Beholden

by Pat Warren

  “Stay with mommy, Brian,” the mother admonished the little boy as she picked up a huge bag of colorful bows. Ignoring his mother, the boy sauntered past her.

  Terry reached for a Chapstick and added it to her pile. Her lips were so dry in this cool weather. She nearly bumped into Luke as she turned around.

  They were at the counter paying for her purchases when the lights flickered and they heard a small popping sound. It was followed by a woman’s scream.

  “Oh, my God!” the young mother yelled. “Brian, what did you do?” She stared at the still form of her child on the floor by the raised tarpaulin. “Help, someone, please! My son! He’s not moving!” She dropped to her knees. “Oh, God! He’s not breathing!”

  Luke’s first thought was that someone might be setting up a diversion in order to get to Terry. He grabbed her arm, urging her toward the door. “We’re leaving.”

  The middle-aged clerk who’d been ringing up Terry’s items ran around the counter and over to the woman. “What happened?”

  The druggist had also left his post and was looking down at the boy, a worried frown on his face. “Did he touch something behind the tarp? Didn’t you see the sign? That area’s off-limits.”

  “I don’t know.” The mother was frantic. “Oh, God, my baby’s not breathing. Someone, please help!”

  Terry stopped in her tracks, preventing Luke from dragging her out. “We can’t leave. He’s only a child. This isn’t a trick,” she pleaded, guessing what he was thinking. “Please, Luke, we have to help that little boy.”

  Luke paused. Maybe she was right. No one else was in the store. He went over to the boy, still holding on to Terry. “Stay right here where I can see you,” he told her as he knelt down.

  By the tarp, he noticed a receptacle hanging out of the wall without a coverplate. By the look of the boy’s burned hand, he guessed that the kid—curious as all kids were—had touched the circuit breaker which had sent electrical impulses throughout his little body. An adult might have only received a mild shock, but the small boy had been knocked unconscious.

  Quickly assessing the situation, Luke glanced at the child’s mother, her face pinched and anxious. “It looks like electrical shock.” He looked up at the druggist who seemed stunned and immobile. “Phone 911.”

  Luke’s tone was that of someone used to being obeyed. The druggist came out of his trance, nodded, and hurried to the phone as the others moved aside. The boy couldn’t be more than four, he decided, and he was very white and lying very still. Pressing his ear to the child’s chest, he listened, then applied two fingers to the pulse in his neck and found it fluttering. He was fibrillating, his heartbeat out of sync.

  Luke thumped the small chest and got no response. He tilted the boy’s head up and made sure his mouth was clear, then began CPR. Glancing up to make sure no one else had entered and that he could see Terry, he breathed into the boy’s mouth, then placed his crossed hands on the small chest, counting softly. “One, two, three, four, five.”

  Working smoothly, calmly, he repeated the process while the mother held a trembling hand to her mouth and prayed, tears flowing from her eyes. Terry was praying, too. The child was so small, so still.

  Seconds later, the siren of the EMS could be heard coming closer. Just then, the boy cried out and coughed, raising his head, squirming to sit up. Luke let out a relieved breath. In a move that was natural and unplanned, he cradled the child against his chest.

  “Brian, Brian,” his mother wailed.

  The boy was crying loudly now, obviously frightened. Luke handed him over to his mother, who hugged the boy to her as if she’d never let go.

  “Thank God,” the druggist muttered. His concern over a possible lawsuit had him pocketing the pliers and rearranging the tarp as the EMS crew came rushing through the door.

  “Come on,” Luke said, hurriedly shepherding Terry outside and toward the van.

  “Wait,” Brian’s mother called after them. “I need to thank him,” she explained to the clerk who looked after the departing couple.

  “We didn’t pay for my things,” Terry said, holding up the bag of merchandise.

  Luke rushed her into the van and jumped behind the wheel. “I’m not going to worry about ten dollars worth of stuff right now. I don’t want to have to answer a lot of questions.” Seeing a break in traffic, he pulled out and left the scene.

