Free Hard Road by Barbara D'Amato Page B

Mazzanovich?"
     
     
"We're contacting them now."
     
     
"Contacting them? You mean you haven't talked to them yet? They just went home, or what?"
     
     
"Well, they certainly didn't come forward. We'll soon know where they went."
     
     
"Don't you think that's very suspicious, all of them disappearing?"
     
     
"Sure. But I also don't think it's unusual. A crime happens and suddenly all the witnesses vanish. Guilty or not."
     
     
"These are responsible citizens."
     
     
"Cat, grow up. Even so-called solid citizens act like that."
     
     
I shook my head, but I didn't doubt what he said. "McCoo, when you or your people talk with them, tell them Jeremy and I have told all we know. I don't want anybody trying to kill us. This evening was more than enough."
     
     
    * * *
If you want support, understanding, consolation, and all that good stuff, you don't want my mother. She's much better at guilt. Fortunately, we have Dad to depend on. Mom berated Barry for the problems at the festival, even though she had no idea how deeply involved he might be. Nobody told her that Plumly had died practically in his arms, or that he was a suspect. Barry simply told her he had to stay here and help the police and that Maud couldn't come and get Jeremy because of the baby. So he said, "We thought maybe Jeremy could stay with you for a day or two." I think I saw Jeremy wince at this. His grandmother wasn't the most fun person to spend time with, although if he played his cards right, he might be able to get his grandfather to take him to the Brookfield Zoo. My dad loves zoos. He loves animals in general.
     
     
Then Jeremy, honest little kid that he was, said, "Aunt Cat and I escaped through the underground tunnels, just like Indiana Jones!"
     
     
"Escaped from what?"
     
     
"The bad guy who was shooting at us."
     
     
"Shooting? Catherine, you let somebody shoot at Jeremy?"
     
     
"No, I tried to stop somebody from shooting at Jeremy by getting him out of there."
     
     
"Into the sewers?"
     
     
"Not the sewers—"
     
     
"Catherine, you should have gone to the nearest policeman."
     
     
"Next time, Mother, I'll think of that."
     
     
    * * *
As she was leaving she said, "And leave that dirty cat here, Jeremy."
     
     
"He's my friend."
     
     
I said, "Mother, Jeremy keeps the cat."
     
     
She was about to make it quite clear she was the mother and I was the daughter, and what she says goes, when my father said, "Jeremy keeps the cat. Tomorrow, Jeremy, we'll take him to the vet and make sure he's in good health. And we'll get him his shots."
     
     
Jeremy said, "He won't like shots."
     
     
"No, but it has to be done. You can help by consoling him afterward. After the vet, we'll stop at the store on the way home and get him some special sardines."
     
     
     
    8
FOLLOW THE YELLOW BRICK ROAD
It was a relief when Jeremy and my parents left. Little kids are wonderful, but you use a lot of mental energy trying to protect them from hurt or worry. And even though I believe in honesty, you have to be cautious when it's not your child.
     
     
McCoo put in a call to the police in Mom and Dad's suburb, asking them to swing by their house on patrol, just to check.
     
     
Barry had stayed in the room with me only long enough to see them go. Then he flung out again, white with anger, and presumably went back to whatever room he had been in while reading his statement.
     
     
"What a horrible night," I said to McCoo. My shoulder was killing me. Tears were forming behind my eyelids. And I couldn't imagine any way out of the hell ahead for Barry. "The only thing worse would be if that utter ass Sergeant Hightower was in charge."
     
     
McCoo's lips pushed out and then fell back into a sad droop. His gaze had flicked up at the door behind me.
     
     
Somebody said, "Utter ass, huh?"
     
     
Hightower strolled in. He was slim, he was straight-backed, he was handsome. His uniform was tailored and freshly pressed. And he was very pleased