Joanna Wayne - Security Measures

“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. Vincent was a Magilinti, too. He had been there that night as well, though she hadn’t seen him until the cops had busted their way inside the century-old mansion.

Her body stiffened when she heard footsteps in the hall outside her door and then a soft knock. Sliding from beneath the covers, she grabbed her white cotton robe from the foot of the bed. She padded across the floor and opened the door just a crack.

“I brought you coffee.”

She swallowed hard. There were two cups on the tray. And Vincent was standing there in jeans—no shirt, no shoes. His hair was still wet from the shower and a few drops of water clung to the dark curly hairs that speckled his chest.

Unexpected memories flooded her mind, but this time they were cruelly erotic. “Thanks,” she said, taking a cup from the tray, “but I prefer to have my coffee alone.”

“We need to talk.”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“You really want to make this difficult, don’t you?”

His gall amazed her. “This is difficult, Vincent, but none of it is my making.”

He pushed his way past her, set the tray on the bedside table, then went back and closed and locked the bedroom door. “There’s no easy way to say this, so I’m going to give it to you straight.”

She pulled her robe tighter, suddenly chilled through and through. “I thought you said all you had to say last night.”

“I’ve learned more since then.”

“Like what?”

“Kelly left the house last night after you went to bed.”

Her suspicions soared. “You’re lying. Kelly would never do that. Whatever you’re trying to do here, it’s not going to work.”

“She went out her window.”

“I set the alarm before I went to bed. If she’d opened her window, it would have gone off and I would have heard it.”

“Apparently she’s bypassed the alarm system some way.”

“She wouldn’t know how.”

“Then someone did it for her. Check the window. See for yourself.”

She didn’t want to believe him, yet he was either telling the truth, or he was a very good liar. “Why would she go out that late?”

“Look, I know this is disturbing, but it will be better if you let me say what I have to say without arguing with me.”

She took a long sip of the coffee. It didn’t do a thing for soothing her nerves. “I’m listening.”

“I was doing a routine check of the outside of the house when I saw Kelly climbing out of her bedroom window. She didn’t see me, so I followed her out to the street, then joined her. I walked with her to the park, where she was supposed to meet a friend named Byron. He didn’t show, but I think he was there and ran away when he saw me.”

Janice dropped to the edge of the bed, not wanting to believe Vincent, but afraid to discount his story. Kelly had been so rebellious of late; Janice worried that she might be taking up with the wrong crowd at school. “I’ve never heard her mention anyone named Byron.”

“She met him through an Internet chat room.”

“I’ve forbidden her to ever talk to strangers on the Internet.” Fear and aggravation melded and made Janice’s voice a lot shakier than she’d intended. “She deliberately broke my rules.”

“She’s a teenager,” Vincent said. “It comes with the territory. You surely remember that.”

She ignored his last remark. “I’ll take care of it from here.”