Under Threat Read Online Free Page B

The house is too empty, too quiet. The street outside is too
dark. The park that runs along our backyard is full of trees, any one of which could
hide a sniper. I close the blinds, double-check the locks on the front and back doors
and turn on all the lights.
    I’m seventeen, for god’s sake. It’s not like I’m not used to being home alone. But
I haven’t been this spooked since I watched three horror movies back to back at a
sleepover when I was thirteen.
    I want to call Leah, but it’s almost midnight. I curl up on the couch in the family
room—it’s at the front of the house, away from the park—and check my email and Facebook.
Then I flip through the photos on my phone. Almost all of my pictures are of Leah,
Buddy and other people’s horses. Finally, my almost-dead battery dies, which I guess
is probably a sign that I should go brush my teeth and get into bed.
    Then the phone rings. The landline. And the only person who would call me this late
is my mom. I jump up, run to the phone and answer it on the second ring. “Hello?”
    There is an odd pause, and I know even before I hear the voice. Maybe I should just
hang up, but I can’t. I’m frozen to the spot.
    “You’ll burn in hell for what you’ve done.” The voice is low, muffled—like he is
covering his mouth or speaking into a towel to disguise his identity. “All those
babies you’ve killed. All those unborn children whose deaths you’re responsible for.”
    I’m flooded with anger. And I want to know who this person is at the other end of
the phone line, this person who thinks he has a right to threaten my parents. To
turn our lives upside down. “Stop calling us,” I say. “You’re crazy.”
    “There’s a target on your back, Heather Green,” the voice says. “If you don’t stop,
we’re prepared to use lethal force to stop you.”
    He thinks I’m my mom. “You’re wrong about everything,” I say.
    “You’re a mother. You should know better.”
    “Why are you doing this?” I demand. “Who are you?”
    “Baby killer. Maybe we’ll murder your child,” he says. “Your daughter. Her name’s
Franny, right?”
    I hang up, drop the phone and stare at it like it’s a poisonous snake that might suddenly attack me. My heart is racing, my whole body shaking.
    They know my name.
    Then I feel stupid and embarrassed, because they’ve known my parents’ names for years.
My mom and dad live with that every single day, and they don’t let it stop them.
    I pick the phone back up and dial my mom’s cell.
    She answers right away. “Franny?”
    “Mom.” I’m determined not to cry, but my voice wobbles. I can’t help it. “That guy
called again.”
    “Oh, honey. Are you okay?”
    “Kind of freaked out. He knew my name.”
    “Look, maybe you should call Rich Bowerbank.”
    “It’s the middle of the night,” I say.
    “I know. But he gave us his home number…and I don’t like the idea of you being there
on your own.”
    Nor do I. “I’m going to come to the hospital,” I say. “Are you in emerg?”
    “In my office,” she says. “Quieter place to wait. Perks of being on staff, right?”
    “I’ll be there in ten minutes,” I say. “Maybe fifteen.”
    “You’ve got school in the morning,” she protests. “You can’t be up all night.”
    “Believe
me,” I say, “I’m more likely to sleep there than I am here.”

Chapter Seven
    But when I get to my mom’s office, she’s not there. I go inside, sit on her desk
chair and wait. I’ve never in my whole life felt so completely exhausted.
    I’m almost asleep, my head on my arms, when she comes back.
    “Franny.” She touches my shoulder lightly. “We should find you an empty bed.”
    I shake off the sleepiness. “Where were you? Were you with Dad? Is he out of surgery?”
I notice the dark circles under her eyes. “You look worse than I feel.”
    “It’s been a hell of a day,” she says.
    “Is Dad okay?”
    “Fine. Doped to the gills but fine.” She