feet dry helped me use my brain for something other than the awareness of paralyzing, escalating fear. I told myself that Keegan was, after all, barely an adult. He went to school. He lived at home with his parents. He was revered by his friends, his family, the community as a whole. Were both he and Dante truly the bogeymen, or was I being a tad hysterical?

  As soon as this thought coalesced, I gave myself a mental shake. This was exactly the kind of second-guessing that predators count on. At the very least, Keegan was a rapist. Gut instinct said the guy was a monster in the making.

  Do Not Enter was as quiet as a tomb. I hadn’t gone to the game. I hadn’t called Keegan once during the week, like he’d asked. I hadn’t received a text message from Dawn. I’d simply expected everything to remain status quo.

  A cold frost ran down my spine. I stopped short, at the bottom of the plank. The construction workers had started with some insulation. I could see rolls of it piled inside the entryway and into the living room.

  A dark form materialized in the doorway, causing me to gasp in surprise. I saw the orange tip of a cigarette as he lifted it from his side to his lips. “Nobody’s here,” one of the disciples told me softly.

  Something about his tone sent a buzz through my body, an electrical whizzing along my nerves. “Okay,” I said, turning on my heel. Something was wrong. My urge to flee swelled like a balloon.

  “Hey.”

  A wall of guys was approaching from the drive. I’d heard their footsteps, but distantly, through the filter of a growing fear. My cell phone was on vibrate, in my pocket. I wanted to whip it out like a pistol, but this was not a time to be rash.

  “Keegan?” I asked, injecting an eager tone. Perhaps they didn’t hear the faint tremor.

  “He’s not here yet. You Ronnie?” one of them asked. I recognized them as they approached as several of Keegan’s most devoted acolytes.

  “What’s going on? Where is everybody?”

  “You were supposed to call,” another one of them accused. They stopped. Four of them, arms crossed, their faces obscured by darkness, their attitude watchful and faintly aggressive.

  What the hell was this? Some kind of tribunal?

  “I did call,” I lied urgently. “Keegan never called back. I thought maybe…I don’t know…that he was busy, or something…? And I was having trouble with my cell phone. I had to get a new one. Honestly.”

  There was a potent hesitation. I looked around, back to the house with its door sentry. “Am I the only girl?”

  “They’ll be here,” one of the guys said, breaking the silence. I realized it was Glen. He seemed less comfortable with this stand-off than the rest of them. I remembered him goofily flipping the bird at my Lakeshore sweatshirt, the one they’d lobbed into the tree.

  “Do you want your sweatshirt back, Glen?” I asked, saying his name on purpose, identifying him, hoping to break the mob mentality.

  “Hey, no. It’s yours.” He was embarrassed.

  “Let’s go inside,” the tallest boy ordered.

  We all single-filed our way up the plank. I found myself shivering though it wasn’t really cold. It had to be eleven or later. “How was the game?” I asked.

  “We lost.”

  “Oh.”

  Was that what all the grimness was about? I felt slightly light-headed, wanting to laugh. This terror I was feeling was because they were upset that they’d lost?

  My moment of hilarity faded when I considered what this might mean to Keegan’s mood.

  I heard more footsteps and shushing, feminine whispers. Thank God. Maybe these girls weren’t exactly my friends, but they sure as hell felt like it tonight.

  The mood continued to be glum. The scout had brought in the booze and other contraband and was handing out beers and passing around a fifth of whiskey. I watched all those mouths tipping the bottle and went into one of my germ “ick” modes. I suspected the bottle wasn’t spiked with something nefarious, since everyone was taking a big pull, but I wouldn’t put my lips to the rim unless forced. When it came to me, I politely passed and no one seemed to care.

  I was the only girl not offered a beer. I could feel the question mark forming over my head, so I turned to the nearest guy I recognized. Judd. The horndog. “Can I get one of those?” I asked with a smile.

  “Keegan’ll take care of you.” He sidled away.

  I’ll bet.

  Judd tried to get close to Glory, but she was over him in a big way. She practically shivered with affront when he drew near. I realized she was staring at me, her chin thrust out belligerently. Another girl was giving me a cold look as well. Clarissa, I was pretty sure.

  If Dawn were around, she probably would be expressing the same sentiment, but I didn’t see her.

  How did Keegan win all these girls’ undying loyalty?

