Because of a Girl (22 page)

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

W
HAT
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.

* * *

“W
E
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.

* * *

W
HEN
HE
FIRST
recognized the Jeep Cherokee behind him, Jack didn't think much about it. The driver was heading out of the same neighborhood, that's all. Most of his focus was on keeping enough distance to prevent Bouchard from getting a look at him, while making sure he didn't drop back so far he lost his target. Fortunately, this highway was well-enough traveled, he wouldn't stand out. A semi trailed him; ahead, Bouchard's speed had dropped when he got stuck behind a slow-moving panel truck.

Bouchard wasn't going home; that was for sure. He had wended his way through town until he reached the highway. They'd soon be out of Jack's jurisdiction. Yep, there was the Leaving Frenchman Lake sign on the other side of the highway. When it looked like they could be getting somewhere, he might need to alert local law enforcement.

Question of the day: Where
were
they going?

He slowed enough to let a couple of impatient drivers pass him. Better to hang back. He occupied himself calling Troyer and asking him to find out whether Edward Wright was licensed to own a gun.

He had his answer within two minutes. Yes. Wright had purchased a Colt .45 eleven years ago. Jack hoped like hell Wright had also purchased a gun safe, not just kept the damn thing in a bedside drawer or a box on the closet shelf.

“You really think Bouchard might be leading you to where he's had the girl stashed.”

“I think it's a good possibility.”

“You need backup?”

“I wish I had you along, but it's too late for you to catch up.” His eye fell on a vehicle in his rearview mirror. “As it happens, I'm starting to think I have a tail.”

“What the hell...?”

“Took the words out of my mouth.”

“Where are you?” His fellow detective sounded tense.

Jack named the highway. He felt as if he was in the middle of nowhere with the surrounding countryside typical eastern Washington bleak with the vineyards left behind. Raw basalt, clumps of winter-brown grass, rusting barbed wire fences but no cattle behind them. Flat ground had begun to rise, and he thought he saw wheat fields a couple of miles ahead.

“If we keep going, we'll end up in Walla Walla.”

Troyer grunted. “What are you going to do about your tail?”

“Call her,” Jack said grimly. “I have an idea who it is.”

* * *

A
LREADY
JITTERY
, M
EG
jumped when a sudden burst of music blared. “What—?”

Emily bent to her backpack, wedged on the floorboards between her feet. “It's my phone.” Which continued to jangle until she straightened with it in her hands. “It's Jack! What do I do?”

Meg tried to think. “I don't know. No, you have to answer it.”

“Why would he call
me
?” Emily moaned, then sucked in a deep breath and lifted it to her mouth. “Hello?”

Meg could hear a deep, stern voice, but could not make out actual words. All she could do was keep driving while watching Emily's expressive face out of the corner of her eye. A glance in the rearview mirror reminded her that Asher was along, too. He'd been so quiet, it was easy to forget he was here. In fact, had he said a word since she carjacked his Jeep? His expression now as he watched Emily gave Meg a pang. She comforted herself that he had so far seemed pretty sensible, except for getting involved today.

Uh-huh. And what's my excuse?

Meg forgot him when Emily mumbled, “Um... I'm with Mom.” Pause. “I think you should talk to her,” she said, very fast, and thrust the phone at Meg, who accepted it with trepidation.

“Jack?”

“Is that you behind me?”

“Behind you?” she echoed stupidly, before the obvious all but smacked her in the face. “You're not driving your SUV.”

“And you're not driving your bus.” His tone was very dry.

She sighed. “You're following Mr. Bouchard.”

“And you're following me, following Mr. Bouchard. Which part of trusting me to do my job did you not get?”

“You didn't say you were going to shadow him.”

“So you thought you had to do it.”

“Well, actually, Emily thought she needed to. She enlisted Asher, and I got suspicious and followed them.”

“Crap,” he muttered. Then, “Hold on—he's turning.”

Unlike the few gravel tracks they had passed that led who knew where, this was a real intersection. The road was paved and even had a yellow stripe down the middle. A weathered sign pointed to, of all things, a lavender farm. Meg thought that might be a tumbleweed nestled at the base of the supports. When Meg made the right turn, too, it was just in time to see the BMW, well ahead, cresting a hill, followed by what she realized was a Camry.

She also realized, with a spurt of terror, that they had left behind all other traffic.

Jack came back on. “Meg, I said I'd take care of this, and I will. I followed him home yesterday after school let out. You need to turn around and go home. I don't know where he's headed, but I'm not letting you endanger yourself and Emily both.”

“And Asher, too,” she said in a small voice.

He made a noise she couldn't quite label. A huff? A groan?

All she could think was,
He's right
. The least she could have done was insist Asher stay behind.

While she drove away in
his
car.

“Are you alone?” Meg asked in a small voice.

“I'm a cop, honey. Armed and ready for anything.”

Which meant yes. And, even though she'd put her money on Jack any day against Remy Bouchard, she still didn't like the idea of him confronting a man with too much at stake. What if Mr. Bouchard had a gun, too?

Right.
And what was
she
going to do? Whack him over the head with her daughter's book bag?

“Do it,” Jack said curtly. “This isn't a great adventure, Meg. You could be endangering two kids.”

Guilt speared her. Her foot slackened on the gas pedal, and the Jeep began to slow.

Emily gasped. “Mom! No!”

“Good girl,” Jack said in her ear.

The Camry disappeared over the hill, too, as Meg coasted to a stop on the gravel shoulder. She handed the phone back to Emily.

“We
can't
stop!” Emily's eyes filled with tears. “Sabra
needs
us.”

“Jack's right. Mr. Bouchard could be dangerous. Assuming,” she added scrupulously, “that he isn't going somewhere completely innocent.”

“After breaking into my house?” Asher interjected from the backseat.

Technically, they didn't know Mr. Bouchard
had
broken into Asher's house. He might have peered in windows and not actually entered any house. Or he could have broken into... Asher's next-door neighbor's home? Sure, that made sense.

Meg stared ahead at the barren landscape.

“Please, Mom.” Emily sounded close to tears. “We don't have to get in the way. But if Jack finds Sabra...”