See Jane Run (22 page)

It didn't matter.

She gave herself a final launch and felt her hands—first one and then the other—scrape the concrete. One arm gave way immediately and she heard a pop then felt wave after wave of white-hot, blinding pain surge from her shoulder to her fingertips. But she was free.

She was behind the restaurant now, and from the corner of her eye, she could see patrons ambling around the front door, looking confused as the fire-bell continued to clang. She heard sirens in the distance, but they sounded far off. Riley weighed her options—she could wait for the fire truck and tell them her story but chance running into Tim. Or she could run now.

It wasn't even a thought.

Once Riley righted herself, she cradled her left arm in her right and took off running, wincing at the pain in her shoulder, relishing the sound her sneakers made as they slapped against the concrete, putting distance between herself and Tim.

Riley had no idea where she was going, no idea in which direction to run. All she knew was that she had to get away from that restaurant and get away from Tim. But he wasn't dumb. The restaurant sat alone among empty storefronts or businesses that only operated on weekdays. Riley cleared them all and kept running.

When she heard the hum of an engine after twenty minutes of jogging up to CLOSED signs and empty windows, she slowed, panting, relieved. The pain in her shoulder was overwhelming, and simply moving was zapping her energy. When the car pulled up alongside her, she broke down into a raging, primal scream.

Tim stopped the car, opened the passenger side door, and swept her inside.

Riley, curled into the bucket seat, watched the stern set of Tim's jaw as he continued down the road. He didn't say anything to her, not even when he picked her crumpled, wailing body from the sidewalk and dropped her in the car. He would grind his teeth, the motion making the muscle in his jaw flex. His nostrils were flared, and rage marked a red path over his forehead and cheeks.

“You shouldn't have done that,” he said finally.

Anger pricked through Riley, and all at once, the searing shoulder pain momentarily stunted. She was too mad to be afraid.

“You shouldn't have done this,” she spat, each word punctuated, each word its own sentence.

Tim swung his head toward her, his expression a sickening one of pure innocence.

“What was I supposed to do, Janie? I know you don't believe me, but they were going to leave you. They were going to hurt you. I couldn't let them leave again. I couldn't let that happen.”

He gripped the wheel harder, his knuckles going white.

“I couldn't let that happen,” he repeated.

Riley dropped her head in her hands, hopelessness creeping though every vein. Her shoulders slumped and now the pain was everywhere, wracking her entire body. He was going to win.

She thought of Shelby then, small and broken in her hospital bed.

“You hit my best friend. You hit her and tried to kill her.”

Tim slammed on the brakes, and Riley was flung forward, her ribcage screaming out as it slammed against the dashboard.

“I did that for you! I did that so you would understand and get a clue! They were all out to get you!”

The red went all the way to the tops of his ears, and he was breathing hard, fisting his hands and slamming them against his head as he spoke. “I don't know why you won't believe me! I have to make you see! You have to know I was right!”

Terror, cold and heavy, crept through Riley. She could feel a rivulet of blood dribbling over the lower lip she bit. She watched the blood drop, forming a perfect circle of velvet red when it dropped onto her shirt.

“I don't believe you.” The voice that came out of Riley's mouth—calm, determined—wasn't her own. It was confident—it was mad. “You're crazy.”

Tim turned to her, fire burning in his eyes. His lips were slightly parted in a snarl that contorted his whole face into something terrifying. Slowly, he reached for Riley, going directly for her bad shoulder. His hand closed over her delicate limb and he squeezed, effortlessly, the pain ruining her.

She screamed and he released her, shoving her against the car door with a simple flick of his wrist. Tim pushed the car back into drive and drove, eyes focused straight ahead, a low, eerie whistle seeping from between his puckered lips.

Riley was silent, cradling her arm as Tim slowly took the turn that led to the house.

She would die before she went back to that house.

Tim tapped the wheel with his fat fingers, whistling along to a song that only he could hear. Riley breathed deeply before launching herself across the cab. Startled, Tim's hands went to his face.

But Riley's went to the steering wheel.

She turned it in any direction it would go and kicked at the gearshift. It was only a split second before Tim regained his composure, one hand going for the wheel, the other grabbing Riley's hair, but the damage had already been done. The car lurched and groaned; every light on the dashboard flashed before going out completely.

“You bitch!”

The car was aimed directly at the house, and Riley scrambled out of Tim's grasp. She could hear each hair as it broke in his grip, her scalp burning. She screamed and kicked against him, biting at the hand he tried to clamp over her mouth.

He didn't care.

