Picture Perfect Read online

  “Another five minutes and we’ll be getting off the turnpike. Are you excited, Davey?” Lorrie asked heartily.

  “Uh-huh,” Davey mumbled as he slid a piece of gum into his mouth. The woman in the pickup wasn’t like Aunt Lorrie or his mother. She was more like Millicent, the babysitter who used to watch him when his parents went out. Only she wasn’t pretty like Millicent. And Millicent would never look scared like that, or cry like the woman in the truck. Millicent said only babies cried, and that you had to be tough to survive. When he’d repeated what Millicent had said, his mother had got him a new babysitter, Mrs. Goodeve.

  Davey’s golden eyebrows drew together as he stared pointedly at the girl in the truck. She gazed back at him through the glass before wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand.

  “Get ready, Davey, here we go, exit four. Time to get off and make tracks for the zoo. I vote to see the monkey cage first. What about you, Davey, what do you want to see first?”

  Davey turned, trying to get a last look at the pickup and the girl with the white face.

  “The elephants,” he said, distracted. Why had the man hit the girl? What could she have done? She had just been looking out the window.

  Cudge Balog caught a look at the RV beside him. Sitting in the passenger seat there was a blond kid holding a dumb-looking pooch. Wet nose prints slopped up the side window.

  Cudge was driving as carefully as he could. No way did he want a trooper pulling him over. Damn, he wasn’t even going to sneeze for fear his foot would jam down on the accelerator. Slow and easy was the way to do it. No wiseass trooper with polished sunglasses was going to chew him out for anything, real or imagined.

  Cudge’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. A bead of sweat dotted his upper lip. “Why ain’t you saying anything, Elva? It ain’t like you to sit so quiet. You up to something or what? If you got any ideas at all about jumping out or taking off, forget it.” His voice was mean and low.

  “You told me to sit here and keep my mouth shut. Make up your mind. Either you want me to talk or you want me to keep quiet.” God, now why had she said that? She was so in tune with Cudge’s voice that she knew exactly what his next move and statement would be. You did what Cudge said when Cudge said it, and you didn’t ask questions. You didn’t volunteer anything with Cudge either. What was wrong with her? Why was she acting this way? Her stomach churned and she felt bile rise in her throat. She was afraid to stay with him and afraid to leave him. Fear of walking the streets, with no place to go at the end of the day, was worse than living with Cudge. Everyone needed someone, something—a place that was their own at the end of the day when darkness fell. She remembered only too well the darkness of the pantry where her father had locked her to punish her. She hated the dark and the creatures that came out in the dark. In a way, Cudge was like one of the rats back in the apartment; his eyes were just as beady, his lips as thin, his ears as pointed.

  Cudge ignored her; this was no time to let Elva get under his skin. He had to concentrate. “I want you to keep your eyes peeled for anything suspicious, like a trooper in an unmarked car, that kind of thing. Keep what wits you have sharp. If I get pulled over for any reason, you just sit there, deaf, dumb and blind. Don’t open that mouth of yours. You got that, Elva?”

  “Yeah, I’m watching. How am I supposed to spot a trooper in an unmarked car? They don’t wear their trooper hats in plain cars. I might pick the wrong person and then you’ll get mad,” she whined.

  “You can always tell a trooper because they wear those fancy polished sunglasses. I’m obeying all the traffic rules, so I think we’re safe, but that’s usually when something goes wrong. There’s no way I could make a run for it in this old buggy. If we get caught, it’s jail for both of us. You’re an accessory and don’t you ever forget it.”

  “I won’t,” Elva said. She had to think about what she was going to do when they got to the Wild Adventure campground. She knew she couldn’t stay with Cudge after this. Enough was enough. Even her fear of the dark and the creatures that prowled in the night weren’t as bad as winding up as dead as Lenny, and that’s what would happen if she stayed with Cudge. She couldn’t let him know what she was planning. The thought of leaving him was so daring, so alien to her, that she broke into a cold sweat. Fear—it always came down to fear. If Cudge made her help dig the grave for Lenny, she would bawl. And if he made the grave wider than it needed to be for Lenny, she would die on the spot—he wouldn’t have to kill her.