  Terry strapped herself in and leaned back, forcing herself to relax. “It was touch-and-go there for a while. You were really great with the boy.”

  Luke was uncomfortable with praise, especially for doing something he’d have walked away from if she hadn’t insisted they stay. “Don’t make a big thing of it. Anyone who knows CPR could have done what I did.”

  “But I don’t know CPR and apparently no one else in the store did, either, or they’d have tried. You saved his life.”

  “The EMS guys would have saved him, too.”

  “Maybe.” She studied his profile, but he was concentrating on his driving. “Can’t you accept a compliment?”

  Luke scowled. “All right. I was friggin’ wonderful.”

  “You thought for a moment there that the whole thing was a setup, didn’t you?”

  “It could have been.” He didn’t want to talk about it anymore. “What do you say we go for a drive?” Without waiting for an answer, Luke maneuvered the van toward the hilly coastal road going south.

  Driving aimlessly was a tension reliever. The late afternoon was still sunny, the temperature not quite fifty degrees. In the passenger seat, Terry was gazing out the side window, seemingly as glad to be out of the house as he. The traffic was light on this balmy holiday weekend.

  Luke thought that she seemed contemplative and subdued after the excitement in the drugstore. She was wearing jeans, her navy jacket, and a floppy hat she’d picked up earlier and plopped on over her wig. With huge sunglasses covering half of her face, he decided that her own mother probably wouldn’t recognize her. However, it wouldn’t do to underestimate the Russo brothers and their men. “We should have come earlier and brought the makings of a picnic,” he said, squinting up toward a wooded section off to the left.

  “Turkey sandwiches. I wish I’d thought to pack some.” Her feelings had shifted again as she’d watched Luke with the boy. He’d been so gentle, yet very much in control. Then he wouldn’t take credit or accept praise. A paradox of a man.

  She cracked the window, breathing in the sea air. “This Big Sur area is so beautiful. Isn’t the Hearst mansion along here somewhere?”

  “San Simeon and no, it’s farther south.”

  “I’d love to visit it sometime. I’ll bet it’s fabulous.” Checking out the black rocks covered with green moss clinging to the cliffside where the tidewater tumbled in, Terry was fascinated. “Imagine being able to enjoy this view every day from one of those huge houses way up there.”

  “You think you’d like to live on the ocean?”

  “Sure. However, with the cost of California seaside real estate, I don’t think I have much chance of that.”

  Luke’s eyes scanned the traffic, front and back, a sudden instinct warning him that something wasn’t right. He knew better than to ignore his instincts. He kept his hands steady on the wheel, not wanting to prematurely upset Terry. “Who knows? You might get syndicated on your next job and become world famous.” He glanced over at her. “I’ll be able to say I knew you when.”

  “I’ll be happy just to get a job again.” They rode along in silence for a while, then she felt the van swerve as Luke changed lanes abruptly. “Is something wrong?”

  “I don’t know.” Luke’s eyes shifted from the rearview mirror to the windshield, studying each vehicle.

  Tensing, Terry turned to look behind them, but the shaded windows kept her from seeing clearly. “What is it?” she asked, fighting a rising panic.

  He watched the dark blue sedan he’d noticed minutes ago switch into their lane, staying two lengths behind them. “Probably
nothing,” he said in as calm a voice as possible.

  Terry leaned closer to peer at the outside mirror on her side. It took her only a moment to spot it. “Oh, my God!”

  Luke shot her a quick glance. “Does that look like the car you saw in the garage?”

  “Not exactly. But they could have switched cars. Who else would be following us?”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Luke slowed the van gradually, hoping the dark blue car would pass them. “We don’t know yet if that car is really following us. His lane changes could be coincidental.”

  Terry felt anxious sweat pop out on her face. She gripped her hands together to still their shaking. “Oh, come on. You don’t believe in coincidence any more than I do.”

  The car behind also slowed. No, he didn’t believe in coincidence. His eyes darting back and forth, he spoke to Terry. “I want you to unbuckle your seat belt, move behind me, and crouch down on the floor.”

