by Lynn Bohart
“Looks like they found the off ramp,” Jake said, his head swiveling to watch the RV. “Seems like you might be in for a bit of a wait, though.”
“Guess so,” I said, taking a handful of popcorn.
“By the way,” he said, reaching out with his hand. “I’m Jake Weatherly.”
I took his hand in mine, aware that he was wearing some pretty sexy aftershave. My heart fluttered as I said, “I’m Julia…from Washington State. Seattle area.”
“Seattle? Space Needle…built for the 1962 World’s Fair.”
“Is there anything you don’t know?” I asked with a chuckle.
He gave me a warm smile and leaned into me. “I don’t know your last name.”
My face grew suddenly warm. “Applegate.”
He leaned away. “Isn’t that the name of your governor? Gray, or Garth, or…”
“Graham,” I said.
He gave me a guarded look. “You’re not married to him, are you?”
“Was,” I said. “He’s my ex.”
His dark eyes lifted. “Then I’m sitting with royalty.”
A laugh erupted from my throat. “Not anymore. Now he lives with a thirty-four year old who wouldn’t know Frank Lloyd Wright from Michelangelo.”
He gave me a look of appreciation. “You’re familiar with Michelangelo’s architecture? How he broke out of the classical style?”
“No, I thought he was just an artist.”
He threw his head back and gave me a deep throated laugh. “I like you, Julia Applegate. I’ll be sorry when your friends finally realize they’ve left you behind.” As his laughter subsided, he asked, “By the way, who are they chasing?”
“Some people we think might have abducted a teenage girl,” I said, swallowing the popcorn.
“No kidding. Why do you think that?”
“I saw the girl’s face at the window. It looked like she was trying to get out.”
“Humpf,” he grunted. “Should we call the police?”
My eyes lit up. “Maybe. How fast would they get here?”
He shrugged his massive shoulders. “That’s hard to say. We’re served by the State Police. There are only three officers for this whole area, and they might all be at the county fair right about now.”
“Oh,” I said despondently. I glanced out to the highway. “Well, maybe it wouldn’t hurt. It might be awhile before they come back, anyway.”
He pulled out his phone. “What kind of evidence do you have? I can guarantee they won’t come unless you can pretty much prove what you saw, and they’ll charge you if you call them out unnecessarily.”
I put my hand over the phone in his hand. “Never mind, then. We don’t have any proof. I just saw a face at the back of a window, and she looked like she was in trouble. I assume the people in that RV will probably get away from my friends soon and disappear again, anyway.”
Jake returned the phone to his pocket. “Sorry. When you’re out in the middle of nowhere, services are sketchy.”
“I don’t understand why these guys just don’t take off down the highway, though,” I said, referring to the Jayco motorhome. “Why do they keep circling back here?”
“Probably because that big motorhome of yours has a bigger, newer engine, and they know it. They’re going to try and lose it on some of the curves, maybe even make them tip over.” That gave me a start. “Also, staying on the highway draws attention to them.” He glanced around. “If you’ll notice, we don’t have any neighbors. Just a lot of overgrown country.”
The roar of motorcycles grabbed our attention again. Aria appeared from our left, coming back along the frontage road with the motorcycles on her tail. At the same time, the white motorhome appeared to our right with Rudy chasing it. The two sets of vehicles actually crisscrossed right in front of us.
“Jeez, this is like watching the Keystone Cops, just without the background music,” I said, whipping my head back and forth.
“Yup,” he said. “Happens like that sometimes.”
As Rudy whizzed past us this time, I saw Blair look in my direction. Had she noticed me?
Jake chuckled. “Maybe I will have a handful of that popcorn.”
I handed it over. “Be my guest.”
“So what’s the story with the camper and the motorcycles?”
“The women in the camper are friends of ours from back home. The woman driving pissed off the bikers when she nearly ran one of them off the road.”