  A few minutes later a murmur swept through the crowd. All hail the king. I tucked my hands inside my pockets. One around my cell, one around the rock. I honestly didn’t know what I planned with either one, but it was comforting to have them at the ready.

  Keegan stepped inside, his head thrust forward on his neck, his face set and stony. Nope. Not a good night. Everyone remained silent, suspended, unsure of what to do until he suddenly barked that he wanted a beer; then there was a scramble to fulfill the order.

  “Those fucking refs,” one of the guys said, dolefully shaking his head. “They were, like, paid off.”

  “Had to be,” someone else said.

  “They missed that face mask on you,” another murmured.

  “Shut up,” ordered Keegan, and everyone went silent.

  I tried to blend into the background, but it wasn’t to be. He caught sight of me and, if possible, his expression grew even stonier. I h
adn’t called. I hadn’t done what I was supposed to. I was as big a spark to his anger as was the lost game.

  “So…Ronnie…” he said in a deceptively soft voice.

  “Hey,” I responded.

  He moved into my space, radiating heat. He grabbed my hand and silently led me downstairs. I was surprised by his bold move. No foreplay this time, such as it was.

  Everyone else was still up and I stumbled a little on the steps. He didn’t bother helping me and I scrabbled for a hold, ending up clinging to his arm. At the bottom he pulled me to a corner where there was a pile of blankets. This was the great romantic seduction room?

  “Wait here,” he told me.

  “I’m not sure I can stay long,” I said.

  “Wait…here.”

  He went back upstairs. I knew he was getting our drinks. I was torn. Once again my urge to run was almost pathological. Maybe I should just call Josh. Or Dwayne. What time was it? I couldn’t tell in the dark.

  His returning footsteps on the stairs sent little sparks of anxiety through my veins. I rubbed my hands together, then put them back in my pocket. Keegan returned, blocking out the light that filtered through the lakeside window-holes from the houses across the bay.

  He held out an opened beer and I had to release my rock and reach for it, holding it with two fingers near its rim. “It’s cold,” I said.

  “Drink up.” He clinked his can to mine and we both hoisted our cans. I pretended to take a big swallow, even choking a little.

  I’ve gotta say, his were the weakest, lamest seduction moves I’ve ever experienced. The guy didn’t even try. But I guess that was the point of the exercise. Complete control. No choice. No objections.

  “You got your cell phone with you?” he asked, catching me off guard.

  “Um…yeah.”

  “Let me see it.”

  Reluctantly, I pulled it from my pocket. Keegan turned it over in his hands, giving me the heebie-jeebies anew.

  “Keegan?” Dawn’s voice sounded from above. “Are you down there?” Her footsteps sounded on the stairs.

  “Get outta here,” he snarled, whipping away from me and blocking the bottom of the stairs in a fluid movement that revealed his power and athleticism. I edged toward him, as he was in front of the doorway to this room. My free hand wrapped around the doorjamb, my other lightly held the beer can.

  To my surprise, and Keegan’s, Dawn ignored the order. She clattered to the bottom and said, “I saw her. Across the way.” She pointed a telling finger at me first, then toward the back of the house, across the yard and bay, toward Dwayne’s. “She was standing on the dock with this guy. He wears a cowboy hat and limps. He sure doesn’t look like her dad, but isn’t that who she’s supposed to be staying with?”

  How had she seen me? I couldn’t credit it. Did she watch through binoculars like Dwayne?

  “The Pilarmos’ wolf was just howling,” she said, as if she’d heard my question. “And these dogs across the bay were barking. I looked through our telescope and recognized one of them. A pug. Her dog. And then there she was! Standing on the dock, big as life. She’s lying to us,” Dawn said. “I don’t know why. Why?” she asked me belligerently. “That’s not where you said your dad lives. Who is that guy? Your boyfriend?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said. “I thought we were friends.”

  “I’m not friends with liars!”

  The room I was in was framed in, but the space between the two-by-fours was wide enough for me to squeeze through if need be. I put one foot in the nearest space. The boards were sixteen inches on center. I could duck under the electrical wiring, edge through and get past both Dawn and Keegan. Maybe.

  “You been lying to me, Ronnie?” Keegan asked, flipping on my cell phone. The lighted screen emitted a square of illumination. I hadn’t had time to personalize the image on my new phone. An indiscriminate picture of nature, sky, clouds and trees flashed on.

