Don't Look Behind You Read online

  I opened the door of the counselor’s office and stepped inside. On a bench opposite the doorway two boys with bloody noses sat glaring at each other, obviously longing for a chance to continue their fistfight. Farther down on the bench sat a sullen red-haired girl, chomping gum like a riveting machine. The red-haired woman seated next to her was pretending not to know her.

  None of them were waiting for me.

  The secretary was busy talking on the telephone, and there did not appear to be anyone else in the room. Then, suddenly, the door to one of the inner offices swung open, and out stepped a person I had not expected to see there.

  “Come along, April,” she said crisply. “I’ve signed you out.”

  It was Lorelei.

  CHAPTER 2

  Lorelei has never been a typical grandmother. Back in elementary school I couldn’t wait for Grandparents’ Day to roll around so I could show her off to my friends and teachers. Other kids would show up with plump gray-haired grandmas in polyester pantsuits, while I would arrive with a slim blond fashion plate without a line on her face.

  I was so blinded by my pride in her that it wasn’t until I waspractically in middle school that I began to realize that Lorelei was not very popular on Grandparents’ Day. My teachers found her intimidating, and my classmates, defensive about their own soft, wrinkled grannies, thought her strange and unnatural. As for the grandmas themselves, they drew nervously away from her as though she were a visitor from another planet.

  Their unfriendliness did not bother Lorelei in the slightest. In fact, she seemed to take it as a form of compliment. The reason I was surprised to see her at school that day was that she and Mom had not spoken to each other for several weeks. This was not at all unusual for the two of them. Although they were mother and daughter, they had such totally different personalities that they were constantly at odds about one thing or another. The most recent area of conflict was Mom’s refusal to take time off from the book she was working on to write press releases for Lorelei’s current fund-raiser.

  “What do you mean, you signed me out?” I asked her now. “I can’t leave school. I have to stay for tennis practice.”

  “I’m afraid you will have to miss practice today,” said Lorelei. “Your mother asked me to drive over here and get you.”

  “I thought you and Mom were mad at each other,” I said.

  “I can’t imagine how you got an idea like that.” Lorelei threw a pointed glance at the red-haired woman who was listening to our conversation with undisguised interest. “Come along, April. We will do our talking in the car.”

  Obediently I trailed her out to the visitors’ section of the parking lot and climbed into the passenger’s seat of her white Porsche. As I secured the seat belt across my chest, I said, “All right, we’re alone now. What’s going on?”

  “I haven’t the faintest idea,” Lorelei said. “As I told you, your mother called me—she actually had me paged at the country club—and asked me to drive over to the school and pick you up.”

  “You didn’t ask her why?”

  “Of course I asked her why,” said Lorelei. “She said she couldn’t talk and would tell me later. She sounded so upset, Ididn’t pursue it. I canceled my lunch and jumped into thecar.”

  Since that took care of the only subject that either of us was interested in, we didn’t talk much during the rest of the drive.

  When we reached the house, there was a car in the driveway next to Mom’s SUV, so Lorelei was forced to park her own car at the curb. She did this without complaining, a fact that made me uncomfortable, as it emphasized the oddness of the situation. Lorelei was very protective of her Porsche and never parked on the street.

  When we entered the house, my brother came bouncing out into the entrance hall with Porky yapping at his heels. Bram’s eyes were shining, and his face was glowing with excitement.

  “The school let me come home early today!” he announced importantly. “And guess what else? We’re going on a mini-vay!”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked in bewilderment. “Mini-vay” was a term my parents had coined back in my early childhood to mean a tiny vacation or a short family outing.

  Glancing past him into the living room, I saw Mom seated on the sofa, talking with a man who appeared to be in his early forties. As we entered the room, they turned to face us, and a chill of apprehension shot through me as I saw the expressions on their faces.

  “Uncle Max!” I exclaimed. “It’s been such a long time!”