  “Oh, God, you do think it’s them!” Her voice was high-pitched with the beginning of hysteria.

  “Terry! Get a grip. We don’t know anything for sure, but I don’t want to take any chances. Do as I say.” He knew how frightened she was, but he couldn’t take the time to reassure her just now.

  She fumbled with the seat belt, finally unlocked it. Glancing out the window nervously, she got out of her seat and moved behind, lying flat on the floor. Gripping the driver’s seat, she closed her eyes and prayed.

  With Terry out of the line of fire, Luke concentrated on his driving, speeding up again. In moments, the blue sedan picked up speed. He searched his memory, trying to recall the last time he’d driven this route and if he’d seen a road leading off the highway. It wasn’t his nature or his training to run or to be a sitting duck. He believed that the best defense was an offense. He wasn’t confrontational by design, only of necessity. But there were times when that was the best approach. Still, there was no point in being hasty.

  Again, he changed lanes and cruised along, waiting and watching. Sure enough, the sedan followed.

  “Are… are they still behind us?” Terry asked, hating the weak sound of her voice.

  “Yes.” The road ahead opened up and Luke saw what he’d been seeking. A narrow two-lane path led off to the left, winding upward into the wooded hillside. A smattering of homes was barely visible through the trees. He’d have to time it just right. Bracing himself for a quick turn, Luke eyed the oncoming traffic.

  “What are you going to do?” Terry asked.

  “Just hold tight.” He was going about forty-five, but he couldn’t take a chance on slowing more. They’d see him hit the brake lights. He was almost there. Waiting till the last possible second, he turned the wheel sharply left and heard the squeal of tires as the van bounced onto the dirt path. Dust flew every which way as Luke gripped the wheel, straightening out of the turn.

  He was dimly aware that Terry had held on because he hadn’t felt her roll to the other side. He headed up, waiting for the dust to settle so he could make sure they’d lost the sedan. Sure enough, no one was following.

  Still, he kept on climbing, unable to trust the situation yet. He was rounding a hairpin turn when he spotted the blue car racing after them, speeding to catch up. He felt his gut tighten the way it always did when he knew he’d have to go head-on with someone. Or several someones.

  “Are we in the clear?” Terry spoke into the silence.

  “Not yet. Stay down. I’ll let you know when.” The shadows were deepening up here, although it was only late afternoon. Tall evergreens were densely crowded in with cedar and pine, leaving little room for the sun to break through. He’d have to pick his spot carefully, Luke knew. He wouldn’t get a second chance.

  Moments later, he saw that the path narrowed up ahead, leaving a sheer drop on one side and steep cliffside on the other. It would have to do. Carefully slowing, his eyes flickering from road to rearview, he bided his time. Finally, he reached the deserted stretch where the path hugged the rocky abutment. Now or never, Luke thought as he slammed to a stop, shoved it into park and reached for his gun.

  “Don’t move until I come back,” he ordered Terry, then leaped from the van. There was no room for the sedan to move around them, so it screeched to a halt behind, its bumper nearly kissing his. Gun drawn, Luke rushed the driver’s side and yanked open the door. “Get out,” he shouted.

  Startled, the driver just stared at the gun pointing at his face. “Hey, man, we didn’t mean nothing.”

  Teenagers. Two scrawny teenagers with bad complexions and even worse haircuts. He hadn’t figured kids would be driving a big Lincoln. The boy in the passenger seat scurried out, holding his trembling hands up in the air.

  “Don’t shoot, mister,” he whined.

  Luke’s eyes were as cold as the Pacific as he jerked the driver out and shoved him against the car. “Spread ’em.”

  The kid obeyed. Luke could feel him twitching as he patted him down. He motioned to the other punk with his gun. “Over here.”

  The frightened boy joined his pal and leaned against the car while Luke checked him over. Taking a step back, he ordered them to turn around. “Just what the hell did you think you were doing following me?”

  The driver swallowed around a huge Adam’s apple. “We were just, you know, riding around.”

