The Baby Thief (6 page)

Going through the motions, Jenna grabbed a blueberry bagel out of the fridge and sat down at the table with the newspaper. She stared at the front page for five minutes without comprehending a word. Her head was a mess and her brain jumped from one negative thought to another.

She pushed the paper aside and poured herself a cup of coffee. It was only after she’d taken her first sip she realized she’d already eaten her bagel. Food had lost its importance over the last year, and eating fast was against the rules. Today she didn’t care. She’d probably drop two pounds during the run. Even that didn’t cheer her.

As she drank her second cup of Italian brew, her phone rang. Jenna jumped to answer it. As soon as she picked it up, she regretted it. This would be bad news.

“Jenna, it’s Katrice. I know you’ll be disappointed, but I can’t run with you today.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t help it. I twisted my ankle playing basketball yesterday.”

“Why didn’t you call me last night?” Jenna tried not to sound upset. Katrice, a bartender at Geronimo’s, had been her best friend since she moved to Eugene. It wasn’t right to make her feel bad about something she couldn’t help.

“I was afraid you’d decide not to run if I called last night. I know you’re dressed and ready now and drinking that killer coffee, so you’ll go anyway.”

“You know me too well.”

“I’m sorry. You sound so down.”

“Don’t worry. I was bummed before you called.”

“What about?” Katrice sounded surprised. “It’s not like you to get depressed.”

“Nothing. Everything. I woke up feeling weird.” Jenna started to tell her about the dream, then changed her mind. Katrice was superstitious, even mystical about such things. “I haven’t been myself since the robbery, but I’ll bounce back, don’t worry. I’d better go. Since you’re not picking me up, I have to catch the next bus.”

“You don’t have to ride the bus.”

“Yes, I do. I can’t rationalize driving such a short distance by myself, and I’m not leaving my bike in the park for three hours even if it is locked. I paid too much for it to let some junkie with bolt cutters have it.”

“You’re a bit much sometimes, you know?” Katrice was half serious. Like everyone else, she thought Jenna’s commitment to environmental issues was excessive. “This is about that guy, isn’t it?” Katrice was friendly now, teasing her. “The reporter you told me about.”

“That’s a big part of it.”

“Go out with him and see what happens. What if he’s your soul mate and you let him get away? You think you’re unhappy now?”

“I don’t know.”

“Just do it. It’ll make you feel better, I guarantee.” Advice from a person who believed in lucky stars.

“I’ll see you later.” Jenna hung up, not giving her friend a chance to protest.

She finished her coffee and headed out the door before she could change her mind. She’d promised herself she would do this and she would, but it had seemed like a better idea at the time.

* * *

Eric couldn’t find a parking place within three blocks of Skinner Butte Park. Jogging from his car to the registration table had made his heart hammer like a set of cylinders in the Indy 500. He had second and third thoughts about finding Jenna and attempting to run thirteen miles with her. It seemed feasible the night before when the inspiration hit him during the eleven o’clock news. They’d shown clips from last year’s run—little old ladies and heavy middle-aged men crossing the finish line with big smiles. Eric had been deceived into thinking it would be, if not easy, at least possible.

He parted with the fifteen dollars anyway. It was a lot to pay for a t-shirt, but maybe Jenna would admire him for trying. If he could find her in the crowd. The women all looked the same in their neon running gear and pulled-back hair. Fortunately, the participants were grouping into categories based on how long it would take to run the course. The serious runners were up front to race against the clock, amateur athletes in the middle, and misfits bringing up the rear.

He found Jenna toward the tail end of the women’s amateur group. Even in a black t-shirt with no make-up, she was gorgeous. Eric wondered how this woman had made it to thirty-two without some guy snatching her up. Did she have some really bizarre quirk that hadn’t surfaced yet?

“Hey there,” he said casually as if he’d just happened to bump into her. Jenna jumped, looking frightened.

“Eric.” She shivered. “You startled me.”

“Sorry.” Eric touched her shoulder. “How have you been?”

“All right. What are you doing here?”

“You know, I’ve had all morning to come up with a good cover story. Yet the fact is, I just wanted to see you and maybe impress you with my new dedication to physical fitness.” Eric rolled his eyes in mock disgust. “But five minutes into this run you’ll hear my heart pounding so hard it’ll scare you, so why pretend?” Jenna chuckled politely but Eric could tell something was wrong. “You seem upset. Is it because I’m here? I know you asked me to give you some space, but it’s been three days.”