  “Damn you, Elva, didn’t you see that trooper? What the hell is wrong with you? Look, in the next lane, that’s a trooper or my name ain’t Cudge Balog. Pay attention. I ain’t gonna tell you again.”

  “He don’t look like a trooper to me,” Elva said defensively. “There’s two kids in the backseat. Troopers don’t ride with kids. I’m watching the best I can.”

  “Okay, okay. He could still be a trooper. Just because he had kids doesn’t mean a thing. Always go by the sunglasses. They try and trick honest drivers. I’m gonna move up now and get in the right lane. Keep your eyes peeled on the road and don’t screw up, Elva.”

  “If you’re moving to the right lane, what should I be looking for? There ain’t no traffic to the right of the right lane.” Her gaze shifted from Cudge’s profile to her window. BJ! The kid in the RV looked just like her little brother BJ. Another bummer. There was really something wrong with her. BJ was dead. She stared at him for a moment before she turned back to Cudge.

  Cudge clenched his teeth. One long arm reached out and yanked at Elva’s shoulder. Before she knew what was happening, she felt the hard sting of his hand against her face. She blinked as scalding tears burned her eyes. She turned away before Cudge could see the result of his handiwork. The little boy in the RV, his dog clutched to him, was staring at her as she wiped the tears with the back of her hand. He looked scared, the way BJ used to look scared.

  “You bawl one more time and you’ve bought it, Elva. We’ll get off this pike and get something to eat. We have to kill time. I don’t want to show up at that campground too early.”

  Elva said nothing, wishing she knew who the little boy with the dog was. He looked just like BJ—same color hair, same bright blue eyes, same scared look. Only this kid had a dog to love. Poor little BJ had only had her, and what good had that done him? When it counted, she hadn’t helped him at all. The little kid in the RV was alive and BJ was dead. And here she was with Cudge. How soon would it be before she joined BJ, wherever he was? Fear of the unknown or fear of Cudge—it was six of one and half dozen of the other.

  It was mid afternoon when Lorrie and Davey left the reptile house. Lorrie took long gulps of fresh air to get over the creepy feeling the snakes had given her. Duffy frolicked at their feet, evidently glad to be outdoors even if she was confined to a leash.

  Lorrie glanced at her watch. “I think we’ve had enough zoo for one day. What do you say we head for the campground and set up camp?”

  “I didn’t like the smell in that snake house, did you, Aunt Lorrie?”

  “No. It was awful,” she said with a shiver. “Are you tired, Davey?” she asked, noticing how slowly he was walking.

  “A little. But that sure was fun.” His voice was full of awe. “I think Duffy is more tired than I am. What are you cooking for dinner, Aunt Lorrie?”

  “Hamburgers, baked beans, and cupcakes for dessert. How does that sound?” Lorrie asked, looking down at the little boy.

  “Great. I love hamburgers with lots and lots of ketchup.”

  “Climb up then, and let’s head for camp,” Lorrie said as she unlocked the RV. “Next stop, Wild Adventure!”

  “Duffy and me, we’ll sit here at the table, okay?”

  Lorrie belted him in then headed for the driver’s seat. She followed the yellow exit arrows through the parking lot and, just before pulling out onto the highway, turned to check on Davey. He was sitting up, sound asleep, Duffy lying across his lap. She hoped she hadn’t overdone it. That brac
e was pretty heavy to lug around. Poor little guy. He was exhausted. She wondered if maybe she shouldn’t have left sooner.

  Lorrie shook away the bad thoughts and concentrated on the fun they’d had. She was acting like a mother hen, overprotective of her chick. It was just that she was so crazy about him she wanted to do everything right. She would hate to see Sara’s wrath if something went wrong.

  She turned off the highway into the campground and followed the signs to the office. The place looked pretty deserted and she wondered if maybe she shouldn’t find another campground, somewhere more of a year-round variety. On the other hand, the lack of people meant that she and Davey would have more of an opportunity to spend time together, without distractions.

  “We’re here,” she called behind her as she turned the key in the ignition. In an instant, Davey went from being sound asleep to wide awake. Before Lorrie could get out of the driver’s seat, he had his seat belt unbuckled. “You wait here while I get us signed in and find out where our campsite is. Did you ever see such glorious colors?” she asked as she craned her neck to look at the giant trees with their spirals of autumn leaves.