He took a handful of popcorn and handed the bag back. “Well, as they say…angry people are not always wise.”
I turned to him. “Who said that?”
“Jane Austen,” he replied. “Pride and Prejudice.”
I smiled. “You’re an interesting man, Jake Weatherly.”
“I try to keep up,” he said, looking out on the roadway again. “Most likely one of ‘em will be back soon,” he said. “There’s a circular dead end a couple of miles up there,” he said, pointing left. “Unless they go back over the highway. That could take a while.” He munched on his popcorn.
“So you like architecture,” I said, gazing out on the two roadways in front of us.
“Yeah. Architecture reflects our culture, you know. In fact, a person’s house says a lot about their personality.”
I handed him some more popcorn. “I own a Victorian bed and breakfast called The St. Claire Inn. It probably says everything you’d want to know about me.”
He dropped a few kernels of popcorn onto the wooden deck under our feet and a small whirlwind suddenly picked the kernels up and swirled them off the platform. He didn’t seem to notice, but I suspected it was Chloe trying to insert herself into the conversation.
In the distance, the white motorhome and the Hulk passed us on the highway going east again. We watched them without comment.
“You know, the Victorian period was laced with mysticism,” Jake continued. “How do you feel about the paranormal?”
My heart jumped at the thought he might have noticed Chloe’s presence after all.
“Well, my inn is a validated haunted location.”
“No kidding,” he said again. “Have you seen any ghosts there?”
“Several times,” I said, glancing around. I wondered what Chloe might do next. “In fact, at least one of them seems to have come with us on our trip.”
The screen door flew open with a bang at my comment. We both whipped around to look at it.
“That would be Chloe,” I said, sitting back again.
“Not so fast now,” he said with a chuckle. “That door opens with a slight breeze.”
The door slammed shut as if in response to his comment. Then it opened and closed in quick succession six times.
“How ‘bout that?” I challenged him.
“Nope. Never saw that. Your Chloe has a sense of humor.”
“Yes she does,” I agreed with a smile.
The Hulk appeared to our left, returning alone and much more slowly this time. Rudy was driving and turned the corner, pulling into Jake’s small parking lot.
“Well, your friends are back. Thanks for the popcorn…and the show,” Jake said, getting up. He stuck out his hand, and I happily put mine in his. “Have a good trip,” he said. “Hope you catch those guys.”
He returned inside the store. I stayed where I was, feeling just a little smug that this, for once, hadn’t been my fault. Moments later, I heard the sound of the RV door slam shut.
Count to three.
“Julia, we’re so sorry,” Doe exclaimed, hurrying around the corner with the others right behind her. “We didn’t realize that you…”
I stood up and stopped them with a raised hand, making all three of them slide to a halt. “Really? You drove off without me?”
Aria roared into the parking lot with the bikers close behind. She came to a screeching halt, killed the engine and the two women jumped out of the camper and raced up to the front of the store to mingle with us. Safety in numbers, I guess.
&nb
sp; The bikers clearly weren’t afraid of a bunch of older women. They swung their legs off the bikes and began a slow march up to the store, sunglasses obscuring their eyes, helmets still on their heads. They made it to the end of the boardwalk when the screen door banged open behind us.
The bikers stopped short.
Jake stood with a big shotgun held loosely in the crook of his elbow. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. The two bikers threw a dirty look at Aria and Goldie and returned to their bikes, revving their motors in a sign of protest as they disappeared up the road.
All heads swiveled to the big man with the shotgun.
“Girls, I’d like you to meet Jake,” I said. “He’s into architecture.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
When I introduced the girls to Jake, Blair’s eyes lit up like flood lamps. She was dressed in skintight jeans and a cerulean tank top that was two sizes too small. She dropped a bare shoulder and leaned forward, exposing the cleavage that left most men breathless.
“So nice to meet you, Jake,” she crooned, holding out a perfectly manicured hand.
