Jennifer slept better than she had in what seemed like an eternity. It was after ten on Friday morning when her mind first rose up from a dreamless sleep, the heavenly aromas of bacon and fresh-brewed coffee coaxing her into staying awake. Her stomach rumbled noisily and she reached down to rub it, the caress of her hand reminding her of last night when Eric’s hands and lips had tiptoed their way across the same spot. The memory made her blush, but it also made her shiver with remembered delights. She smiled with lazy contentment and kicked back the covers, letting the warmth of the morning sun caress her hips where it came in through the window.
She lounged a while, luxuriating in the residual glow still lingering from Eric’s magic touch, feeling a growing sense of determination. Maybe, just maybe, they could find a way out of this mess yet. Things didn’t seem quite so hopeless by the light of day. She and Eric together could do wondrous things. Life could be – no, would be – normal again. It had to be.
Energized by her newfound enthusiasm, she bounced out of bed and headed for the shower.
Half an hour later, she found Eric, Tanner and her mother all seated around the kitchen table enjoying a full breakfast spread: eggs, toast, pancakes, fruit, orange juice, bacon, and sausages. While Eric looked renewed and refreshed, with his color returned and his hair gleaming wet from a recent shower, Tanner was still in his pajamas, his hair sticking up ridiculously on one side and a tangled mat on the other. Both of them were laughing – raucous, robust laughs that cheered Jennifer’s heart and soul. It seemed such a long time since she last heard her son laugh like that. She saw that the root of all this fun was a sword fight, with forks serving as rapiers, their metallic clinking playing the background tympani for the music that was their laughter.
Jane sat between Eric and Tanner watching the battle with great amusement, while taking care to lean back away from the table in cautious avoidance of the makeshift weaponry. In contrast to her rather washed-out appearance last night, this morning Jane was wearing lipstick and a touch of blush, and her hair was pulled back into a ponytail with a tiny fringe of bangs hanging down on her forehead. These subtle changes had a startling effect on her overall appearance, taking years off her face and making her more closely resemble the mother Jennifer remembered from so many years ago. In fact, the entire scene was one of such tranquil domesticity that Jennifer felt a yearning ache for years gone by, for a feeling of family again, and for the attentions of a mother she hadn’t had for almost a decade.
Jane looked up and saw Jennifer in the doorway. “Good morning,” she greeted cheerfully. “Have a seat and I’ll fix you a plate.” She jumped up from her seat and headed for the stove as Jennifer made her way to the one empty chair, skirting by the swordsmen with caution. “Coffee?” Jane offered.
“Yes, please.”
Eric looked over at Jennifer and winked. The distraction cost him the battle as Tanner whacked his fork with a sideways motion and sent it flying across the room.
“Hey!” Eric protested. “No fair, I wasn’t paying attention.”
Tanner giggled. “You snooze, you lose!” he said laughing. “Knight Bolton reigns triumphant.” He pumped his fists in the air and whooped.
Jane set a plate brimming with food in front of Jennifer, while Eric cast her a gently scathing glance. “You cost me my kingdom, fair lady,” he said grudgingly. “It’s a good thing you are a kind and lovely maiden or I might be tempted to smite you.”
Jennifer shook her head in disgust. “Men,” she muttered. Then she dug into her breakfast, surprised at the depth of her hunger. The food tasted wonderful and she ate heartily, quickly clearing her plate. Even the coffee was perfection, rich in flavor with a hint of cinnamon. She pushed away her empty plate and leaned back in her chair, sipping the aromatic brew, feeling sated and content. At least for the moment, everything was right and wonderful in the world.
Tanner reached over and grabbed Jennifer’s arm, tugging at her sleeve. “Mom, I need to show you my new trick,” he said excitedly.
Jennifer gave him an encouraging smile. “Oh?” On the periphery of her vision, she saw Eric give Tanner a disapproving look and a subtle shake of his head.
“I’m not sure your mother is ready for this, Tanner,” Eric warned.
Jennifer’s feeling of contentment began to fade. “What?” she asked, looking back and forth from Eric to Tanner with a growing sense of dread. “What is it?”
With a resigned sigh, Eric threw up his hands, shrugged, and said, “Okay, Tanner. Go ahead.”
