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Night of Fear

Rebound by Sagebrush

"Help!" T.J. shouted through the open door.

The gray-haired man hurried over. "What's going on here?"

"My son ran away from home," Brody said. "I'm taking him back where he belongs before he gets himself in big trouble."

"He's the bank robber," T.J. said. "He's the one who killed the teller this afternoon at the Pine Ridge Bank. He isn't my father and I didn't run away. I found him hiding in my neighbor's barn and he made me go with him or else he was going to shoot my grandmother, the way he shot the woman in the bank."

As T.J. talked, Brody rolled his eyes, as if he had never heard such a wild story in his life. "Not true," he muttered. "Not true."

The gray-haired man patted T.J. on the shoulder. "Now, now, son," he said. "Calm down. Kids your age always think their parents don't know anything but you'll come to realize that they are only trying to do what's best for you. I remember when my boys were your age, they thought they knew everything, too. One even tried to run away once, but he came home soon enough."

Frustration bubbled and rose in T. J. like boiling spaghetti overflowing its pot. "What's the matter with you?" he said. "This guy robbed a bank and killed the teller and then he made me go with him and now he's making me go with him again. Why won't you believe me?" He clenched hisfists, feeling as if the whole world were against him.

The man smiled. "Well, for one thing," he said, "I heard on my car radio that the police captured that bank robber a couple of hours ago. By now, he's locked behind bars."

T.J. stopped struggling with Brody and gaped at the man. "But they didn't catch him," he said.

"Oh, yes, they did," said the attendant. "I heard it on TV."

"You go on home with your dad now," the man continued, "and things will look better in the morning." He handed the woman a ten dollar bill. "I'm on pump number three," he said.

The station attendant took the money, slid the telephone back underneath her counter, and sat down. "You should be ashamed, Billy," she said, "telling lies about your father that way."

"My name isn't Billy; it's T.J. -- and he isn't my father. There's been a mistake; the cops arrested the wrong man."

"Let's go, Billy," Brody said, as he shoved T.J. out the door.

T.J. stumbled toward the blue truck. Looking back, he saw the attendant and the gray-haired man nodding their heads and talking, as if agreeing that kids today can't be trusted to tell the truth about anything. T.J. opened the door, climbed in, and slumped against the seat.

If the police had arrested someone for the Pine Ridge Bank robbery and killing, then they would no longer be looking for a suspect with dark hair, wearing jeans and a T-shirt.

Brody climbed into the driver's seat. He reached across T.J. and locked the door on the passenger's side.

"That was a stupid trick," he said. "I told you not to talk to them."

Not that it did me any good anyhow, T.J. thought. How could this guy sound so unbalanced when he was raving on about getting his revenge and then be sharp enough to convince two strangers that he was T.J.'s father, trying to discipline an unruly son? He recalled the story of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde that he had read in English class last year. Maybe Brody had some sort of split personality.

"And what was all that about me robbing a bank and shooting some woman? I told you before I don't know anything about any bank robbery."

Maybe he's telling the truth, T.J. thought. Maybe the cops really do have the killer in custody. If so, who was this?

"What were you doing in the Crowleys' barn?" T.J. asked.

"Who?"

"Mr. and Mrs. Crowley, my neighbors. You were in their barn when I went in to feed the kittens."

"Oh, you mean when you found me. I was just taking a nap. Getting some sleep and waiting for it to get dark enough."

"Dark enough for what?"

"You'll see."

T.J. felt like slamming his fist into the dashboard.

Brody turned up the freeway on-ramp. T.J. Iooked over at him in surprise. Did Brody realize he was headed west, going back the way they had come?

"That name is a new one. T.J. I never heard that before." "It stands for Ted, Junior. I'm named after my father."

My father.

T.J. Ieaned his head against the cool window and wondered what his father was doing at that very moment. Driving around the neighborhood, looking for T.J.? Sitting in the police station, filing a Missing Person report? Riding in one of the cop cars, searching around T.J.'s school? One thing for sure. Whether the killer was in custody or not, Dad was looking for T.J. by now. And Dad would do everything humanly possible to find him.

Copyright © 1994 by Peg Kehret

Continues...

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Excerpted from Night of Fear by Peg Kehret Copyright © 1996 by Peg Kehret. Excerpted by permission.
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