Authors: Adrianne Byrd
R
obin watched the ball game from the bleachers with surprise and excitement. She’d never seen a game quite like this before. The pitcher, Bobbi in this case, purposely tried to hit the batters she didn’t like. The result was a lot of fights.
Of course, none of the action took place when Mr. Webber watched the first two innings. During that time, Bobbi was an ideal player—but now…
Stanley Forrester stood inside the batter’s box with a fierce glare aimed at Bobbi, almost as if he were daring her to hit him again.
He was a cute boy, Robin assessed. His complexion looked more yellow than brown, and he had a deep set of dimples that made him look as if he were smiling even when he wasn’t.
There was a small part of Robin that wondered if Bobbi’s outrageous behavior toward him was because she secretly liked him more than she cared to admit.
Robin leaned forward and pressed her elbows against her knees as she watched Bobbi prepare to deliver the next pitch.
Stanley crouched, seemingly ready to knock the ball out of the field if given half the chance.
He had no such luck.
Bobbi sent the ball careening inside the batter’s box.
Stanley ducked, dropped his bat and covered his head.
“Ball,” the umpire called, then waved a warning finger in Bobbi’s direction. “Another one of those, Miss Webber, and I’m going to have to take you out of the game.”
Stanley, now covered in red dirt, stood with both fists planted on his hips. There were no words exchanged, but the heated glares exchanged between him and Bobbi spoke volumes.
Robin glanced over at the tattered scoreboard. Bobbi’s team, the Wildcats, was still ahead three-to-two in the top of the ninth, but with a runner on first and second, the last thing Bobbi needed was to walk a batter to load the bases.
The next two pitches sailed perfectly over the plate, and each time the umpire declared strikes.
Robin crossed her fingers and prayed for another strike to end the game, but instead the next pitch beaned Stanley on his left shoulder.
Stanley yelled and was awarded first base.
Amazingly, Bobbi simply shrugged apologetically at the umpire, but in Robin’s opinion she hadn’t looked too sorry about the pitch.
Now the bases were loaded. Other members of the Wildcats groaned aloud and shouted at her not to lose the game.
And she didn’t. The next batter, Jordan something or other, swung at the next three pitches and struck out. Snobby Bobbi had won the game.
From first base, Stanley removed his cap and threw it down in the dirt.
Bobbi cast him a smug smile as he stormed off the field.
Robin climbed down from the bleachers and went over to congratulate Bobbi on winning the game, but Stanley cut her off.
“Hi,” he said.
Robin blinked, startled by the boy’s sudden appearance. “Hi.”
“Are you new in town?” His dimples deepened as he smiled down at her. His earlier anger seemed to have disappeared.
“N-no. Me and my mom are just passing through.”
“Oh. Well, what’s your name?”
“Robin.”
“Leave her alone, Stanley. She’s with me,” Bobbi announced, appearing at her side.
Stanley’s smile disappeared. “I can talk to her if I want to.”
Bobbi grabbed Robin’s arm and pulled her back.
Robin was amazed at the girl’s strength.
“Leave her alone if you know what’s good for ya.”
Stanley shook his head, but decided to give up the fight. He looked at Robin one last time. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”
Robin nodded with a coy smile.
To Bobbi, Stanley stuck out his tongue, then stormed off.
“What a loser,” Bobbi declared once he was out of earshot.
“I don’t know. I think he’s kind of cute.” When Bobbi’s eyes narrowed on her, Robin’s smile grew. “Really cute.”
Julia’s head felt as if it were ready to explode. When she finally managed to open her eyes, she was surprised to find the spot next to her empty.
“Robin,” she called, and shot up in bed. Fire rushed down her throat, and the fast movement caused the room to spin. She opened her mouth to call for Robin again, but erupted into a coughing frenzy.
She lay down again and waited for the throbbing in her
temples to stop. What time was it? The question surfaced somewhere in the groggy haze of her mind. And where was Robin?
She looked around and found the clock on the nightstand. She squinted at the numbers in hopes of bringing them into focus.
“One forty-five,” she slurred, then shook her head in disbelief. “It can’t be.” Had she truly slept away the morning?
Still determined to climb out of bed, she swung one leg over the side, then rested before attempting to move the other. Why was every limb so heavy?
