The Heroines by Eileen Favorite Read Free Book Online Page B

wasn’t supposed to have found him handsome.
    “I want her to rest!” Mother barked. I rarely heard her sound so forceful.
    “But if we’re going to catch this guy, we need a description.”
    I crawled back under the covers and squeezed my eyes shut. I was in it deep. What could I tell the cops? That a fictitious character had yanked me up to his horse? I needed to ask Deirdre if Conor was a Villain, but getting up the stairs without their noticing was impossible. If only I hadn’t passed out so quickly, I could have told Mother to call off the cops.
    “Did she give you a description?” the cop asked.
    “She was delirious. In shock. She said something about a horse.”
    “That’ll help.” His voice became clipped and deep. “Flannery, read me?”
    The walkie-talkie hissed “Roger.”
    “Suspect on horseback.”
    “Roger that. Found some hoofprints.”
    My stomach dropped when he said that. Hoofprints proved that it had really happened. Then again, the prints could have been made by another rider earlier in the day. This was a horsey town.
    “Miss Entwhistle, you’re going to have to bring her down to the hospital. To verify that nothing happened.”
    “Does it have to be tonight?”
    “The sooner, the better. They’ll need a fresh sample.”
    I had no idea what fresh sample meant, and I certainly didn’t need a doctor for a few cuts and bruises, but they had lowered their voices, and I couldn’t hear anything else. I needed to get upstairs to talk to Deirdre. But what would I say to her? We had never initiated a discussion with a Heroine about her circumstances. Mother had pacified Emma Bovary with little trouble after my outburst. Emma had been too steeped in her sorrow to worry about anything I’d said. Mother had slapped tactfulness so deeply into my skull that I imagined the truth would make a Heroine melt like the Wicked Witch of the West when doused with water. I couldn’t flatout ask Deirdre if Conor was a bad guy. And if I was going to lure her to the woods, I couldn’t tell her he was there. I had no clue what book Deirdre came from, so it wasn’t as if I could reveal her lucky or unlucky fate. This was another league of Heroine. Mother and I were as in the dark about her fate as she was.
    Mother came into the room with a tall, broad-shouldered cop in high-riding, polyester pants. He stood a full foot higher than Mother, and he had short, dirty blond hair and a dishwater-blond mustache that was as thick as my grandfather’s shaving brush.
    “Honey?” Mother switched on a standing lamp and a cone of light fell on me. I squinted and tugged the quilt up over my mouth.
    Mother pulled up a caned side chair for the cop, then she sat down in the rocker and scooted closer to the couch. “Officer Marone would like to ask you a few questions.”
    I looked up at him. He smelled like tobacco, and his towering height struck fear in me. A hard pack of cigarettes nested in his breast pocket, and I could read the word Marlboro through the thin blue fabric. Aviator sunglasses hung from the other pocket. He wedged his large self into the chair and leaned his elbows into his thighs, staring at me with intense curiosity.
    I looked away from him, toward Mother’s puffy, tearful eyes. “I need to talk to Deirdre,” I said.
    “We have to take a quick little trip to the hospital first, okay? Just to make sure you’re all right,” she said.
    “Who’s Deirdre?” the cop asked. A pair of handcuffs rested on his leg, dangling from a clip on his belt. The silver star on his breast pocket read “Prairie Bluff.” Everything was becoming so official! I eyed the gun in his leather holster. Even the Illinois flag patch on his sleeve intimidated me.
    “A boarder. But she has nothing to do with this,” Mother said. She widened her eyes to warn me against mentioning Deirdre again. I realized then that she had figured out that Deirdre was a Heroine. It angered me, how she wanted to protect Deirdre, and how she