Read Jumper: Griffin's Story for Free Online

lead the police to believe that Robert and Hannah O'Conner,
UK
citizens, were involved in the smuggling and sale of drugs, and that the slaying was either the work of a rival gang or a drug deal gone bad.
    Utter rubbish. Mum didn't even like it when Dad had more than one pint at a pub because she'd had alcoholics in her family. Why on earth would the police think–well, 'cause they found the cocaine. And the cocaine wasn't there before, right?
    I felt this moment of doubt, a moment of world–twisting alienation, then shook my head. If there was cocaine in the apartment, then someone brought it with him, and no matter how many times you see that sort of thing on TV, I doubted it was the police. So it was the murderers, but why?
    Because nobody cares what happens to drug dealers.
    Because there wouldn't be a hue and cry to find out who did it if the victims were criminals themselves. And the police would be looking in the wrong direction–for other drug smugglers in the city, not for people who'd been following us since we'd lived in
England
.
    I put the paper back, walked between two shelves, and jumped to the elementary school, between the hedge and the stairs, near the flat. I didn't want to go directly there. I was afraid they were still watching the place. If they wanted me, they could be waiting inside for me to appear again. And they'd kill me.
    Dead.
    Like Mum. Like Dad.
    I didn't understand it. I hadn't done anything to them. I was pretty sure Mum and Dad hadn't, either. But they pretty clearly wanted me dead.
    I walked toward the flat and almost immediately a woman pushing a baby pram stopped and said, "Aren't you that British boy whose parents were–"
    "No, ma'am." The only American accent I could do with any sort of conviction was
Deep South
. "Ah just look like him. You're the second person who's said that today."
    "Oh."
    I smiled and walked on but when I turned the corner she was talking on her cell phone. Bugger all. I cut into an alley and when the tall fences hid me, I jumped away.
    Empty Quarter again. Either I was getting better or I'd already moved so much of the loose dirt here that there wasn't as much to sweep into the air. The bloodstains were fading but ants were now mining the dark dirt. It still reminded me of bloodstains on carpet. I kicked gravel and sand over the spot, ants and all.
    It took me a moment to calm down enough to jump back to Sam's place, by the spring. I splashed water over my face and sat down in the shade. After a bit, I wandered back to the house and pulled out the lunch that Consuelo had left me– tamales with pork. The smell made me want tortilla crisps and salsa. Crunchy, salty crisps and a medium salsa–I couldn't handle the hotter stuff.
    Why not?
    I jumped back to the elementary school. There was a Safeway market a block east of the school grounds and I went there and bought tortilla crisps and salsa and several large bottles of Gatorade, then jumped back to the spring. I started to put the extra Gatorade in the fridge–there was plenty of room–but then I thought about Sam and Consuelo seeing it there so I stashed the bottles under my bed instead. The crisps and salsa tasted good–really good–and I ate them until the bag was empty and I was uncomfortably full.
    The bag I buried at the bottom of the rubbish bin, but the salsa jar was half full so I put it at the back of the fridge, behind the pickles and mayonnaise.
    I wanted to take another run at the flat, to try to get there without drawing attention, but I was tired and sleepy from the walking and the full stomach. I was still weak, I guess, from the blood loss. I thought about jumping directly back to my room, but I remembered the footsteps on the stair. Maybe they'd planted bugs? Maybe they were watching?
    I sat down on the bed. The pillow pulled at me and I slumped over. I was asleep almost immediately after my head touched the pillowcase.
    Sam brought home the San Diego News Daily and handed it to me in the