His fingers moved over her chin and settled on her neck, squeezing, crushing at her windpipe. She was struggling to breathe. Her body, thrown into panic mode, was desperate for air—just like a panic attack.

Riley tried to stay calm. She took a short, shallow breath when his grip momentarily loosened, and it was in that moment of clarity that she heard the sirens.

Lord, please don't let it be in my head.

Tim's head snapped up and she knew it wasn't.

He scrambled for the door, one hand still tangled in Riley's hair, the other still clamped around her neck. He slid her right out with him, Riley struggling to gain her footing as he went for the walkway.

“Freeze!”

Tim stopped, his hand tightening around Riley's throat. Her vision started to fade, even as the siren sounds became stronger.

They're not going to make it…

Somewhere, in her periphery, Riley heard car doors slamming, but Tim was still pulling her.

“Riley Spencer!”

Tim switched his grip from her throat to her waist, propping her up like a rag doll. Her arms were pinned to her sides. Riley heard the rustling then the slick sound of a blade slicing air before the cold steel was pushed against her flesh. She saw the glimmer of the blade just under her right ear.

“Stay back! I don't want to hurt her but I will! I won't give her back to you alive. I won't! I promised her I'd keep her safe! She's better dead than with them!”

Riley's stomach curled in on itself. Even when she saw Deputy Hempstead coming up the walk, she didn't feel safe.

He had both hands splayed, his eyes locked on Tim's.

“I need to know that Riley is OK.”

“I don't know who Riley is,” Tim spat. “I'm just bringing my sister home.” He dug his fingers into Riley's flesh, and she squeaked, her eyes damp with tears.

Riley's teeth started to chatter. She was going to die. Tim was going to kill her and she was going to die.

She wanted to die.

The pain was all around her, throbbing, tearing, pulsing. She thought of her parents, the house in Crescent City, Shelby's heap of a car. She absently wondered what name they would use on her tombstone.

“Janie's not your sister, Timmy.”

Riley's head snapped up, all thoughts of death shot away.

Her father was coming up the driveway, was just over Hempstead's left shoulder. His eyes crested over Riley, heavy with apology, but his gaze set on Tim.

Riley could feel Tim stiffen.

“What are you doing here?”

“I'm sorry, Timmy, we both are. We shouldn't have left you.”

“See?” Timmy was speaking to her now, shaking her with every word. “I was right. They left me. They're going to leave you too!”

Riley looked to her father, who had stepped in front of Hempstead and was almost close enough to touch. She could see her mother behind him. She shook off Gail's grip, and Riley saw that Gail held a gun, pointed at the ground. Behind her were three squad cars with officers taking aim.

“You need to let her go, Timmy,” her mother pleaded. “You know that, don't you? Please let her go.”

“She wants to be with me. We're home. This is our home. I told Janie the truth about you two. I told her how I went to sleep and when I woke up, you stole her and you just disappeared. You left me like I was nothing.”

“You had a family, Tim.”

“No!” Tears were streaming down his face. “You were my family!”

Her father raked a hand through his hair. “We spent a lot of time together, Timmy, and we loved you. But you were free when Alistair was arrested. They made arrangements for you to go home and live with your parents again.”

“We didn't want to take you away from them.”

“No.”

Riley's mother pushed her way to the front. “We loved you, Timmy—we still do. But you had a family to go back to and we had to leave. We couldn't take you from them, especially after Alistair already had. We didn't have time to say good-bye. But we knew you'd be back with your parents soon.”

“My parents didn't want me back. They wouldn't take me back. They
sold
me to Alistair. They knew what he was doing. You were going to save me.” He was heaving now, tears and snot dribbling over his lips. “You promised you would save me!”

Riley could see her father visibly pale. “We didn't know, Timmy. We didn't know.”

“They took me to live with strangers! You left me and you took away Alistair and I had nobody. And you still had her!” His words were dripping with spite. “You took her and not me!”

He shook Riley hard, and she could feel the blade saw against her skin a little more. Her emotions were crashing all over her. Pain, relief, anger. Her parents really did know Tim. They really did leave him behind, and now he was here, holding a knife to her neck in front of a house that she didn't even remember.

“It wasn't like that, Timmy, honestly.”

“Stop it! Stop it! You're lying. You're lying and Jane knows it. She hates you! She hates you like I do. Tell them, Jane. Tell them!”

He tightened the blade against her skin, and Riley could feel the fibers beginning to split. “Tell them,” he commanded.

“I don't want to.”

“Tell them!”

Riley looked at her mother then her father, the tears rolling down her face, flopping from her chin. “I hate you,” she whispered.