  A few minutes later, Lorrie climbed back into the RV with a map and a card to hang from the rearview mirror. “I took a site at the far side of the pond.” The manager had told her she would be near an elderly couple from Massachusetts with an Air Stream trailer, and a New Jersey couple with a pop-up trailer.

  The RV slid into a deep rut and bounced out. Davey struggled to hang onto Duffy. “Aunt Lorrie, I have to go to the bathroom.”

  Lorrie grinned. “Hang on till we’re parked, Davey. I don’t want you walking around in the motor home while I’m driving.”

  “I can’t wait to get out and see everything. Right, Duffy?” Exactly on cue, the terrier woofed.

  Lorrie passed a garishly decorated pickup truck with a pop-up trailer parked in a grove of trees and knew she was heading in the right direction. “Our site must be just around the bend and to the right,” she said, more for her own benefit than Davey’s.

  Davey turned to look out the long side window. He rubbed at his eyes and stared at the pickup. It looked like the one he’d seen on the turnpike. His thoughts were diverted when Lorrie deftly maneuvered the RV into the assigned slot. As soon as they stopped, he unbuckled his seat belt and headed for the bathroom.

  Stepping down out of the RV, Lorrie stretched luxuriously. Davey joined her seconds later, zipping his jeans. “Is it okay if Duffy and I take a walk?”

  Tousling his blond head, Lorrie was once again taken with her nephew’s grammar. Sara’s influence, no doubt. Most of the kids who came into Lorrie’s office would have said, “Duffy and me.” “Sure,” she said, “but first let’s set down the rules. Look at your watch. The big hand should be on the nine and the little hand almost on the five. What time is that?”

  “It’s fifteen minutes before five o’clock,” Davey said proudly.

  “Right. Now, when the big hand is on the three, I want you back here. And you must stay within earshot. Do you know what that means?”

  “That means you have to hear me if I call, or I have to hear you. Right?”

  “Right again. Now, Davey, what time do you have to be back here?” she questioned, just to make sure he understood.

  “Fifteen minutes after five,” he said.

  “Don’t let Duffy wander off, and if she does, call her, don’t chase after her or you could end up getting lost.”

  “Aw, you shouldn’t worry, Aunt Lorrie, Mr. Sanders gave me a real Boy Scout flashlight and money for a phone call. See!” He rummaged in his jeans pocket for his two gifts.

  “And I’m impressed.” Not for the world would she tell Davey there were no phones attached to the trees. And as far as the little penlight went, he’d be lucky if he could see his hand in the dark with it. “I think you can make it. Remember, big hand on the three.”

  He started to leave then winced.

  “What’s the matter?” Lorrie asked, concern drawing her brows together as she noticed the pained expression on the little boy’s face.

  “It’s . . . my leg brace—I must have it strapped too tight or something. Dad knows how to fix it.” A shadow slipped over Davey’s face, and Lorrie knew he was suddenly anxious about being separated from his parents for the first time.

  “Let’s have a look. Maybe I can help.”

  Davey lifted his pant leg. Hunkering down to inspect the brace, Lorrie grimaced when she saw how the leather straps were cutting into the fragile flesh of his calf. “No wonder. Your sock slipped down. How long has this been irritating you, Davey?” From the abrasion on his leg and the look on his face, Lorrie knew it must have been bothering him for some time. “Oh honey, this was hurting you at the zoo, wasn’t it? And you didn’t say anything. Why?”

  “Mom and Dad told me not to cause any trouble.”

  “Davey, you’re the best kind of trouble I could ever have. I love you, don’t you know that? There’s no way you could be any trouble to me. Now, sit up here on the step so I can fix that brace. I’ll pull up your sock and loosen the strap a notch.” As she worked, Lorrie noticed the new shoes that had never had an opportunity to get dirty. It wasn’t fair, she told herself. Davey was too overprotected, too housebound. Instinct told her it wasn’t the hemophilia that made Andrew and Sara restrict Davey to the house. A child who played in his room all day was a lot less trouble than one who was in and out, bringing in dirt onto Sara’s spotlessly clean carpet.

