Read Online The Hunted by Alan Jacobson - Free Book Online Page B

between here and the airport.”
    Lauren found herself staring at the floor.
Look up! If I don’t look interested, why would anyone else care?
She forced her head up and again felt her heart rate increase, her chest tighten. Her eyes bounced around nervously—and again landed on the stare of the man in the back. She felt repulsed by him and suddenly wondered if he was the one who had followed her last night.
    Carla went into some additional administrative details—the filing of the report at the sheriff’s department, common statistics on missing persons, and so on—then said, “I’ve got plenty of flyers. Who needs some?”
    A number of neighbors raised their hands, and the stack of papers was passed back to them.
    Carla leaned over to Lauren’s ear. “Don’t forget to thank them for coming.”
    Lauren’s gaze again found the man in the back; she forced herself to turn to Carla, then nodded and addressed the group. “I want to,” she started in a soft voice, “I want to thank all of you for coming out tonight.” She squared her shoulders and tried to make eye contact with some of the women, whose faces seemed less threatening. “I love my husband a great deal, and we’ve been through a lot together. I’m really hoping we’ll be able to find him.”
    “As I mentioned, Lauren’s already spoken with Deputy Vork about this, so I’m sure we’ll have law enforcement’s support. If you see someone who looks like Michael Chambers, or if you find out something about him, please don’t try to analyze the information yourself. What could seem unimportant to you could be very significant to a trained eye.”
    Carla picked up a flyer and pointed to it. “Our chapter’s phone number on the bottom of the flyer encourages anyone to call with information. I would ask all of you to do the same.” She turned to Lauren to see if she wanted to add anything. Receiving a shrug in response, Carla turned back to the gathered crowd. “Of course, I’ve got some of my brownies here, and Sam brought coffee from his restaurant. But before we start stuffing our faces, if anyone has a question, fire away.”
    After a handful of questions were answered, the crowd began to disperse into neighborly groups. As Lauren made her way toward the food, she again caught a glimpse of the man in the back row. He was still seated. And still staring at her. People passed in between their gazes, but he did not move. Lauren felt a chill and turned toward Carla, who was busy motioning to someone.
    “Nick, come here for a minute!” Carla said.
    “Carla,” Lauren said, grabbing her by the elbow, “there’s a man in the back row. He’s been staring at me since the beginning of the meeting.”
    “Probably just interested in what you had to say. Everyone was listening very closely, I assure you.”
    “It was more than that. There was something... creepy about him. Cold. The way he looked at me.”
    “Well, missy, I know practically everyone here. Point him out.”
    Lauren looked at the back row—and the man was gone. Her eyes quickly scanned the room, but people were milling about. Some had their backs turned or their faces were otherwise difficult to see.
    “He was just there,” Lauren said. “He must have gotten up.”
    “If you see him again, let me know.”
    “Howdy, Carla Mae.”
    Carla spun and embraced her friend. “Good to see you.” They pushed apart and Carla turned to face Lauren. “I want you to meet Nick Bradley. Just about the nicest person you could hope to know.”
    “Now, Carla, don’t go overboard,” Bradley said with a toothy smile that carried a warm charm. He had a medium build and wavy, earth-toned hair, with a poise and ease of movement that made Lauren at once comfortable—and wary.
    “Nick was the one who started Neighborhood Watch here, about two years ago. Without his persistence, it never would’ve gotten off the ground.”
    “You’re being much too gracious.”
    “I saw you,” Lauren said.