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Authors: Joan Lowery Nixon
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shoving it in the back hip pocket of her jeans. She wasn’t supposed to touch anything, but there was something about this paper she had to remember. She’d bring it back later, and in the meantime it couldn’t be important to anyone.
Jennifer jumped guiltily as Lucas suddenly appeared beside her, his mouth close to her ear. “Keep looking in the drawer,” he said.
“What—?”
“Don’t look up. Look—in—the—drawer. We’ve got a visitor outside. Someone’s watching us from the yard beyond the back window.”
10
There is no way the girl can connect us. I’m careful. Very careful. I know how to protect myself. And I know what to do with people who become dangerous to me.
Careful, careful, little girl.
I’m keeping track of you.
11
Lucas stood slowly, cautiously, wincing a little. Jennifer could see that although he seemed to be interested in what she was doing, he was gazing through the corners of his eyes at the window and whatever was beyond it. She wondered how he could be so calm. She wanted to panic and scream and run from the house, but fear shuddered through her body and she couldn’t move.
“Jennifer, suppose you see what you can find in the kitchen.” Lucas spoke in a normal tone.
“The k-kitchen?”
The firmness in his voice was a support that stiffened her back and propelled her legs into the cramped little kitchen. She didn’t turn on the light. There was enough light coming into the room from the living room. She wanted to do as Lucas had told her, but instead she collapsed into the nearest chair, clinging to its wooden rungs as though in some way they could protect her. Jennifer tucked her feet up as a large cockroach scuttled across the floor and under the refrigerator. She glanced acrossthe room to the telephone that balanced on top of the counter, as though it could automatically summon help. Maybe she’d have to call for help!
Lucas was a blur streaking across the room. The back door slammed, and someone screeched. Jennifer couldn’t stand the suspense. She ran to the door, opened it, and peered into the darkness.
Limping toward her, into the patch of yellow light that patterned the grass, came Lucas. He was gripping the arm of a woman whose face was screwed into puckers of fear, propelling her against her will into the rectangle of light. Jennifer recognized her. She was one of Bobbie’s neighbors, the one who had been interviewed on television.
“She lives next door,” Jennifer said. “It’s Mrs. Aciddo.”
“I—I saw the light on,” Mrs. Aciddo said. Lucas had let go of her arm, and she rubbed it, staring at him. The corners of her mouth turned down even more deeply. “You had no call to grab me. I got rights. Who are you? You’re not even a policeman, huh?”
“We’re investigating Mrs. Trax’s murder,” Lucas said.
Mrs. Aciddo stopped rubbing her arm and pointed at Jennifer. “You and that girl? Don’t tell me that. She’s a kid, that’s all. She’s got no business here.”
“She’s my partner.”
Jennifer stood a little taller and sucked in her breath. That sounded good. It sounded right. “Mrs. Aciddo,” she said, “we’re trying to help Bobbie.”
“Why? Anybody who kills someone deserves what they get.”
“But Bobbie didn’t kill her mother.”
“I’m the one heard the fight.” She tilted her head and looked coy. “You see me on the TV? They interviewedme. On Newseye. They showed it the next morning, too. I got to see it.”
Jennifer nodded. “I saw the morning rerun. You said you heard Bobbie and her mother fighting.”
“That’s right. I heard it, and the girl ran off.”
“But couldn’t someone else have come to the house afterward?”
“I didn’t see no one come.”
“Were you looking?”
Mrs. Aciddo’s lower lip jutted out. “You tellin’ me I don’t know what I seen or heard?”
Lucas stepped forward. “Mrs. Aciddo, we’re sure your testimony will hold up with the police and the court. We’re
Jennifer jumped guiltily as Lucas suddenly appeared beside her, his mouth close to her ear. “Keep looking in the drawer,” he said.
“What—?”
“Don’t look up. Look—in—the—drawer. We’ve got a visitor outside. Someone’s watching us from the yard beyond the back window.”
10
There is no way the girl can connect us. I’m careful. Very careful. I know how to protect myself. And I know what to do with people who become dangerous to me.
Careful, careful, little girl.
I’m keeping track of you.
11
Lucas stood slowly, cautiously, wincing a little. Jennifer could see that although he seemed to be interested in what she was doing, he was gazing through the corners of his eyes at the window and whatever was beyond it. She wondered how he could be so calm. She wanted to panic and scream and run from the house, but fear shuddered through her body and she couldn’t move.
“Jennifer, suppose you see what you can find in the kitchen.” Lucas spoke in a normal tone.
“The k-kitchen?”
The firmness in his voice was a support that stiffened her back and propelled her legs into the cramped little kitchen. She didn’t turn on the light. There was enough light coming into the room from the living room. She wanted to do as Lucas had told her, but instead she collapsed into the nearest chair, clinging to its wooden rungs as though in some way they could protect her. Jennifer tucked her feet up as a large cockroach scuttled across the floor and under the refrigerator. She glanced acrossthe room to the telephone that balanced on top of the counter, as though it could automatically summon help. Maybe she’d have to call for help!
Lucas was a blur streaking across the room. The back door slammed, and someone screeched. Jennifer couldn’t stand the suspense. She ran to the door, opened it, and peered into the darkness.
Limping toward her, into the patch of yellow light that patterned the grass, came Lucas. He was gripping the arm of a woman whose face was screwed into puckers of fear, propelling her against her will into the rectangle of light. Jennifer recognized her. She was one of Bobbie’s neighbors, the one who had been interviewed on television.
“She lives next door,” Jennifer said. “It’s Mrs. Aciddo.”
“I—I saw the light on,” Mrs. Aciddo said. Lucas had let go of her arm, and she rubbed it, staring at him. The corners of her mouth turned down even more deeply. “You had no call to grab me. I got rights. Who are you? You’re not even a policeman, huh?”
“We’re investigating Mrs. Trax’s murder,” Lucas said.
Mrs. Aciddo stopped rubbing her arm and pointed at Jennifer. “You and that girl? Don’t tell me that. She’s a kid, that’s all. She’s got no business here.”
“She’s my partner.”
Jennifer stood a little taller and sucked in her breath. That sounded good. It sounded right. “Mrs. Aciddo,” she said, “we’re trying to help Bobbie.”
“Why? Anybody who kills someone deserves what they get.”
“But Bobbie didn’t kill her mother.”
“I’m the one heard the fight.” She tilted her head and looked coy. “You see me on the TV? They interviewedme. On Newseye. They showed it the next morning, too. I got to see it.”
Jennifer nodded. “I saw the morning rerun. You said you heard Bobbie and her mother fighting.”
“That’s right. I heard it, and the girl ran off.”
“But couldn’t someone else have come to the house afterward?”
“I didn’t see no one come.”
“Were you looking?”
Mrs. Aciddo’s lower lip jutted out. “You tellin’ me I don’t know what I seen or heard?”
Lucas stepped forward. “Mrs. Aciddo, we’re sure your testimony will hold up with the police and the court. We’re
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