Running Scared

by Lisa Jackson

  “Since he claims to be from Canada, I’ll check with immigration to see if anyone named Daegan O’Rourke ever changed his citizenship. That’ll take a while.

  “As for him starting out around here, there were several Daegan O’Rourkes, if you can believe that, born in the greater Boston area thirty to forty years ago. None of them has a criminal record that we can find or a physical description. We’re still checking to see if any have moved or stayed in Massachusetts. It’ll take a couple of days, maybe even a week or so.”

  Kate groaned and leaned her head against the wall.

  “Sorry, Kate, but my friend and I have to do this on our free time.”

  “I know. Thanks.”

  “So are you still convinced that the cowboy next door is someone to avoid?”

  “Definitely,” Kate said, but wondered if it were possible. Jon already had developed an attraction-aversion to the man and even she found him interesting—in a purely male-female way. But that was crazy. She’d never gone for the faded jeans and worn-down boots type, never found any of the men in town overly attractive, but Daegan O’Rourke was different, he stood out in a crowd. She didn’t admit her feelings to Laura, but otherwise she filled her in, including explaining about Jon’s interest in the man, his accident with the horse, and conceding that they’d been lucky. Jon’s shoulder had only been bruised, his pride wounded more than anything else. But then there was O’Rourke to deal with—whoever he was.

  “Let me get this straight,” Laura said. “You think that Daegan might be Jon’s father. Why? Because of some silly premonition? Do they look anything alike?”

  “A little,” Kate said. “The coloring’s about the same except Jon’s eyes are a clearer blue. O’Rourke’s are gray—flinty.”

  “Not enough, Kate.”

  “Okay, so there’s some resemblance, I think. The shape of the face and skin tone. Jon’s hair is a little lighter.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake. That’s not enough. Jon’s left-handed—what about O’Rourke?”

  “Don’t know.”

  “And Jon’s dimple?”

  “O’Rourke doesn’t smile much.”

  “Then you don’t have much to go on and you might ask yourself something. Assuming that O’Rourke is Jon’s father—and that’s a helluva assumption from the sound of things, but we’ll go with it for now—why would Jon’s dad show up all of a sudden out of the clear blue, fifteen-plus years after the fact? Wasn’t he supposed to be some kind of violent lowlife? From what you’re telling me, you have a cowboy who’s maybe a little rough around the edges, who was jumped by his cousin and ended up hurting him—maybe even killing him by accident, but really, all things considered, he sounds like a good enough guy.”

  “Good guy,” Kate repeated, though some of what Laura was saying echoed her own thoughts. So far O’Rourke had only helped her—with her tire and with her son. He wasn’t even angry that Jon had wandered over to his place uninvited and taken it upon himself to ride one of the horses. All in all, he’d been a model neighbor. “That cousin ended up dead,” Kate pointed out, her stomach churning.

  “Okay, okay. What was the cousin’s name?”

  “He never said.”

  “It would help if we had a little more information to go on.”

  Kate tapped her fingers against the wall. “I know, I know. I just don’t think I can bring it up again.”

  “Maybe you won’t have to; Jon seems to be doing a pretty good job of it himself.”

  Outside, Jon threw the ball high into the air and Houndog ran around in circles, his head pointed skyward. Could Jon really be Daegan’s son, or was she just grasping at straws? What had Jon said—something about a good man and a bad one showing up here? Maybe Daegan was the good. She shuddered. Who, then, was the bad?

  Chapter 13

  “You’re a freak, Summers, a fuckin’ weirdo!” Todd Neider yelled through the open window of his truck. A cigarette was jabbed in the corner of his mouth and two of his friends were wedged into the front seat with him.

  Here we go again, Jon thought miserably. He just kept walking, hoping upon hope that his mom would be home when…and if…he got there. But he still had two miles of long, lonely pavement before the turnoff to his house. He swallowed back his dread and kept his eyes fixed straight ahead to the mountains in the distance.

  “Always shootin’ off your mouth, claimin’ to see into the goddamned future. You’re a psycho!” Todd laughed and the other goons joined in. Tromping on the gas, Todd laid a patch of rubber from tires screaming for mercy. A choking plume of exhaust spewed into the brisk afternoon air.

  Jon felt a second of relief until the brake lights glowed hot red and tires squealed again as Todd did a quick one-eighty and headed his way again.

