The Rookie. Julie Miller

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СКАЧАТЬ PULLED her bright red, rolled-brim hat down over her ears and stepped out into the cold. Though her body temperature had increased in the past few weeks of her pregnancy, she and her wool coat were still no match for the cold, whipping wind that stirred up the snow from the ground and pitched the tiny, icy flakes into her face.

      After her water-aerobics workout and a dinner of salad and breadsticks from a local Italian restaurant, she headed for her brownstone condo just off the Plaza in southwest Kansas City.

      But instead of turning in for a night of reading in front of the TV, she’d backed out of her doorway and retraced her steps to her car. She just couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. The sensation of unseen eyes learning which condo belonged to her. The unsettling quiet that, instead of offering respite and reassurance, taunted her with the realization that she’d be alone for the night. Completely and utterly alone.

      Despite the protests of her weary body, she’d locked the door and drove back to campus. At least there she’d find plenty of people around—studying at the library, attending night classes and departmental meetings, going to play rehearsals and music practices.

      But when the night janitor had checked her office to see why the light was still on, she’d joked about losing track of the time. She’d spent the evening grading makeup papers and editing her mid-term exam. But eventually, her baby’s needs spoke louder than her own misgivings. She needed to get home. Maybe splurge on cookies with her nightly glass of milk. She needed to sleep.

      As busy as the campus had been at seven o’clock, by midnight the place was nearly deserted. The bitter weather had chased all but the heartiest of souls inside.

      Rachel’s teeth chattered and she hugged her arms across the top of her belly, trying to retain her body heat. Snow and cold and damp air were nothing new to a Kansas City winter. They were nothing new to her. But by the time she reached the stand of streetlights bordering the faculty parking lot, she was puffing out quick, tiny clouds of air that warned her that the baby’s round head was pushing against her diaphragm and impeding her ability to breathe deeply.

      The baby was also sitting on her bladder. She’d used the facilities before leaving her office, but now she felt like she had to go again! Feeling cold, feeling damp, feeling miserable, Rachel hurried her pace and cut straight across the empty parking lot toward her car.

      But she pulled up short and stuttered to a stop when she saw her left rear tire. The blowing snow had drifted around the wheels, but there was no mistaking the distinct lean from the hood to the trunk.

      She had a flat tire.

      Rachel cradled her belly and jogged the last twenty feet. The tire was flat. Definitely flat.

      At midnight. In winter. When she was bone-tired and had to pee.

      “Damn.” She tipped her head to the curtain of snow swirling in the circle of light from the streetlamp overhead. “Double damn.”

      Then she looked down and rubbed her tummy, apologizing for the frustrated outburst. “You didn’t hear that.”

      She looked around for options, pushed back her glove and checked the time, breathed in and checked the temperature. She could phone a tow truck and pay the extra charges for a nighttime call. She’d have to walk back to the building and wait or else she’d freeze. She could call campus security to wait with her until she could leave.

      Or she could handle the situation herself.

      Strengthening herself with a mental resolve, she unlocked the car and tossed her bag inside. “We’re going to be on our own for a long time, sweetie,” she explained to her unborn daughter. “We might as well practice fending for ourselves now.”

      But by the time she’d dug out the jack and the spare, she was breathing hard. Quick, shallow breaths in and out through her mouth. The baby kicked to protest the strenuous exercise, catching Rachel beneath a rib, forcing her to stop and clutch her side until the pain subsided.

      But then she resumed her work, jacking up the car as quickly and efficiently as the numbing tips of her fingers through her gloves would allow.

      She’d unloaded the jack and had the hubcap off and a couple of lug nuts loosened, before she realized she had company. Three figures, watching her from the shadows like snow wraiths. And then she understood what was really going on. An icy chill shimmied down her spine.

      This wasn’t about bad luck. This was about payback.

      She locked the tire iron in her fist before pushing herself to her feet and turning to face David Brown and his two thick-necked jock friends.

      “Dr. Livesay.” David’s smile was anything but genuine. “Having some trouble with your car?”

      Rachel was oddly strengthened by the knowledge that David felt compelled to have backup when trying to intimidate her.

      “I suppose if I check the stem, I’ll find a tiny pebble wedged beneath the cap.” She’d heard of the trick to slowly release air from a tire.

      “I wouldn’ know about that.” David’s cheeks were flushed pink, as if he’d just come from inside some nice warm vehicle or building. Or worse. She picked up on the slight slur in his voice. He’d been drinking.

      Intoxicated meant unpredictable. Rachel was already at a disadvantage. She needed to keep her head and think more clearly than any of these boys could.

      “Then, you stopped to help me change the tire?”

      “Looks like you’re doin’ jus’ fine on your own.”

      Rachel noticed one of the bigger youths moving toward the rear of her car. She jabbed the air with her tire iron. “Stay put. I want all three of you where I can see you.”

      David gestured to his friends and himself. His lips pouted and he took on a wounded expression. “We’re not in your class anymore, Doctor. You can’t give us orders.”

      She nodded to the two muscle men, Lance Arnold and Shelton Parrish. “I didn’t kick them out of class. You’re the one who stole that paper. I found an exact duplicate on the Internet.”

      David’s chatty drunkenness vanished. In its place she caught a glimpse of temper flashing in his eyes, followed by cold, heartless rationality. He pointed his finger at her and advanced. “Maybe you shouldn’t be such a tough bitch.” Rachel backed up against the car, succumbing to a moment of self-preserving panic. “It’s no wonder the guy who knocked you up didn’t stick around.”

      “Get away from me!” When David was within arm’s reach, Rachel jammed the tire iron in the middle of his solar plexus.

      David clutched his arms across his stomach, doubled over and coughed. Rachel poked him in the chest, nudging him farther away.

      “You stay away from me,” she threatened in as succinct and even a voice as she could manage. “I’m calling the police right now.”

      “With what?” David’s cough turned into a laugh as he straightened.

      Rachel traced his line of sight and glanced over her shoulder, beyond the roof of her car. Distracted by the vile menace of David’s advance, she hadn’t noticed Lance circle around the front of her car. Her book bag—and the cell phone she kept СКАЧАТЬ