Pursued

by Patricia H. Rushford

  Allison scooped up the bow and dropped into a wicker chair. “Did Rocky…I mean, he didn’t hurt you, did he?”

  Jennie closed her eyes. Hurt. Embarrassed. Humiliated. Used. All of the above. How could she have been so stupid as to think he might have been having a good time…that he might have really meant what he’d said about her being pretty? You let your guard down, McGrady. You let yourself get caught up in music and candlelight. You were acting like a girl. Jennie almost choked on that one. She could almost hear Gram saying, “My dear child. Of course you were acting like a girl. You are a girl.”

  “No,” she said finally. “He didn’t hurt me.” To herself she added, Not physically, anyway.

  “Good.” Lisa shrugged out of her dress and shoes and retrieved her sweats. “Did you find out anything?”

  “Yeah. According to the file, his real name is Dean Rockford. Lives in Vancouver. I tried to memorize the address. Twenty-two something East Third. I can’t remember right now.” Jennie unzipped her dress and let it slither to the floor. “It doesn’t matter anyway.” She jerked on her jeans and a purple University of Washington sweatshirt. “I’m through.”

  “No!” Allison wailed. “Jennie, you can’t give up now.”

  “Like I told you earlier. Your dad is taking this seriously. He says the police are too.”

  “Even if that’s true,” Lisa argued, “the police aren’t going to look for another stalker. They have Jerry.”

  “I’m sorry. Both Rocky and Mr. B warned me off. I’m not about to go through another night like tonight.”

  “Listen,” Allison said as she rose and headed for the door. “I’ve got to go back downstairs to say goodbye to everyone. Promise me you’ll stay till I get back.”

  “Look, Allison. I’m tired. I just want to go home and go to bed.”

  “Please.”

  Jennie sank onto the bed. “Okay, you win.”

  Lisa watched Allison go, then closed the door. “Are you really giving up?”

  “Forget it, Lisa. It’s not going to work.” She turned onto her stomach and buried her head in the soft pillow.

  Jennie felt the bed shift as Lisa sat on it. “You want to talk about it?”

  “What?”

  “You know.”

  Rocky. The unspoken word hung between them. After a few minutes, Jennie turned onto her back and sat up.

  “Lisa, Rocky is arrogant, mean, he uses a phony name, I’m sure he’s involved in something shady, and he could even be the stalker. He could easily have taken Mr. B’s gun and stashed it in Jerry’s pickup. He could have written the message on the mirror, then come down by the pool. He could have followed Allison to my house that night she and B.J. stayed over, and he could have followed me to Crystal Springs. Do you honestly think I could like someone like that?”

  Lisa didn’t have to say it. The answer was evident in her smile. “He’s also cute and very charming.”

  Lisa reached over and gave her cousin a hug. “Oh, Jennie, I love it when you mess up. It makes me feel like there’s still hope for me.”

  At ten minutes after midnight Jennie stopped at a red light and wondered about the wisdom of her decision to drive home alone. Brad—after he, Lisa, and Allison drove Jerry home—would drop Lisa and Allison off at Jennie’s. Jennie had already locked the car doors, but she pressed the button again.

  Twice she could have sworn someone was following her, but both times they’d turned off. She saw headlights again, about half a block behind her. Stop it, McGrady. You’re being paranoid. If they follow you home just keep going—right to the police station. Jennie turned off her lights and turned right onto Magnolia Street. She paused just before her driveway and peered into the rearview mirror. Nothing. The car had either turned off or stopped.

  Jennie eased the white Mustang into the driveway, wishing she had a color that would blend more easily with the shadows. She found her house key before opening the car door. She’d read somewhere that you could use keys as a weapon by holding the key ring in your hand and arranging them so the keys stuck out between your fingers. Jennie tried it and made a fist. She whistled. “You could poke somebody’s eyes out with these.”

  With her keys still sticking out between her fingers, Jennie unlocked her car door and stepped out. The night had grown cooler. Jennie shivered. The porch light was out. Had Mom forgotten to leave it on? She doubted that. Jennie had called earlier to say she’d be coming. It was probably a burned-out bulb. Or someone had removed it. The stalker wouldn’t need to follow her. He knew exactly where she lived. He could be waiting in the bushes right now.

