The Azalea Assault (27 page)

He stopped and looked at her. “Suspicious how?”

“The kind who might ask him to do things maybe he shouldn’t?”

“I don’t know what you’re suggesting!” He sounded angry.

Cam decided to brave it anyway. “Like growing pot plants.”

“No! I watch out for my son! He’s not involved in anything like that!”

Cam thought he was protesting too much, but she made her excuses about just needing to check and retreated to Annie’s car to regroup and formulate a different approach.

A stakeout was far more boring than it sounded. Cam could certainly see why police officers turned to doughnuts and coffee. She left La Fontaine, driving around the corner and parking under a tree with low hanging boughs. Then she walked back, crouching down to watch from the bushes. She watched for a long time, all the while craving an old-fashioned doughnut for the first time since age twelve. Her father’s gift of
Krispy Kremes yesterday had surely seeded today’s craving. It had been the childhood Saturday morning “let Mom sleep” trick—her dad taking her and Petunia for doughnuts.

Refocusing on the matter at hand, Cam could see Henry, still on the eastern border, and Benny, who didn’t seem to be up to anything suspicious. He deadheaded, trimmed, and swept debris from the pavement slowly but steadily. After a while, though, he went to greenhouse three and when he came out, he looked around, scratching his head. It seemed to confirm the pot plants, or whatever mystery plants they’d been, were his. But it looked as though Benny thought Henry had gotten rid of them. She watched as Benny found and confronted his father, and Henry’s annoyed, angry response to Benny’s shouting did nothing to lessen the idea. She was too far away to hear why Benny had jumped to his conclusion, though she was annoyed Henry seemed to have lied to her. Henry clearly knew more than he was telling.

Benny left in a hurry, and Cam had to sprint to get back to Annie’s car in time to follow him. She didn’t know what kind of vehicle to watch for, but she was sure Benny was leaving the premises and there was only one logical way to go, so she started Annie’s car and waited.

A few minutes later a small, dark-colored pickup truck that had been in the Patricks’ driveway rounded the corner, going at least ten miles an hour over the speed limit. Cam thought it was one of Henry’s work trucks. She waited briefly, then followed.

Following at a reasonable distance was hard, even outside of town. Cam feared for what would happen when Benny got into the city where they would be at the mercy of stoplights, but fortunately, he veered north, bypassing most of town.

He headed into a poor suburb of clapboard houses and duplexes, many with broken-down vehicles in the yards. He wove through narrow streets. Cam avoided getting too close but then remembered that given his learning issues, Benny was unlikely to realize he was being followed so long as she stayed back at least a little. Besides, she doubted he’d
recognize Annie’s car, and even if he did, he had even less reason to suspect Annie would follow him than Cam.

When he finally pulled over, she drove past and continued three-quarters of the way around the block. She parked on a side street that led to the one Benny had parked on, and thought she could see through backyards to the pair of houses he’d parked in front of. She was glad the nearer one was yellow. It stood out among the tans, whites, and grays.

She got out of Annie’s car and debated walking on the sidewalk versus hiding in the bushes. Initially, she took the sidewalk, thinking it was less conspicuous, so she strolled slowly up the block, trying to take in every observation she could.

The last house on the block looked empty, so Cam walked up the front walk as if she planned to ring the doorbell, then ducked behind a shrub and went around to the back of the house. She stood in the deserted expanse of backyards and evaluated the terrain. It wasn’t a neighborhood with formidable fences, though there were a couple she’d have to climb.

The biggest obstacle would be the Rottweiler currently sleeping two yards away; his nose periodically twitched, obvious even from this distance. She wondered how much of a watchdog he was and how well contained he was in his yard. His fence clearly wasn’t the type that was meant to hold in an animal that large. She would have gone around, but the yard behind the one the dog was in had a six-foot chain-link fence with plastic slats woven through to block prying eyes. It seemed like a sign of no tolerance where trespassing was concerned.

She guessed the house Benny had gone into was the fifth or sixth away from her.

She eased across the first yard and into the second. As she stepped over the short fence, a stick popped up and snapped, giving her an idea. She picked it up and crossed the yard toward the dog.

