Malicious Pursuit

by KG MacGregor

  The blue eyes grew wide at the sudden danger.

  "We need to get back to my car. Let’s go!"

  Spencer didn’t need to be asked twice. Stealthily, the two women moved back through the woods, finally sliding down the muddy bank to where the car was parked.

  "Get in!"

  Still shaking, Ruth started the engine and turned around. In seconds, they were back on the highway toward town, both gasping for breath in the wake of their near miss.

  "How did you know?"

  Ruth shook her head, still in disbelief at what had almost happened to both of them. "I took a wrong turn and ended up on the road on the other side. They were bringing a red motorcycle out of the woods."

  "And you’re sure the black car was there?"

  The blonde woman nodded, "with the government tags."

  Spencer sighed hopelessly. "I don’t know what to say, Karen. I can’t believe you came back for me."

  "I couldn’t let you just walk into that. I still don’t believe that the feds want you dead, but on the off chance that they do, I just…."

  "Thanks, for whatever reason. You may have just saved my life."

  * * *

  "It was her bike, no mistake about it," Pollard reported. The store’s surveillance photos from Saturday night showed a blurry image of someone wearing black and white running into the parking lot from the area where the phones were mounted. The pouring rain that night kept them from making a positive ID, but if it had actually been Rollins, it was doubtful she was running to her bike. The lot itself was out of the camera’s range.

  "Goddamn it! That means she left in somebody’s car. Are you sure you cut her off before she told Diaz?"

  "Yeah, I’m sure. I even got Diaz telling somebody about it on the phone; that she didn’t know where she was."

  Akers sighed with annoyance. "Look, we need to tighten the screws on that woman."

  "Cal, I can’t just tap her phone at the IRS."

  "Talk to her boss. Tell him what you’re doing and why. If you run into any trouble, say you think she’s holding out. Rollins doesn’t have anywhere else to go."

  * * *

  "I think you should get in the back and cover up. It’s best if Viv doesn’t see you when we get back to the house."

  With Spencer’s only real option gone now, and with Ruth starting to get a sense of the danger the woman was in, they’d turned and headed back to the trailer. At the very least, Spencer needed some time to come up with a new plan, a plan for coming forward that wouldn’t mean risking her life.

  The tall woman squeezed between the seats and curled up in the back, pulling the plastic tarp over her.

  "I’ll go in and make sure they’re busy, and you sneak back into the trailer."

  Ruth couldn’t believe she had given in to her conscience and let this woman come back. She had so much at stake with hiding Jessie, but she couldn’t bring herself to turn her back on someone who had absolutely nowhere to go.

  And if Spencer had meant to hurt them, she would never have gotten out of the car in the first place.

  CHAPTER 14

  "I REALLY APPRECIATE THIS," Spencer said as she exited the small bathroom, her hair still dripping from the shower. "I know I keep saying that, but I really mean it."

  Ruth and Jessie had returned to Wal-Mart in the afternoon to pick up a few more things for their new house, and with Spencer’s last forty-five bucks, had bought a few changes of clothes, including jeans, t-shirts, a sweatshirt, and underwear. From her own reserves, Ruth picked up some socks and a size ten pair of sneakers.

  "Yeah, it was self-defense. You were starting to smell," Ruth answered with a chuckle.

  The tall woman’s jaw dropped. Had that stiff woman just made a joke?

  "Viv said I could use her washer, so if you’ll give me your other stuff, I’ll throw it in with that blanket you bled all over."

  "Thanks."

  Spencer disappeared down the hall and returned with her laundry, confirming with a sniff that it really was rather pungent.

  "Is there anything I can do to help out?"

  "Sure. Why don’t you stir this while I go put all this in the washer? We’re almost ready to eat."

  Spencer took over at the stove stirring a skillet filled with sliced beef, peppers and onions. The rice was ready, and a small bottle of soy sauce sat on the counter. The little girl had barely spoken a word since returning from the store with her mother, seemingly afraid of this dark-haired stranger.