He shook her so the blade scraped against her skin. “Say it so they can hear it. So they can hear it and they'll leave us alone.”

Riley tried to look at the ground, but all she could see was Tim's filthy hand, gripping the blade that was pinching at her neck.

“I hate you,” she said louder. “I hate you.” She thought of Shelby, of her own terror, of all that had happened. Her blood was liquid fire. “I HATE YOU!” Riley grabbed the shard of glass out of her pocket, not caring when it sliced into her flesh. “I hate you,” she screamed, sinking the glass into Tim's thigh.

He howled, his hands scrambling to get a grip on the glass, and Riley ran.

She was shivering when she reached her parents. Her teeth were chattering, and all the pain from her injuries crashed together at once as Gail and the police pushed ahead of them, advancing on Tim.

“I don't hate you,” Riley was crying. “I don't. Please don't leave me behind.”

Riley picked at the tape spread across the back of her hand.

“He was just a kid—nine, ten. According to Alistair, Timmy was his grandnephew. He was the youngest by far, and occasionally, he would come home with Mom and me. We were like a little family in some respects, but we always knew—or thought—that he had a family back in Ireland. And Alistair…”

Mrs. Spencer piped in. “When the deputy marshal came for us, we tried to take Timmy, but we had no legal grounds to. We had to go into hiding and he was someone else's kid. It broke our hearts, but it was the right thing to do. The government assured us he was out of Alistair's reach and would be on his way back to his family.”

Riley looked up at her parents and frowned. “I almost feel kind of sorry for him. He had all these pictures of us together, and he was living in our old house.”

“There's something wrong with him, turnip. But he's going to get the help that he needs.”

Riley looked away, her eyes flitting over the bouquets on the desk. There were at least a half dozen, some done up in Hawthorne High colors, others with cartoony cards begging her to get well soon. They were from friends she would never see again.

“So, when do we leave?”

Mr. Spencer took Riley's free hand and patted it softly. “Tomorrow, probably. Maybe as early as tonight if all goes well.”

Riley blinked back tears. “OK.”

“Turnip! I thought you would be happy to get out of here and go home.”

“Home where?”

He squeezed her hand. “We're not going anywhere, Ry. Not for a long, long time.”

She sucked in a breath. “What are you talking about?”

Riley's mother stepped forward, hugging her elbows. “When you went missing, we had to put an all-points bulletin out. It—you—were just too important. We weren't going to listen to what the marshals said. We needed to get you back.” She smiled softly.

“It worked like a charm! Alistair stuck his neck out.”

“What your father is saying is that Alistair turned up, and the FBI were able to arrest him.”

Riley's stomach started to flutter. “Like, forever, or just for a few months?”

Her father nodded. “The charges are going to stick, turnip. We don't have to hide anymore. We can't! Your face has been plastered on every television screen and telephone pole in a sixty-mile radius.”

Riley narrowed her eyes. “You didn't use a dumb picture, did you?”

Mr. Spencer grinned down at her. “The dumbest!”

She was about to respond when the hospital room door burst open. “Hey!” Shelby, dressed in a flimsy hospital gown and wheeling an IV, stood in the doorway, gaping at Riley in her hospital bed.

Riley's father jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Did we tell you Shelby is feeling better?”

“Come on, Glen,” Riley's mother said, threading her arm through his. “Let's give the girls some time to talk.”

Riley felt slightly uncomfortable seeing her parents in the doorway. “You're leaving us alone?”

Her father shrugged. “You're attached to an IV. How far can you go?”

Shelby hopped up on the end of Riley's bed then wriggled over for a hug.

“I was so worried about you! I mean, after I woke up I was. But my God, with medical technology what it is, you'd think they could have woken me up or patched me in or something.”

Riley just laughed at her friend.

“Nothing exciting ever happens here. And when it does, I'm in a freaking coma.”

“Shelbs, there is nothing medical technology can do for you when you're in a coma—you sleep like the dead anyway. I practically have to use a blow horn to wake you up after trig.”

Shelby produced a SweeTart from somewhere and popped it into her mouth. “That's only because trig is a natural sedative.”

“And you know what? I would have gladly traded places with you and slept through this whole lousy ordeal.”

Shelby held her thumb and forefinger a half inch apart. “It wasn't even the teensiest bit exciting?”

“If you call being stalked by a guy claiming to be your brother exciting.”

Shelby puckered her lips, pouting. “I guess not. But what about JD? Wasn't he, like, your partner in crime? I mean, only after I was otherwise indisposed.”