  “How’s that?”

  Davey tested the brace and smiled. “Way better. Do you like my new shoes? Mom says I can’t wear them all the time. Is that because Reeboks are special?”

  Lorrie thought a moment. “Well yes, Davey, in a way they are. They’re for playing and running. You should consider yourself very lucky. Some children who wear a leg brace must wear heavy, high-top shoes. But your brace is only to give strength to your leg. See how it’s made? This strap slips under your foot so you can wear it with any shoe.”

  Davey nodded. “I saw a boy in the doctor’s office and his braces went over his knees. He had to push these clamps so he could sit down. But I don’t know why he had to wear those braces. And I don’t know why I have to wear mine.”

  “Didn’t the doctor tell you that it’s only for a short time? When you were a very little boy, before you started your shots, you injured your knee and it bled. You don’t have to worry about that anymore—the bleeding, I mean. The brace keeps your shin bone in line with your knee joint.” She ran her fingers down the length of Davey’s leg to show him what she meant.

  “Oh,” the boy murmured, pondering her explanation. “But I can walk real good, and I can run.” Suddenly he wrapped his arms around Lorrie’s neck, giving her a tight hug. “I love you, Aunt Lorrie. You’re a foxy lady.”

  “And just where did you hear that term, young man?”

  “In the Junior CB Club. But don’t tell Mom what I said. She doesn’t like it when I learn new words.”

  “I promise. It’s our secret. I’m your secret foxy lady.”

  “Hey, Aunt Lorrie, that could be your handle on the CB. I’m Panda Bear and you’re Foxy Lady!” Delighted with himself, Davey trotted off, Duffy at his heels.

  Lorrie watched them go. There was a slight unevenness to Davey’s step because of the brace, and his red nylon windbreaker blended with the autumn colors in the woods. Her eyes focused on the blond head and she wanted to reach out and touch him again. Duffy’s short legs stirred the thick layer of leaves on the ground as she followed her master. With the same sense of loss that she always felt whenever she parted from the little boy, Lorrie turned to go into the motor home and begin dinner.

  She was stirring some brown sugar into the beans when a mental picture of Stuart Sanders came to mind. It had been a long time since she’d felt an attraction toward a man, and never a man like Stuart Sanders—big, tall, a rugged sort of guy. She supposed he had to be rugged to be an FBI agent, chasing after all
those criminals.

  “Too much TV,” she said aloud, then laughed at herself. Too much TV was right. After a long day at work, all she wanted to do was sit down in front of the TV and be entertained. The hospital shows were always good for a few laughs. The truth of it was, the long hours were of her own doing. A workaholic, her peers called her. The last time she’d had a date was . . . She was horrified to realize she couldn’t remember her last date.

  Prior to Davey’s birth she’d dated a lot, and had thoughts of marriage and a family. But once Davey had been diagnosed as a hemophiliac, things had changed. She had changed. A family was no longer an option, at least not until medical science gave prospective parents the option of choosing the sex of their children. Until then, she would remain childless. But she needn’t have given up men, she realized. It had just happened. She wasn’t sure exactly why.

  Now Stuart Sanders had reignited a fire within her, a fire she’d thought was dead. And if she wasn’t missing her guess, he was equally attracted to her. She hoped she wasn’t missing her guess. It would be nice to get to know him better.

  “Stuart.” She tested his name on her tongue. It had a nice sound. “Stuart Sanders.”

  Davey and Duffy kicked their way through the fallen leaves until they reached the pond. The water was still and a deep, mossy green, and the red and orange of the sunset broke through the surrounding trees to create a golden path on the pond’s surface.

  “I saw this on TV, Duff,” Davey said. “Now watch. You pick up a stone and skip it across the water.” Duffy sat patiently on her haunches, watching pebble after pebble hit the water with a splash, then sink.

  “Guess it’s another ‘almost,’ Duff. I can almost do it, can’t I?” Losing interest, Davey picked up a twig and poked at the dry pine needles and soft leaves. He was surprised to see the snowy shoelaces on his new shoes were now a dirty brown. He laughed delightedly; now they looked used, like Aunt Lorrie’s.