Jennifer nibbled at her lip, feeling decidedly uneasy. She looked at Tanner and waited.
“Watch this,” Tanner said with barely contained excitement. He picked up the fork he had been fighting with moments earlier and set it near the edge of the table. Then he stared at it, his hands in his lap, his brow puckered in concentration. His gaze was so intent that Jennifer stared down at the table in bewilderment, perplexed as to what was there that could possibly be deserving of such rapt attention. She saw nothing unusual, just the scraped-clean plates that had held breakfast, some empty juice glasses, and some coffee mugs.
Then she saw the fork move.
At first she thought it was her imagination, or a trick of the light. The movement was so miniscule, her mind instantly doubted what her eyes had seen. Then, as she continued to stare at the fork, it lurched up and off the table, clattering onto the wooden floor.
Jennifer raised her startled eyes to Tanner. “How did you do that?” She bent over and looked beneath the table. “Some trick with your leg?”
“He did it with his mind,” Eric said, eyeing her cautiously.
Jennifer’s gaze rose slowly, her eyes meeting Eric’s, her face disbelieving. “No he didn’t,” she said adamantly, her mind refusing to accept what Eric was saying, though something inside her knew it was true.
“I did, Mom,” Tanner insisted. “I can move all kinds of things.” His eyes quickly scanned the room, settling on a spot somewhere over Jennifer’s shoulder. “Look at that spatula over there on the counter,” he said, pointing.
Reluctantly, feeling as if she was being pulled inexorably to the edge of some precipitous drop, Jennifer slowly swiveled her head around and stared at the spatula. Seconds later, the utensil flew off the counter top, sailing through the air right in front of her eyes. It hit the wall on the other side of the room, leaving a greasy splatter to mark the point of impact, before it dropped to the floor with a rattle.
Jennifer stared at the grease mark on the wall, her mind reeling, her heart pounding. Her breakfast churned inside her stomach, threatening to come back up, and she swallowed hard. Her eyes crawled back to Tanner, her mouth hanging open with shock.
“Cool, huh?” Tanner said, grinning broadly. He leaned back in his chair, his arms folded over his chest, smug pride on his face.
Jennifer pulled her eyes away from her son and gaped instead at Eric, thoroughly dumbfounded. “How?” she managed to mutter.
“Psychokinesis,” Eric said. “The ability to move inanimate objects with the mind.” He shrugged. “I guess it goes along with his other paranormal abilities, the mindreading and such.” He leaned forward, arms resting on the table, his face inches away. “Remember when I was telling you about poltergeists?”
Jennifer slowly became aware that Eric was staring at her mouth. She realized it was agape and shut it abruptly. She made a concerted effort to relax both her face and her mind, not wanting to show how upset she was with Tanner sitting there watching her reaction. Numbly, she nodded at Eric and mumbled, “Vaguely.”
“I’ll run through it again,” Eric said, reaching over and laying a reassuring hand on her arm. “In earlier times, people believed poltergeists were mischievous, and at times malevolent, spirits whose presence was characterized by rapping or knocking sounds, objects flying through the air, and other such strange phenomenon. In fact, the word poltergeist comes from two German terms: poltern, which means to knock, and geist, which means ghost or spirit.
“But a number of modern studies have refuted the whole idea of ghostly spirits, laying the blame for poltergeist activity at the feet of stressed and frustrated adolescents who are seeking a way of expressing their hostilities and anger without fear of punishment. It is believed by some that the extreme emotional highs brought about by the hormonal surges that accompany puberty, and even pre-puberty, allow these children to express themselves through a form of unconscious psychokinesis. In a poltergeist situation the person is unaware of their ability, but in Tanner’s case, he is purposely projecting his will, making the objects move.”
“Is this related to that needle thing in his head?” Jennifer asked.
“Indirectly,” Eric said nodding. “Assuming the needle has stimulated the pineal gland in the manner we suspect. I think it’s the pineal gland itself, rather than the metal that is causing all of these paranormal abilities to manifest themselves. The metal piece is really incidental.”