“I’m feeling a little apprehensive.” Jenna chewed on her lower lip. “This is only the third time I’ve left the house since the robbery.”

“Have you been back to the restaurant yet?”

“No.” She looked away, then bent down to stretch her quads.

“Maybe you should join one of those victims’ groups, get some support. I don’t know how you feel because I’ve never had a gun to my head, but I can imagine it has some long-term effects. You should talk to a counselor.”

A loud whistle blew, signaling the runners to get ready. Jenna turned away without answering. A woman with a bullhorn made an announcement Eric didn’t hear. The crowd of bodies moved forward, a thundering herd of feet hitting the asphalt. Eric had no choice but to move with them. He’d planned to back out at the last minute, telling Jenna he’d meet her at the finish line. But she seemed so vulnerable—so unlike the confident woman in the restaurant who’d tried to save a man’s life—Eric decided to stay with her all thirteen miles, even if it killed him. He laughed out loud.

“What’s so funny?”

“I was just thinking that if I had a heart attack, you’d be able to save me.”

“Don’t count on it. I plan to finish this run in two hours and that doesn’t leave any time for first aid along the way.”

“Two hours? Get real. We have to slow down, or I’ll never make it.” Eric was already sucking wind.

She slowed her pace a bit, and Eric was grateful. Even if he walked the thirteen miles, he’d have to wait a week to ask her out because he wouldn’t be able to move again for that long. He hadn’t done anything this foolish for a woman since high school when he’d stolen a bottle of Boones Farm apple wine from the corner store just because Cindy Miller really wanted some.

After ten minutes, Eric experienced a strange floating sensation as if his body weighed only a few pounds and he could run forever. He took advantage of it while it lasted. Later he knew he wouldn’t be able to speak. “So what else do you do for fun?”

“Skate, dance, ride my bike.” Jenna smiled. “Anything that keeps me moving.”

“No, I mean for fun.”

“Exercise is fun.”

“No. Seriously. I’m talking about hobbies, like knitting or chess or watching old movies.”

“I am serious. I don’t knit, play chess, or watch old movies. But I do like new movies, and I think I might like poker.” She didn’t even sound winded, as if running and talking at the same time were effortless.

“This is disappointing,” Eric joked. “I was hoping we could get together, you know, do stuff, maybe even date.” He paused, waiting to see what she would say. Jenna didn’t respond, so he kept up his nervous chatter. “I’ve exercised more in the last twenty minutes than I normally do in a month. Except for softball season, which is over now.”

“I play softball.”

Eric grinned. “We have something in common.”

He was grateful the bike path along the river was flat. The euphoria was gone, and his lungs and legs ached so badly he had to clamp his jaw shut to keep from moaning. “How far have we gone?”

“About three miles.”

Eric cursed silently to himself. He hadn’t even made it halfway. Jenna would just have to like him the way he was—or not. This was torture and he couldn’t do it any more. Fortunately, the route crossed over the river at the last pedestrian bridge, then looped back. He could cut across before that and walk for a while, letting Jenna catch up with him for the last mile of the run.

“How are you holding up?” Jenna finally asked.

“I’m in agony, but you’re worth it.” Eric’s heart felt like it was going to explode. It was now or never. “Can I buy you dinner tonight? Restaurant of your choice?”

She hesitated, then gave him a shy smile. “All right.”

“Pick you up at seven?” Eric grabbed Jenna’s arm so she would look at him again. “I have to stop now. I’ll cross the bridge up here at the university and walk until you pick me on the other side. I’m sorry, it’s the best I can do.”

She laughed. “I never thought you’d make it this far. It’s not particularly healthy to overdo it your first time.”

“Now you tell me.” Eric stopped running. “See you in an hour.”

Jenna waved and picked up her pace. Eric’s legs almost buckled in relief. He started up the path to the bridge, hoping he wouldn’t collapse. The hammering in his heart finally tapered off, but he felt lightheaded, almost giddy. It was either oxygen deprivation or love. Eric wasn’t sure, but he figured he’d have to get used to it either way.

