Because of a Girl

by Janice Kay Johnson

  “And the school gave the teacher an excellent recommendation and knowingly let him start all over in another district.”

  “Yep.”

  “That sucks,” she said.

  It still ate at him, but he’d said more than he’d intended.

  “I’ve already determined that Bouchard doesn’t own any property except the house he lives in with his wife and children. She works full-time in an insurance office, the kids go to day care and school.”

  “So he couldn’t hold Sabra there.”

  “Nope. I’ve identified a couple of friends of his and will keep looking for others. He could have had a buddy from his last job, or even a childhood friend, who happens to own a summer place, a ski cabin, who knows.”

  “But...if she’s dead...”

  With cold ferocity, he said, “We still want to find out where he took her. Trace evidence can help us nail his ass to the wall.”

  And, God, this was not what he’d wanted to talk about in his too-fleeting chance to be alone with Meg.

  She didn’t blink for a long time. Finally, she nodded.

  Jack scooted his chair back from the table and held out an arm in invitation.

  Meg barely hesitated before she came to him. He helped her settle as comfortably as possible on his thighs before he wrapped his arms securely around her and rested his cheek against hers. “You smell good,” he murmured.

  “My shampoo,” she whispered.

  “No, you.”

  Neither of them said anything for a long time. He knew she wasn’t in any shape even for kisses beyond the most gentle. But just feeling her against him did wonders for his mood. The warmth of her breath tickling his neck, the plush softness of her breast pressing his chest, aroused him, but he kept picturing her as he’d seen her being unloaded from the ambulance, then conscious but battered in the ER cubicle, even an hour ago wincing as she descended the stairs.

  She could have died.

  He shied away from the thought, as he’d been doing since Emily’s phone call yesterday. The feelings threw him back to the boy whose mother had walked out of his life. He had never wanted to experience anything like that again. Maybe Meg had slipped past his guard because he’d initially categorized her with disdain, making himself safe from her. Or so he’d thought. Didn’t matter now; there was no going back.

  And, yeah, feeling the way he did about her scared him shitless. But the idea of not having her in his life scared him, too.

  He nuzzled her temple, kissed his way softly down her jaw until she let her head fall back and he reached her throat, where his lips felt the quick flutter of her pulse.

  * * *

  ASHER WATCHED EMILY fasten her seat belt. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  She nodded, hoping he couldn’t see her fingers trembling as she stashed her bag at her feet. “If Sabra is alive, he has to go visit her sometimes. To take her food or make sure she hasn’t gotten away. You know.”

  The idea had seemed straightforward. How could Mr. Bouchard go anywhere near Sabra once his wife and kids were home? He had to do it during this couple hours after school let out. If he didn’t go today, he would Monday. She had to hope he wouldn’t have a chance over the weekend. At least Asher had promised to keep helping her.

  “Okay.” He turned to look straight ahead through the windshield. He’d parked this morning right near the exit from the faculty parking lot. They had to be able to see every driver coming out, because neither of them had any idea what kind of car Mr. Bouchard drove.

  “Thanks for doing this. I know...well, it’s a lot to ask. If I’d known today was Debate...”

  Asher smiled at her, and her pulse raced. He was really cute when he smiled, which didn’t happen very often.

  “I told you I’d help, and I meant it. Besides, I’d rather be here.” Suddenly, as if hearing himself, he stopped looking at her, and color touched his cheeks.

  She tried to figure out why he felt self-conscious about what he’d said. Had he been about to admit he really liked her?

  “You mean, you’d rather be here preparing for a high-speed pursuit?”

  Her teasing worked. The side of his mouth she could see quirked up again. “Right. Except, I’ve got to tell you, my dad will take my car away if I get pulled over for speeding.”

  Emily giggled. “The idea is for nobody to notice us. If Mr. Bouchard does and races away, we’ve kind of blown it.”

  “Yeah—wait. Is that him?”

  She leaned forward. The car was a black BMW, but maybe kind of an old one. And...she had a good look at the driver in profile as the car passed. “Yes,” she hissed.

  “Cool.” Asher waited without moving, then pulled out behind a MINI Cooper, which Mrs. Quigley, the PE teacher, had bragged about buying right after Christmas break.

  “Can you see him?” she begged. “Can you?”

  “I can see him. I won’t lose him, Emily.” He sounded as tense as she felt, now that they were actually doing this.

  She, too, spotted the Bimmer at least a block away once the long line of cars disgorged Asher’s old Jeep Cherokee onto the street. But she frowned. “Where’s he going? I looked him up in the phone book. He lives in that wine development.”

  Which was so lame. Every street was named after a wine. Like, Sauvignon Street, and Pinot Noir and Merlot. Who’d want to say, “Oh, I live on Syrah”?

  “I know. This is the way I go home.” For a moment Asher drove in silence. Then he said, “Your mom okay with you staying after with me?”

  Emily sneaked a peek at him. “Sure. She thinks, well—”

  “That we’re doing a project together or something?”

  Lie, or tell the truth?

  She sucked it up. “Mom thinks we’re kind of seeing each other. You know. I thought, in case we have to do this other days, too...”