Jennifer looked over at Tanner, relieved to see that none of this appeared to bother him in the least. In fact, he looked rather pleased with himself. The whole situation struck her as absurdly bizarre, as if she was caught up in some weird television Twilight Zone. Doomed to spend eternity in an episode of Bewitched. Eric was really Darren, her mother was Endora, and Tanner was ... Her mind refused to complete the thought.
Realizing how inane her thoughts had become, Jennifer shook herself mentally and made a conscious decision to change the subject.
“Tanner, why don’t you go take a shower?” she suggested.
Taking his cue from Jennifer, but seeing the obvious disappointment on Tanner’s face, Eric made an attempt to soften the blow. “That’s a good idea. And when you get done, you can help us do some brainstorming to figure out where we go from here. Okay?”
Tanner nodded grudgingly, got up from his chair, and scuffed his way out of the kitchen, Scotch, as ever, providing his shadow.
Eric pushed his chair away from the table and stood up. “I think I’ll take Scotch for a walk,” he said, massaging his knee. “My leg gets stiff if I sit still too long. And I think you could use a little time alone to digest all this.”
Jennifer nodded dumbly. Eric watched her a moment, concern marking his face. Then, with a sigh, he moved behind her and began to massage her shoulders. “It will be okay, Jen,” he said softly. “This behavior of Tanner’s is not life-threatening and besides, I suspect it is self-limiting.”
Jennifer twisted around and looked up at him. “What do you mean?”
Eric shrugged. “Well, understand that this is mostly speculation, but I suspect that the stimulation to Tanner’s pineal gland was created by the ionization of that chunk of steel in his head. Without continued exposure to a magnetic source of some sort, the stimulus is gone and the paranormal abilities may eventually subside.”
“God, I hope so,” Jennifer said. “This stuff is all pretty scary. I don’t want my son to grow up as some sort of freak.”
“He’s not a freak,” Eric insisted. “He’s just a normal little boy with some extraordinary abilities. He’ll be fine. You’ll see. And if his abilities never wane, maybe we can get rich letting him pick out numbers for the lottery.”
Jennifer knew Eric meant it as a joke, but she failed to see the humor in it at the moment. “Not funny,” she said with irritation. She shrugged his hands off her shoulders, stood up, and began stacking the dirty dishes on the table. “Why don’t you go for that walk with Scotch and I’ll help with the clean-up.”
Knowing he had been dismissed, Eric shrugged and left the kitchen, calling to Scotch as he went.
Jennifer carried the dirty dishes from the table to the sink, trying hard to focus on the physical effort involved, concentrating on each step, each movement of muscle, to keep her mind from dwelling on other, more frightening subjects.
“You have a nice family there,” Jane said as she rinsed the breakfast plates and stacked them in the dishwasher. “You didn’t tell me Eric was a doctor.”
“Does it matter?” Jennifer snapped, slamming a frying pan onto the counter.
Jane winced. “No,” she answered, her voice sounding injured. She turned back toward the sink, busying herself with the dishes.
Jennifer knew her answer had been unnecessarily curt and instantly wished she could take it back. Her mind searched frantically for a way to apologize, her mouth opening and closing like a beached fish, but everything she came up with sounded trite and insincere. Tension mounted in the ensuing silence, wherein the only noise was the rush of water running in the sink and the occasional clink of dishes. Just when Jennifer thought she could bear it no longer, Jane broke the silence.
“He thinks the world of you, you know.”
“Who? Eric?”
“Well, of course Tanner does as well, but yes, Eric.”
Jennifer smiled, relieved that the air of affability had been so easily resumed. “I like him a lot, too.”
Jane reached over and laid a fragile hand on Jennifer’s arm. “I’m glad you’re happy, Jennifer. I just wish all this nasty business would go away so you could enjoy what you have.”
“Thank you, Mother,” Jennifer said, feeling an unexpected rush of affection. She smiled tentatively and laid her own hand atop her mother’s. With a sigh, she said, “You and me both.”
When all of the dishes were done except the pots and pans, Jennifer, at her mother’s insistence, sat down at the table with another cup of coffee while Jane scrubbed at the pans. Jennifer spent the time considering Tanner’s newfound abilities, weighing what impact, if any, they might have on his future.
