Tony didn’t know whether all this walking was good for his knee, but he couldn’t stop himself. After he walked the length of Bonita Beach twice, he drove home and checked with the police. Still no news of Shahla. He ate something-he didn’t notice what-in his empty townhouse. So empty he imagined he heard echoes as he moved through the rooms. Maybe he should call Josh and apologize. He didn’t know where Josh was staying, but at least he had his cell phone number.
After staring at his own phone for a while, he decided not to call. He couldn’t face any more rejection right now. Without a plan, he walked out his front door. He went toward the Hotline office. Distances were not great in Bonita Beach. He walked to the building that housed the Hotline, and then he walked around it, observing the shoppers who were patronizing the adjacent stores. He didn’t go up to the office, itself. That morning, when he had been perusing the Green Book, it had felt eerie without Shahla there. If something happened to her, he was sure he could never go to the office again.
He walked back to his townhouse, getting home after dark. What now? There was no place he wanted to go. His knee was too sore to walk anymore. He couldn’t even watch television because Josh had taken the TV set. He forced himself to get a pad and pen and sit at his table to formulate a plan of action. He covered the pages with doodles, but nothing intelligible.
Shahla ate a dinner that she fixed at home. Most of it consisted of leftover lasagna, nuked in the microwave. It didn’t taste great, but it would keep her alive. She knew some of the rudiments of cooking, but it wasn’t much fun to cook for one person.
She turned on the TV but couldn’t find a show that interested her. It was dark now and her mother and Kirk still weren’t home. The feeling of unease that had been gnawing at her became a full-fledged worry. What if they had been in an accident?
She decided to go back over to the Thompsons’ house. They must be home by now. And if they weren’t, she would call Tony. He would know what to do. As she walked out the front door, she could see Thompsons’ driveway. The car that was usually parked there wasn’t. Well, perhaps somebody was home, anyway.
She walked north along her side of the street until she was opposite the Thompsons’ house. She was about to cross the street when she saw a car coming from the south. She waited to let it pass, but it slowed down and blinked its lights. Considerate California drivers sometimes stopped for pedestrians, even in the middle of a block.
Shahla waved at the driver as the car stopped, even though the car’s headlights prevented her from seeing who was inside. She had reached the middle of the street when the car suddenly lurched forward, directly at her. Confused, she jumped back toward the curb, trying to get out of its way. It screeched to a halt beside her and the driver’s door flew open, narrowly missing her. A man jumped out of the car and grabbed her before she could react.
Shahla screamed as the strong arms attempted to pull her toward the car. But the car was still rolling slowly. He let go of her with one hand and grabbed the open door frame of the car with his other hand, apparently to try to stop it. He was holding her by the right wrist. She tried to jam the fingers of her left hand into his throat. It was a glancing blow, at best, but she felt his grip loosen on her wrist. She jerked her whole body as hard as she could.
Her wrist pulled free, and she ran north along Sandview Street. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the man chasing the car, which was rolling toward the far curb. She was running away from her house, but in the other direction the street ended in a cul-de-sac. He must have been waiting for her there. At the first intersection, she turned in the downhill direction, toward the beach. She had to get out of his line of sight.
She went one block downhill and stopped behind a lamppost, panting. This wasn’t a good hiding place, but she didn’t hear any sounds of pursuit. A car went by, but not that of the kidnapper. What should she do? She couldn’t go back to her house as long as the man was in the neighborhood.
She decided to go to Jane’s house. Jane’s father should be there now, and he would protect her. Their house was several more blocks north and two blocks uphill from here. Shahla crossed the hilly street and ran along the street parallel to her own. She would go another block north and then cut uphill. She slowed down to a jog, wanting to conserve her energy. It was a good thing she ran cross-country. Training in the hills had greatly improved her wind.
At the next intersection, Shahla looked uphill. A car was moving farther up, but it was harmless. She started up the hill at a fast walk. Before she had gone halfway up the block, a car went through the intersection above, on Sandview Street. It was his car. She stopped, frozen. Then she heard the sound of a car backing up. That thawed her. She turned and ran back downhill.
In a few seconds, she heard the sound of the car approaching her from behind. She kept running downhill, trying not to go so fast in her panic that she tripped and sprawled on the steep sidewalk. Her speed didn’t matter much because he could drive much faster than she could run. But here, close to the beach, cars were parked along the curb and he couldn’t get near her without leaving his car.
He drove alongside her. Shahla didn’t look at him. She hoped he didn’t have a gun. Then he pulled ahead and stopped the car in the middle of the street. He opened the door and jumped out. She was on the right sidewalk so he had to run around the back of the car to cut her off. Her first instinct was to try to outrun him, but he squeezed between two parked cars and blocked her path.
He was wearing a baseball cap. Shahla couldn’t see his face in the dim light. Was this the Chameleon? He was an apparition, more ghost than real, with his arms up and his body braced to intercept her, like a football player. She couldn’t reverse direction and go uphill. By the time she stopped her forward momentum and turned around, he would be able to grab her.
She had a strong desire to barrel into him at top speed. She was within a few feet of him, close enough to see him flinch at the prospect of impact. At the last possible instant, she put on the brakes and slowed enough so that she was able to slip between two parked cars. She headed out into the street to go around his car.