  "So what’s your doll’s name?" Spencer asked, trying to set the child at ease.

  "Lisa," Jessie answered shyly without looking up.

  "That’s a very pretty name. One of my best friends when I was a little girl was named Lisa." That was a lie. She’d gone to school with Lisa McCall, but she had hated her guts.

  "My best friend is Brittany."

  "Does Brittany have a pretty doll too?"

  The little girl shrugged her shoulders, still not making eye contact. She didn’t like being left alone with this other woman, even if she was nice.

  As soon as Ruth walked in the door, Jessie jumped up and ran to her mother’s side.

  "Megan was just telling me about her friend Brittany."

  "Was she now? She and Brittany went to the same Little School back in Maine. We’re going to find a new Little School here. Won’t that be fun, Megan?"

  The blonde child shook her head. She didn’t want to be away from her mom, unless it was with Viv and the puppies.

  "Sure it would. School’s fun. You learn things, and play games, and make friends. You’ve always liked school," she encouraged. "I bet you’ll like it when you make new friends."

  "Do I have to go?"

  "Not yet. I think we can wait a little while."

  Her daughter visibly relaxed at the reprieve.

  "But we should find a new school soon, because I think you’ll have fun."

  "I want to be with you."

  "I know, but I’m going to need to find a job when we find you a school."

  "Why?"

  "Because people are supposed to go somewhere every day. Big people go to work, and little people go to school."

  "Viv doesn’t go to work."

  "That’s because Viv’s retired. She worked a long time and now she doesn’t have to anymore," she explained patiently.

  "Spencer doesn’t go."

  "Well, you see, honey, Spencer’s…lazy." She needed an explanation on the spot and hoped the other woman could take some good-natured teasing.

  "Lazy?" She really is in a mood.

  "That’s right. Lazy people just stay in bed all day and that’s what Spencer has been doing."

  The tall woman shook her head in disbelief. She couldn’t believe she’d suddenly become the butt of Ruth’s jokes. On the other hand, it was sort of funny to find herself being picked on. In fact, it was a lot like being around Elena.

  "Hey, I think dinner’s ready. Grab a seat, and I’ll bring it over…if I can stop being so lazy." she teased back.

  "See?" Ruth laughed in answer, dragging the armchair from the living room to the bar so they could all sit together. The threesome ate quietly until Jessie asked the question that had been bothering her all day.

  "Why do you have a boy’s name?"

  "Excuse me?"

  "There’s a boy named Spencer at my Little School, and he’s a boy."

  "Well…Spencer can be a girl’s name too," the blue-eyed woman argued gently.

  "I don’t know any girls named Spencer, just boys."

  "Well, now you know a girl named Spencer. It’s what my mother and father named me."

  "It is kind of an unusual name for a girl," Ruth agreed, as a friendly jibe and a way of letting her daughter know that she understood her confusion.

  "It’s a family name," Spencer explained defensively. "I was named for my grandmother."

  "So your grandmother’s name was Spencer, too?"

  "Yes," she answered in mock indignation.


  "Spencer what?"

  The tall woman shifted uncomfortably. "Her last name was Spencer."

  "Oh! So your first name is somebody else’s last name." Ruth was starting to enjoy the teasing.

  "No, actually it’s my middle name."

  "Mommy, what’s my middle name?" Megan asked.

  "Alise. Megan Alise Oliver."

  "What’s your middle name?"

  "Michelle. My whole name is Karen Michelle Oliver."

  "So what’s your whole name?" Jessie asked Spencer pointedly.

  "Spencer Rollins."

  "Oh, no!" Ruth interjected. "You said Spencer was your middle name. So what’s your first name?"

  "Now if I told you that, I’d have to kill you."

  Suddenly Jessie’s eyes went wide and she jumped down to stand behind her mother.

  "She’s only teasing, honey." She reached around to take her daughter’s hand and pull her into her lap. "You can’t say those kinds of things around a four-year-old," she admonished.