Riley swallowed hard. She hadn't thought about JD since she'd been admitted and wasn't sure she wanted to now.

“I don't know about, JD, Shelbs. I thought he was my friend, I thought he was on my side. But…”

But
what
had
Tim
said?

“Well, you can ask him which side he's on then fit him for his Team Riley jersey right now.”

“What?”

Shelby pointed to the long glass window in the door, where JD was pacing outside, a huge bouquet in his hand.

“I thought you hated JD.”

“You see a lot of things differently when you've had a near-death experience, Ry. JD might be a good guy. I might be in love with a male nurse.”

Riley rolled her eyes when Shelby hopped off the bed and sauntered out of the room, her IV squeaking along behind her.

Riley heard JD and Shelby exchange pleasantries then his head popped through her door.

“Do you mind if I come in?”

Riley shifted in her bed. “No, it's OK. Come on in.”

JD stood at the foot of Riley's bed, the two silent for a beat. Finally, JD held the flowers up. “I got you these,” he said, as if he just remembered them.

Riley couldn't help but smile. “They're beautiful.”

“I don't have a vase or anything.” He paused, considering. “Riley, I wasn't—”

“Spying on me? I know, and I'm sorry. Everything was just so—”

“Yeah, I know and—”

“Right. I—he—Tim…” The name was bitter on her tongue. “He mentioned that you were there. Watching him while he was watching me. You chased him away.”

Pink washed over JD's cheeks and he looked at his feet. “I rang the doorbell. Not exactly the most heroic of actions.”

Riley shrugged then immediately winced. “That's still sore. As for the bell ringing? Whatever works, right? It distracted him.”

“But he still got you.” There was genuine sadness in his eyes, and Riley softened.

“So how did you end up in the house across the street?”

JD grinned. “Changing the subject to get my mind off losing you? That's my tactic.”

There was a little flutter in Riley's stomach when he said the words “losing you,” but she chalked it up to the green Jell-O they'd been shoving down her throat rather than anything else.

“So?” she asked.

“I was—I was living in that house.”

“What? Why?”

“My foster family kicked me out. I turned eighteen a few weeks ago, remember? No more kid, no more checks.”

Riley struggled to sit up. “You don't have foster parents. You said yourself, your parents have baby pictures of you all over the house.”

JD suddenly became interested in Riley's wall of flowers. “Wow. A lot of people love you, huh?”

Riley grabbed his shirtsleeve. “JD.”

He turned and offered a shy smile. “Wishful thinking about the wall of pictures. I never really knew either of my parents. Lived with my gram until I was five; then it was foster care after she died.”

She nodded.

“I didn't know you lived in that neighborhood when I got there, honestly.”

“But you had binoculars.”

JD swallowed hard. “I saw you when you were leaving for school one day. I realized it was you, not just some girl.”

Riley tried to remain calm. “So you got the binoculars to stare at me specifically?”

“No. I was skipping school, hanging out in the house, and I saw a car stopped in front of your place. It came after both of your parents left, and sometimes the guy would park there at night too. He was watching you.”

She nodded, that nauseous feeling in her stomach again. “Tim.”

“Yeah. I wish I would have called the police or something.”

Riley forced a smile. “Remember that for next time.”

“I'll try to remember that.” He cracked a half smile, but it immediately fell away. “So, when are you going?”

Riley felt her brows rise. “Going?”

He studied the palm of his hand. “To be someone else. Somewhere else.”

She let out a long breath. “Um, I'm not.”

JD looked up, and this time he was smiling. “You're not?”

“The one bright spot in trying to get me and my parents killed was that it brought out Alistair Foley, the guy who was after us.”

“Alistair Foley?” JD looked impressed. “I read about that online. That case was huge. That was the guy who was after you?”

Riley nodded. “Yeah, my dad used to work for him. My parents put my picture all over the place when I went missing. Apparently, he saw it and thought it would be a good idea to be part of the chase…or something.”

There was a slight lump in her throat. Her parents had risked their lives to get her back. They had given up their location and plastered Riley's face in public—after spending fourteen years in hiding. Alistair came out because of her—he came after her parents because of her. She felt her eyes starting to water.

JD's hand found hers. “Hey, you OK?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just—I don't know, medication side effect or something.”

JD nodded, sitting next to Riley on the bed. “I'm really glad that you don't have to disappear again. Well, I'm really, really glad that you get to stay Riley Spencer.”

“Really? Why's that?”

This time JD looked directly at her, lacing his fingers through hers. “Because I think I really, really like her.”