Hunted

HUNTED

PART I

COPYRIGHT@2012 BY T.M. BLEDSOE

SILVER CIRCLE PRESS

FIRST EDITION

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

PRINTED IN THE USA

THIS BOOK IS A WORK OF FICTION.  NAMES, PLACES, CHARACTERS, AND INCIDENTS EITHER ARE PRODUCTS OF THE AUTHOR’S IMAGINATION OR ARE USED FICTITIOUSLY.   ANY RESEMBLENCE TO ACTUAL PERSONS, LIVING OR DEAD, EVENTS, OR LOCALES, IS ENTIRELY COINCIDENTAL.

THIS BOOK IS FOR MY FAMILY: HOLLY, PHILLY, DADDY, AND DOBBIE.

THANK YOU GUYS FOR PUTTING UP WITH ME!

LOVE YOU SO MUCH!   

CHAPTER ONE

“Did you guys hear?” Johnna Delaney asked, plopping down at the table, her brown eyes bright with emotion.

“Of course, we heard,” Devyn Barnes told her, shaking her head at the girl.  “Everyone’s heard by now.”

Finn Gellar reached across the table to grab a fry from the plate in the center, letting out a deep sigh.  “What’s the world coming to?”

“The world is going to hell,” Brady Cooper stated with a sigh of his own.  “And this is the proof.”

“My granny almost had a stroke!” Devyn said, grabbing for a fry.  “She didn’t even want me to leave the house to come here!”

“Well, my mom actually drove me here and
dropped me off
!” Johnna exclaimed, sounding as if that act was an affront to her.  “I’ll be on lockdown now!  I’ll never be able to leave the house!”

“And we have the bonfire next week!  And the Fall Festival!” Devyn gasped, clutching at her chest.  “And…and the game!  And the fundraiser!  What if we can’t do any of it!”

Stacy had helped plan all those things and she wouldn’t get to do any of it, Lanie thought. 

Finn let out another sigh.  “Calm down, Devyn.  You look like
you’re
about to have a stroke.”

“We all need to calm down!” Johnna exclaimed, sounding very near to hysterics.  “We’ll still get to have the bonfire and the festival!  We
have
to!  We’ve been working on all this stuff for weeks!”

“It’s alright, you two.  You can stop talking in exclamation points,” Brady said, looking between them with his brows furrowed.  “Come on.  You know this’ll all be figured out soon.  Sherriff Bancroft will catch whoever did it.  Right, Lanie?”

Lanie Bancroft glanced at her friends, who were all now looking at her with expectant eyes and tight expressions.  “Right.  My dad will fix this,” she said to them, trying to inject some certainty into her voice.

“See?  Sherriff Bancroft will catch whoever did this and everything will get back to normal,” Brady stated matter-of-factly.  “You two just have to calm down and give him a minute.  It only just happened yesterday.”

Both Devyn and Johnna seemed to pause and take a simultaneous breath.  And Lanie took one right along with them.  Yes, it had just happened yesterday.  Her father would need a little more than thirteen hours to figure out who’d killed Stacy Miller and left her body in the park on the edge of town.

“How are you holding up, Lanie?” Finn asked, taking another fry from the communal plate and popping into his mouth.  “You were friends with…her…weren’t you?”

Lanie nodded, pulling in another long breath and wishing everyone would stop asking her that.  “I’m fine.  I-I went to her house today to see her mom.”

That had been one of the worst experiences of her life.  She’d never imagined that anyone could be so distraught and anguished.  The look on Mrs. Miller’s face was permanently etched into her mind.  But, Stacy had been her friend and she’d had to go and see the family.  It was only right.

“Was her mom…alright?” Johnna asked quietly, almost in a whisper.

Lanie shrugged.  “Not really.” 

Who could be alright when their only daughter had just been killed and dumped out like so much garbage?  It would be a miracle if Mrs. Miller didn’t go crazy thinking about what her daughter’s last moments on earth must have been like.

“Maybe we should all do something for the family?” Devyn suggested somberly.  “I mean…they weren’t that well off.  Maybe we could take up a collection to help with…you know, expenses.”

“That’s a good idea,” Johnna agreed.  “We can have a car wash or a bake sale or something.”

“I’ll call the girls and see what we can put together the fastest,” Devyn offered. 

The girls
were the Fells Pointe High Spirit Squad and they could throw together a fundraiser faster than most people could
say
Fells Pointe High Spirit Squad.  They were quick, they were efficient, and they were very good at raising money for the purpose at hand.  It was actually quite impressive, if not slightly frightening, the way those girls could get people to hand over their hard earned cash.

“Whatever you guys come up with, we’ll get the team in on it,” Finn stated.  “And I’ll stop by…her…family’s house and see if we can do anything for them.  Mr. Miller has his feed store business downtown.  Maybe he could use some help there for a few days.  It’d give him one less thing to think about.”

Lanie again glanced around the table at her friends, feeling a sudden sense of pride washing over her.  She had no idea they could be so thoughtful and compassionate.  “I’m sure Mr. and Mrs. Miller will appreciate anything you can do to help.  But, you don’t have to be in too big of a hurry.  Stacy was…the body has to be sent for an autopsy down state, so it’ll be a couple of weeks, maybe more, before the family can have…it…for burial.”