  Instead of commenting, he said, “This is weird. We’re almost home. I mean, to my house.”

  “Maybe he’s picking up one of his kids at a friend’s house or a home day care.”

  Asher moved his shoulders, as if he’d been feeling edgy. “Probably.” Then he was quiet for a minute while she wondered if he’d even heard what she said, or whether he didn’t care that she’d made something up. “I was kind of wondering if you might want to hang out. I mean, when this is over.” He sounded really nervous. “It’s not like you have to say yes. I’ll help you anyway.”

  Happiness blossomed in Emily’s chest, one petal at a time unfurling. “You mean, you really...? I sort of thought, but I wasn’t sure, because I haven’t actually...” Ever really gone out with a guy? Like he couldn’t tell, after hearing her babble? “Yes,” she said finally. “I’d like that.”

  “Really?” His voice cracked, and a deeper red stained his cheeks. “That’s great.” His fingers flexed on the steering wheel. “I’ve been trying to think how to ask you. Sabra was my only real girlfriend—um, does that bother you?”

  Emily shook her head. “Not since you didn’t...you know.”

  “She’s the one who asked me.” He shot a quick look at her.

  “Really?” Up ahead, she saw the BMW pull into the driveway of a house with a for-sale sign planted in the yard.

  Braking, his hands tight on the steering wheel, Asher said, “My house is only two doors down. The yellow one.”

  Emily shivered. “I don’t like this.”

  “Me, neither. I’m going to park in a driveway, too.” He abruptly swung into one, leading to a single garage attached to a small rambler.

  “But what if—”

  “I know the Petersons. It won’t be any big deal if they come home. He’s looking around,” he said suddenly. “We should get down.”

  She hit the seat belt release and slithered low, her heart thundering in h
er ears, as Asher turned his back to where Mr. Bouchard had gotten out of his car.

  “This is really crazy,” she whispered, although it wasn’t like anyone could hear them.

  “I hate to tell you this, but it’s about to get crazier,” Asher told her in a strange voice. “Because your mom just parked right around the corner. I think she must have followed us.”

  * * *

  MIDAFTERNOON, MEG WAS startled out of her absorption in her work by a niggling sense of unease. She paused. Emily was safely at school. What else was there to worry about?

  Drawing a blank, she forced her concentration back to what she was doing, sewing a binding onto a sizable rug featuring deep purple grapes and a green scrollwork serving as vines.

  The next time worry crept out of hiding, she let her hands go still. There had to be something. This had to do with Jack or Emily. There was no one else—

  Jack? How could this be? She had included him so automatically, as if what she felt for him was no different than what she felt for her own child.

  Warmth spread through her as her mind supplied a slide show. Powerful muscles sliding under sleek skin, thick wrists and big hands, a scratchy jaw and a wicked smile.

  All right; the feelings were different and yet...alike.

  Because I’m falling in love with him.

  Making love wasn’t the same as in love, or so she’d convinced herself. She should have guessed. For her, the one couldn’t happen without the other. She’d described him as her “boyfriend.” Had understood that she could trust him, as she hadn’t anyone else in her life. But still, it hadn’t really hit her. The knowledge was alarming and wondrous, all at the same time.

  Another shiver of worry that had nothing to do with Jack or how she felt about him crawled up her spine.

  Emily. Meg knew immediately. Eyes narrowed, she stared into space.

  Emily and Asher had been talking on the phone and texting regularly, so Emily’s call at lunchtime hadn’t surprised her.

  But I should have been suspicious anyway. After hovering over her all day yesterday, now Emily wanted to stay after school with a new boyfriend? A guy who, oh, by the way, had formerly been Sabra’s boyfriend and was originally assumed to be the father of her baby?

  Meg gritted her teeth. Did Asher actually have any part in this? Or had Emily flat-out lied? Did she intend to go off on her own and...do what? Not without wheels...

  But, of course, that’s where Asher came in.

  This should not have taken her so long to figure out.

  A glance at the clock told Meg she still had time to make it to school before the last bell. What she should do was plant herself by the main exit—or, better yet, right outside Emily’s last classroom, as conspicuously as possible—and inform her darling daughter that she was going straight home. In her mother’s custody. Be the heavy, as Jack had suggested.

  But curiosity bit at her. What did Emily have in mind? Did only bad mothers spy on their own kids?

  She could wait to decide when she saw what Emily was up to. Despite her headache and stiffness, Meg hurried to find her purse and keys.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  WHAT IN HELL could Bouchard want at Asher Wright’s house?

  Disturbed by his speculation, Jack drove on by after his target parked in the driveway of the place right next door to the Wrights’. No, two doors down, he corrected himself after a second look at house numbers.

  Jack had quit believing in coincidences a long time ago.

  Bouchard was heading up to the front door when Jack turned the corner in his borrowed Camry. It and a baseball cap were the sum of his disguise.

  Once out of sight, he pulled to the curb, killed the engine and jumped out, jogging across the lawn while hoping no one happened to be looking out the window of any of the nearby homes. He reached his goal without incident, flattened himself against the siding of a mock-Tudor split-level, and slid a look around the corner just in time to see Bouchard disappear between two houses.

