Pursued (4 page)

You don't belong here, McGrady
, a voice in her head insisted. She glanced down at her faded cutoffs and dark green University of Oregon t-shirt, then looked at the house, the yard…heck, it wasn't even a yard, it was an estate. Intimidating, she decided. As much as she loved her little car, driving the five-year-old Mustang into Allison's driveway would be like…

“Stop it, McGrady,” Jennie said aloud, shaking her head. “You're being ridiculous. Just because they have money doesn't make them any better than you.”

It didn't, of course. Still, something about people who lived in glamorous houses made Jennie uncomfortable. Before she could formulate a reason for her discomfort, an off-white van drove up behind her and made a left turn into the Beaumonts' driveway.
Tricia's Flowers
, the bold, black letters read. A bouquet of roses had been painted behind the letters in shades of red. The driver pulled up to the front door, got out, and retrieved a box from the back of the van before knocking on the door. No one must have answered because he left the box, hopped in his van, and drove away.

Jennie waited until he was out of sight, then drove up to the house. Looking around and seeing no one, she crept up to the front door and, feeling brave, nudged the lid off the box with the toe of her sneaker.

Nestled in lavender tissue paper and lying in a crisp white box lay a beautiful bouquet of pink rosebuds, with sprays of baby's breath and delicate ferns. Jennie hunkered down in front of the box and picked up the flowers to get a closer look at the card tacked to the pink bow.

“Hold it right there,” a voice behind her thundered.

Jennie clutched the roses to her chest and turned, fully expecting to be looking down the barrel of another gun. Instead she found herself looking at a garden rake. Well, not at the rake exactly, but at the guy leaning on it. He was tan, no—make that bronze—with penetrating blue eyes and long golden hair, which he'd pulled back into a ponytail.

“Who are you?” she managed to croak out as she zeroed in on a spot behind him and tried not to stare.

“I think that's my line.” His mouth parted to reveal a perfect set of white teeth. “Name's Rocky. I work here. You, on the other hand, appear to be trespassing.”

“Jennie. I-I'm Jennie, a friend of Allison's.”

He shifted his gaze from her eyes to the package she held in her arms. “Friend? I don't think so.”

Jennie's mouth dropped open. He suspected her. He thought
she'd
delivered the flowers and that she was the stalker. “I…this isn't…”

“Save it. Beaumont ought to be back any minute now. You can explain it to him.”

Rocky let the rake fall into a large juniper and stepped onto the porch. He wasn't much taller than Jennie but still seemed to dwarf her. She backed up, trapping herself between him and the house.

Rocky took hold of her arm and was about to usher her inside the house when a silver Mercedes pulled into the driveway. Mr. Beaumont stepped out of the car and walked toward them. Her heart pounded a thunderous rhythm in her brain as she watched him approach.
Nice going, McGrady. You just couldn't stay out of it, could you?
That package could be from the stalker, and now it's got your prints all over it.

“What's going on here?” Mr. Beaumont asked, shifting his gaze from Rocky to Jennie.

“I caught her trying to deliver these flowers.”

Mr. Beaumont frowned. “Is this true?”

“No…of course not.” Jennie closed her eyes and shook her head. “This is crazy. I'm Jennie McGrady. Allison stayed at my house last night. She seemed pretty shook up. I was just driving by to see how she was doing when I saw a van drive in with these. I thought I'd check it out…”

“A van?” Rocky and Mr. Beaumont said together. “What kind of van?” Mr. Beaumont asked. “Think carefully, Jennie. What did it look like?” Apparently both men had dismissed her as a suspect, and that was just fine with her.

Jennie described the van in as much detail as she could. When she'd finished, Rocky left, saying he'd call it in. “Here.” Jennie handed the flowers to Mr. Beaumont. “You'd better take these. I hope I didn't mess up anything. Just wanted to get a look at the card.”

Beaumont slid the card from its square white envelope, read it, and handed it to Jennie.
Hi, Princess
, it read.
You reign in my heart.