  “Bastard,” Jon swore under his breath. Involuntarily his hands curled into fists. Engine growling, the old Chevy looked like a huge metallic monster bearing down on him with the intent to do damage, serious damage.

  Jon jumped into the dry ditch. He hit the dirt as Todd, the wheels of his truck spraying gravel from the shoulder, shot past. Hoots and brittle laughter followed.

  “Jesus!” Jon whispered. He’d jammed his shoulder and pain ricocheted down his arm. Climbing to his feet, he started running, grass seeds clinging to his hair.

  Again the truck spun around and within seconds Neider’s truck had caught up to him. “Hey, Jonnie-boy, ain’t you gonna tell me my future now?” he leered as his friends snickered nervously.

  Clenching his teeth together, Jon wondered why he’d been stupid enough to get into a fight with Todd again at school. Why wouldn’t the big jerk just leave him alone? He slowed his pace but kept walking. Don’t let him beat you. Remember—he’s a mental midget.

  “Scared?” Todd taunted. “Hell, we haven’t even started yet.”

  Though he was shaking inside, Jon ignored the bully, refusing to give him one inch of satisfaction.

  Todd eased the truck into the oncoming shoulder so that he was close enough to touch Jon. Acrid smells of cigarette smoke and beer wafted from the cab. “You can’t run away from me.”

  Jon bit his tongue.

  “Come on, freak, what have ya got to say for yourself?”

  Just keep walking

  “Shit!” A car coming the opposite direction forced Todd onto his side of the road. The driver of the sedan laid on the horn as he roared by and Jon wished to God that the driver would stop and end this torment. Todd was gonna kill him—beat him up so badly he’d never be the same. Well, he intended to give as good as he got. Inside he was shaking, outside he hoped his face was set in stone.

  Sweat covered his back and palms.

  When the car disappeared far behind them, Todd drew his pickup close again. “Ya know, Summers, everyone thinks you’re a mutant—some kind of throwback.” Todd kept pace with Jon on the long lonely road and Jon gave himself a swift mental kick for missing the bus. But then this torment had been worth it as he’d captured a few minutes to talk to Jennifer alone.

  “Maybe he’s the missing link,” Joey Flanders said in a voice that cracked often. Joey didn’t bother Jon because Flanders was just a coward who lived vicariously through Todd’s mean streak. Jon could handle Joey.

  “Yeah, or maybe he’s just a dumb-shit.” Dennis Morrisey was the son of Preacher Fire-and-Brimstone Morrisey. If Reverend Morrisey had had any idea his son was out carousing, smoking cigarettes, and swilling beer, Dennis would have had to scrub the church bathrooms with a toothbrush for the next six months. The Reverend had been in the army and believed in strict punishment. He didn’t worry Jon at all.

  That left Todd—a blowhard and a bully, but mean enough to be a problem. Physically, Jon didn’t have a chance against him, but mentally he could outsmart him every time.

  “Why don’t you and me have it out right here?” Todd suggested and again the other boys laughed. He flicked his cigarette at Jon, hitting him in the cheek. Ash and the butt fell into the dry weeds and Jon stompe
d quickly to put out the ember before it caught on the bleached grass.

  “God, Neider, you’re such a cretin! What do ya want to do, start a grass fire that won’t quit ’til it hits the river?” Jon stopped dead in his tracks and faced Todd. Throwing out his chin rebelliously, he silently dared the older kid to put up or shut up.

  “I don’t give a shit.”

  “That’s ’cause you are one.” Swiping the ash from his cheek, Jon narrowed furious eyes on his tormentor. Since their last fight he couldn’t hold his tongue. The words just tumbled out. “Why don’t you go home and cry in your bed like you do when your old man beats you?”

  “You little prick!” Todd’s color was suddenly high, his deep-set piglike eyes horror-stricken. “My old man never lays a hand on me—”

  “Sure he does and you blubber like a baby for him to stop. But it never does any good, does it, Neider, ’cause your old man just takes off his belt and keeps hitting you over and over again, calling you a no-good until he’s so drunk he passes out.”

  Flanders and Morrisey had become silent as death. Todd’s mouth worked but no words came out. The pickup idled in the dying sunlight and Jon turned toward home.

  “You’re a liar, Summers!”

