Hotline to Murder (28 page)

***

Shahla ate a dinner that she fixed at home.
Most of it consisted of leftover lasagna, nuked in the microwave.
It didn’t taste great, but it would keep her alive. She knew some
of the rudiments of cooking, but it wasn’t much fun to cook for one
person.

She turned on the TV but couldn’t find a
show that interested her. It was dark now and her mother and Kirk
still weren’t home. The feeling of unease that had been gnawing at
her became a full-fledged worry. What if they had been in an
accident?

She decided to go back over to the Thompsons’ house.
They must be home by now. And if they weren’t, she would call Tony.
He would know what to do. As she walked out the front door, she
could see Thompsons’ driveway. The car that was usually parked
there wasn’t. Well, perhaps somebody was home, anyway.

She walked north along her side of the
street until she was opposite the Thompsons’ house. She was about
to cross the street when she saw a car coming from the south. She
waited to let it pass, but it slowed down and blinked its lights.
Considerate California drivers sometimes stopped for pedestrians,
even in the middle of a block.

Shahla waved at the driver as the car
stopped, even though the car’s headlights prevented her from seeing
who was inside. She had reached the middle of the street when the
car suddenly lurched forward, directly at her. Confused, she jumped
back toward the curb, trying to get out of its way. It screeched to
a halt beside her and the driver’s door flew open, narrowly missing
her. A man jumped out of the car and grabbed her before she could
react.

Shahla screamed as the strong arms attempted
to pull her toward the car. But the car was still rolling slowly.
He let go of her with one hand and grabbed the open door frame of
the car with his other hand, apparently to try to stop it. He was
holding her by the right wrist. She tried to jam the fingers of her
left hand into his throat. It was a glancing blow, at best, but she
felt his grip loosen on her wrist. She jerked her whole body as
hard as she could.

Her wrist pulled free, and she ran north
along Sandview Street. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the
man chasing the car, which was rolling toward the far curb. She was
running away from her house, but in the other direction the street
ended in a cul-de-sac. He must have been waiting for her there. At
the first intersection, she turned in the downhill direction,
toward the beach. She had to get out of his line of sight.

She went one block downhill and stopped
behind a lamppost, panting. This wasn’t a good hiding place, but
she didn’t hear any sounds of pursuit. A car went by, but not that
of the kidnapper. What should she do? She couldn’t go back to her
house as long as the man was in the neighborhood.

She decided to go to Jane’s house. Jane’s
father should be there now, and he would protect her. Their house
was several more blocks north and two blocks uphill from here.
Shahla crossed the hilly street and ran along the street parallel
to her own. She would go another block north and then cut uphill.
She slowed down to a jog, wanting to conserve her energy. It was a
good thing she ran cross-country. Training in the hills had greatly
improved her wind.

At the next intersection, Shahla looked
uphill. A car was moving farther up, but it was harmless. She
started up the hill at a fast walk. Before she had gone halfway up
the block, a car went through the intersection above, on Sandview
Street. It was
his
car. She stopped, frozen. Then she heard
the sound of a car backing up. That thawed her. She turned and ran
back downhill.

In a few seconds, she heard the sound of the
car approaching her from behind. She kept running downhill, trying
not to go so fast in her panic that she tripped and sprawled on the
steep sidewalk. Her speed didn’t matter much because he could drive
much faster than she could run. But here, close to the beach, cars
were parked along the curb and he couldn’t get near her without
leaving his car.

He drove alongside her. Shahla didn’t look
at him. She hoped he didn’t have a gun. Then he pulled ahead and
stopped the car in the middle of the street. He opened the door and
jumped out. She was on the right sidewalk so he had to run around
the back of the car to cut her off. Her first instinct was to try
to outrun him, but he squeezed between two parked cars and blocked
her path.

He was wearing a baseball cap. Shahla
couldn’t see his face in the dim light. Was this the Chameleon? He
was an apparition, more ghost than real, with his arms up and his
body braced to intercept her, like a football player. She couldn’t
reverse direction and go uphill. By the time she stopped her
forward momentum and turned around, he would be able to grab
her.

She had a strong desire to barrel into him
at top speed. She was within a few feet of him, close enough to see
him flinch at the prospect of impact. At the last possible instant,
she put on the brakes and slowed enough so that she was able to
slip between two parked cars. She headed out into the street to go
around his car.

Caught by surprise, the man went through the
next space between the parked cars and reached for her as she ran
by. He got hold of her arm. Desperate, Shahla tried to keep
running, dragging him with her. As she steered just to the left of
his car, he was off balance and hit the back of it. He released his
grip on her. She lurched forward and thought she was going to
tumble head over heels.

She desperately tried to get her center of
gravity over her legs and regain her balance. She bounced off a
parked car and careened through a complete 360-degree turn before
she got her body under control. Then she found herself running down
the middle of the street, almost to the dead-end at the beach.

She ran past the end of the street for a few
feet to the concrete beach path and turned right on it, heading in
the opposite direction from her home. She didn’t hear footsteps
behind her, so she looked over her shoulder. The man wasn’t in
sight, and a beach house blocked her view of the street she had
come down.

Shahla continued north on the beach path at
a slower pace and immediately saw the benefit of being here. The
path was well lit by lights on poles, and there were other joggers
and walkers going in both directions, even at night. She didn’t
think he would dare to follow her here.

But where could she go? She might be safe on
the beach path, but she couldn’t stay here all night. She couldn’t
go home because the kidnapper might stake out her house. The police
station was too far away from the path to get to safely. She
couldn’t call anyone because she didn’t have her cell phone or any
money. Could she try to borrow a phone from another jogger? That
meant a long explanation and the strong possibility that she would
be labeled as a weirdo.