“This doesn't sound threatening—you think it's from the guy who's been stalking Allison?” Jennie handed the card back.

“I suspect it is. The first couple of deliveries were like this. He's either trying to throw us off the track, or we're dealing with a very disturbed person.”

Or a daughter who needs attention,
Jennie thought.
And both Allison and B.J. fit the picture.

Beaumont nodded silently, and Jennie took his action as a dismissal. “I'd better go. Tell Allison and B.J. I came by. I'll be back later this afternoon.”

He shook her hand, acting cool and aloof. “I'm sorry if Rocky frightened you. Part of his job around here is to keep an eye on the place.”

“It's okay. I understand how it must have looked.”

“Yes,” he said, walking her to her car. “Jennie, I want you to know that Allison and B.J.'s friends are welcome here, anytime. But I suggest you call ahead from now on. It could save us from this kind of embarrassment.”

As she drove toward home, Jennie tried to review the incident objectively. Something bothered her about the Beaumonts' gardener. On the surface it made sense. The gardener catching a kid who didn't belong there…but a gardener? He looked more like a model.

Jennie pulled into her driveway. Her mother, decked out in cutoffs, a halter top, a wide-brimmed hat, and garden gloves, waved from the flower garden bordering the front of the house. Jennie grinned—Mom looked like she'd been in a fight with a dirt clod and lost.

That's it! A real gardener would have been grungy—he would have at least had dirt on his hands.
Jennie glanced at her watch. By this time of the day, with the temperature rising toward ninety degrees, he would have been sweaty too. Rocky had looked like he'd stepped out of the pages of a
GQ
magazine, not a garden.
Still,
Jennie reminded herself,
Mr. Beaumont did say Rocky had other jobs. He could have just gotten started on the gardening.

Somehow Jennie doubted that. Most gardeners she knew worked early in the day. Besides, her intuition told her that Rocky wasn't what he seemed. Her mind skittered back to the night before—to the man with the gun. Could Rocky be the stalker? Could he have won Mr. Beaumont's confidence and gotten himself this job to be close to Allison? Jennie shuddered at the thought and added his name to her growing list of suspects.

“Lisa called a few minutes ago,” Mom hollered as Jennie opened the car door and stepped out. “She said it was urgent.” Mom laughed. “'Course with Lisa, everything is urgent.” She leaned back on her heels and wiped an arm across her forehead, leaving another dirt stain on her face. “How was your session with Gloria?”

“Okay, but I still think it's a waste of money to make me go.” Jennie stopped at the porch steps and leaned against the white pillar. “Mom, how well do you know the Beaumonts?”

Mom gave her a don't-change-the-subject look, but answered anyway. “Not well, really. Janet—Allison's mother—and I have worked on a couple of church projects, but that's about it. She seems like a very nice person. Homey, warm, generous. I understand they're one of the church's biggest supporters. Why do you ask?”

“Just curious.” Jennie lowered herself to the step. “What about Mr. Beaumont?”

“Well, he's on the church board. From what Michael says, he's a great guy. In fact it was David Beaumont who suggested Michael intern at Trinity.”

“What do you mean?” Jennie frowned, as a knot began to form at the pit of her stomach. Something told her she wasn't going to like Mom's answer one bit. “I thought Michael was a building contractor,” she added, remembering the time he'd taken them by a house he'd built.

“He is, but that's only part time. You remember, Jennie, he told you he was going to school. He's been studying at the seminary for the past three years, and now he's ready to do his internship. Mr. Beaumont talked the church board into hiring Michael as the new youth director.”

The knot in Jennie's stomach exploded. “The youth director? Oh, that's just great. How could he do that to me? How humiliating! Why don't you guys just strip me naked and hang me by my toenails in Pioneer Square?”

“Jennie, don't be ridiculous.” Mom stood up and brushed the dirt off her knees. “What's gotten into you?”

“Do you have any idea how embarrassing this is? The youth director engaged to my mother! Couldn't you have at least asked me how I felt about it?”

“For your information, Jennie, Michael wanted to do just that. He was concerned about your reaction. Unfortunately, you were in Florida. I told him that you were a mature young lady and that you would be able to handle it fine.”

“Yeah right, Mom,” Jennie said as she scrambled to her feet. “I overreacted. I'll handle it.” She'd handle it all right, but Jennie wasn't certain how mature she'd be. When she'd entered the house and was out of earshot she muttered, “I just won't go to any more youth meetings. Maybe I'll find another church or move to another town.” Jennie sighed in frustration and decidedly put the matter aside. She didn't have time to worry about Michael…she had to tell Lisa about Rocky and the latest delivery.

Jennie headed for her room to call Lisa. No one answered and Jennie left a message. She'd try again later, but in the meantime, Jennie intended to check out the florist shop that had delivered the roses to Allison.

She did an online search but came up empty for
Tricia's Flowers
. Closing her eyes, she tried to visualize the logo on the side of the van. If she could just recall the address. There had been something different about it, because she remembered wondering why it was coming from so far away. Vancouver. That was it. Not only had it been from another town but from another state. Vancouver was located just over the state line, north of the Columbia River.

That meant the stalker probably lived over there. Jennie had forgotten about that fact when she'd described the van to Mr. Beaumont. She reached for the phone, intending to call him, then stopped.
What if he's involved, McGrady? Wouldn't it be better to do a little investigating on your own first?

Jennie decided it would and placed another call to Lisa. This time Lisa answered. Jennie quickly filled her in on the van delivering flowers and her run-in with Rocky and Allison's father.

“Rocky said he'd call in the information, so I imagine he told the police, but just in case he and Beaumont are involved, I think we should check out the florist shop ourselves.”

Lisa agreed, and five minutes later Jennie climbed back in the car and headed for Lisa's. Jennie was probably way off base, but the family money, Beaumont's political interests, and his sidekick, Rocky, reminded Jennie of a movie she'd seen once where this woman had no idea her father and the man she'd married were mobsters. She found out the hard way. True, it was just a movie, but what if Beaumont and Rocky had ties to some huge crime syndicate, like smuggling drugs, or diamonds, or…
Give it a rest, McGrady.
Jennie brought her overactive imagination to an abrupt halt. Even if Beaumont was rude, he did seem concerned about Allison. She'd do well to stop these wild speculations and stick to the facts.

Once she realized that the florist was in Vancouver, Jennie had found the web page and printed out a map. The shop was out by Westfield Mall and easy to find. She and Lisa and their moms had gone shopping there a couple of times, and Jennie knew exactly where to go. “This is great,” Lisa said, grinning as she slid into the passenger seat and buckled herself in. “Maybe we can get some shopping in. I still need a new dress for the party.”

“Cutting it kind of close, aren't you? The party's tomorrow.” Jennie eased out of the parking place.

“I know, but I want it to be just right.”

Jennie wanted to laugh, but didn't. Her cousin couldn't look anything but right. Lisa had a way of making even the grungiest clothes look fashionable. “Let me guess—you haven't been able to find a dress to match your new nail polish.”

“You don't need to be sarcastic.” Lisa pouted. “But you're right. I've looked in practically every dress shop in Portland. I had no idea there were so many different shades of green. You don't mind, do you?”

Jennie didn't. Shopping with Lisa and Aunt Kate was like going to an art gallery. “Okay, but only for an hour. We have to get back. Allison's expecting us for dinner.”

The florist shop was in a small shopping center near the mall, and Jennie found a parking space right in front. A bell tinkled as she opened the door. It smelled of flowers and potpourri. A combination of fresh and dried flower arrangements lined the walls and hung from the ceiling. A slender woman stood behind the counter, unwrapping a bundle of dried roses.

“Hi.” She smiled and set the flowers aside. “I'm Tricia. How can I help you?”

Jennie stepped up to the counter, uncertain as to how to proceed. After a moment's hesitation, she decided on a straightforward approach. “Your van made a delivery to a friend's house today. Allison Beaumont. And we were wondering if you could tell us who sent her the flowers.”

Tricia frowned. “Gee, I don't know if I should give out information like that. Client confidentiality, you know.”

Jennie nodded. “I can appreciate that, but our friend has been getting some threatening messages. We think whoever is sending these flowers might be a stalker.”

“Her life might be in danger,” Lisa added.

Tricia glanced from Jennie to Lisa, then shrugged. “Hold on, let me check my file.” She turned toward a small computer on a desk behind her and started typing. “That was Beaumont on Lakeview Drive?”

Jennie nodded. Excitement charged through her.
This is going to be a snap, McGrady. You are getting good at this detective stuff.
In a second they'd have the name of Allison's stalker. The case would be solved. Gram would be proud…so would Dad.

“Gee, I'm sorry. I don't have a name. He must have paid cash.”

“Oh no.” Jennie's heart dropped to her shoes; then picking up on what Tricia had said, she added, “You said he. It was a man?”

“I think so. Actually, I'm not sure…”

“Please try,” Lisa said as she rested her arms on the counter.

“Let me think.” The woman tipped her head back and closed her eyes. “Beaumont…Beaumont…roses…

“Yes. I do remember him,” Tricia said at last. “Sure didn't seem like the kind of guy who'd hurt anyone, though. Sweet as could be. Tall, about six feet. Longish curly blond hair, blue eyes. And he was wearing a cowboy hat. About your age, I think. Cute, and kind of shy.” She shrugged. “I'm sorry. That's about all I can tell you.”

Jennie and Lisa thanked her. “Would you call me if he comes in again?” Jennie asked, jotting her name and number on a note pad on the counter. Tricia agreed.

As they reached the door, Tricia stopped them. “Say,” she called, “why are you asking these questions and not the police? You a detective or something?”

“Or something,” Jennie smiled. “The police will probably want to question you too. Just as soon as I tell them about this guy.”

Tricia nodded. “Well, much as I hate to lose a customer, if he's in to stalking young girls, I hope they catch him.”

Once in the car, Jennie took a deep breath. “I have a feeling Rocky might be Allison's stalker. He fits Tricia's description.”

“He and about a third of the male population in Portland,” Lisa said.

Jennie started the car. “Maybe, but I'll bet anything Rocky's the one. I didn't tell him and Mr. Beaumont about the Vancouver address, but even without that, you'd think the police would have figured it out. I'll bet Rocky never called them.”

Jennie headed for the mall, with shopping the farthest thing from her mind. She was planning her next encounter with the mysterious gardener.

Jennie promised to catch up with Lisa in Nordstrom's as soon as she'd made a phone call to the police. She asked for one of the two officers who'd come to the house the evening before and a few seconds later heard Greg Donovan's friendly greeting.

“Hi, Jennie. What can I do for you?” Jennie told him about the phone call she'd had after they'd gone and about the van and her visit to Tricia's Flowers.

“Hey, listen,” Greg said. “Much as I appreciate the information, I wish you had let us check out the florist shop. Did it ever occur to you that the owner could be behind this?”

Jennie gulped. It hadn't. “I'm sorry. You're right. I should have called you first.”

“Listen, Jennie. I appreciate your help, but I don't want you getting caught in the middle. Stalkers are often unpredictable and relentless—not to mention dangerous.” After listening to a stern lecture about letting the police handle the investigation, Jennie said goodbye.

It wasn't until after she'd hung up and had gotten to the escalators that she realized Donovan hadn't answered her question about Rocky. She was beginning to understand why so many of the private detectives she read about had this kind of love-hate relationship with cops. They wanted information but didn't want to share any.

She had to admit, though, Donovan was right about the danger of pursuing a stalker. From now on, she'd leave the investigating to the police—most of it, anyway. Jennie wandered through the racks of clothes until she found Lisa.

“Any luck?” she asked.

“Not finding a green one. But what do you think of this?” Lisa held up a soft cotton dress with a bold floral print.

“Pretty.”

“I think so too. There's more green in it than in the others. And, it's on sale.”

“Good. Buy it and let's get going.”

“What about you? Aren't you getting one?”

“Me? What do I need with another dress? I have two perfectly good ones hanging in my closet. I'll just wear the blue one.”

Lisa rolled her eyes. “That's one thing I'll never understand about you, Jen. Don't get me wrong, I like your dresses, but wouldn't you like a little more variety?”

“I can't afford variety. You know that. We're a single­parent family, remember.”
But not for long, McGrady. Michael is out to change that.
Ignoring the depressing thought, Jennie said, “Even if we could afford it, clothes just aren't that important to me. As long as I have my jeans and a few tops, I'm happy.”

“I know…It's just that I feel guilty, always getting new clothes while you…”

“Hey, I'm not complaining, but I will be if you don't hurry up.”

Lisa picked out a dozen more dresses, tried them all on, then decided on the first one. Jennie waited patiently—well, as patiently as she could. One did not push Lisa Calhoun unless one wanted to wait even longer. On the way down the escalator, Lisa spotted a ruffled bow in the same shade of blue silk as the dress Jennie planned to wear to the party.

“This is perfect for you,” Lisa crooned as she gathered Jennie's long thick hair and clipped it into the bow.

This, Jennie did buy. Wearing her hair swept up and secured with a bow would be a nice touch—something different.

A couple of hours later Lisa and Jennie arrived at Allison's. Rocky let them in, but before he could greet them, Allison bounced in wearing a pastel pink bikini with a matching crocheted cover-up.

“Where have you been?” Allison demanded. “I thought you were coming this afternoon. It's almost dinnertime.”

“Sorry,” Jennie muttered. “We were at the mall. Lisa bought a new dress for your party.”

Allison gave Lisa an understanding smile and ushered them in. “Let's go upstairs so you can change. I hope you brought your swimsuits. We've still got time for a swim before we eat.”

Allison led them to her room and closed the door.

White and pastel pink curtains and bedclothes ruffled and poofed out everywhere, reminding Jennie of cotton candy. This was definitely Allison. After making a quick change, Lisa and Jennie followed Allison down the wide spiral staircase, along a long carpeted hallway and through a utility area to the backyard. It looked like something out of
Better Homes and Gardens
.

The Olympic-sized pool sparkled like an aquamarine gemstone surrounded by tile and tubs of summer flowers. Patio tables complete with padded chairs and umbrellas graced the deck. Nearby, water cascaded from a high stone wall into a Jacuzzi. Lounge chairs and small drink tables had been strategically placed along both sides. Lounging on the nearest one was Paige Matthews. She rose slowly and came forward to greet them, looking like a candidate for the Miss America pageant.

“Hi.” A broad grin lit up her face. “It's been forever since I've seen you, Jennie. Love your tan. Lisa told us you'd been to Florida.”

Jennie liked Paige's tan too, and her deep red swimsuit and sun-streaked hair, but she didn't say so. Meetings like this made her feel self-conscious and awkward. What Jennie wanted to do was ask her how she felt about Allison these days. Unfortunately, it was too soon to get into details about Allison and Ed Brodie, so she opted for safer ground and asked, “How's your summer going?”

“Wonderful!” Paige held up a perfectly manicured hand to reveal a glistening diamond. “That's how my summer is going. Eddie has asked me to marry him. Isn't that great?”

“Wow.” Lisa gasped. “It's beautiful. When did this happen?”

“Last night,” Paige answered with a sigh. “It was so romantic. We're going to be married right after graduation.”

Allison draped an arm over Paige's shoulder. “She's asked me to be a bridesmaid. I'm so excited.”

“Aren't you a little young?” Jennie blurted. As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted it.
Nice going, McGrady. Just spit out whatever comes to your mind.

Paige flushed, then laughed, drawing her hand back.

“Not really,” she said defensively. “I'm almost seventeen. My mother got married when she was sixteen.”

Jennie shrugged. Marriage wasn't on her list of things to talk about at the moment—what with Mom's engagement to Michael—so she tried to change the subject. “Where's B.J.?” she asked, noting that Allison's new sister hadn't joined them.

“Mom took her shopping. She finally agreed to let Mom and Dad buy her some things, I can't believe how stubborn she's been about it. She says she hates her room, which is totally rude. Mom and I spent days decorating it. And you'd think she actually liked those rags she's been wearing. Mom says she's resisting change and to give her time. The clothes and a couple of rings are all she has left of her old life with our real mother.”

Jennie frowned, understanding in part what B.J. must be feeling. “It would be hard to go from being poor to being rich. Not to mention losing her mom….” Then thinking about her own box of Dad's things, added, “Holding on to the stuff her mom bought probably helps her deal with the loss.” Once again the conversation had drifted too close to home and Jennie was glad for Lisa's suggestion that they head for the pool.

After splashing around and playing catch for half an hour, the other girls announced they were going in to change. “I'll be up in a few minutes,” Jennie said. “After I swim a few laps.” Jennie swam the length of the pool about six times, then hauled herself out of the water and reclined in the sun on one of the lounge chairs to catch her breath. She closed her eyes and waited until her breathing returned to normal.
You're getting out of shape, McGrady
, she scolded. It had been too long since she'd worked out.

“Nice stroke,” a low, male voice remarked.

Jennie jumped to her feet and nearly collided with Rocky. The gardener, or whatever he was, reached out a hand to steady her. “Sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you. I was just admiring your style. You in competition or anything?”

His wide grin and easy stance unnerved her. Or maybe it was the fact he could be the stalker. Jennie stepped back and grabbed for her towel. “Ah…no…unless you count the swim team at school.”

Rocky nodded. “I haven't seen you around here before today. You known Allison long?”

Something about the way he'd asked told Jennie this wasn't a casual conversation. Did he still suspect her? Or maybe he was aiming to make Jennie one of his victims as well. “We go to school together,” she answered.

“Just wondered,” he said as he lowered himself onto one of the deck chairs beside hers. “Hope you don't mind. I was taking a break and decided to sit out here for a while. It's peaceful…don't you think?”

“Yeah.”
At least it was before you came.
The last part she kept to herself. “Well, I'd better get back inside with the others.”

“So soon?” Rocky asked. “I was hoping maybe you'd stay and talk to me for a few minutes.”

Jennie shrugged, trying not to reveal her suspicions about him. She sat on the lounge chair again. Why not. This was a great opportunity to find out more about the number one suspect on her list—next, of course, to B.J. The thought struck her that Rocky and B.J. might be working together—after all, they certainly had opportunity. “Sure.” Jennie hesitated, then said, “I guess—”

“I wanted—” he said at the same time, then laughed.

His blue eyes sparkled and Jennie looked away. “I just wanted to apologize—for this afternoon. I hope I didn't come on too strong. It's just that when I saw you there with those flowers…well, with all that's been going on and you not having been around, I thought…”

“It's okay. I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have picked them up. It was dumb of me.” Jennie twisted her braid around her finger. “So what did the police say?” Jennie asked, even though she suspected he hadn't called.

Rocky shrugged. “Not much. A love note and a bunch of roses can hardly be considered threatening. As far as I know, they weren't able to track down the lead.”

Probably because you didn't give them one
, Jennie felt like saying. For a moment she considered telling Rocky about the Vancouver address, then decided not to. The less he knew about her involvement in the case, the better.

Rocky paused to pull off his blue cotton shirt, then stretched out on the lounge next to Jennie. “Think I'll catch some rays,” he said, winking. “It's been a long day.” Jennie couldn't help noticing his muscular chest. No doubt about it. The guy was a hunk.
He may be gorgeous
, her inner voice warned,
but he could be dangerous.
She glanced at him again, trying not to stare.
And you have to admit, McGrady, he's the cleanest gardener you've ever seen.