Jenna picked him up on the other side of the river, a mile from the park. The pain was worse the second time. Eric promised himself he would never run again. Knowing it would be over in ten minutes didn’t help. It seemed like an eternity before they crossed the finish line and someone called out “two hours, eight minutes.”

“Sorry about slowing you down,” Eric gasped, fighting the urge to fall face first into the grass. Jenna was still moving, not running, but not stopping either. Eric hurried after her to catch what she was saying.

“It doesn’t matter.” She looked relaxed for the first time that day. “Thanks for keeping me company. You’re a good sport.”

“Can we stop any time soon?”

“Go ahead. I need to keep moving for a minute.”

“Why?”

“So my legs don’t get cramps.”

Eric didn’t care what happened to him. He had to stop. Involuntarily he bent over and sucked up air. When his heart rate stabilized, he began to walk slowly, looking around for Jenna. Runners and spectators were everywhere, stretching out, gulping down bottled water, taking pictures, and talking excitedly about their race time. Eric didn’t see Jenna anywhere, so he went to the registration booth and picked up his t-shirt. It was white with green trees, blue sky, and a rainbow. Typical Eugene life-is-a-picnic artwork. He’d never wear it.

Eric walked down the bike path in the direction Jenna had gone, passing picnic tables and kids swinging in the playground. He didn’t see her and finally turned around. The path branched out all over the five-acre park, and she could have taken almost any route and circled back already. The crowd had thinned out by the time Eric got to the registration area. In a few seconds, he realized Jenna wasn’t there. Eric went to the booth, currently being dismantled by the woman with the bullhorn and two men in running gear.

“Can you tell me if Jenna McClure picked up her t-shirt?” he asked.

“Why?” The muscular woman eyed him suspiciously.

“I just want to know if she already left, or if I should wait longer.”

“Just a sec.” She picked up a clipboard and flipped through several pages. “Yep, she did.”

“Thanks.” Puzzled, Eric headed for his car. It seemed strange Jenna would leave without saying anything, especially after making a date for that evening. Maybe they’d missed each other and she thought he’d left. Eric decided to call her when he got home, make sure everything was still set for that evening.

Halfway to his car, he saw Jenna two blocks away, waiting at a bus stop. He paused, uncertain, then hurried toward her. She wasn’t close enough to hear him if he called out. Before Eric reached the first cross street, a big gray van stopped in front of the bus stop. A man in a suit, sporting a short ponytail, hopped out and spoke briefly to Jenna, then showed her a piece of paper. He moved beside her and put his arm around her waist. Eric couldn’t see Jenna’s expression, but her body seemed to go rigid.

Eric started to run.

A second man stepped out of the van just as Jenna relaxed. Eric shouted her name, but the three of them got into the vehicle and drove off. He stopped mid-stride and stared at the slowly disappearing back doors.

What in the heck had just happened? If he didn’t know better, he’d swear Jenna had just been kidnapped.

Chapter 7

Saturday, Oct. 25, 1:07 p.m.

Zeke glanced in the rear view mirror at the guy in blue sweats. He’d stopped running and stood staring after the van. Was he memorizing the license number? Fuck and doublefuck. Zeke pressed the gas pedal, then cut in front of a white sedan, blocking the plate from the guy’s view. Zeke hadn’t even seen the guy until he heard him shout at the woman. Did he know her or was he just some busybody passing by? Had he shouted her name? Shit. He hated not knowing, hated having to worry about the cops. It had looked like a perfect snatch. No struggle, no witnesses, no purse or coat or car left behind. Then, out of nowhere, this jogger comes running up the street.

“Relax, Zeke. He was too far away to see us or the license number.”

Carmichael’s voice cut into his thoughts. The Reverend sounded calm and confident as usual. Zeke eased up on the gas. It wouldn’t be smart to get stopped for speeding right now. Their passenger was unconscious and hidden from sight, but Zeke tended to sweat and stutter every time he talked to a cop. Or at least he used to. When he was a kid, before he took the long timeout, he’d been arrested so often he’d lost count. Only convicted twice, but brought in and harassed regularly because he couldn’t keep his cool when facing the pricks in uniform.

Zeke couldn’t believe he’d let the Reverend talk him into this bullshit. If he got picked up for kidnapping…  No. He couldn’t think like that. He wasn’t going back inside. Not after what happened last time. He’d rather be dead than on a bus heading for Pendleton State Penitentiary.