I grabbed her bony shoulder and spun her around. “I’ll meet you all in the motorhome.” I gave her a push, which she rewarded with a scowl. The five of them shuffled off the boardwalk and disappeared around the corner, leaving me to turn to Jake. “Thank you. You are a pleasant surprise out here in the middle of nowhere.”
He grinned, bringing a sparkle to those smoldering eyes. “And you’ve brought a few moments of rare excitement to the slow river of my life.”
I shook my head. “Where did you learn to be so poetic?”
“My mother believed that to be articulate, you had to read first. Therefore, our home was filled with books from every walk of life.”
“Wise woman,” I said.
He reached out and grasped my hand. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver up my arm.
“Take care, Julia Applegate. And remember, ‘A little terror goes a long way.’ So be careful.” When I didn’t respond, he added, “Dean Koontz.”
I smiled, gave his hand a squeeze and left, feeling the raw magnetism of his presence linger behind me. When I came around the corner of the building, I was stopped short by all five of my friends waiting for me with looks of restrained mirth. Well, all but Aria. I wasn’t sure she’d ever smiled in her life.
“Should we call David?” Rudy asked with a snicker. She was casually leaning against the Hulk.
My eyebrows shot up. “What? No. Why? What are you talking about?”
“C’mon, Julia, that’s quite a man back there,” Blair said. “And he clearly had an eye for you.”
I brushed past them with my chin stuck in the air and opened the motorhome’s door. “Do you want to find those killers or not?”
The group followed me into the Hulk, allowing their chuckles to fade. We spread out around the main cabin to discuss our next move. Aria was still nervous about the motorcycle guys, and so we decided to follow her to the campground. It would be a good two-hour drive by back roads, which we thought would be the safer route. Doe would drive and take us up I-35 to 14 and over to Whitewater State Park and finally down to Onalaska.
Goldie and Aria returned to the camper. As Doe backed out of the parking lot, my cell phone pinged. It was David. A flush of adrenalin washed over me as I answered the phone.
“I have the license plate number of that old man’s motorhome,” he said, and then read it off.
“Damn! It’s a different number,” I said, writing it down.
“That doesn’t mean you weren’t right about those people, Julia,” he assured me. “They could have just switched license plates. We’re checking to see if the partial plate number you gave us matches anything that might have been stolen in the area.”
“Okay,” I said, my face still burning with guilt at my attraction to Jake. “Thanks.”
“You okay?”
I perked up. “Sure. Just disappointed. I thought we had them. Hey, by the way, you mentioned yesterday that Owens had finally gotten a ransom notice.”
“Yeah. It was a crudely written letter,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
He laughed. “Like an old Charlie Chan movie. Someone cut out letters from a magazine and glued them to a sheet of paper.”
“Any finger prints?”
“Only one. They ran it through AFIS. There wasn’t a match.”
“Which means what?” I asked.
“Only that the person has never been fingerprinted for anything.”
“Too bad.”
“Well, call me if you see the guys again,” he said.
I cringed, thinking about the vaudeville chase that had just taken place in front of Jake’s store. “Well, actually, we…”
“Hold on.” He put his hand over the phone and mumbled something to someone in the background. “Sorry, Julia, I gotta go. Love you.” He hung up.
Uh, what?
I lowered the phone, all thoughts of Jake and the killers gone. My heart soared. David had just used the “L” word.
David and I had been dating less than six months. Although our personalities seemed to fit like a glove, neither one of us had expressed our feelings to that extent yet.
I set the phone on the table, staring at it, barely aware we were back on the road again. Blair looked up from where she sat across the table.
“What’s wrong?”
“What? Oh, nothing,” I said, not wanting to reveal my innermost thoughts. “But…uh, apparently Monty and crew switched out the license plates on the motorhome.” I pushed the slip of paper with the license plate number over to her. “This was the old man’s license plate number.”
Her blue eyes skimmed it. “Too bad. What else did David have to say?”
