pennants all over his room.”
“I’ve never even been to a baseball game.”
“Every year for his birthday, your father’s dad took him to Yankee Stadium. It was the high point of his year. Easily beat out Christmas.”
“Wow! Every year, and I haven’t been to New York even once.”
“I should take you there.”
“Yeah, right, like my mother would let me go. She wouldn’t even trust God to take me out of town without her. If you look paranoid up in the dictionary, you’ll see her picture.”
But Kelly was getting a little worried herself now. Byron was always here when he said he’d be. “I can’t imagine what happened to my friend.”
“Maybe he saw me and ran off.”
“Could be, but… I don’t know. I’m starting to get a really weird feeling about this.” She looked around, not that she could see much.
“I have a cell phone. Would you like to call him?”
“Can’t. I don’t know his phone number. We only talk in chat rooms or by instant messages. I don’t even know his last name. He says names aren’t important. It’s only who you are inside that matters.”
“Then why don’t we walk back home and you can contact him.”
“Can we just walk down the path a little farther first and make sure he’s not on his way. He comes from the opposite direction as me, through the woodsy area.”
“I’m not much for walking in the woods at night.”
Coming through the woods didn’t bother Byron, and he wasn’t nearly as big and muscled as Vincent. Adults were so strange. She got out of the swing and left it yanking around on the chains. Vincent followed her.
When they reached the path, she stood on the edge and looked back down the way Byron would have come. A noise came from the woods, like someone was trying to muffle a cough.
“Byron. If that’s you, come on out.” If it was him, he didn’t answer.
Vincent stepped between her and the woods. “Let’s get out of here.” He took her arm and led her out of the park.
“I just wish I knew what happened to Byron.”
“I’m sure he’ll tell you in your next instant message.”
That’s when she saw the silver pistol in Vincent’s hand. She’d never seen one up close before. “Are you a cop or something?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you think there was someone in the woods?”
“No. The weapon is just a precaution.”
“Have you ever killed a guy?”
“You ask a lot of questions.”
Since he didn’t answer, she figured he had. Byron would be impressed when she told him that. Only she didn’t know why a cop with a gun would be afraid to walk in the woods, even if it was dark.
THE MESSAGE from Byron came less than a minute after Kelly had connected to her server.
I thought you were coming alone.
I was, but my dad’s friend saw me sneak out of the house and tagged along. Why did you run off?”
She waited. Sometimes instant messages weren’t all that instant. Finally the new message flashed on the screen. It didn’t explain why he’d run out on her.
So what’s the guy’s name?
Vincent Jones. He’s a cop. He carries a gun. I saw it.
I never trust cops.
She laughed and grabbed a quick gulp of her soda. That was soooo Byron. Then she started typing again.
You never trust anyone.
What did you tell him about me?
That you’re a deep thinker.
Is that all?
No, I told him you’re an ax murderer. What do you think I told him, silly?
I’m just checking. Don’t tell him anything else about me. He’ll just cause trouble for us.
He’s not like that.
I’ll bet.
What about tomorrow night? Want to try again? I’ll come by myself.
We’ll see.
He was pouting. She hated it when he acted like that, especially when she took all the risks of sneaking out. Her fingers flew across the keys.
Okay. I’m off to bed.
She chose a sleepy face from the graphics, sent it off and flicked off her monitor.
It was bad enough that all her friends were leaving for New Orleans without her tomorrow. She wasn’t going to stay awake just so Byron could make her feel bad about bringing Vincent along tonight.
Besides, that had to have been him she heard in the woods. That wasn’t bright at all, so maybe he wasn’t as smart as she thought. What if Vincent had shot him or something?
She yawned and went to the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face. She stared at herself in the mirror, leaning in close and trying a couple of different looks. She had her father’s eyes. She wondered why her mother had never told her that.
JANICE ROLLED OVER as the first light of dawn crept into her bedroom. She sat up in bed, instantly alert even though it had been after 3:00 a.m. before she’d fallen asleep. A line of light crept under her bed room door, more than that cast by the night-light she left burning in the hall.
Someone was up, and she had no doubt that it was Vincent, roaming her house as if he belonged there. He’d always believed that whatever he wanted was his for the taking. Apparently prison hadn’t changed that.
She shuddered and touched the cool, hard surface of the phone. All she had to do was pick it up and call Ken Levine. He’d have cops at her door in a matter of minutes. They’d arrest Vincent and stick him right back behind bars where he belonged.
Then it would be just her and Kelly—and Tyrone.
The dark images of a horrible night hit with a rush and the darkness of the room transformed itself into a river of red. Blood pooled on the thick Persian rugs, splattered the walls and dripped from the ceilings. She could hear Tyrone Magilinti’s laugh and see the machine gun in his hand.
The images faded. She took her hand from the phone.