  Oh, for Pete’s sake, McGrady. Cool your jets. This thing’s got you so spooked you’re hallucinating.

  Squeak—groan. Squeak—groan. The porch swing. Now that she hadn’t imagined. The wind had come up but not enough to set the swing in motion. Was someone in it? Mom had said she was going to bed. Had she changed her mind?

  Jennie slowly climbed the porch steps. “Mom?” she called. No one answered. Squeak—groan. Squeak—groan…Jennie adjusted the keys in her fist. As she reached the top step a shadowy figure rounded the corner.

  18

  “It’s about time you got here.” The figure stood between Jennie and the door.

  Jennie grabbed her chest to keep her heart from taking off, then clutched the post beside the stairs to steady herself. “You are dead meat,” she blurted.

  “What?” B.J. leaned against the post on the other side and folded her arms. “Did I do something wrong? I just wanted to stay up to thank you.”

  “Right. And while you were at it, you figured you’d scare me to death. That wasn’t smart.” She held up her key-studded fist. “I could have permanently damaged your face.”

  B.J. took Jennie’s hand and lifted it up to where the streetlight offered its faint light. “With this? Ha. That’s rich.” B.J adjusted the keys. “You got to set them closer to the knuckle so you get a direct hit. Now try it.”

  “On you?” Jennie tested the keys against her hand. “This is good. Thanks. I’ll remember this next time someone tries to sneak up on me.”

  B.J. ignored Jennie’s remark and opened the door. “Come on. Let’s go inside. Want some hot chocolate?”

  “Sure.” Jennie paused at the door and looked up. “Look, God,” she murmured, “I agreed to let her live here, not take over.”

  Ease up, McGrady, Jennie answered her own objection. God probably figures you’re used to it. Lisa does it all the time.

  Jennie dropped a handful of mini marshmallows in her hot chocolate. “I have to admit, I’m surprised you decided to come. You didn’t seem too sociable when I invited you to Jerry’s arraignment.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m sorry about that. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.” B.J. stirred her drink, scooped out a spoonful, and blew on it.

  Jennie shrugged. “It’s no biggie. I’d probably have been pretty teed off too if my folks didn’t believe me.”

  “Hey, McGrady, if that was the problem, you think I’d be here?” B.J. answered Jennie’s questioning look with a grin. “Look, I know you think I’m involved in this stalking thing. You just can’t figure out where I fit.”

  “So why did you come?”

  “Because you call me B.J.”

  “Huh?”

  B.J. took a sip of her drink. “Look, I admit that it hurts when people don’t believe me. But you know what hurts more? When they don’t accept me. All I ever hear is Bethany this and Bethany that. I’ve been B.J. nearly all my life. My father says since my given name is Bethany Joy Beaumont, that’s what I’ll be called. He doesn’t like nicknames—he doesn’t like me.”

  “Is that why you call Allison Al?”

  “Yeah. Doesn’t help, though—they still don’t get the message.”

  “I’ll admit the name thing is kind of strange, but what about all
the stuff they’ve been doing for you?”

  “You mean the clothes?”

  “Yeah, and your room. When Allison was showing me around, she told me that she and Mrs. B. had the room decorated just for you.”

  “For me? Jennie, you saw that room. It’s pink. Do I look like a pink person to you? They didn’t do that room for me. They did it for the person they want me to be. Mrs. B insisted on buying me clothes. She didn’t once ask what I wanted. Just told me what I needed.”

  “I’m beginning to see what you mean.” Jennie finished off her drink and took their cups to the sink. “So what are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know. Your mom said I could stay here awhile. I know one thing…I’m not going back until they start calling me B.J.”

  At ten-thirty on Saturday morning, a busload of weary teenagers and their youth director piled out of the bright blue bus bearing the name TRINITY CENTER. Most of the kids had fallen asleep on the way up, probably because of the party at Allison’s the night before. At least that was Jennie’s excuse.