She continued on at a slow jog for a few
minutes, breathing the cool night air and being thankful that she
was free. However, each time she went past one of the streets that
came down to the beach, she looked for the kidnapper’s car. She
didn’t see it. A few minutes more and it occurred to her that she
must be getting close to where Tony lived. She knew his townhouse
complex was near the water in the northern part of Bonita
Beach.

Tony would help her. But she had to find him
first. She wished she had her phone. His home number was in her
directory. Of course she hadn’t memorized it, and of course it was
unlisted. He had told her that he had gotten an unlisted number
because some women made crank calls to Josh, his roommate.

His development had a name. What was it? Something
to do with the ocean. Duh. Ocean View? Ocean Air? Ocean Potion?
Shahla almost laughed, in spite of herself. Something to do with
the Pacific Ocean. Ocean Pacific? No, that was a trademark. She was
getting close to the northern boundary of Bonita Beach.

She stopped where the next street came down
to the beach and looked carefully up the pavement but didn’t see
the dreaded car. A jogger was coming down, about to turn onto the
beach path.

“Excuse me,” Shahla said, stopping him in
mid-stride. “Do you know of a townhouse development called
something like Ocean Pacific?”

The man, who was dressed in sweats, stopped
his forward progress and ran in place as he thought. “How about
Peaceful Ocean? It’s just a few blocks from here.”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

“Go up this street and take the second left.
It’s quite big. You can’t miss it.” He took off in an easy
lope.

“Thanks,” she called after him. Shahla took
one more look up the street before she started to walk along it.
The coast was clear. As soon as that thought entered her head, it
occurred to her where it had originated. The seacoast. Idioms,
expressions, sayings, words, and their meanings—all fascinated
her.

But she had to concentrate on the present.
The two blocks went fast and soon Shahla was walking roughly north
again on the cross street in this relatively level part of the
city. A few blocks more and she could see a sign at the entrance to
a residential development. Please let it be Peaceful Ocean, she
prayed. She hadn’t prayed since her father had died.

As she approached, she could make out the
letters. Peaceful Ocean. Thank God. Shahla turned into the entrance
road and was faced with a number of almost-identical townhouses.
Which one was it? She looked to the left and the right and realized
that there might be a hundred of them.

She remembered Joy’s description—the pool
was in its front yard. Where was the pool? Not in sight so it must
be in the center of the complex. She continued on the entrance
road, which went between groups of the homes.

She heard a car engine behind her. It was
probably a resident, but she turned around to make sure. Her breath
caught in her throat. It was
him
. Panic overcame her. She
ran. When she passed the first row of buildings, she looked to the
right. There was an open grassy area. She looked to the left. She
saw the pool.

Shahla ran toward the pool on the sidewalk.
The road didn’t go in that direction. After a few seconds, she
heard footsteps running behind her. She ran like she had never run
before. As she approached the fenced-in pool, she realized that
three units qualified as “having the pool in its front yard,” and
they were at the other end of the pool from her.

Would he dare follow her that far? She ran
past the pool. The footsteps were gaining on her. Three houses.
Which one was it? She didn’t have a clue. She ran up two steps to
the door of the first one and knocked loudly. She turned her head
and saw him a few feet away. He had stopped.

If nobody answered, Shahla was sure he would
try to grab her. She leapt off the steps and ran through a small
garden area to the second house, trampling flowers. She jumped onto
its steps and knocked on that door. Then she continued through
another garden to the third house and did the same.

Again she turned and faced her would-be
kidnapper. He had retreated a few feet but was still near the first
door. It hadn’t been opened. Uncertain now, Shahla stayed on the
steps of the third townhouse. What if none of them were home? Would
she end up running around the pool with him chasing her?

She planned to beg for help from the person
who opened the first door—whether it was Tony or not. The door in
front of her opened. It was a middle-aged woman.

“I need your help…” Shahla began, and then
she saw the second door open. It was Tony. “Tony, thank God,” she
cried. She jumped off the woman’s steps and ran over to Tony. At
least she remembered to use the sidewalk instead of the flower
garden. She leapt up his steps and into his arms.

CHAPTER 33

To say that Tony was surprised to find
Shahla in his arms would have been the understatement of the
century, but before he could say anything she cried, “That man is
trying to kidnap me.”

She pointed past the pool where the running
form of a man was visible, heading at top speed away from them.

“I’m going to get him,” Tony said, releasing
her. He jumped off the steps, but as soon as he landed, his face
contorted in pain, and he almost fell. He let out a yell and
croaked, “I forgot about my damn knee.”

He grabbed the knee and stood bent over. All
they could do was watch as the man, now some distance away, reached
his car and got into it. A few seconds later, the car disappeared
behind the buildings of Peaceful Ocean Townhomes.

As Tony turned to hobble back up the steps,
he saw his neighbor watching them with her mouth open. “It’s okay,
Muriel,” he called to her. “Everything’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” she asked. “Do you want me
to call the police?”

“We’ve got it under control. We’ll handle
it.”

Muriel looked dubious, and she continued to
watch them as Tony herded Shahla into the house, limped in behind
her, and closed the door.

“She’s a busybody,” he said. “This will be
all over the development by tomorrow.” Before he could say anything
more Shahla came into his arms again and started crying on his
shoulder.

“Are you all right?” he asked, awkwardly, as
he could feel her body racked with big sobs. She couldn’t talk, so
he just stood and held her, forgetting about the pain in his knee.
At least she was alive and in his arms. He was thankful for
that.

Several minutes passed before Shahla could
say anything. When she had calmed down a little, Tony led her to
the couch in the living room and sat her down. Then he got her a
glass of water. He coaxed the story of the attack out of her.

“Did you recognize him?” Tony asked when she
told about the man getting out of the car.

“No. He was wearing a baseball cap. I never
got a good look at his face.”