He heard her, twitching at first, then emitting a low growl.

“Hey, boy. Do you like to fetch?”

His ears pricked and his tail stub twitched, though the growl continued and he didn’t lift his head.

“You wanna get the stick? You like a stick?”

She ran toward the fence, stopping back from it a good five feet so the dog didn’t feel threatened. She didn’t think the fence stood a chance if that dog was determined. She threw the stick over the fence, and he shot after it.

She spotted the chain tethering him, a good sign. He retrieved the stick and brought it back toward her as far as the chain would reach. He dropped the stick and whined, cocking his head.

“Good boy! Aren’t you smart?”

He whined again, panting with what looked like a dopey smile, so she climbed over the fence and retrieved the stick, throwing it again.

He fetched it and brought it back before she was across the yard, so she threw it once more in the other direction. He chased after it, and she climbed the fence on the far side of the yard.

When he brought the stick as far toward her as he could and saw that she was out of reach, he whined three or four times. She didn’t return, so he began to bark. Once the barking began, there was no mistake that a neighborhood dog was distressed about something, so she threw herself under a half-withered rhododendron and waited.

A sliding glass door whirred open.

“Cujo! Shush!”

Cujo barked three more times.

“You stop that! Do I need to make you come in?”

Cujo whined and sat, still looking in Cam’s direction, but done barking. The woman who’d yelled had accomplished what she wanted. The door whirred again and she was gone.

Cam was glad she hadn’t known earlier that the dog was named Cujo. She liked him and wasn’t sure she could have if she’d known the name. She waited awhile longer, until the dog went back to the patio and laid down.

When she finally moved on, she felt as though she hadn’t breathed for ages. Cujo continued to whine until she was too far to hear, and Cam felt guilty.

A healthy stand of raspberries, not yet bearing fruit but full of thorns, was the only other obstacle she had to skirt before arriving at the pair of small houses. She could see Benny’s pickup in front, resting right on the property line. She held back to watch, but from this distance, she couldn’t tell which house Benny had gone into. Both houses had closed shades or drawn curtains on the main floor. She decided to creep into the bushes between the houses and try to listen to both, hoping she would hear where Benny was.

She managed to not be spotted, and found her way to the shrubs on the side of one of the houses. She leaned her ear against the wall, then a window, but heard nothing coming from inside. A wait of ten minutes brought no change, so she darted across to the other house, though the cover wasn’t as good. She was standing in a mass of daylilies that hadn’t bloomed yet and only reached her thigh.

She carefully moved farther toward the front of the house to see if she could see anybody coming or going, and was shocked as she peeked around the corner to have her arm grabbed by a balding man with graying stubble on his chin.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Cam tried to smile, but knew it looked bad. There was no mistaking that she was trespassing and sneaking around.

“I’m sorry. I followed a friend of mine. Someone told me it was his birthday, and I wanted to… you know… wish him happy birthday. But I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“What’s this friend named?” He smiled now, as if he were being friendly, but he was a bad actor. He was definitely suspicious, and possibly evil, Cam thought.

Her split-second, panicked logic told her it was better to give a real name than a false one. She hoped it wouldn’t get Benny in trouble for allowing her to follow him.

“Benny Larsson.”

“Benny?” He sneered, and didn’t sound like he believed
her overly much. Then he let out an ugly laugh. “Chick like you wants to wish
Benny
a happy birthday?”

Cam nodded, trying to don an innocent face.

“When his birthday is the end of December?”

Her heart sank. The man’s incredulous expression frightened Cam.

“I thought…” She was scrambling for the right words but kept coming up empty. She fought her face, knowing it was trying to give too much away.

He laughed again. “I’m kidding, princess! I have no clue when the kid’s birthday is. He’s more of a ladies’ man than I thought if a pretty lady like you is looking for him. I don’t think it’s his birthday, though. Had a party last winter.”

“But…”

“Should I set him straight? About lying to pretty ladies, I mean?”

“Not if it means hurting him!”

“So, you like him?”