  Luke narrowed his eyes. “Uh huh.” Gun still trained on them, he reached for his ID and flipped it open, watching their eyes grow wide. “Let me see your driver’s license.” The kid who’d been behind the wheel reached toward his back pocket. “Nice and slow,” Luke warned. “You don’t want to make me nervous.”

  Following orders, the kid held out his wallet.

  “Take out your license.” When he did, Luke saw that it was a temporary, recently issued. Steve Dawson, turned sixteen last week. He eyed the other boy. “Who’s your friend?”

  “Danny,” Steve offered. “Danny Compton.”

  “Whose car?”

  “My dad’s,” Steve answered. “Registration’s in the glove compartment. He said I could drive it this afternoon, honest. You can call him and check.”

  “Don’t think I won’t.” Stepping back, but keeping the two in his sight, Luke took his notebook out and copied down the information from the boy’s license, plus the plate numbers. He had no plans to do anything with them, unless it became necessary. “What’s your dad do, Steve?”

  “Insurance agent.”

  “You live with him at this address on your temporary license?”

  “Yeah, sure. All my life.” The kid tried for pleasant, unsure just where he stood. “Look, we didn’t mean any harm. We were just fooling around.”

  Luke stepped close to both boys, watched their eyes fill with fear as they stared at the gun rather than him. “You were deliberately following my van, even when I turned off. You couldn’t see who was inside. Maybe you thought it was some helpless woman, someone you could force over and rob. Or do worse to, right, boys?”

  “No,” they both chorused, shaking their heads. “We were just, you know, horsing around,” Steve added.

  Luke handed the license back to Steve. “Don’t you ever let me catch you doing anything like this again, you hear?” They bobbed their heads in unison. “Now get out of here and go straight home.”

  Steve reached for the door handle. “You going to call my dad?”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.” He stood back and waited until they both got into the sedan. Then he returned to the van. Shoving it into gear, he moved ahead until he found a fork in the road. Pulling over, he let them pass, watching them speed up and zoom off. Angrily, he turned around and headed back to the highway.

  “Who was it?” Terry finally asked. She’d been so frightened, not being able to hear anything but muffled voices. She’d cringed, waiting for the shot that meant that they’d killed Luke, too. Like the wimp she was, she’d stayed hidden, wondering what she’d do if they did kill him. Now, ashamed of her cowardice, she couldn’t seem to get up.


  “A couple of kids out joyriding.” He stopped at the intersection, then swung onto the highway toward home. When she didn’t return to her seat, he glanced over his shoulder. “You can come back now. It’s okay.”

  But Terry stayed where she was until they’d pulled into the driveway and Luke turned off the engine.

  Luke stood at the bottom of the steps staring up thoughtfully. Terry had been in her room since they’d returned from the drive and the incident with the blue sedan. She hadn’t wanted dinner and apparently she hadn’t wanted company for she’d gone straight to her room. He’d checked on her several times through the open door and found her lying curled up on her bed, her Walkman earphones in place. She wasn’t asleep, but rather staring off into space.

  She worried him.

  He rubbed the back of his neck, wondering what to do. Should he leave her alone until she got over this mood? Should he take up some food and order her to eat before she made herself sick? Or should he just march into her room and demand an explanation for her sulky behavior?

  Luke wasn’t happy with any of those choices.

  Damn, but women were infuriating, he thought as he walked to the kitchen window and pulled back the heavy drape. A slice of moon sprinkled the backyard with silvery light. Prince was patiently pacing the perimeter as he so often did. Not a breeze was stirring, not a leaf moving. The restlessness was confined to him alone, it seemed.

  Earlier, he’d built a fire, and he strolled back to the living room to stare into it. At the time, he’d thought that Terry would come down after resting awhile and join him. At his cabin in Sedona, he’d sat many an evening gazing into his fire after a day of hard work. He’d felt soothed by watching the flames lick at the logs. Why was it that now he couldn’t enjoy this fire for worrying about the woman lying upstairs looking so lost?