Free The Hunted by Alan Jacobson Page B

highest setting—which seemed impossible since she would be physically unable to set it that hard. Clumsily maneuvering in her down jacket, Lauren turned her body around and pulled her knees onto the bucket seat, then yanked on the lever with both hands. She grunted and moaned, knowing that all she had to do was move the brake up one notch to release it.
    As she held her breath and strained one last time, the handle unlatched and then dropped down into a disengaged position. “Jesus,” she said, leaning against the seat for a second while she caught her breath.
    A loud rumble from her stomach reminded her that she had not eaten all day. She repositioned herself, buckled her restraint, and pulled away. As she drove out of the lot, she started replaying the meeting in her head. Although she wished she had appeared more self-confident, the response had been nothing short of spectacular. To have so many people show up at a neighborhood gathering with the sole intent of helping her find Michael truly demonstrated the strength of “community” at work.
    As Lauren drove down the dark, winding road toward her house, she felt the need to check her rearview mirror. There were no headlights—which brought a sense of relief, the state of mind she had been missing since Michael’s disappearance.
    Lauren pulled into her garage and greeted Tucker as she walked into the house. He jumped up, gently placing his front paws on her chest and licking her on the cheek. “I know, you want to eat.” She filled his dog bowl with food, then headed into the kitchen. She unwrapped a frozen pizza and slipped it into the oven.
    A moment later, she caught a glimpse of Tucker’s untouched food bowl. “What’s wrong? I thought you’d be starving.”
    The dog rubbed against her thigh and she patted him on the head. “Well, I’m going to eat, even if you’re not.” She checked on her pizza, then began setting out a couple of plates, glasses of water, and napkins. Then she stopped herself. The euphoria of the community meeting had vanished in an abrupt realization: she was setting the table for two, but only one would be eating.
    After finishing dinner, Lauren pulled Michael’s handheld PC from her purse and powered it on. She touch-screened into Microsoft Outlook and retrieved his messages, then configured the device so it could also receive her e-mail as well.
    There were no responses yet from Michael’s skiing buddy, “targard.” Lauren selected Amber’s message that was still in Michael’s inbox, and hit REPLY. She wrote Amber a short note asking if she could find out if Cablecast was satisfied with the work Nick Bradley had done for them. She then touched SEND and powered off the unit.
    She stood and walked over to the cupboard, grabbed a chamomile tea bag, and filled a mug with the instant-hot faucet. She reached into the refrigerator to add some milk to the tea. But the carton was empty.
    Empty?
    I just bought this yesterday,
she thought.
Have I used that much of it? If Michael were here, he would’ve bought a larger size.
But she realized that was not the point. How could she have used all the milk?
    She took a sip of the hot tea and then spilled it down the drain. She had grown accustomed to drinking it with milk, the way Michael liked it. She shook her head, then folded her arms across her chest. “Michael this and Michael that. It’s time for me to stop being so dependent on him for every aspect of my life.” She looked down at Tucker, whose ears had puckered as if he were listening to her tirade.
    She tossed the spoon into the sink, then walked upstairs to the bedroom. She fell back onto their bed and kicked her shoes off. “Where are you, Michael? It’s time to come home!”
    She rolled over and grabbed his pillow again, hugging it against her chest and burying her face into the down.
    But she didn’t pick up Michael’s scent. She looked at the pillow, then jumped off the bed and backed away. “Oh, my God. Oh my