  “Hello there, April,” said Max. “You’re looking prettier than ever.” The fact that he wasn’t smiling increased my nervousness. In every memory I had of him, Max had a smile on his face, wide and white, almost blinding in its intensity. Dad told me that as boys growing up in Pittsburgh, he and Max had lived in adjoining duplexes. In bed at night, Dad would rap on the paper-thin wall that separated their bedrooms, and Max would smile and rap back at him. “I’d feel that grin come straight through the wall,” Dad said, laughing. “It was like being hit by a double bolt of electricity.”

  Without that smile, Max’s face was much less attractive and etched with lines I had previously not been aware of.

  “Lorelei,” said Mom, “I’m sure you remember Max Barber. He and George have known each other since childhood.”

  “I also recall he’s an FBI agent,” said Lorelei. “From the vibes in this room, I gather this isn’t a social call.”

  Instead of responding directly, Max glanced at Mom.

  “I’ll tell them myself,” she replied to the unspoken question. She paused as though trying to decide how to word her disclosure. “Children, something frightening happened this morning. Somebody in the courtroom fired a gun at your father.”

  In the silence that followed, the impossible statement just hung there, the words too incomprehensible for any of us to grasp.

  Finally I managed to whisper, “You mean Dad’s been shot?”

  “No!” exclaimed Mom. “Of course not! I’m sorry.… The shot was off target, and Dad wasn’t hit. Max drove down from Washington to break the news to us. He didn’t want us to see it on the evening news.”

  Bram’s face was so white that his freckles stood out like polka dots. “Why would anybody want to shoot Dad?” he asked shakily.

  “To keep him from testifying in court,” Max told him. “I promise you from now on he’ll be heavily guarded.”

  “You captured the gunman, of course.” Lorelei phrased it as a statement.

  “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but we didn’t,” Max said. “Incredible as it seems, nobody actually saw what happened. Court had just been adjourned for lunch, and the aisles were jammed. The person who fired the shot was using a silencer, and since George wasn’t hit, he didn’t react immediately. By the time the security people got the exits blocked, most of the spectators had already left the courtroom.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said. “Why would anyone think Dad—”

  “We’ll discuss that later,” said Mom, cutting me off. “I want you to go up now and pack your overnight bag. We’re going to go away for a couple of days.”

  “Where are you taking them?” Lorelei asked, turning to Max. “Surely it isn’t safe for them to be with George.”

  “I have no intention of taking them to Washington,” Max told her. “That’s the last place George’s family ought to be right now. I don’t think they’re in any real danger here in Norwood, but to be on the safe side, it would be best to get them out of the house.”

  I tried again. “But what can Dad possibly tell them—”

  “April, please don’t ask questions,” Mom said. “There just isn’t time for that. Go up to your room and put some things in a suitcase. Max is going to put us up in a hotel tonight.”

  Feeling as though I had suddenly been handed a part in a B-grade movie, I did as directed and went upstairs to my bedroom. The carry-on I used for sleepovers was in my closet, where I had stowed it after my last ov
ernight at Sherry’s. When I hauled it out and opened it, I discovered it had never been unpacked. It contained some pajamas and an old issue of Entertainment Weekly, a stamped envelope with my magazine subscription payment, my favorite purple hoodie I’d been searching the house for, and a pair of jeans I had thought I would never see again.

  The clothes smelled moldy from having been closed away so long. I carried them into the bathroom and dumped them into the hamper. Then I went back to my room and stood staring at the carry-on bag, trying to figure out what I ought to put in it. I wondered if we would be staying at the Colonial Inn. If so, I should be prepared to dress up for dinner. The inn had a formal dining room where people ate by candlelight while a woman in an old-fashioned tea gown strummed on a harp.

  I knew I should be frightened, but somehow I wasn’t. The truth was, I couldn’t believe this was really happening.