  Jon kept walking. The truck wasn’t far behind.

  “Hear me? A fuckin’ liar!”

  Jon glanced over his shoulder and the old Chevy rolled to within inches of him. Todd’s face was purple with shame and Jon knew he’d gone too far, that he’d told one of Todd’s secrets, one Jon had seen when the older boy had grabbed him by the shoulder one day.

  “And you’re a blowhard, picking on me so that you can feel better because your old man knocks you around.”

  “That does it!” Todd jammed on the brakes. Tires screamed. Wheels locked. The pickup shimmied and Todd jumped out, leaving his vehicle idling noisily. “You pushed me too far this time, Summers,” he warned, his big, meaty fist clenched so hard the knuckles showed white. “Time to learn a lesson.” He swung wildly. Jon ducked and started running. The other boys yelled, egging Todd on.

  Todd, breathing hard, couldn’t catch him, but flung his body into the air, hitting Jon’s midsection and throwing them both to the ground. Twisting, Jon hit the dry earth of the ditch, and his shoulder, the one he’d injured before, seemed to crack. A bolt of pain speared through his shoulder, wrenching his arm back. He screamed.

  Bam! Knuckles blasted his cheekbone. His bones seemed to melt. He couldn’t move. Crash! His nose crumpled. Blood gushed. Pain exploded behind his eyes. Crack! His head snapped back against the ground. A moan ripped from his throat and he choked on his own blood.

  “I knew you were a wimp!” Neider crowed.

  Jon tried to squirm, but Todd was too big, too heavy, pinning him to the hard ground, his sour breath flowing over his face. “Fag!”

  Jon kicked and hit back, scratching, reaching up, trying to get rid of the huge mass crushing his chest.

  He heard voices—Dennis and Joey—yelling wildly. “Hey, Neider, that’s enough.”

  “Shit, man, you’re gonna kill him.”

  Todd didn’t listen. “You slimy little bastard, I’m gonna teach you a lesson you’ll never forget.” Todd climbed drunkenly to his feet, then hauled back and kicked Jon hard in the groin.

  Jon wretched, his body recoiling.

  A knee to the kidneys. Blackness threatened his vision.

  “Stop!” a loud angry voice ordered.

  “What the hell? Who the fuck are you?” Todd suddenly swore. “Hey—hey! Keep your hands off me!” he bellowed in real fear.

  Blinking up through bloodied eyes, Jon felt instant relief. Daegan O’Rourke had Todd by his collar.

  “What’s going on here?” he demanded, his eyes gray as storm clouds, his lips blade thin.

  “Let go of me!” Todd said, taking a swipe at him.

  Daegan had Todd on the ground in an instant, one arm twisted behind his back, a knee pressed hard to the boy’s spine. “I’ll sue you!” Todd screamed.

  “Yeah, and I’ll have you up on charges for assault so fast, your fat head will spin.”

  “You don’t scare me.” Todd was squirming, trying to break free, but couldn’t move.

  “Well, I should,” Daegan muttered as the two other boys flew from the cab of the truck and scattered. “Who are you, boy?”

  “Leave me alone!”

  “Yeah, like you left him alone?” Daegan said, motioning with his chin to Jon. Once again he hauled Todd to his feet and the boy looked so scared Jon thought he might pee his pants. “You’re gonna tell me what’s going on and who you are, or I’m calling the police as well as Jon’s mother.”

  Jon struggled to one elbow and his knees.

  “You okay?” Daegan asked, and Jon nodded, refusing to let him know how battered he felt, denying the urge to break down and sob for his mother like he wanted to. “Good, now, kid…” Again he focused his hard gaze on Neider, though it seemed to Jon that some of the edge had left Daegan, as if he realized he was dealing with a boy and not a man. “You made a serious mistake messing with Jon here, because if you mess with him, you mess with me, and believe me, that’s a mistake you don’t want to make twice.”

  “Yeah, and who’re you?” Todd managed, wiping his chin as Daegan let go of him.

  O’Rourke’s lips twisted into a smile that was positively evil. “Your worst nightmare. I’m a friend of Jon’s here, and I’m taking it as my personal mission to see that he doesn’t get beat up by small-town toughs who like to bully smaller kids.”

  “He…he asked for it,” Todd stammered.

  “Right.” Daegan walked over to Todd’s truck and withdrew the keys from the ignition. With a rumble and a clunk, the old motor died.