If we have a future, she thought grimly.
The phone rang and Jennifer saw her mother turn toward the device with a puzzled frown, as if the whole concept of someone calling her was somehow foreign. It got Jennifer to wondering. Did her mother have any sort of social life? Friends? A lover? Or was she as lonely and isolated as Jennifer suspected. There was so little she knew about this woman, the same woman who used to be one of the most important people in her life.
Jane dried her hands on a towel and picked up the phone. “Hello?”
Jennifer tried to act as if she wasn’t listening, although she couldn’t help but eavesdrop in the small confines of the kitchen.
“Who is this?” Jane asked, her voice tense and edgy.
A feeling of dread settled over Jennifer and she spun around in her chair in time to see her mother’s face blanch.
Jane lowered the phone from her ear and placed a hand over the mouth piece. “It’s someone asking for you,” she whispered nervously.
Jennifer felt as if someone had just sucker-punched her in the gut. How could anyone possibly know to find her here?
“Someone named Carny?” Jane added.
Jennifer’s eyes closed with relief. Of course! She had forgotten about Carny, the one person who knew about her mother. She opened her eyes and stood up.
“It’s okay, Mother,” she said taking the phone. “It’s a friend.” She placed the phone to her ear. “Carny?”
“Jen! Thank goodness I found you. What the hell is going on? I’ve been worried sick.”
Carny’s voice was frantic and accusing, making Jennifer feel as if she were six years old again. “I’m sorry if I worried you,” she said contritely. “I’m fine. Well, not fine exactly, but okay.”
“What are you doing up there? I called the hospital to check on Tanner yesterday and they told me you’d disappeared with him. When there was no answer at your house all day I began to get worried. So I called Evan but he didn’t know where you were either. Jennifer, what in the hell is going on?”
“I said I was sorry,” Jennifer repeated, beginning to feel perturbed by this rapid-fire third degree. “I didn’t tell anyone where I was going.” She paused, taking a deep breath and debating how much to reveal to her friend. Could she trust Carny? The answer was an indisputable yes. But what if the people that were after her and Tanner went after Carny? She could be endangering Carny’s life by telling her too much. It was probably better if she were kept in the dark.
“I’m in some trouble and need to hide out for a while. I thought this was the safest place to be. Under the circumstances,” she added cryptically.
From the corner of her eye, Jennifer saw Tanner come through the doorway to the kitchen and stop just across the threshold. When she turned to look at him, she saw that he was staring at her with his face full of apprehension. She smiled and winked to reassure him, while Carny continued her near hysterical interrogation.
“Trouble? What kind of trouble? And what about Evan? He’s worried sick! Don’t you want me to tell Evan where you are?”
Jennifer thought about Evan, which quickly led to thoughts about last night with Eric. There was no doubt in her mind that she was through with Evan. But she thought that he at least deserved to hear so from her in person.
“No, don’t tell Evan where I am. Just tell him I’m okay.”
Carny sighed in frustration. “What is going on, Jen?” she asked impatiently. “This is all too weird.”
Jennifer never answered. She had glanced over at Tanner again and saw to her horror that his eyes were rolled up and he had that vacant look on his face, the one he got when he was having one of his spells.
“I have to go, Carny,” Jennifer said quickly. “I’ll explain everything later. Please don’t tell anyone where I am,” she pleaded. “It’s a matter of life and death.”
“But what about ...”
Jennifer slammed the phone down, never hearing the rest of Carny’s question. She rushed over to Tanner, knelt in front of him, and placed her hands gently on his shoulders. “Tanner?” she said softly.
There was no response. Not the slightest acknowledgment he had heard her at all. It was as if his body was just an empty shell and his mind – no, his soul – was somewhere else, far, far away. He stood as still and rigid as a statue, his breathing slow and irregular.
Jennifer spoke to her mother over her shoulder. “Mom, go outside and get Eric. Quick!”
Jane hustled out of the room.
Seconds later, Scotch dashed into the kitchen, parked herself at Tanner’s feet, and started to whine. A moment after that, Jane and Eric rushed in as well, Jane looking pale and frightened, Eric limping and flushed.