“Um…he mentioned they received a weird ransom letter.”
“For how much?” she asked.
“He didn’t say. He had to get off the phone quickly. Listen, I’m hungry. I think I’ll get the sandwiches.”
I needed something to distract me, so I got up and grabbed some paper plates and handed out everyone’s sandwiches and chips.
I sat down and took the wrapping off of my sandwich and opened my chips. As I crunched on a barbeque chip I glanced out the window at the passing scenery. “It’s really pretty out here, don’t you think?”
“Too quiet,” Blair said, barely looking up from her book.
We were on I-35, heading north, passing small towns and open country. When we cut off onto Highway 14, we passed lush green pastures where several horses grazed peacefully in the early evening shadows. An old red barn sat in the background of one piece of property alongside a small, white farmhouse with a broad front porch. A sign posted at the end of a long drive read Honeydew Farms.
I glanced at the farmhouse as it disappeared behind us and imagined what it would be like to sit on that front porch with David.
We left Honeydew Farms behind and passed through a tiny, neglected town that included a gas station with only a single tired gas pump, a small grocery store, a post office and an antique store.
My head swiveled at the sight of the antique store. I couldn’t help but wonder what treasures lay hidden within, and silently wished we had time to stop.
We continued on for a half hour or more. After lunch, I pulled out my bag of sour fruit balls and popped a green one into my mouth, savoring the bite of sour apple.
As the orange sun disappeared behind a crooked line of hills in the distance, leaving streaks of dark red behind, we passed a sign for the town of Lake Cleary. The name rang a bell, but for the moment, I couldn’t remember why. I was too focused on David’s last two words and the lingering tingle of Jake’s touch. I waved my hand in front of my nose to capture the scent of Jake’s aftershave. My heart fluttered at the enticing aroma.
My cell phone pinged again. I grabbed it, thinking it might be David. April’s name popped up. I bit down on the candy to get rid of it and cried out in pain. “Ow!” My hand fl
ew to my jaw as I dropped my phone on the table and swiped it on with my other hand.
“What’d you do?” Blair asked.
I shook my head. “I don’t know,” I said, cradling my jaw. I spit out the candy and pressed the speaker phone button, my hand still cradling my jaw. “How are you?”
“Going crazy,” she said.
A high-pitched siren sounded in the background.
“Ahab?” I asked.
Our African gray parrot liked to imitate a police siren. He’d learned it from living with his first owner, an elderly woman who watched TV eight hours a day, especially a lot of cop shows.
“Yes. He’s reacting to the kids. I swear, Julia…I’m ready to fly out and meet you wherever you are and join you on your trip. I need some quiet time.”
Blair and I shared a guarded look.
“Uh…yeah, sure. We’re just laid back and enjoyin’ the ride.”
There was a long moment of silence from April.
“You’re totally lying,” she said. “What’s going on?”
“Um…nothing, other than just breaking my tooth.” I was rubbing my jaw.
“This is me, Julia. Remember? What’s going on?”
I shrugged and gave Blair a look of defeat. “Let’s just say we’ve had an interesting trip so far.”
“I know you. That means you’re in the middle of something dangerous. What is it?”
“Actually, we’re just chasing some people.”
“What do you mean chasing some people? Why?”
I took a deep breath. When I exhaled, I said, “Because we think they abducted Senator Owens’ daughter.”
“You…what? Wait a second. You’ve got to be kidding.”
“And don’t forget my tooth,” I blubbered.
There was a long moment of silence on the other end of the phone.
“Did you hear me?” I whined at her.
“Of course I did.”
Count to three.
I felt a sudden catch in my throat. “Hey, you may know me, but I know you. Why are you being so quiet?”
“Uh…I had a weird dream. It was really convoluted, but there was something about your tooth, a short guy with dark hair and dark eyes, and a crazy dentist. The dentist reminded me of the Steve Martin character in Little Shop of Horrors.”