  "Sorry. I was just kidding, Megan. I would never hurt anybody, but especially not you or your mom."

  "So what’s your first name?" the child demanded.

  Defeated, Spencer dropped her fork and leaned back, looking away from the twin pairs of pretty green eyes that waited expectantly. "Dolly."

  "Dolly?" Ruth asked in disbelief.

  "Yes, Dolly. Dolly Spencer Rollins. I’ll have you know that my grandmother was named Dolly Mavis Spencer, and I’m very honored to be named for her."

  "Yeah, I can tell by the way you announced it so proudly," Ruth teased. "Dolly Rollins."

  Jessie squealed with laughter.

  "You think that’s pretty funny, huh?" Spencer couldn’t believe how these two were ganging up on her.

  "Yeah! I think it’s funny…Dolly." Unable to hide her smirk, Ruth turned the question to her daughter. "Do you think it’s funny?"

  The little girl nodded happily.

  "See there? The jury’s verdict is in."

  Spencer rolled her eyes. She’d try a new tack. "You’re not setting a very good example for your child, teaching her to laugh at people’s names."

  That was true, Ruth admitted. "You’re right. It isn’t nice to make fun of people’s names…even funny names."

  "Okay, that’s it!" Tossing her napkin on the table, she stood abruptly. "You two want to laugh? I’ll give you something to laugh about." Reaching over, she dug her hands into Jessie’s ribs and started to tickle. As soon as the child dropped to the floor squealing with laughter, she started on Ruth, who also dissolved onto the floor. Only the pain in her own ribs stopped the assault, as Spencer sat back down in the chair.

  "Now I better warn you — there’s more where that came from," she said menacingly.

  Ruth caught her breath and climbed back onto her stool, pulling the child up with her.

  "Okay, we give…," and with a very tiny voice, she added, "Dolly."

  Spencer smiled and got two smiles back. It felt good to let go of the tension for the first time in three days.

  "Okay, since I have to prove that I’m not lazy, I’ll clean up the dishes."

  "Can I…I mean may I watch TV?"

  "Just for a little while," Ruth acquiesced. Under any other circumstances, she would have said no, but this was the very first time ever that her daughter had used "may" instead of "can" and it called for a reward.

  Spencer made quick work of the dinner dishes, waiting for one last glass. "Are you finished with your drink, Megan?"

  "Uh-huh." The little girl jumped up and stretched to grab the glass so she could take it to the sink, accidentally tipping it over so that it rolled off the counter and shattered on the floor. "Uh-oh!" The bare-footed child started to pick up one of the pieces.

  "No, Jessie! Don’t move." Ruth picked her daughter up and ushered her to the couch.

  "I’m sorry," the child whimpered. Being sorry got her nowhere when she did things like this around her father; but her mother hardly ever got mad about anything.

  "It’s okay. I’ll clean it up. I just didn’t want you to get hurt."

  Spencer had already started sweeping the glass into a dustpan.

  "I’ll do it," she offered, stooping to hold the dustpan.

  "That’s okay. It’s just one less dish I have to wash, and that’s good because I’m lazy," she joked.

  Together, they mopped up the mess and gave the floor an extra going-over. Soon after, the blonde woman and her daughter disappeared into the bathroom to get ready for bed.

  An hour later, Ruth emerged from her daughter’s bedroom to find Spencer spreading out the sheets on the couch. "You don’t have to sleep out here. I don’t mind the couch."

  "No, you should have your own bed. I’m better now. I don’t hurt all over like I did, thanks to you."

  Ruth looked the tall woman from head to toe then measured the couch with her eye. "So do your legs unscrew, or does your head come off?"

  "You really are quite the comedienne tonight, aren’t you?"

  Ruth smiled and dropped into the recliner.

  "It’s been nice to laugh for a change," Spencer said quietly. In fact, their fun earlier seemed to have changed the whole atmosphere here in the trailer. All three of them were more relaxed; it was almost like their living together was just ordinary.

  "Yeah, Megan and I haven’t laughed much lately either."

