“Oh, excuse me,” the deputy interrupted. He shook his head. “I mean your dad and your
“It’s okay,” Jordan replied. He managed to smile up at him through the open window. “I’m staying at the cabin with two friends of mine. Is there a problem here, officer?”
Deputy Shaffer glanced at the large, wrapped present and the bakery box in Jordan’s backseat. He leaned against the roof and sighed. “Well, yes, Jordan, as a matter of fact, we do indeed have a problem. See, this is private property. It belongs to Uncle Sam. You’re trespassing here.”
“Sorry,” he said finally. “I’ve always been kind of curious about this place, and today I decided to go exploring.”
Deputy Shaffer handed him back his license and registration. “Could you step out of the vehicle, please?”
Jordan stared up at him. “Why?”
“I’d like to show you something.” Shaffer backed away from the car. His hand went on the gun holster again.
Jordan swallowed hard; then he opened his door and climbed out of the car.
Eyes narrowed, the deputy stared down at his muddy shoes. “What happened there?”
Jordan gave an uneasy shrug, and he stomped his feet. “Yeah, kind of a mess, isn’t it? Taking that back road on the way here, I got stuck in the mud. I had to get out and push.”
The deputy frowned. “Well, Jordan, I guess you should have taken that as a sign and turned back, because you’re in a lot of trouble. Trespassing is a serious offense. I’m afraid I’ll have to haul you in and book you.”
“What?” Jordan murmured, dazed.
Deputy Shaffer burst out laughing. “Ha, you should see the look on your face! I’m fucking with you, man!”
Jordan could barely work up a smile. For a moment, it had felt as if his heart had stopped. He was having a hard time figuring out this guy.
Nudging him, the deputy swaggered toward the back of Jordan’s Honda Civic. “Take a gander at this left tire back here. It’s getting pretty low. That’s what you get for driving down these rough back roads. Better have it checked soon.”
“I will, thank you,” Jordan nodded. “So—you aren’t giving me a ticket or anything?”
“Not this time,” Deputy Shaffer said with a friendly smile. “But don’t come back here, okay? Sheriff Fischer has got a bug up his butt about this place because some of the high school kids come here to do drugs.”
He stopped to gaze at the deserted building. Most of the first floor was boarded up. The ragged blinds in the second floor’s broken windows flapped in the autumn breeze. “I hate patrolling this old dump,” Shaffer said. “Gives me the royal creeps, y’know?”
Jordan didn’t answer. He thought he heard a knock—coming from his trunk. He wondered if Deputy Shaffer had heard it, too.
With his elbow, the deputy nudged him again. “Anyway, be glad it’s me and not Fischer catching you here, because that old hard-ass would have thrown the book at you.”
“Thanks for cutting me a break,” Jordan said. “So—is it okay if I go now? I should probably get back to my friends—”
Jordan heard it again—a knock and then some rumbling from inside his trunk. He wandered away from the back of the car, hoping to draw Shaffer from the source of the noise.
The deputy moved with Jordan toward the driver’s door. “So—where did you leave these guests of yours while you went on this sorry expedition?”
“Well, um, they went for a walk in the woods,” Jordan explained. Any minute now, he expected Meeker to start pounding and banging against the trunk’s lid. “But they should be back soon. I really ought to get going….”
“Wait a sec,” Deputy Schaffer said. “Did you hear something?”
Jordan started to shake his head. But then he did hear a noise, and it wasn’t coming from the trunk of his Honda Civic. It was a static-laced announcement on the radio of Shaffer’s police car. The words were all fuzzy and muddled together.
“Oh, shit, just a second,” Shaffer said. He turned and hurried back to his patrol car. He climbed in the front seat.
Watching him, Jordan stood by his own car, his fingers poised on the door handle. He heard the knocking and rustling again. Allen Meeker had regained consciousness inside the Honda Civic’s small trunk. No doubt, he could hear the police radio, too. He had to know help was very near. The pounding started.
Jordan’s whole body tensed up as he walked back toward the police car. Passing his Honda’s trunk, he could hear Meeker’s muffled screams, and then more pounding and kicking. He stood by the cop’s door.
“Okay, gotcha, see you there, over and out,” Corey Shaffer was saying into the dashboard mike. Then he hung it up. He started jotting something on a clipboard.
“Is it cool if I take off?” Jordan asked. He could still hear the pounding and kicking, but Meeker had some competition from the flapping blinds in the second-floor windows of the plant. Jordan stole a glance at his Civic. The car was rocking up and down in the back.
“Yeah, go ahead, scram, Jordan.” The deputy tossed aside his pen and clipboard. “But I’m beating you out of here. I have an emergency. Some babe on Birch Way has her panties in a twist over a Peeping Tom.”
“Is she okay?” Jordan asked, thinking of the pretty brunette with the little boy.
Shaffer nodded tiredly. “Stuart’s with her at Rosie’s right now. I tell ya, it’s always something. See ya, dude.” He shut his door.
Jordan stepped back as the cop peeled around the wobbling Honda Civic. He watched the patrol car speed down the Chemerica Corporation access road.
The knocking and pounding continued from inside the trunk of his car. Jordan lumbered toward it, then rested his hand on the lid. He felt the vibrations. “You can kick and kick all you want, asshole,” he growled. “It’s just you and me here. There’s no one to save you.”
The pounding stopped. Then there was just whimpering.
Jordan leaned closer to the lid. “Did you hear what that cop said back there in his car?” Jordan asked, his voice cracking. “Did you hear where he’s going? A woman’s in trouble on Birch Way. Does that sound familiar?”
The pounding and muffled pleading started up again—more intense than ever. But Jordan ignored it.
Wiping the tears from his eyes, he climbed inside his car, started up the engine, and prepared himself for the rough road ahead.
CHAPTER NINE
“I wasn’t even in the house when you took a shower this morning,” Leo said. He swatted at a bush along the path through the woods.
Moira studied Leo’s face as she walked beside him. She could usually tell if he was lying, because he always blinked a lot and tilted his head to one side. She got the head tilt, but no blinking, so she couldn’t be sure if he’d given her an honest answer or not.
Leo had obviously made an effort to clean up nicely today. His unruly brown hair was combed, and he wore a sage-color V-neck sweater she’d once mentioned looked good on him. Moira figured he was hoping for something to happen during this woodland hike—maybe a surprise birthday make-out session or something.
She’d planned to keep him on this outing until at least one o’clock, so Jordan could pick up the cake and get the house decorated. But the way Leo was acting, it might as well have been his idea that Jordan get lost so he and she could sneak off by themselves. An hour before, when they’d first ventured down the forest path, he’d tried to