  The motor home in which Mom, Uncle Kevin, Aunt Kate, Nick, and Kurt had traveled was already set up in a beautiful campsite overlooking the river. Jennie stretched and yawned, then went to the rear of the bus to help unload their gear. Tents, backpacks, duffel bags, and food. Mom had assured her they’d packed enough food to feed an army, but as empty as her stomach felt at the moment, she wondered if it would be enough.

  B.J. slipped up behind her and pulled out a new forest green backpack and matching sleeping bag. Michael had taken her to a sporting goods store. “What,” Jennie had teased when she’d brought it in the house, “not pink?”

  That morning Michael had handed Jennie his camera and had asked her to be the official photographer for the retreat. The idea had delighted her. She’d taken a few shots on the bus, which she thought she might use later to blackmail certain people who slept with their mouths open. She pulled the camera out again and snapped some candid shots of the kids setting up camp, then joined them for snacks. Soon most of the kids had drifted off in different directions to explore the area. Since they’d be hiking downriver the next day, Jennie suggested they make the four-mile trek to Middle Falls. Jennie tried to recruit a hiking party but didn’t get much response. A few of the guys had brought fishing poles and planned to catch their dinner.

  Lisa, sprawled out in a lawn chair, peeked out from under her baseball cap. “I’m saving myself for tomorrow.”

  “Me too,” Allison murmured.

  “I’ll go,” Eddie volunteered. “Where’s Paige?”

  Mom stuck her head out of the RV. “Lying down. Says she feels nauseated and has a headache. Probably the bus ride up. The fumes and everything.”

  Mom, Aunt Kate, and Annie, another of Trinity’s princesses, elected to stay at the campsite to work on dinner in case the fish idea didn’t pan out.

  In the end, Jennie headed up the trail with Nick at her side and the camera around her neck. B.J., Michael, Uncle Kevin, Kurt, Jerry, and Eddie followed behind.

  Nick had been sticking pretty close to Jennie that morning after he discovered B.J. would be staying at their house. As they walked he kept glancing up at her. The trail snaked along the river, occasionally cutting through the woods. They gained elevation and were soon standing on a precipice high above the river.

  Jennie held tightly to Nick’s hand as the trail ran along the cliff edge. She had to get a picture and handed Nick off to Michael. “Here, hang on to him a minute. This is going to be a great shot.” She stopped to peer over the edge. A shudder ran through her and she quickly stepped back.

  “What’s wrong, Jennie?” Michael and B.J. asked at the same time.

  Jennie shook her head to clear it of the premonition or vision or whatever it had been. “I don’t know. I was standing there and all of a sudden I felt myself falling.”

  “Are you dizzy?” Michael asked as he led Jennie farther away from the edge. “Do you want to go back?”

  “No. I’m fine. It’s gone now.” By the time they reached Middle Falls, they were too tired to go on. Jennie took several photos of the wide, roaring falls as well as the cliffs that rose above them. She was especially pleased with one shot she’d call Weeping Rocks. She might not even have noticed if Nick hadn’t asked her why the rocks were crying. The kid was a genius.

  By the time they got back to camp, the sun had disappeared behind the trees and the air had grown cold.

  Jennie left the others and walked along the trail to the building that housed showers and bathrooms. Minutes later, as she approached their encampment Jennie spotted a shadowy figure crouched behind the RV. Was it the stalker? Or just a curious camper? Jennie circled around. Then, staying low, she moved from tree to tree hoping to get a better look. She still had Michael’s camera. Maybe the telephoto lens would give her a clearer view. Jennie carefully lifted it out of its bag, brought it to her face, and focused. The camera whined. His head snapped up. He stared in Jennie’s direction. She lowered the camera and dropped to the ground, listening. The wind whispered through the branches high above her head. Fires snapped, crackled, and popped like amplified bowls of Rice Krispies. She heard the low murmur of voices and occasional outbreaks of laughter. But no footsteps.

  Jennie drew in a long, shaky breath and peered through the brush. He was gone. She scrambled to her feet and hurried back into the camp, moving in as close to the fire as she could get. Someone threw another log on. The flames roared up, toasting her skin. As hot as the fire had gotten, it couldn’t chase away the lingering chill that seeped into her bones.