A loud pounding echoed in the room, and subsequently Julia instinctively cowered.
“Julia, may I come in?”
Julia moaned.
The door cracked open and a familiar head poked through. What was the woman’s name again—Lizzy…Linda? She couldn’t remember.
“My goodness. You look like something the cat dragged in.” The woman marched over to her and laid her hand against Julia’s forehead.
Was her name Lori?
“Lordy be. You’re burning up.” She flung the sheets back from the bed. “Now you get yourself back in bed. I’ll take care of everything.”
“M-my daughter…?”
“Now don’t you worry none. Li’l Robin is just fine. She went down to the park with my niece to watch her play ball. They should be back any minute. Meanwhile, I’m going to get you something that will help you with that fever you’re running and get something in that belly of yours. You’ve already missed breakfast and lunch.”
“B-but we have to get on the road today.”
“Carson is looking over your car right now. And don’t you
worry none. When it comes to cars, there’s nothing my brother can’t fix. Besides, you can’t drive in this condition.”
Julia eased back down onto the bed. Why was it so hot in the room?
Lilly pulled the covers over her, but Julia quickly pushed them off.
“Oh, dear.” The woman rushed out of the room.
Julia frowned. Was it Lisa? She exhaled and gave up trying to recall the woman’s name. She had more important things to do—didn’t she? Suddenly she wasn’t too sure of anything.
The woman returned and pressed something against her mouth. “Okay, honey. We need to get some fluids in you.”
A cool stream of water slid between Julia’s parched lips and coursed down her throat. She couldn’t remember ever tasting anything so good. Greedily she tilted the cup up but started to choke.
“Careful now. There’s more where this came from. Here, take these.” The woman pressed two pills into Julia’s hand.
“It’s just aspirin. It should help bring down your fever.”
Without hesitation, Julia tossed back the small pills, then drained the rest of the water. Unfortunately, it didn’t immediately relieve her headache.
“I’ll put some soup on for you. It won’t take but a minute to fix. I wish I’d come up here sooner. I thought that after the night you had you were just tired. I even asked your daughter not to disturb you.” She headed toward the door. “I could just kick myself. I should have been up here sooner.” She slipped out of the room again.
Julia frowned at the door. Was it Lacey?
Carson pushed himself out from underneath the car and sat up. It was a shame how people treated their cars sometimes.
Julia’s Impala looked as though it hadn’t even had an oil change in two presidential elections.
He shook his head. That was the least of Mrs….well, Julia’s problem. Her car’s engine was ready for the old junkyard in the sky, which was probably the last thing she’d want to hear.
“Daddy, Daddy.”
Carson looked up to see Bobbi running into the shop. He stood and wiped most of the oil from his hands on a nearby rag before she bounded up into his arms. “Whoa.”
“We won. We won.”
A wide smile spread across his face as a jolt of pride filled his chest. “That’s my girl. So you still have your perfect record. That sounds like a reason to celebrate, if you ask me.”
“Yeah!”
From the corner of his eye, Carson caught a glimpse of Robin easing into the garage. He turned his smile in her direction. “Did you enjoy the game, Miss Robin?”
The little girl crossed her arms and shrugged. “It was all right.”
“She doesn’t like baseball,” Bobbi injected with a crooked smile. “She likes dolls.”
Robin glared at Bobbi’s back. “I don’t hate baseball. I just like football better.”
That statement grabbed Bobbi’s attention.
Carson set his daughter down. “There’s nothing wrong with little girls liking dolls. You should give it a try sometime.”
“Why?” Bobbi asked, dismayed.
Carson laughed when he realized he didn’t have an answer. “Well, I can’t see how it would hurt. Can you?”
Bobbi, probably for the first time in her life, was speechless.
He laughed again. “I’d say today’s victory deserves the usual.”
Bobbi’s eyes recaptured their earlier spark. “Banana splits?”
“You got it.” He tugged her pigtail, then looked over at Robin. “You want to join us?”
Robin shrugged again, but Carson could see that she wanted to go.
“I’ll tell you what—I’ll call over to the inn and let your mother know where we’re going. How about that?”
Robin pretended to mull the proposal over. “Okay.”
