Fugitive Trackdown. Sandra Robbins
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from Illinois until the day after tomorrow. So that leaves you, Adam. You’re the only one who can do this.”
Adam rubbed the back of his neck and cast a doubtful glance in Claire’s direction. “I don’t know, Jessica. Claire doesn’t want me to help her.”
Claire reached out and grabbed her friend’s arm. “Jessica, listen to me. I don’t need Adam’s help.”
She smiled down at Claire and then looked back at Adam. “I don’t know what happened between the two of you years ago, but it’s time you let it go. Claire needs help, and you, Adam, are the only one who can do it.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment. Then he nodded and glanced down at Claire. “Jessica is right. Whether or not you want any help, you need it. But we’re all tired tonight. So get some rest, and we’ll talk about this in the morning.”
“Good,” Jessica said. “Now, you go home and get some sleep. I’ll take care of Claire.”
They walked to the door, and Adam kissed his sister on the cheek before he stepped into the hall. Jessica closed the door behind him and came back to where Claire sat. “Let’s get you to bed. I have the spare bedroom made up for you.”
She helped Claire to her feet, and they made their way down the hallway toward the bedrooms. “What time are you leaving tomorrow?” Claire asked.
“I’ll have breakfast with you and make sure you can move around before I leave. I don’t know what time Adam will be here. But if you can’t get to the door, he can let himself in with his key.”
They entered the bedroom, and Claire smiled at the nightgown Jessica had laid out on the bed for her. She dropped down on the side of the bed and smiled up at her friend. “Thank you, Jessica. It’s good to be here with you.”
Jessica squatted down and took Claire’s hands in hers. “Although we’ve been friends since middle school, I’ve never pushed you to tell me what happened between you and Adam. I know you don’t like him, but he’s really a wonderful person. The problem is, he’s never thought of himself that way. I don’t think you have, either, but I can’t stand to see two people I love continuing to holding some kind of grudge from years ago. I hope you can reach the point where you can let it go.”
Tears formed in Claire’s eyes and she nodded. “I hope so, too.”
Jessica sighed and pushed to her feet. “Do you need me to help you get ready for bed?”
“No, I’ll be okay with my handy crutches. Thanks again.”
“I’ll get one of my robes and bring it back for you.”
“Thanks, Jessica.”
Jessica covered Claire’s hands and squeezed them before she left the room. Claire watched her go and thought about what she had said. Could she ever forgive Adam for how he’d hurt her? She didn’t know. Her dislike of him had become a part of her, and she didn’t know if she could ever wipe it from her mind.
She did have to admit, though, he’d come to her rescue several times tonight. Maybe he did have some good qualities she’d ignored. The question still remained whether or not she could forgive him. Only the future would tell.
Claire sighed and hobbled on her crutches to the window to close the curtains. As she reached for the cord to close them, the lights of a car in the parking lot behind Jessica’s apartment caught her eye. She stopped and stared as a car drove slowly past the parked cars of the residents. It didn’t stop but moved to the exit and disappeared around the corner of the building.
Claire tightened her fingers around the cord to draw the curtains, but her body seemed frozen in place. The car that had just passed by looked exactly like the car that had zoomed past their hiding place on Poplar Avenue a short time ago. Had the driver waited for them to lead him where Claire was going to stay that night?
“What are you looking at?” Jessica’s voice startled her, and she turned to see her friend standing in the doorway.
Claire glanced down at the robe Jessica held and smiled. “I was just closing the curtains.”
Jessica stepped into the room and laid the garment on the bed. “I hope you sleep well.”
Claire yawned. “I’m sure I will. I don’t know when I’ve ever been so tired.”
“Then I’ll say good-night.”
“Good night, Jessica.”
Claire waited until Jessica had left the room before she turned back to the window and stared outside. After a moment she closed the curtain, inched back to the bed and pulled her gun from her purse. She laid it on the bedside table, changed into the nightgown Jessica had left for her and then crawled into bed. No matter what she’d told Jessica, she knew sleep wouldn’t come.
She pulled the covers up to her chin and waited to see what would happen next.
* * *
Claire jolted awake and glanced at the bedside clock with its face glowing in the darkened room—2:00 a.m. Despite her good intentions, she’d fallen asleep. She pushed up in bed and raked her hair out of her face.
Her thoughts drifted back to the events of the night, and she shivered. She’d never been so scared in her life, but at least she was alive. Now she needed to get a grip on her emotions. Nothing else was going to happen tonight, so there was no need for her to try to stay awake. She had a busy day ahead of her tomorrow, and she needed some rest if she was going to make it through.
She plumped up her pillow and was about to lie back down when a noise from the direction of the kitchen startled her. It sounded as though a door had opened. She sat up again and strained to hear any other sounds in the apartment. Nothing. Then the creak of footsteps on the floor sent her heart racing.
Someone had entered the apartment.
Claire eased from the bed, slipped into her robe, and grabbed the gun from the bedside table. She stared at the crutches for a moment before she propped one under her left arm. With the gun in her right hand, she limped toward the bedroom door. Once there she propped the crutch against the wall and balanced on her good foot. Then she eased the door open and slid into the hallway.
She stopped and held her breath when the beam of a flashlight pierced the darkness. Now she had no doubt a prowler had entered the apartment.
She slid along the hallway wall until she reached the living room and then reached for the switch to turn on the overhead light. The man was facing away from her, and he pulled something from her purse. He whirled around just as the room lit up. Her bag tumbled to the floor.
“What...?” he snarled.
Claire’s heart jumped into her throat at the sight of James Lester with Peter Willis’s phone in one hand and a flashlight in the other. She tightened her grip on the gun. “Put it down, Lester.”
His gaze dropped to the gun in her hand, and he smirked. “Still trying to play the tough girl, huh? Well, you don’t seem too tough to me.”
He took a step toward her, and she swallowed. “I’m warning you. Don’t come any closer. Put the phone on the coffee table.”
He cocked his head to one side and grinned. “And what are you going to do? Shoot me? I don’t think you have it in you.”
Perspiration beaded her forehead. “Are you willing to chance it?”
He smiled. “I think I am.”
Before she could respond, he hurled the flashlight at her. It hit her in the chest, knocking the wind out of her. He rushed forward, grabbed her wrist and tried to twist the gun from her hand.
“No!” she screamed as she struggled against him. The gun jerked in her hand and fired.
James Lester screamed out in pain, and the gun and the cell phone he had held clattered to the floor. “You’ve shot me!” he yelled