  I took a dress down from its hanger and put it in the suitcase along with my good high-heeled pumps and a pair of tights. Then I packed my good jeans, an extra blouse, a changeof underwear, pajamas, and my toothbrush. As I was getting ready to close the bag, another thought struck me, and I rooted through my dresser for my swimsuit. The public pool in Norwood had not yet opened for the summer, but the pool at our town’s best hotel was sure to be heated.

  After I’d finished my packing, I carried my bag downstairs. Everybody else was gathered in the hallway. Mom had a suitcase, and Bram had his backpack. A stranger looking in on us at that moment would have thought we were setting off on a family vacation.

  Bram had experienced one of his characteristic mood swings and gone from fear and bewilderment to nervous excitement.

  “What about Porky?” he demanded, tugging at Max’s sleeve. “Can Porky come with us? He’s never stayed at a hotel!”

  “Dogs aren’t allowed in hotel rooms, Bram,” Max told him. “I’m sure, though, that your grandmother will look after him for you.”

  “Lorelei doesn’t like Porky,” Bram said. “She says he barks too much. I’ll ask my friend Chris if Porky can stay at his house.”

  “I don’t want you contacting anybody,” Max said firmly. “This is a secret getaway, like you see on TV. No one can make even one phone call. We don’t want a single person to know where you’re going.”

  “But Porky can’t stay in the house by himself!” Bram objected.

  “I’ll see that he’s taken care of,” Lorelei assured him. “There’s a nice little kennel right down the street from my aerobics class. I’m certain Porky will have a wonderful time there.”

  Mom made a trip through the house to see that the doors and windows were locked, and then we went outside and got into Max’s car. Porky tried to jump in after us, but Bram shoved him out.

  “You have to stay here with Lorelei,” he informed him. Porky let out a sound that was half moan, half whimper. He was no more fond of our grandmother than she was of him.

  “Call me tonight so I’ll know where you are,” said Lorelei.

  Mom shook her head. “You heard what Max said.”

  “He didn’t mean that you couldn’t call me!” Lorelei protested. “For the love of heaven, Elizabeth, I’m your mother!”

  “I’m sorry, but Liz is right, Mrs. Gilbert,” Max told her. “She and the children are not to make calls to anyone. In fact, if you kids have cell phones, please hand them over. I promise to keep them safe until you’re home again.”

  “But I use my cell for everything!” I objected. “I’ll die without it. I promise I won’t call people.”

  “Let’s just say I want to save you from temptation,” Max said, holding out his hand expectantly. “You can’t tell me if it rings or you get a text you’re not going to answer it. That’s too much to expect of anyone, especially a teenager.”

  Reluctantly, I dug my phone out of my pocket and dropped it into his hand, feeling as if I were giving him one of my lungs.

  “Thanks,” Max said, pocketing the phone. Then he got into the driver’s seat and started the car. As we pulled out into the street, I impulsively turned around in my seat and looked back through the rear window. Our house was positioned in the center of the glass like a painting in a frame, and the whole front yard was ablaze with the brilliance of springtime. The last of the red and yellow tulips, the first of the bearded iris, pansies, azaleas, and crocuses overflowed the flower beds. The purple leaf plum and the tulip poplar were at the peak of their bloom, and the whole side yard was one solid mass of pink dogwood.

  I stared for a moment, implanting the scene in my memory. Then the car rounded a corner, and the picture was gone.

  I expected Max to head straight for the Colonial Inn, but instead he drove us into the center of town. Then, to my added surprise, he pulled up in front of the Federal Building and turned into the underground parking area for official vehicles. He flashed a card at the attendant, who motioned us through, and we descended a ramp to the lowest level of the garage and pulled into a parking space next to a white van.

  A gray-haired man was seated behind the wheel. When we pulled up beside him, he glanced across and nodded. Then he got out of the van and came over to speak to us.

  “I was starting to think I was being stood up,” he said.

  “It took longer than I expected to get the kids out of school,” Max said. He turned to Mom. “Liz, this is Jim Peterson. For the next few days he’s going to be your bodyguard.”