  Jack weighed the risk of following and decided to stay put. Once Bouchard was away from the Wrights’, Jack would call it in. If something had been planted, they’d know who put it there. Since the creep wasn’t carrying anything visible, it seemed unlikely he intended to light a fire or set a bomb. And why would he?

  But the question of what he did want felt like an itch Jack couldn’t quite reach.

  Action up the street caught his eye. He’d noticed the old Cherokee leaving the high school a few cars behind his, and assumed it belonged to a student. It was now parked in a driveway up the street, but the driver and a passenger lingered, plus a third person stood on the far side of the car, bent over talking through a rolled-down window. He watched but saw nothing to alarm him. Probably buddies, shooting the breeze.

  He didn’t allow himself to fidget, but he grew restless enough to wish he could. Five minutes became ten. Jack felt more and more conspicuous leaning here against a stranger’s house. And, crap, here came a car right now. The driver’s head turned his way. Jack tried to make his stance look a little more natural and lifted a friendly hand. The man in the car waved and was soon gone.

  Aware of the risk that the passing driver or an unseen neighbor might call 9-1-1, Jack reconsidered his decision not to cut through backyards. If the Wrights left blinds raised so he could catch even a glimpse of what Bouchard was doing in there—

  Movement riveted his attention. Bouchard himself, strolling casually back to his car. Nothing visible in his hands, but he could have stuck whatever he’d gone in for in a pocket of the parka or the hidden waistband of his trousers.

  What if Asher’s dad owned a handgun? Perfect way to turn official suspicion back on the kid by using his father’s gun to kill Sabra.

  “Shit,” Jack growled, loping back to his car and leaping in before Bouchard could come in sight.

  He got lucky. The BMW appeared, turned at the corner and continued right past Jack in the anonymous Camry. After a calculated pause, he pulled away from the curb and fell in behind.

  He was going to be really disappointed if Bouchard went home after this.

  * * *

  “WE WILL DO this only if I’m driving,” Meg insisted for what had to be the fourth time.

  Emily’s lower lip poked out. “But it’s Asher’s car!”

  “I’m the adult,” Meg said implacably.

  An adult who had already succumbed to pressure from a pair of teenagers determined to trail Remy Bouchard to his destination, wherever that turned out to be. But she had to admit that the computer teacher’s behavior was highly suspicious. He’d ostensibly rung the doorbell at the first house. After waiting a polite minute, he left the porch and, instead of returning to his car, took a careful look around. A few long strides took him to the opening between houses, where he disappeared.

  According to Asher, neither his house nor the next door neighbor’s had fenced backyards.

  “He’s going to break into my house,” he’d said flatly, his shock showing.

  Meg’s gaze was still fixed on where Mr. Bouchard had vanished. “Normally, I’d say we should call nine-one-one.”

  Emily burst out, “But then we’d never find out—”

  Asher laid a hand on hers, silencing her.

  “I said ‘normally.’” Meg heard how hard her voice was. “I agree that he’s up to something, and that we can’t risk getting him arrested here and now. Not until we know where Sabra is.” She bent farther to see Asher better. “Asher, I assume you’re sixteen.”

  He mumbled agreement.

  “Which means you’ve only been driving for a few months.”

  “Six!” Emily cried indignantly.

  “You can drive, Mrs. Harper.” Despite Emily’s sputtering, the boy opened his door and got out.

 
Meg hurried around and slid in behind the wheel, just before Mr. Bouchard reappeared, walking directly to his car.

  Meg kept her back to him, Emily slumped low and Asher crouched in the vee of the open back door.

  “Did he notice us?” Meg whispered.

  Emily raised herself slightly. “I don’t think so. He’s getting in his car.”

  They all waited, breathless.

  “He backed out. He’s...driving away from us! Yes!”

  Infected with urgency, Meg snapped, “Asher, hurry. Get in.”

  The instant Mr. Bouchard’s car turned the corner, she put Asher’s in Reverse and they shot out into the street. With a conscious effort, she remembered there was no clutch. She put the car in Drive and they were off, the acceleration positively exhilarating compared to her ancient bus.

  And I have to be absolutely nuts to have gotten sucked into this. Especially as battered as she was. All she needed as a reminder was the shock on Asher’s face when he first saw her.

  “Jack,” she said. “We need to call Jack.”

  Emily twisted toward her, eyes desperate. “Mom, we can’t! You know he’ll tell us we can’t follow Mr. Bouchard, and we have to!”

  Habit had her politely using the turn signal. As they went around the corner, her heart almost stopped. A different car was in front of them, a silver sedan. Where was...?

  But then she saw the BMW turning yet again, a couple of blocks ahead.

  “All right, we’ll hold off,” she said. “Just until we know where he’s going. Then we call Jack. Agreed?”

  Emily nodded, but Meg knew she’d have another fight facing her when the moment came. The trouble was, she shared Emily’s determination and fury.

  She was also going to feel very silly following the computer science teacher through the Burger King drive-through or maybe to Safeway or the library.

  But the same sense of urgency that pumped adrenaline into her bloodstream convinced her that Mr. Bouchard didn’t have such innocent destinations in mind.

  * * *