  “I thought you were all my friends,” I pleaded, leaning hard, inching my shoulder through the space. “I can’t believe this. You’re as bad as the popular kids at my own high school!”

  “Keegan, I need to talk to you,” Dawn beseeched. “It’s about Dionne. She’s just out of control.”

  “What’s this?” Keegan asked, showing me the screen of the phone. He’d scrolled through my address book and landed on LCPD. My acronym for Josh Newell’s cell. “Lake Chinook Police Department?”

  Dawn swept in a startled breath.

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” I said, but my voice was unsteady. “What time is it? If I’m not home on time, my dad probably will call the cops.”

  “I trusted you,” Dawn said. “I talked to you. You asked so many questions.”

  Keegan pocketed my phone.

  I squeezed through the open wall and ran pell mell for the rectangular light that signified Do Not Enter’s back door.

  It was the half beat of surprise that saved me. That and the fact that Dawn, in her outrage, unknowingly stepped in front of Keegan at the exact moment of my charge, impeding his chance to snatch the back of my sweatshirt. I banged my knee into the edge of the door and sucked in a breath at the pain but kept going, limping a little like Dwayne. I ran outside into the night. I was closer to the Pilarmos’ yard and zigged that way. This fence was wood. I tossed the beer over and scrambled after it, my knee throbbing. There were shouts and running footsteps behind me. I landed on the other side. Slipped in the mud. Lost precious seconds searching for the can. Keegan was swearing up a storm behind me. A moan of fear tore from my throat. I sprinted for all I was worth toward the stone wall that divided the Wilsons from the Pilarmos. I hit something and stumbled. The can flew from my hand. I slammed into the ground, my cheek grazing something hard. A gnome.

  Keegan was over the fence and heading my way with shocking speed. I had to leave the can. I grabbed the gnome and jumped onto the fence, scrabbling for a hold. Ropes of ivy hung down and I wound one hand around one.

  His hands grabbed me from behind. He had me by the neck. I cried out as he yanked me from the wall.

  From near the house came a low, canine growl. The kind of ggrrrrr that lifts the hairs on your nape.

  Keegan ignored it. He was shouting, calling me names. All rage. No finesse. No concern for being caught.

  He actually hit me, a haymaker to the side of my face that semistunned me, although I didn’t notice at the time. I was a whirling dervish, whipping around, trying to break his hold, intent on saving my life.

  “You fucking bitch,” he snarled, shaking me hard.

  A black form leapt at him, catching his arm. Lobo’s teeth flashed white.

  I heard a yelp of pain and was released. I fell to my hands and knees. Something fell to the ground beside me: my cell! I snatched it up.

  Keegan was screaming. The wolf-dog and the quarterback were duking it out in the mud. Lobo was ripping skin but Keegan had the dog by the throat. In a haze, I suddenly worried about the dog. I grabbed the gnome from where I’d dropped it and hurled it at Keegan, shrieking Lobo’s name.

  Keegan’s grip slipped. Lobo backed off, growling, watching Keegan stagger to his knees and attempt to gain his footing.

  The Pilarmos’ lights flashed on, and a man yelled, “Lobo! Stop!”

  In the illumination, a gleam of metal. The beer can. Keegan, breathing hard and frozen in the dog’s glare, watched me gingerly pick it up. He moved but the dog feinted, his lips drawn back in a snarl.

  I couldn’t climb the wall. I had no strength. It took everything I had to make it to the edge of the dock and fight my way around the end of the stone wall to Tab A/Slot B’s seawall on the other side. I had to search with my toe and then make a jump. One foot slipped into the bay but I made it. I crossed their property without incident. On the far side of their lawn, the neighboring property was divided by a tall wooden fence. I could scale it, but I didn’t need to because concrete steps, shortening in length from elongated to normal step hei
ght, sloped upward along the eastern side of the property. I could get back to Beachlake.

  I moved like an old woman, my head aching. In the distance I heard the welcome sounds of sirens. It was after midnight. Dwayne had called the cavalry.

  I reached the step that was on level with the main floor of the house. An uncurtained window gave me a close-up view of the living room and Tab A vigorously inserting into Slot B, backlit by shimmery blue water, the home to indifferent redtails, angelfish and a shockingly scary eel with fat, protruding yellow whiskers.

  Slot B looked up, saw me, threw back her head and screamed.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN