Run Like Hell (11 page)

“I’m going to his house and I’m getting him back.”

Traci raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow at me. “Do you really think that’s the best idea?”

Leave it to my best-friend to be my conscience when my own is lacking. “Yes, but I need your help.”

I won’t allow her do anything she’s not comfortable with but I can tell by her steady, confident gaze and the way she’s squeezing my hand that she’s in.

Without hesitating, she agrees. “Okay, but what does it involve?”

“If Ricky, the boy from lunch yesterday, is still at school then we follow him home. He rides a bike to school so we should find him at the bike rack after school.” He mentioned he found my license in his brother’s room which makes me believe they live together. My gut is telling me Tiger is at his house. If he’s not there, I’ll resort to Plan B, whatever that is.

“It’s crazy, but count me in,” Traci agrees.

Her constant support warrants a big hug of appreciation. The warning bell rings and we scatter to class. When I sink into my seat, I realize I didn’t ask Traci about her evening with Carlos. Covertly, I hold my cell phone in my lap and under my desk and text her. I still haven’t heard from Jack. I’m dying to know how he’s doing. I’ll stop by his house after my reconnaissance mission with Traci. As I hit send on my cell phone I hear the click of heels beside my desk.
Ahem.
My guilty gaze meets the narrowed glare of my instructor, Ms. Summers. She silently holds out her hand and I place my cell phone in her palm.

“I’ll return your phone after school, Morgan. I shouldn’t have to remind you of the school’s policy. In the future, you’ll have to request your cell phone back from the principal. Consider this a warning.”

I nod my head in understanding but mentally slap myself. Retrieving my phone will cost me valuable minutes. I need enough time to meet Traci at her car after school as well as find and follow Ricky.

At lunch, Traci and Carlos are huddled together at our usual lunch table. I set my lunch tray down but hesitate before sitting. They’re whispering to one another and I don’t want to interrupt their private conversation. Carlos notices me first and smiles.

“Morgan, sit down.”

“Have either of you seen Jack today?” I bite into a turkey sandwich and notice how flushed Traci’s face looks. What were they discussing?

“No, but how is he?” Traci asks, concerned, and takes a bite of yogurt.

“I don’t know. I haven’t heard from him yet. I hope he’s okay.” My sandwich tastes like cardboard. Slowly, I chew and swallow but I’ve lost my appetite. Great, now Jack and Tiger are missing. My stomach tightens with fear. Could Jack have been targeted by Ricky’s brother? Perhaps he saw Jack at my house and perceived him as a threat. I scan the lunch room, searching for Ricky. Maybe he’s under the tree. I leave the two lovebirds alone and Traci and I agree to meet at her car after school.

Outside, he’s nowhere to be found. Damn. I scan the school yard but don’t see him. Did he ditch school? I smile at several friends as I near the bike rack. Was his bike the one with the purple seat? Purple comes to mind when I think of our conversation yesterday. A bike with a purple seat is locked up. Could this be his? I’m certain it is which means he’s still at school.

I interpret his avoidance as guilt. He knows something and he’s covering for his brother. But I’m also hopeful. Tiger must be at their house if Ricky is avoiding me. If only I had my cell phone then I could call Rory to find out if Tiger came home. Before I left for school she groggily mentioned that she was working from home today.

Before lunch is over I search Freshman Halls for Ricky but there’s no sign of him. Frustrated, I spend the rest of the day in a fog. When the final bell rings it’s like my old track and field days in junior high school, minus the hurdles, as I sprint through the halls. Several teachers warm me to slow down and walk but I ignore them. I clear the length of the school in minutes and skid into my Economics class.

I sincerely apologize for my indiscretion to Ms. Summers. With my iPhone in my hand, I race to the parking lot and jump in Traci’s car. She’s waiting with the engine running and expertly maneuvers the car out of the parking lot in record time. Luckily, we avoid the gridlock of school buses, student drivers, and parents picking up their kids.

“There he is,” I point to the boy with glasses unlocking the bike with the purple seat. Ricky appears to be hurried and quickly pedals away. He weaves between students and cars as he crosses the street. He jumps the curb and continues on the sidewalk with his checkerboard backpack securely behind him.

His silver BMX bike disappears around a street corner and Traci turns left and follows at a safe distance behind him. He
had
been avoiding me all day, I realize. Angry and anxious to rescue Tiger, my eyes remain glued to the black and white pattern of his backpack. He’s completely unaware of us following him. He’s strictly focused on the route in front of him and hasn’t looked back once. His behavior is odd considering how nervous he appeared this morning.

We follow him along several more tree-lined neighborhood streets. Traci quietly drives but looks over at me when we near my street. Ricky lives in my neighborhood? Why doesn't he ride my bus? His bike slows and Traci eases up on the accelerator. A car isn’t following us so she crawls along the street. As Ricky rides up the driveway, Traci waits a moment, then parallel parks on the street opposite his house.

Ricky leans his bike against the side of the house. Traci and I watch as he fishes his keys out of his pocket, unlocks the front door, and disappears inside. The house is a two-story Ranch home with a single car garage and a fenced in backyard. Is Tiger in the backyard?

“Now what?” Traci shuts off the engine and drums the steering wheel, looking expectantly at me.

Uncertainty keeps me rooted in her car seat. Do I knock on his door and surprise him or go directly to his backyard and search for Tiger? What if Tiger is inside the house?

“Wait here, I’m checking the backyard.” If I ring the doorbell I doubt Ricky will let me inside. He didn’t want to talk to me earlier at school and I’m sure he doesn’t want me standing on his doorstep. I hurry across the street and hide on the side of the house, trying to avoid the windows so I won’t be detected.

“Tiger,” I call. No response. “Tiger!” I keep my voice low even though I’m tempted to scream his name. My call is met by a shuffling noise in the backyard. My heart swells. It has to be Tiger. Deciding to enter the backyard to retrieve him, I snake my arm over the top of the gate to release the inside latch.

“What are you doing?” a familiar voice snarls at me.

Busted. I slowly peek over my shoulder and find myself face-to-face with Ricky. His face is scrunched up and he’s glaring at me. It’s obvious he’s pissed, but he should know never to mess with a girl and her dog.

“Getting my dog, isn’t it obvious?” I may be trespassing but at least I’m not a dog-snatcher. My finger hooks under the latch and the gate swings open. Ricky’s intent on blocking me but I push past him and storm the backyard.

The yard consists of a cement patio with mold-covered plastic furniture and overgrown grass. The plot is vacant of trees and shrubs. And no Tiger. Hope plummets and my shoulders sag with the realization that he’s not here. Breathing deeply, I suppress the tears that are threatening to fall. A rabbit hutch tucked against the house catches my attention. A large, grey rabbit is shuffling around in its bedding. It’s the sound I heard on the other side of the fence.

“Wow, no dog, what a surprise.”

Ricky’s sarcasm grates on my nerves and my fists clench in the front pockets of my hoodie.

“Guess you can leave now.”

He’s standing behind me, graciously holding the gate open for me to leave through. I’m not easily swayed. Tiger could be in the house. I scan the yard and my gaze settles on what I suspect to be dog poop. I smile, trusting my instinct.

“You don’t have a dog, right? Only a rabbit?” My gaze levels on him.

“Ah, yeah,” he quips.

Inside the confines of Ricky’s wooden fenced backyard I recognize several piles of dog poop. My heart sings within my chest. “If you don’t have a dog, why is there dog poop in your yard?” I indicate the piles littered around the yard. He stammers but I quickly shush him. “I’m not leaving without my dog.”

“Then I guess you’re not leaving,” a deep voice threatens behind me. The gate slams shut and the latch falls into its cradle.

My bravado plummets when I turn and find myself face-to-face with my attacker from Saturday night. Even Ricky looks scared, which doesn’t ease my fears.

Traci is waiting in the car. I’m not alone and I know she’ll call the cops if she suspects something. Damn. My iPhone is in my purse, in Traci’s car. He’ll suffer if he tries to hurt me or my dog. My instinct once again tells me to run, to get as far away from him as possible. But I won’t leave without Tiger.

“You shouldn’t have run from me the other night.” He advances, his eyes unwavering.

“Let her go, Brian,” Ricky implores. “She’s looking for her missing dog.”

“Shut up!” Brian yells.

His face is red and steaming. His crazy eyes are bulging. Ricky cringes at his brother’s outburst, as if he’s prepared for the strike that doesn’t come. Does his brother hit him? Ricky’s slight frame is nothing compared to the lumbering, crimson-faced man confronting me. I empathize with Ricky. Is he masking his pain with sarcasm? Was his paranoia this morning a result of the beatings he receives from his brother?

“Ricky, I’ll handle this.” Brian runs his hand through his short, brown hair.

The tell-tale cigarette burn is covered by a bandage and barely visible behind his shirt-collar. The scratches on his hands are noticeable. The sight of his multiple abrasions gives me pleasure.

I’m not waiting around for Brian to determine how he plans on handling me. The sliding door is my entry into the house. I bolt for the door, praying it’s unlocked. Thankfully, it slides open but Brian is shadowing me. Half a second later I turn the lock and he turns a deeper shade of crimson, his fury darkening. I exhale, temporarily relieved and thankful for my narrow escape.

He releases the door handle in defeat but hastily tears around the house. The front door! I have to lock the front door. Unfamiliar with the layout of the house, I dash through several rooms and locate the front door. I turn the lock and a second later the handle rattles and I hear Brian bellow in frustration. He then rams the door, causing the wood to creak and moan against the force of his outburst.

“Tiger!” I scream. “Tiger!” A heartwarming bark breaks the silence in the house and he runs from another room and barrels into me. I sink to my knees and wrap my arms around his neck and breathe in his musky doggie scent. He laps at my face with his wet, rough tongue.

The door has stopped rattling on its hinges. It’s too quiet. What are Brian and Ricky up to now? For all I know, there could be other people in the house with me. I walk up the short flight of stairs into the upstairs living room and peer out the window. Below, Brian is pacing on the walkway and Ricky appears to be silently standing by.

I try to get Traci’s attention but she’s watching the two guys, who are obviously locked out of their house. If only she’d see me waving at her through the window. The phone! I need to find a phone and I’ll call her on her cell phone to let her know I’m coming out through the front door. She can ensure nothing happens to me or Tiger and can have the car waiting.

I hastily turn to find a phone and mistakenly trip over the dog. My head hits something hard.
Whomp
. Pain pierces my skull and I’m overcome by complete darkness.

Chapter Nine

“Do you think she’s going to wake up soon?” a soft, familiar voice whispers above me.

“I hope so because my mom is coming home from work,” another voice responds.

Water drips onto my face and something wet touches my cheek. I elicit a soft groan.

“She’s waking up!” the female voice exclaims.

Groggily, I open my eyes and am immediately greeted by Tiger, happily lapping at my face.

“What happened?” I moan.

Traci and Ricky hover beside me on the floor. I’m sprawled out in what I presume to be Ricky’s living room. The décor on the walls is sparse except for several photos displayed in black frames and a shelf decorated with angel figurines.

“I think you tripped and bumped your head on the coffee table when you fell. But I was locked out of my house so I’m not entirely sure.” Ricky makes no attempt to mask his sarcasm.

“Oh, right,” I mumble. “I remember. So how’d you get in?” I sit up and try to focus but my head is throbbing. “Am I bleeding?” I gingerly touch the large lump above my ear.

“You’re not bleeding but you have some swelling. Do you want to stand up?” Traci offers me her hand and I grasp it. She gently pulls me to my feet.

“I tripped over the dog.” Then the realization of the whole situation sets in. “Ricky, you liar! You had my dog! How dare you!” My head throbs as I raise my voice.