In either case, she wasn’t leaving Julian behind.
“I’m going back for him,” she said, decisively.
Petula turned to look her brother square in the face, and immediately her combative stance softened. His features were so endearingly familiar, even after all these years. It could be his resemblance to Statler, but even so, what she saw didn’t look…unhinged.
Jefferson might appear grim, but he was resolute and clear eyed.
“You can’t,” Jeff hissed quietly, urging her with a palm-downward motion to keep her voice, low. “He’scoming.”
“Who’s coming?” Petula hissed.
“Bradly.”
Petula’s blood ran cold. “B…Bradly?” she repeated dumbly.
“Yeah. He’s been after you.”
That got her moving again.
They wended their way as quickly as possible through the trees as Jeff talked, and this time Petula wasn’t resisting.
“How do you know it’s him?” she whispered, hunching over as Jefferson guided her, perversely not wanting to say Bradly’s name out loud.
“I knew Bradly in prison,” Jefferson told her softly. “I ignored him at first, because nobody associates with a child molester. But I always checked out any new inmates with a deep dive on my computer. Once I found out who he was and what he’d done to you, I made it a point to pretend I was his friend. Since he had no clue that I was your brother, he talked a lot of smack about finding you when he got out. He wanted to kill you for getting him put away.”
“He’s so despicable,” Petula hissed. She’d somehow always known that the prick would blame her for his nasty deeds. She simply hadn’t figured he’d risk everything; get released to subsequently murder her.
“So, it’s not you who’s been stalking me?” she questioned.
“Yes and no,” Jefferson wove them through the forest at a speed that had her tripping over roots, but she wasn’t about to complain, and she wouldn’t slow them down. “Ididbegin stalking you once Bradly was released. His plans in prison made it pretty obvious you were going to be his target. So, sure enough, a few weeks after I began following you around to make certain you stayed safe, he showed up, and I tailed him, too.”
“He shot Julian,” Petula told him.
“Yeah. I heard. And I’m sorry I couldn’t stop it. But I didn’t know Bradly had that planned. I had stayed back at the dive shop to make sureyoucontinued to be safe.”
“Can you tell me something, Jeff?” Petula asked, recalling the sketchy incidents that had happened over the past few weeks.
“Of course,” he answered, continuing their forward progress.
“Was he responsible for my flat tire, or the flood that almost killed me a few weeks ago?” Another thought hit her. “Did he kill his own father?”
“The tire, yes. The flood? I’m not sure, but it’s possible,” Jefferson responded. “He might have blown that dam knowing exactly where you’d be, and when. And he always talked of killing his old man, so I wouldn’t be surprised if that had been him, too.”
One thing Jeff said, stuck with Petula. “Wait. He knew where I’d be the day of the tire incident? How is that possible?” She was confused. “How could he have… Wait. How did he know where I was going to be,today?”
Jefferson’s expression was grim. “Have you ever heard the word, hybristophilia?” he asked.
“No.”
Jeff didn’t look pleased. “It’s the technical term for women who are obsessed with criminals in jail. We inmates call them prison fleas.”
Petula noted that he still referred to himself as an inmate. She’d ask him why, later.
Right now, she needed to hear about prison fleas.
“And?” she prompted.
“And your boss is one of them,” Jeff supplied with a growl. “She met Bradly online, eventually started visiting him, and between the two of them they concocted a way that she’d become his eyes and ears outside of prison. Regarding you,” he added. “You have to understand, Pet, this was a long-game they played.”