Eric assessed the situation instantly. “Believe it or not,” he said breathlessly, “Scotch knew what was happening outside. She started that weird whining sound and hightailed if for the front door just as Jane came out.” He stood in front of Tanner and studied his face, then wrapped his fingers around Tanner’s wrist, feeling and counting his pulse. “He’s okay,” Eric said.
As if Tanner heard him, his eyes suddenly shifted and focused in on his mother. He blinked three times rapidly. “Someone is coming,” he said calmly. “They know where we are.”
Jennifer recoiled as if she had been slapped. An icy finger traced down her spine. “That can’t be,” she muttered. “They don’t know.”
“They’ve always known,” Tanner said, his voice a frightening, robotic monotone. “About you.” He turned his head, fixing his gaze on Jane.
Jane sucked in her breath sharply and clutched the top of her bathrobe closed.
Eric stood up and steered Tanner by his shoulders, taking charge. “Come on,” he said over his shoulder to Jennifer. “Get your stuff together and let’s get the hell out of here.”
They scrambled to throw their few belongings together while Jane watched, frozen and wide-eyed with fear. When they were at the front door ready to leave, Jane stared at them, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears. “Is there anything I can do?” she asked.
Jennifer looked at her mother and saw fear – fear and a vulnerability that tore at her heart. And there was something else there. Love. Caring. Concern. Hot pressure filled Jennifer’s eyes and she swallowed hard to keep from crying. “Is there somewhere you can go?” Jennifer asked. “It might be dangerous for you here.”
Jane shook her head and folded her arms across her chest defiantly. “I’m not leaving here. No one is going to make me leave my home. It’s all I have.” Her voice was steady and courageous, though Jennifer thought she caught an undertone of resignation as well.
“I’m sorry I dragged you into this mess, Mom.”
Jane dismissed her apology with a wave of a hand. “I’ll be fine,” she said. “I’m glad I could help. If there is anything else I can do, you know where to find me.” She gave Jennifer a tentative smile.
Jennifer stared at her mother uncertainly, awash with conflicting emotions, until Eric tugged at her sleeve. “Come on, Jen. We need to get out of here.”
The distressed tone of his voice reminded her of the seriousness of their situation. Abruptly, Jennifer bridged the few feet between herself and her mother and drew the woman into her arms, hugging her hard. Then she turned to head out the door.
Eric was loading the suitcase into the back of the Explorer, and Tanner and Scotch had hopped into the back seat when Jennifer heard the rumble of a car engine coming up the road. The sound paralyzed her with fear and she stood breathless, staring at the turn where the road entered the clearing. Waiting. Frozen in time.
A nondescript, tan sedan rounded the corner in a cloud of dust and screeched to a halt mere feet from the Explorer. Before the vehicle had come to a complete stop, the rear doors flew open and two men hopped out, both of them clad in ill-fitting suits and brandishing guns. One of the men, a burly hulk, looked vaguely familiar and Jennifer struggled to remember where she might have seen him before. He caught her stare and his face split into a lewdly menacing grin.
With a searing flash of memory it came to her.
A party, some nine years ago, with Tim’s coworkers. This man was there – Tim’s lab assistant, or something like that. He had flirted with Jennifer, innocently at first, then becoming obsessive and vulgar as he followed her around the room, occasionally leaning over her shoulder and whispering obscene and disgusting suggestions in her ear. In a final, desperate attempt to evade his relentless pursuit, she had begged Tim to take her home, pleading a vicious headache. The memory of his hot breath in her ear and the crudity of his comments made her shudder. She struggled to recall his name. Something that starts with a D. Like David or Daniel. But less common than that. What the hell is it?
“Good to see you again, Ms. Bolton.” He practically sneered the word, “Ms.”, his voice scraping along her spinal cord. He leered at her, his round, bulky face splitting into a grin like a ragged gash, his eyes raping her with a quick assessing glance from head to toe. “Looking good as ever,” he said with an approving nod.
Eric sidled over next to Jennifer and laid a protective and possessive arm over her shoulders. “You know this creep?” he asked out the side of his mouth, keeping his eyes on the two men.