  The next morning Jennie checked her backpack, going over the list of supplies and emergency equipment Michael had insisted they bring. It was a day-long trip, but they were to be prepared in case they got lost or separated from the group. Extra food, flashlight, matches, and first-aid supplies all packed in a watertight container. Extra clothing in case they got wet. A jacket in case the weather changed. Jennie had no intention of getting separated from the group. Nor did she intend to let Allison out of her sight.

  Several times during the night she’d been tempted to tell the others about the figure she’d seen. But what would she say? “Hey, guys, guess what? Someone was sneaking around behind the RV.” Yeah, right. In a campground with a hundred people. It could even have been one of their own crowd. Such as B.J., who seemed to enjoy sneaking around in the middle of the night and scaring people. No, Jennie decided, there was no point upsetting anyone. She’d just keep her eyes open—for now.

  Only about half the group would make the ten-mile hike downriver. The others would take the bus and RV to Big Creek Falls, wait for the hikers to check in, then head down to their final destination near Curly Creek Falls. Mom and Aunt Kate would take the motor home, two very unhappy boys, and a still very sick Paige with them. Chad Bishop, Annie’s boyfriend, volunteered to drive the bus and promised to bring all the leftover gear.

  At seven a.m., after breakfast and a sunrise service, Michael, acting like a cross between a Boy Scout leader and an army sergeant, gave everyone a final check and moved them out. Jennie crouched down one more time to say goodbye to Nick, who was heartbroken because he was not allowed to go on the big hike. He’d wrapped his arms around her neck so tightly Jennie thought she’d need a wrench to pull him off.

  “But I wanted to go with you,” he pouted.

  “I know, but you can’t walk that far. You’ll have a lot more fun with Mom. Kurt has to stay too.”

  “Jennie,” Michael barked. “Get the lead out. We’re leaving—now!”

  Jennie gave a sarcastic salute and muttered, “Yes, sir.” Aloud she yelled, “I’m coming!” By this time she’d disengaged herself from Nick, the group had disappeared from view, and Jennie ran to catch up. A lone hiker walked the trail ahead of her. His muscular brown legs, worn boots and pack told Jennie he must be a veteran on the trails. “Excuse me,
” Jennie said as she overtook him.

  “I’d pace myself if I were you, Jennie.”

  Jennie spun around to face him. She knew the voice all too well. “What are you doing here?”

  19

  “My job.” Rocky grinned and shifted his pack. “Watching Allison?” Jennie asked.

  “And you.” He winked. “Tough job, but someone has to do it.”

  “Last night behind the RV. That was you, wasn’t it?”

  He raised an eyebrow and shook his head. His expression softened. “Ah, Jennie. What am I going to do with you?”

  The warmth and wistfulness in his eyes turned Jennie’s brain to mush.

  “Come on,” he added, dropping an arm around her shoulders and drawing her forward. “We’d better not let them get too far ahead.”

  When she brushed against him, Jennie felt the familiar shape of a shoulder holster. The kind her father used to wear. Rocky was carrying a gun. The realization startled her, but she wasn’t frightened by it. When it came to Rocky, especially after Friday night, her senses seemed to have taken a vacation. He could be the stalker, and here she was walking with him. Alone. In the woods. Common sense told Jennie to run. Yet, being with him made her feel strangely secure.

  “Jennie.” Michael appeared on the trail ahead of them. “You’re okay. When you didn’t catch up I got worried.” He glanced from Jennie to Rocky then back again. “I see you’ve met Mr. Rockford.” He extended a hand to Rocky. “Thanks for looking after her.”

  Jennie stared at the two men as the profile on Dean Rockford, alias Rocky, began to take shape in her head. Oh, McGrady, you are such a klutz. You should have known. The phony name, pretending to be a gardener and all-around handyman. She should have seen it the first time she’d met him—the way he’d questioned her about the flowers, and the warnings he’d given her to stay off the case. They weren’t the sinister threats of a stalker. “You’re a cop.”