  "So who’s Jessie?" she asked without a hint of reproach. "Or should I ask who’s Megan? And who’s Karen?"

  Ruth sighed heavily. She realized when they were in the bathroom that she had called her daughter by the wrong name in that brief moment of danger. Her first instinct was to deflect the question with simple lie, but it wasn’t forthcoming. Her next thought was to just put the subject off-limits. She owed Spencer Rollins no explanations at all. But instead, she found herself wanting to open up, wanting to explain things so that Spencer could understand why she’d been so insistent about not wanting her here.

  "Megan and Karen Oliver were two little girls that died a couple of years ago in a boating accident. Their grandfather had opened savings accounts for them at my bank, and Jessie and I needed new identities when we left. I was able to get their social security numbers from the accounts."

  "Your husband must be some kind of beast if you have to run away and change your names."

  Ruth nodded without looking up. "He never could deal with Jessie not being Little Miss Perfect all the time. He didn’t have much patience for kids."

  "So you left to get away from him."

  "We’re divorced. But he got primary custody."

  "Wha–? You’re kidding!"

  "I wish. He told a bunch of lies at our hearing. He said that I left Jessie home by herself; that I would sometimes go days without changing her or feeding her. He put on this big act and the judge bought it hook, line, and sinker. He didn’t want her. He never wanted her. He just wanted to make sure I didn’t get her."

  "So you kidnapped her?"

  Again, Ruth nodded, tears filling her eyes.

  "She hated living there. She would scream her head off every time she had to go back. And then a couple of months ago I started finding bruises on her arms and legs. She always said she fell. I just wasn’t going to let that happen to her anymore."

  Now it all made sense why Ruth had taken her in without calling the police. Spencer reached out and laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I’d have done the same thing. I think anybody would."

  "Well, I guess now you can see why I was sort of…."

  "Yeah, I can see that my being here complicates things for you," Spencer said seriously. "I’ll get out as soon as I can, Karen. Or should I call you something else?"

  "My name’s Ruth. But I need to move on from that. Jessie and I both do, so it’d be best if you could just call us Karen and Megan."

  "Sure, whatever you want." Spencer was suddenly struck by the irony of their respective circumstances. "You know, it’s amazing when you think about it,
that both of us are hiding out, and that we ended up together."

  Ruth shook her head and chuckled. "Yeah, like either of us didn’t already have enough excitement in our lives."

  "I know I really do complicate things for you, Ruth, but if I’d ended up in anyone else’s car that night, I’d probably be dead by now. I really do owe you, and if there’s anything I can do when this is over to help you and your daughter, I will."

  "I don’t think there’s anything anybody can do," Ruth said, obviously discouraged. "I guess I need to get on to bed. I have a lot to do tomorrow, and Jessie will probably have me up at the crack of dawn to go see the puppies."

  "Go on and take the bed. I’ll be okay out here." She gestured toward the couch. "Besides, I’ll be sleeping in tomorrow, on account of I’m so lazy."

  CHAPTER 15

  SPENCER WOKE BEFORE dawn, her mind racing with the bits and pieces of information she had about what had gone down on Friday night. Getting out of this mess called for a careful plan, and she approached that like she did her programming tasks. First, she needed to step back and get the big picture. No matter what the circumstances now, where did she want to end up?

  That was easy. She wanted to see Henry’s killers brought to justice. She wanted to stop whatever it was that was going on at Margadon that made Henry’s life expendable. And she wanted her own life back.

  Rummaging through the kitchen drawers, she found a drawing tablet and a few crayons, selecting the blue one because its point was the sharpest. At the top of the page, she wrote Henry’s name; beneath that, she scribbled fragments of the things he’d said:

  · somebody fucked with it

  · it’s calling a different global

  · it’s backing out the cytokines

  · skimming the books

  · hidden field

  The programmer stared at the words for a long time, trying to imagine each of the steps her partner had taken to find the problem. His call hadn’t come until almost midnight, so it must have been an arduous process. But following the trail had gotten him killed.