Jennifer nodded slowly, her mind reeling with the realization that this man worked for Bioceutics and probably had known about Tim’s murder. Had possibly even been involved with it. What was his name? Suddenly it seemed a matter of great importance that she remember. Donald? Douglas?
The man waved his gun at Eric. “Move away, Doc,” he said.
Eric ignored him, moving even closer to Jennifer.
An evil grin filled the man’s face and like a bolt of lightning, the name came to Jennifer – Derrick! Her mouth screwed up with distaste as she remembered his sick and demented behavior. He was obviously a psycho, someone on the edge, no one to be taken lightly. Fearing for Eric’s safety if he continued his defiance of the man’s instructions, Jennifer turned to tell him he should do what Derrick said – move away from her. But before she could so much as utter a word she saw a look of shocked surprise cross Eric’s face. At the same instant, a red, rose blossom erupted on Eric’s shoulder. It seemed like an eternity later when she heard the pop and her mind reeled with comprehension. Eric had been shot!
Jennifer screamed.
Eric’s knees buckled and he began a slow and terrifying slide toward the ground. Jennifer grabbed at him, trying to hold him up, grasping desperately at his belt, his arms, his shirt, thinking insanely that if she could just keep him from collapsing, he might be okay. But his relentless slump continued despite her efforts, until he was crumpled on the ground, his hand clutching at the bloody hole in his shirt.
Everything after that seemed to occur in slow motion, like a film clip that was being shown one frame at a time.
Tanner let out a yell from the back seat and scrambled out of the car toward Eric.
Scotch leaped past Tanner and headed for Derrick, her lips drawn back in a snarl, a baneful growl rising up in her throat. The dog leaped from the ground barely ten feet from Derrick, her teeth bared and aimed for his throat. Then Jennifer heard the pop again and Scotch abruptly dropped from the air like a fly that had been swatted, yelping as her body slammed into the ground.
Tanner screamed – a heart-breaking scream of pure terror and pain.
Eric moaned and fell over into the dirt, his blood seeping into the ground.
From the corner of her eye, Jennifer saw her mother collapse to sit on the stairs, burying her face in her hands.
Scotch managed to right herself and with one last effort of will, lunged at Derrick again. He hadn’t expected the attack this time and Jennifer had the brief satisfaction of seeing Scotch sink her teeth into his leg. Derrick cursed loudly and, unable to fire the gun in such close quarters without risking hitting his own foot, he swung the weapon at the dog’s head instead, connecting with a sickening crunch. Scotch emitted another howl of pain and released her hold, limping off into the woods, blood staining her right shoulder, the leg dragging uselessly.
Tanner stood up and yelled. “Sco-o-otch!”
He started to run after her, but Jennifer snatched him back, pulling him close. “Tanner, no,” she said gently.
He struggled against her grip, thrashing his arms and legs. “Let me go! She’s hurt! I gotta help her! Let - me - GO!”
Jennifer held him with all her might, murmuring in his ear, trying to calm him, assuring him that Scotch would be okay, though she didn’t believe it for a second. Tanner continued to fight her, kicking and grunting, until he almost escaped her grasp. Desperate to stop him, Jennifer yelled.
“Tanner! NO!”
He froze then, his body stiffened with pent-up adrenaline. A pathetic whimper passed his lips and he suddenly collapsed against Jennifer’s legs, his body as limp as a rag doll. Sobs consumed him.
Jennifer felt a white-hot anger boil up inside her. She lifted her eyes slowly and glared at Derrick with pure hatred, fighting back an urge to lunge at him herself – kicking, screaming, and scratching – until she tore him to shreds with her bare hands. She forced herself to calm down, letting the anger brace her with a cold composure.
“What do you want?” she asked through gritted teeth.
“Simple, really,” Derrick said mockingly. “We want you and that wonder-boy son of yours. You’re going to help us find those papers your rocket scientist husband hid.”
So there it was. The truth at last. Jennifer felt minimally better now that their foe had been given a face and a purpose. It made them seem less powerful, less omnipotent.
The other man, who had climbed out of the sedan along with Derrick, had been standing off to one side, watching impassively, his gun held down at his side.
Derrick turned to him and said, “You take care of the other two. Leave no witnesses.”