  “Hey—wait a minute. What’re you doin’?”

  Despite his pain, Jon had to swallow a smile.

  “Making sure you have time to think—so maybe next time you won’t go driving around, all liquored up picking on kids.”

  “No way, man. Those are my keys—” Todd wailed and to Jon’s amazement Daegan hurled the prize high into the air.

  “No!” Todd roared, giving chase, trying to climb the fence as the metal keys glinted in the sunlight, jangling as they fell into the knee-high grass and weeds of Doc Henson’s unmown field. “You fuckin’ bastard, I’ll—”

  “You’ll what?” Daegan asked, his fury returning full force.

  Neider had the good sense to shut up.

  “Go ahead,” O’Rourke prodded. “You were about to threaten me. What exactly did you have in mind?”

  “I’ll…I’ll…” Todd shook his head and stared longingly at the field.

  “What you won’t do is pick on this boy anymore.” Daegan glanced at the two other boys, who were far away, still running, trying to make good their escape. “And that goes for your friends, too.” He planted his hands on his hips and looked tough as old rawhide. “If I hear of this happening again—not just to Jon but to anyone else—believe me, I’ll come looking for you.”

  “But my keys—”

  “Hope you have an extra set.” Daegan turned his attention to Jon. “Come on, let’s get you home. Need some help?”

  “No,” Jon said and followed him to his beat-up old truck. He slid across the bench seat and stared out the cracked passenger window. Daegan shifted into first and they rolled past a red-faced Todd, who shouted obscenities until Daegan stepped on the brakes. Then he was silent.

  O’Rourke gave a satisfied snort and found the gas pedal again. “Nice guy,” he observed.

  “If you like creeps.”

  “Look through the glove box. I think there’s a rag in there. I can’t guarantee how sterile it is, but unless you want your mom to faint dead away, you’d better clean yourself up.” As Jon scrounged in the overflowing compartment, O’Rourke asked, “What did you do to that guy to make him so mad?”

  Jon thought that one over as he discovered an old stained rag and began wiping off the blood that h
ad congealed on his face. How much could he trust this guy? True, he hadn’t ratted him out, hadn’t told Mom about the girlie magazines and the booze, and sneaking over there in the middle of the night, but still…He checked the side view mirror and saw that Todd was out of sight. Slowly he let out his breath.

  “He was gonna tear you limb from limb.”

  “Maybe he didn’t need a reason.” Jon winced as he touched his cheek with the rag.

  O’Rourke seemed to consider it as he found second gear and the fence posts started clipping by at a faster rate. “Usually when a guy’s that mad, there’s a reason.”

  “He hates me.”

  “Why?”

  Jon lifted a shoulder, then folded the rag and touched his nose. He nearly jumped out of his skin and his head began to throb. Rolling down the window, he said, “It’s ’cause I’m different.” He sniffed and blood slid down the back of his throat. “You know, I can see things.”

  “Like you did with me?”

  “Yeah.” He sighed. “This is gonna just keep going on and on.”

  “No way.”

  “You gonna stop him?” Jon asked, sarcasm in his voice as O’Rourke slowed the truck in order to turn into the lane.

  “You bet I am,” Daegan replied, surprised by his own sense of conviction. “He won’t bother you.”

  “You don’t know Todd.”

  “I’ve known a lot of Todds over the years. They’re all the same. Scared deep down. If he tries anything again, you let me know.”

  “Oh, yeah, sure,” Jon replied with a frown that reminded Daegan of Bibi’s pout. “You think I should run like a crybaby to you?” Incredulity and sarcasm mixed in the boy’s words.

  Daegan lifted a shoulder. “It’s your call, Jon. You can either stand and fight, run, or ask for help.”

  “I want to stand and fight. I already have.”

  The truck bounced through a pothole. “Then you’d better learn how to do it so that next time you don’t get the living shit knocked out of you.”

  “Oh, dear God,” Kate whispered as she slammed on the brakes. Jon was climbing slowly out of the cab of O’Rourke’s truck. Blood stained the front of his shirt and ran down his face. His eyes were swollen, his face battered, and he limped noticeably. Her heart in her throat, she shoved the car into park and scrambled into the yard amid the excited barking and jumping of Houndog and Jon yelling at the pup to back off.