Caught by surprise, the man went through the next space between the parked cars and reached for her as she ran by. He got hold of her arm. Desperate, Shahla tried to keep running, dragging him with her. As she steered just to the left of his car, he was off balance and hit the back of it. He released his grip on her. She lurched forward and thought she was going to tumble head over heels.
She desperately tried to get her center of gravity over her legs and regain her balance. She bounced off a parked car and careened through a complete 360-degree turn before she got her body under control. Then she found herself running down the middle of the street, almost to the dead-end at the beach.
She ran past the end of the street for a few feet to the concrete beach path and turned right on it, heading in the opposite direction from her home. She didn’t hear footsteps behind her, so she looked over her shoulder. The man wasn’t in sight, and a beach house blocked her view of the street she had come down.
Shahla continued north on the beach path at a slower pace and immediately saw the benefit of being here. The path was well lit by lights on poles, and there were other joggers and walkers going in both directions, even at night. She didn’t think he would dare to follow her here.
But where could she go? She might be safe on the beach path, but she couldn’t stay here all night. She couldn’t go home because the kidnapper might stake out her house. The police station was too far away from the path to get to safely. She couldn’t call anyone because she didn’t have her cell phone or any money. Could she try to borrow a phone from another jogger? That meant a long explanation and the strong possibility that she would be labeled as a weirdo.
She continued on at a slow jog for a few minutes, breathing the cool night air and being thankful that she was free. However, each time she went past one of the streets that came down to the beach, she looked for the kidnapper’s car. She didn’t see it. A few minutes more and it occurred to her that she must be getting close to where Tony lived. She knew his townhouse complex was near the water in the northern part of Bonita Beach.
Tony would help her. But she had to find him first. She wished she had her phone. His home number was in her directory. Of course she hadn’t memorized it, and of course it was unlisted. He had told her that he had gotten an unlisted number because some women made crank calls to Josh, his roommate.
His development had a name. What was it? Something to do with the ocean. Duh. Ocean View? Ocean Air? Ocean Potion? Shahla almost laughed, in spite of herself. Something to do with the Pacific Ocean. Ocean Pacific? No, that was a trademark. She was getting close to the northern boundary of Bonita Beach.
She stopped where the next street came down to the beach and looked carefully up the pavement but didn’t see the dreaded car. A jogger was coming down, about to turn onto the beach path.
“Excuse me,” Shahla said, stopping him in mid-stride. “Do you know of a townhouse development called something like Ocean Pacific?”
The man, who was dressed in sweats, stopped his forward progress and ran in place as he thought. “How about Peaceful Ocean? It’s just a few blocks from here.”
“Yeah, that’s it.”
“Go up this street and take the second left. It’s quite big. You can’t miss it.” He took off in an easy lope.
“Thanks,” she called after him. Shahla took one more look up the street before she started to walk along it. The coast was clear. As soon as that thought entered her head, it occurred to her where it had originated. The seacoast. Idioms, expressions, sayings, words, and their meanings-all fascinated her.
But she had to concentrate on the present. The two blocks went fast and soon Shahla was walking roughly north again on the cross street in this relatively level part of the city. A few blocks more and she could see a sign at the entrance to a residential development. Please let it be Peaceful Ocean, she prayed. She hadn’t prayed since her father had died.
As she approached, she could make out the letters. Peaceful Ocean. Thank God. Shahla turned into the entrance road and was faced with a number of almost-identical townhouses. Which one was it? She looked to the left and the right and realized that there might be a hundred of them.
She remembered Joy’s description-the pool was in its front yard. Where was the pool? Not in sight so it must be in the center of the complex. She continued on the entrance road, which went between groups of the homes.
She heard a car engine behind her. It was probably a resident, but she turned around to make sure. Her breath caught in her throat. It was him. Panic overcame her. She ran. When she passed the first row of buildings, she looked to the right. There was an open grassy area. She looked to the left. She saw the pool.
Shahla ran toward the pool on the sidewalk. The road didn’t go in that direction. After a few seconds, she heard footsteps running behind her. She ran like she had never run before. As she approached the fenced-in pool, she realized that three units qualified as “having the pool in its front yard,” and they were at the other end of the pool from her.
Would he dare follow her that far? She ran past the pool. The footsteps were gaining on her. Three houses. Which one was it? She didn’t have a clue. She ran up two steps to the door of the first one and knocked loudly. She turned her head and saw him a few feet away. He had stopped.
If nobody answered, Shahla was sure he would try to grab her. She leapt off the steps and ran through a small garden area to the second house, trampling flowers. She jumped onto its steps and knocked on that door. Then she continued through another garden to the third house and did the same.
Again she turned and faced her would-be kidnapper. He had retreated a few feet but was still near the first door. It hadn’t been opened. Uncertain now, Shahla stayed on the steps of the third townhouse. What if none of them were home? Would she end up running around the pool with him chasing her?
She planned to beg for help from the person who opened the first door-whether it was Tony or not. The door in front of her opened. It was a middle-aged woman.
“I need your help…” Shahla began, and then she saw the second door open. It was Tony. “Tony, thank God,” she cried. She jumped off the woman’s steps and ran over to Tony. At least she remembered to use the sidewalk instead of the flower garden. She leapt up his steps and into his arms.