It took a moment for the import of those instructions to register in Jennifer’s mind. When it did, panic set in and her eyes darted about frantically, urgently seeking an escape, desperate to save her mother and Eric.
Eric! Her mind rebelled at the thought of losing him. It was the horror of Tim all over again. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t.
Derrick waved the gun at her. “Get in the car,” he ordered.
There was no way out. She had failed. These sick bastards had won and now they were all going to die.
With her heart heaving painfully, Jennifer cast a stricken and apologetic look at Eric, her eyes brimming with tears. “I love you,” she whispered, her voice hitching.
Eric stared back at her through eyes hazed over with pain, his face a mask of death – pale and grim. His lips moved, but no sound came out. Then his face went slack, his eyes rolled back, and his body collapsed into a limp heap.
Jennifer threw her head back and a guttural, keening wail came out of her throat, echoing off the surrounding trees, sounding like the angry roar of an entrapped animal. “No-o-o-o-o!”
Derrick stalked toward her and struck her across the face with the back of his hand. It brought her instantly back to her senses, transposing her anguish into a cold fury, her rage so complete that she started to lunge for the monster that was ruining her life, her intent to kill or be killed.
“Mom?”
Tanner’s frightened and quiet voice stopped Jennifer in her tracks. He looked up at her, his body trembling, his breath hitching and ragged, his face displaying sheer and total terror. After a moment’s hesitation, she squatted down and gathered him into her arms, holding his head against her chest and rocking him like she had when he was a baby.
Derrick stepped closer and nudged her in the back with his gun. “Move it,” he growled.
Jennifer glowered up at him, pure venom filling the air between them.
Eventually, reluctantly, she pulled Tanner to his feet. “Come on, honey,” she urged gently. “It will be all right. I’ll take care of you.” She steered him zombielike toward the car and eased him into the back seat, climbing in beside him. Her arms cradled his head and she continued to rock him gently, murmuring gentle reassurances in his ear.
Derrick climbed into the passenger side of the front seat and leered back at her, waving his gun in front of her face. For one, brief moment, Jennifer entertained the idea of grabbing it and forcing him to shoot her. She imagined feeling the quick flash of pain, and thought she would relish the subsequent blackness and nothingness of death. It would be a welcome respite from the horrible, searing pain that was this very moment tearing at her heart, mincing it into tiny pieces. But then Tanner stirred beside her, his throat uttering a strange, strangled cry, his face burrowing into her breasts, seeking out her warmth and protection. And she knew she had to stay alive. For Tanner. As long as these guys wanted the information Tim had hidden, she thought Tanner would be safe. She had to keep her wits about her, stay aware, look for any opportunity for escape. She had to protect her son. Or die trying.
The driver of the car, his hair pulled back into a sleek pony tail, the set of his shoulders rigid, his face invisible to Jennifer, turned the car around and aimed it toward the main road.
Jennifer spared one last glance out the car’s window, seeing Eric’s inert body where it lay on the ground. Then her eyes raised up and met those of her mother, still sitting on the porch steps. Despite all the years of animosity and the cold hardening of her heart, it was obvious to Jennifer now that her love for her mother had never gone away. All she had managed to do was to bury it beneath her own unforgiving, self-righteous, morality. All those years wasted. And now it was too late.
She expected to see fear, or even terror in her mother’s face. Yet instead, Jane’s lips curled into a resigned but complacent smile. A calming, loving, maternal smile that said, Don’t worry about me. I’m okay. I’m not afraid to die.
Jennifer stared at that smile until the car turned the bend in the road, obscuring her view behind the trees.
They were turning onto the main road when Jennifer heard the distinctive pop sound. Then another. Her heart erupted and she squeezed her eyes shut, moaning with mourning for the loss of her mother and Eric.
Why? her mind screamed. How could any God be so cruel? Eric dead. Her mother dead. Taken away from her by the same cruel twist of fate that had taken Tim. So many wasted lives. What was it that Tim had uncovered? Was it that important, that significant?
Her eyes turned heavenward, wondering if Tim’s spirit was there with them now. She spoke to him in her mind, appealing to him, desperate to understand.
Tell me, Tim. For God’s sake, tell me. What have you done?