He crouched down to catch his breath, out of view from anyone on the street, and then looked toward the side door of the house. His mother had said it would be unlocked. He glanced at his watch; it was just past nine o’clock.
He looked toward the neighbor’s house. The windows were darkened and he couldn’t tell if anyone was inside. More than likely not. They probably worked at the mill, and anyone at home would be lounging in the living room.
Crossing the lawn carefully, he climbed onto the small wooden porch and pulled on the screen door. It was unlocked. He eased it open and turned the knob on the inner door. It turned, clicked, and then squeaked as he pushed it open.
He stepped into the bare kitchen and smiled at his mother, sitting at the kitchen table, a look of relief on her face as she glanced toward him.
“Sit down, Adam,” she said, motioning toward a chair.
He looked at the chair, wondering if it would hold him. Two of the others were broken, and the table was chipped and worn. It was no wonder it had been left behind when the Cochrans moved out. He dropped carefully into the only remaining solid chair and laid his arms on the table. “It’s good to see you.”
“I was afraid you wouldn’t make it,” she said, laying a hand on his. “How have you been?”
Adam shrugged. He was mentally exhausted, afraid, and uneasy about the future. “Given the circumstances, I’m doing okay,” he said, forcing another smile.
“Have you been taking your medication?”
He nodded.
“I was afraid you wouldn’t get my note,” she said. “I assumed you’d take the roast chicken. I left it for you.”
“I got it,” he said, glancing around the kitchen. Newspapers littered the countertop. A green garbage bag, half full, was tossed in a corner. The room smelled musty, dirty, and long overdue for a scrubbing. “How safe is this place to meet?”
“It’s safe enough,” she said. “The police have already been here. I doubt if they’ll come back.”
“What about the owners?”
“It’s been empty for a long time. It’s for sale, but nobody wants to live in this neighborhood.” She laughed. “It should be safe for a while.”
“Maybe I could stay here sometimes. In the winter.”
“If you’re careful coming and going, you might be fine here,” she said. “The police are watching my house all the time now, and a couple of cops are hidden in the garage. Whatever you do, don’t go home.”
Adam looked closely at his mother. She had taken a big chance in meeting him here. “You could get in a lot of trouble for this,” he said. “Aiding and abetting a fugitive.”
“You’re my son,” she said, as if that settled the matter.
He nodded. “But I’ll have to leave the area eventually.”
She looked worried at that. “I don’t want you to go.”
“I might have to.”
“I brought you some things,” she said, reaching for a bag on the table. She opened it and looked inside. “There’s some more food in here, a cap, and some money.”
“Thanks. I don’t know how I can spend the money, but I can always use the food.”
She reached into the bag, paused and looked at Adam, and then pulled out something wrapped in newspaper. “I brought you this.” She pushed it across the table toward him. “You might need it.”
He lifted the heavy package, then frowned, peeled back the paper, and recoiled in horror at the sight of a pistol.
“I don’t want this,” he said, pushing it away.
She pushed it back toward him. “Just in case,” she said soothingly. “You don’t have to use it. It’s only for protection.”
He stared at the shiny weapon. He couldn’t trust himself with it. He was dangerous enough without a gun. How much worse would he be with one?
“It’s okay,” she said. “I want you to be safe.”
He nodded. He decided to take it with him, but if he got any crazy ideas, he would toss it deep in the swamp. He looked back at his mother, his eyes narrowing. “They said I killed Mr. Ronson.” He leaned in. “Did I?”
She nodded and sighed deeply. “Yes, you did, Adam. But remember, it’s not your fault.”
“I don’t want to kill anyone else.” He rocked himself back and forth in the chair, wringing his hands, looking toward his mother for help.
She reached out and put a hand on his shoulder to calm him down. “You won’t. I talked to Dr. Zalora about you, and he thinks you’ll be fine now. As terrible as it was, it was something you had to get out of your system. I didn’t tell him I saw you. He would have to report it if I did, so I have to be careful what I say to him.”
He hoped Dr. Zalora was correct. If not, he would have the pistol, and he could always use it on himself. If he had the strength, that is.
“You’d better go now,” she said. “I’ll wait until you’re gone before I leave.”
He wrapped up the gun, dropped it into the bag with the rest of the supplies, then stood and went to his mother, giving her a hug.
She sat quietly at the table as he opened the door and stepped out. He took a last look at her, closed the door, and hurried across the lawn. He peered over the hedge to make sure the coast was clear and then hopped over, landing on the sidewalk.
He hurried cautiously up the street and scurried into the field of tall weeds. As he made his way back to the swamp, the bag weighed heavily on his arm, and the pistol it contained weighed heavily on his mind.
Chapter 34
Thursday, 9:37 a.m.
LISA KRUNK had been following the story of Adam Thorburn closely, and she’d managed to conduct interviews with just about everyone involved. Though she’d searched long and hard, she hadn’t been able to locate Adam. An interview with him would be like gold in the bank, and her ratings would soar even higher than they already were.
An interview with Virginia Thorburn would be the next best thing, and though Lisa had tried in the past, the woman always eluded her calls and never answered Lisa’s knock on the door.
Not today, though.
She needed to talk with Virginia. Lisa’s viewers depended on her expertise to keep them fully informed of the latest in breaking events. It was her determination that consistently put her stories at the top of the news.
There was only one choice—an ambush.
And luck was with her. As Don spun the van onto Mill Street and neared the Thorburn residence, Lisa spied Virginia Thorburn coming down the sidewalk.
She pointed frantically toward the woman. “Pull over, Don. That’s her.”
Don turned the steering wheel, touched the brakes, and the van jerked to a quick stop. His door swung open and he jumped out, opened the side door, and grabbed his camera. In one deft move the camera landed on his shoulder, the red light glared, and he was raring to go before Lisa could locate the cordless mike and climb from the van.
She smiled smugly at his eagerness. She had trained him well, and he knew every move she made, and every word she spoke, was worthy of being captured on video. And when she had a subject in her sights, he had better keep up with her. That is, if he wanted to continue getting the generous paycheck she provided him with every week.
Lisa hit the sidewalk, gripped the mike, and flicked it on. Virginia Thorburn stopped short, a frown on her face as Lisa strode toward her, Don at her side. The woman glanced around as if looking for a quick exit, then her shoulders slumped as she gave in and waited.
Lisa faked a wide smile and spoke into the microphone. “Good morning, Mrs. Thorburn.” She pushed the mike at the trapped woman and waited for a reply.
Lisa received a frown in return.