“All right. Banana splits, here we come.” Carson clapped his hands together.
Bobbi moved over to Robin. “Why didn’t you tell me that you like football? Maybe we can get a game started with the boys tomorrow. I usually play with Mickey and his friends. We’re always looking for another player. You are a good player, aren’t you?”
A confident smile curved Robin’s lips. “The best.”
Tony and his small team, special agents Walt Pittman, Larry Evans and Virginia Jacobson, spent the rest of the day interviewing eyewitnesses to the Perimeter Mall shootings a second time, but Tony felt they weren’t getting anywhere. Tony’s instincts told him that he was asking the wrong questions. They needed to find out more about David Mercer and what alias he was living under in Atlanta.
David Mercer’s name, as well as an old photograph, was given to the press. The game plan was to have the information flashed on the local news in hopes of someone coming forward.
“I still say that we don’t have any proof that the shootings have anything to do with the Mercer brothers. He could have just as easily been an innocent bystander as was Newman.”
Larry removed his shades from his breast pocket and slid them over his eyes before he walked out of the mall and into the day’s bright sun. “You don’t believe that any more than I do,” he said simply. “It’s too coincidental.”
Tony also retrieved his shades as he thought about it. “No, I guess you’re right.”
Larry thought for a moment. “You know what bugs me?”
“What’s that?”
“We have a handful of witnesses who saw Eric Mercer talking on a cell phone, but we haven’t recovered a cell phone.”
Tony had thought about that as well. “Walt says he doesn’t remember the guy on a cell phone.”
“Maybe he forgot.”
“Maybe.” Tony glanced over at Pittman, who was diligently interviewing more employees at the food court.
“I’ll brief Regis later over everything we’ve learned here. How about right now we grab something to eat?”
“Why wasn’t there a wallet on Mercer?” Tony jerked toward Larry as the thought occurred to him.
“Beats me. Maybe he didn’t carry one.” Larry shrugged. “Or maybe it’s with the missing cell phone.”
Tony moved down the cement stairs while shaking his head. “I don’t buy it. Do you ever go anywhere without your wallet?”
“Come on, Tony. Up until yesterday the man was on the FBI’s Most Wanted list. He wasn’t going to walk around advertising who he was.”
“Larry, think. I’m not saying that he had his real name in the wallet, but surely he still had some type of ID under an alias. He was in a mall, for Pete’s sake. How was he going to buy anything—a shirt, a pair of pants, or even something from the food court? Who goes to a mall without a wallet? Don’t get me wrong—I wish my fiancée did every once in a while, but realistically, who does that?”
Larry laughed. “Have a case of the credit-card blues?”
“Who doesn’t? But let’s be serious for a moment. Someone took Mercer’s wallet. I’m willing to bet money on it,” Tony said with conviction.
Larry opened the door to their car and slid in behind the steering wheel. He waited until Tony got in on the passenger side. “Are you looking to be a profiler in your next life?”
“It’s killing you to admit that I may be right on this, isn’t it?”
Larry started the car and fiddled with the console’s buttons to get the air conditioner revved to full blast. “Okay, you may be right. But what does that tell us?”
“You tell me.”
Larry thought about it. “It could confirm that if the other victims have their wallets then Mercer was the target yesterday.”
Tony smiled. “I was right. You are a smart boy.”
“How sick is she?” Carson asked, frowning into the phone. He wiped his furrowed brow and squinted at Robin through the glass of his office door.
“Well, it’s hard to tell at the moment,” Lilly said. “I’m sure standing out in that dreadful storm last night has finally caught up with her. I just finished spooning her chicken soup and gave her something for the fever she was running. She’s sleeping right now. I’m sure in a couple of hours she’ll be right as rain. No pun intended.” Lilly chuckled.
“Should I call Dr. Lockhart? I’m sure that he’ll be more than willing—”
“That won’t be necessary. I have everything under control here. If you want to help, then keep Robin occupied. The last thing we need is for her to be worried about her mother. You just go ahead and take the girls out for their ice cream.”
“But—”
“No buts about it. By the time you guys get back here, her mother should be feeling much better. You mark my words.”
It was useless to argue. Carson reluctantly agreed to keep
Robin occupied for a couple of hours, though he really wanted to call the doctor.