“Of course I do! He’s a nice boy!”

To Cam’s surprise, the man broke into real laughter, not the mocking kind of a moment ago. “Feel protective, then?”

“Any decent person would.”

He laughed even harder. “Okay, princess. Well, how about this? I promise not to hurt Benny. Would that help?” His chuckling had grown annoying, but Cam continued to play dumb.

“A lot. You really promise?” She didn’t believe him, and Benny’s safety hadn’t been her original concern, but acting protective seemed to be working, having been caught and all, and in case this man was sincere, it couldn’t hurt. At the moment, she wanted to get out of there in one piece. “Should I just go, then? Since I have your word, I mean?”

The man laughed again, but he was back to the menacing demeanor of a few minutes earlier.

“I can tell you’re harmless. I can also tell you are very naïve. But I don’t have that authority, so you’ll just have to wait a bit.”

Cam sighed and allowed herself be led by the arm into the small, poorly made, even more poorly kept, house. Half a dozen people alternately stared at and ignored her; a few more were milling about less attentively. It seemed a lot of activity for a house of that size. The bald man led her to an upstairs bedroom, and for a minute she panicked, but he just pushed her in.

“Hey! Watch this one, will you?”

A chiseled silhouette of a man looked in, eyebrows raised, and nodded before shutting the door.

When she finally calmed down, she thought the room had been picked as “easy to guard.” There was only one window, which was above the patio in the backyard, so an attempt to jump meant certain injury, and the only door led back to the hallway, where the rather-too-handsome thug had been instructed not to let her leave. Cam pretended for all of twenty seconds that he was permitted to come enjoy her company, but in her vulnerable circumstances, it made her feel way too exposed. All future fantasies of captivity abandoned her forever.

She paced, going over her options. She thought about lowering herself out the window, but there were no sheets on the bed—in fact, it was only a mattress on the floor, topped by a sleeping bag. Unless she was kept here for days, which she doubted was the intention, it was not worth the risk, any more so than trying to break a hole in the walls or fight the muscular man in the hall. It was only in her fantasy that she was the type of girl who could break out of imprisonment anyway. She didn’t have any illusions that she was actually that tough. Annie was tougher, and she was five-two. Cam’s best skill had always been negotiation. She would have to talk her way out. That option, though, held promise.

She hoped appearing worried about Benny would continue to work, though she would have to be careful not to accuse anybody of anything dastardly. And clearly what she’d said so far hadn’t been considered cause for concern,
or somebody would have tried to talk to her already. Then it occurred to her that the pictures of Evangeline, or rather, the existence of them—not the real pictures—would serve as the best motive for her chasing down the “boy” and expressing her “worry” as to what he had gotten himself into. She tried to keep her thoughts in terms of “boy” as it was the only way to make the transgression sound both innocent and undesirable. She approached the door and shouted.

“Please! Can I just talk to Benny?”

“You’re just supposed to sit tight,” the thug said. His voice was handsome, too, deep and melodic, Cam noted with irritation.

“Pretty please.” She hoped acting girly might help. “I just want to make sure he doesn’t publish those pictures!”

To her surprise the man guarding the door opened it. Bright blue eyes flashed at her from an olive-toned face. He looked at her, rather intrigued, and gave a shout.

“Benny? Have you been a bad boy?” He sounded terribly amused. Cam panicked as she realized it sounded like the pictures were of her.

Benny arrived a few minutes later, looking unsure.

“Ms. Harris, I don’t know what you want.”

“She wants to make sure those girlie pictures of her don’t go public!” The man chuckled, delightedly. His teeth were straight, too! Drat!

Cam glared at him, and Benny just looked confused. Then in a strategic moment, Cam decided to go with it. She figured she’d never see this man again, and it made for a more coherent case.

“Just to make sure none of those pictures you took are released to the public!”

“What?”

“You!” Cam pointed at the handsome thug. “What’s your name?”

“That’s Dylan,” Benny said.

“Dylan, can Benny and I have a minute?”

Dylan shrugged, still laughing, but he wouldn’t go, so Cam went on.