  “But I thought you were going to be staying with us!” exclaimed Mom.

  “I’ve got to get back to Washington,” Max told her. “I want to check on the security setup for George. I couldn’t leave you in better hands than Jim’s. He’s a former cop and a pro at witness protection.”

  “Don’t worry about a thing, Mrs. Corrigan,” Jim Peterson said. “I’ve got a wife, three kids, and seven grandchildren. I know how I’d feel if anything happened to them, and I’m not about to let anything happen to you.”

  The two men transferred our luggage over to the van. Then they had Mom, Bram, and me get into the back. There was a seat along either side, and Mom and Bram sat on one, and I on the other.

  “The vehicle switch is in case we were tailed,” Max explained. “That’s unlikely, but we don’t want to take any chances.” He leaned in through the open door, the charismatic smile back in place, and gave Mom’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “Keep your chin up, Liz, and try not to worry. When George agreed to work with us, we promised you’d be safe.”

  He stepped back from the van and slid the door shut. The windows in the back were heavily tinted, and we suddenly found ourselves in semidarkness. Jim Peterson started the engine, and the van rumbled into life.

  “Now can you tell me what’s going on?” I asked Mom. “It can’t be possible somebody meant to kill Dad! How much of a threat is the manager of an air freight office?”

  “Dad is more than an office manager,” Mom said. The light was too dim to allow me to see her expression. “There’s a reason we haven’t seen Max for over a year now. He’s deliberately kept his distance to downplay their friendship. Ever since the last time Max was at our house for dinner, your father has been working secretly for the FBI.”

  CHAPTER 3

  We didn’t stay at the Colonial Inn. Instead we continued driving for over two hours. By the time Jim Peterson finally brought the van to a stop in front of the Mayflower Hotel on the outskirts of Richmond, my eyes had grown so accustomed to its dark interior that it was a startling experience to step out into daylight.

  “Is this where we’re staying?” asked Bram, squinting up at the high-rise with that brown-eyed, blue-eyed gaze that so disconcerted strangers.

  “This is it,” Jim said. “We have a reservation for ‘Peterson.’ For the time we’re here, we will all be using my name.”

  Although the Mayflower did not have the old-fashioned elegance of the Colonial Inn, what it lacked in atmosphere it more than made up for in size. We walked into a lobby as large as the auditorium at Springside Academy, with a
back wall lined with boutiques and gift shops. While Jim was checking us in at the registration desk, a bellhop rushed to collect our luggage and a uniformed garage attendant parked the van. We rode up to the fourteenth floor in a glass-walled elevator, and the “room” that had been reserved for us proved to be a suite, complete with a living room, two bedrooms, and two baths.

  “Hey!” Bram yelped, as he bounded across the living room to open the glass doors leading out to a balcony. “April, come out and look! There’s a humongous swimming pool!”

  “It’s a good thing, then, that I packed my suit,” I said.

  While Jim was tipping the bellhop, Mom sat down on the sofa, and I followed my brother out onto the balcony. Across from us, rows of identical porches jutted out from the opposite wing, their doors reflecting the low, slanted light of the late afternoon sun like a row of mirrors. Bram hung over the railing to peer down at a patio area below us where a turquoise pool lay surrounded by yellow deck chairs. Only a few of the chairs were occupied, and the pool was empty.

  “Rats!” Bram exclaimed. “I wish I’d brought my swim trunks!”

  “I’m sure we can pick up a pair for you tomorrow,” I said. “Maybe they even sell them in the hotel gift shop.”

  “I’m hot right now,” Bram complained. “I don’t want to wait till tomorrow. Why didn’t Uncle Max say there would be a pool?”

  I left him standing there grumbling and went back into the living room. By now the bellhop had gone, and our suitcases were lined in a row just inside the entranceway. Jim was in the process of securing the chain on the door, and Mom was staring with unfocused eyes at a painting on the wall across from her, looking as exhausted as if she had just put in a twelve-hour day at her computer.