She wasn’t sure how to refer to…what was left of her friend.  Somehow, calling…what was left…by name seemed wrong.  It wasn’t Stacy.  Not anymore.  Stacy was gone.   At least, not thinking of the body in the woods as her friend made it a little easier, a little less personal.

“Well, a couple of weeks is more than enough time for us to scrape together something to help the family,” Devyn stated, pulling her phone from her purse and pecking out a text at warp speed.  “I’ll have the girls all meet at the field this afternoon.  Some of us were going to practice our routines today, anyway.”

“I’ll be there if my granny will let me,” Johnna spoke up, depressed.  “No promises, though.”

“She’ll let you come if you tell her that it’s for Stacy,” Devyn stated. 

“I’ll pick you guys up and give you a ride there and back,” Finn offered seriously.  “They can’t have a problem if we travel in a pack.”

“Lanie?  Will you be coming?” Devyn asked, giving Lanie a sympathetic look.

Lanie shrugged.  “I’m not sure.  It depends.  I-I may go back to the Miller’s house.  I’ll let you know after while.”

Brady nudged her with his elbow.  “Call me if you decide to come.  I’ll give you a ride.  I don’t think you’re in much of a condition to be driving around.”

Lanie nodded, though she disagreed with Brady’s assessment of her mental state.  She wasn’t the one he should be worried about.  Stacy was her friend, but she was Mrs. Miller’s
daughter
.  Any concern should be saved that poor, haunted woman with the tormented eyes.

“I still can’t believe something like this happened in Fells Pointe.  It’s too…awful!” Johnna whispered, shivering.  “Things like this just don’t happen here!”

Lanie had always thought that, too.  In fact, everyone who called the town home thought that.  Bad things just didn’t happen in Fells Pointe.  That was part of the charm of the place. 

It was a safe, quiet, well-kept hamlet filled with hard working people who took pride in keeping the town as secure and livable as possible.  It was the sort of town with neat, tree lined streets, tidy sidewalks, tidy homes sitting on tidy lawns, and a tidy town square with a bubbling fountain in the center.  It was the sort of town that had Fourth of July parades in the summer and tree lighting ceremonies at Christmas time, the sort of town where no one remembered to lock their doors and neighbors stood outside on Sunday mornings talking to one another over the fence post.

Fells Pointe had a long and prosperous history behind it and that history was still visible in the historic homes and the colorful storefronts that lined Main Street, as well as in the collection of four historic churches that made up what was affectionately called Church Circle, which was a roundabout at the very end of Main Street where the four churches sat on their tree scattered lawns.  Those church bells sounded out every Sunday at noon sharp, reminding the God-fearing people that they had been blessed and should be thankful for the Eden they were being allowed to live in.

The townsfolk truly believed they had, indeed, been given their own Eden, which had not yet been tainted by the ills the rest of the world had been forced to suffer.  Life was good, things were grooved and comfortable, and crimes were a rarity.  Most of the calls to the Sheriff’s Office boiled down to neighbors squabbling over a dog that was barking too loudly, or old Mr. Krueger threatening someone who cut across his yard on their way to the Jiffy Market.  And even the most heinous offense was usually in the realm of a kid shoplifting from Mr. Wallace’s Newsstand or someone getting caught in the speed trap out on Old Chapel Road.

Truly awful things did not happen in Fells Pointe.  Lives were not snuffed out before their time.  If someone died in Fells Pointe, it was not by the hand of another.  God brought life into the town and only God took it away.

Lanie had lived in Fells Pointe for every day of her nearly eighteen years and never once during those years had she given a thought to one of her friends dying so brutally.  Sam Bancroft, the Sheriff of Fells Pointe and also Lanie’s father, had always made it his personal mission to keep the streets as clean and safe and livable as they always had been.  Things were so steadfast and settled that the Sheriff’s Office had only two cells and one holding cell, which was mostly taken up by the people who got a little too tipsy at The Pub or Stoney’s Bar on Friday nights.  Sam just let them sleep it off and then sent them on their way home.

Sam Bancroft had taken it personally when Stacy Miller had been found in Borden Park, lying next to one of the swing sets with her throat slashed, Lanie had heard.    Her father wasn’t saying much yet, but someone had committed a monstrous crime in his town.  Someone had killed a young girl, an innocent child, and with her life had gone the feeling of security that everyone in Fells Pointe cherished.

Lanie had been a witness to the look on Sheriff Bancroft’s face when he’d gotten the call.  That look had been…chilling.  It was at that moment she realized that she would not want to be the person who had tainted Sam Bancroft’s town by spilling the blood of an innocent girl.

Lanie brought herself out of her thoughts and glanced around The Pub, which was the oldest bar in town and served the best chili cheese fries in the state.  Usually, the atmosphere in the place was lively and easy, with music and laughter spilling out onto the sidewalk, but not today.  Today, the air was oppressive and the people gathered at the tables and booths and at the gleaming wooden bar were all talking in hushed tones and casting wary glances at their neighbors.  Today, there was no music flowing from the old fashioned juke box, no pool balls cracking against one another, no waitresses flirting with the football players.