A Love for Safekeeping (11 page)

Her voice faded into the dark corners.

Overhead, she heard another sound.

She peered upward toward the dark loft. “Danny?” Jane held her breath.

From above, another muffled whimper reached her ears. Her chest tightened against her thundering heartbeat.

“Danny!”

Terror tore through her. She stumbled backward.

No. Not here.

Engulfed by panic, she tried to run from the gloom, but her legs, as if nailed to the floor, held her immobile. Her throat constricted, paralyzing her scream.

Out of the blackness, a body hurled through the air and swung from the rafters.

Her legs buckled, and Jane faded into the darkness.

W
hen Jane opened her eyes, she swallowed a scream. A scarecrow leaned above her, peering into her face. Pale and frightened, Celia gaped at her from the small circle of onlookers. And above her, hanging from the rafters, someone bounced from the end of a rope wearing a dress.

“What…?” She tried to raise her head, but the worker pushed her back. “What happened?”

Celia knelt beside her. “You fainted, Jane, but you’re okay.”

“Fainted?” Bewildered, Jane focused on the body now being hoisted back up to the loft, a faint memory returning. “Who—?”

“A bad joke,” the scarecrow said, patting her arm. “I’m afraid someone hung a real scarecrow from the beam.”

Confusion overwhelmed her, and Jane fought to make sense of it. She struggled to remember where she was. “Celia, the children? Danny? Are they okay?”

“They’re fine. Danny’s with the others. He was
playing around in the men’s room.” She squeezed Jane’s arm. “He’s fine.”

Looking up at her friend, Jane sorted the event. “Who found me?”

“A workman came in and said a woman had passed out in the barn. I came running.”

A feverish breath tore at Jane’s chest. Anger, frustration and fear coursed through her. Pressing her elbows against the straw, she tried to lift herself, but hands pushed her back. “Let me up. Please. I’m okay.”

“Don’t let her move yet.”

Kyle’s agitated voice sailed through the crowd.

Her head ached and she tried to focus, wondering if he were a wonderful dream. But the scent of his aftershave reached her, validating his presence.

Kyle knelt beside her and slid an arm beneath her, edging her upward. “Are you sure you’re okay? They’ve called the EMS.”

EMS? No. “I’m fine, really…but what are you doing here?”

He didn’t answer and kept her locked in his grip.

“Kyle, really. I’m fine.”

His look frightened her. He was her safety net and today she saw fear in his eyes.

Releasing his hold, Kyle helped her stand, bolstering her with his arm braced beneath her shoulders.

Her legs were putty, but her determination won the battle. She stood unaided, breathing deeply and trying to sort out what had happened.

“Why are you here?” she asked again.

“Later,” he said. “Tell me what happened.”

She related the story, fighting a tremor that rose from her knees and coursed through her without control.

Celia hovered beside her. “Jane, why do these things keep…”

With a frown, Jane silenced her. Celia eyed the crowd, seeming to understand, and only shook her head.

Kyle guided her outside as an EMS van pulled down the road and stopped. Seeing the vehicle, Jane dug her heels into the ground, but Kyle pushed her forward.

“No,” Jane said. “Absolutely not.”

Kyle shushed her.

Jane gestured toward the lodge, grateful that the children were still inside painting pumpkins and unaware of the situation. “I have a whole group of kids here, Kyle, and I don’t want to scare them. Look I’m standing. Walking.” She took a few shaky steps to prove her point.

Nailed to her side, an EMS technician insisted she go to the hospital, prodded by the farm staff who feared a lawsuit, she could only guess. Finally, to get them off her back, she agreed to let them check her blood pressure and pulse.

She sat in the back of the van while they checked her vital signs, and after a lengthy discussion, Kyle convinced them all to release her to his care. The farm staff shuffled off, and the EMS technician climbed into the cab. The van pulled back down the road.

Breathing a relieved sigh, Jane spotted the school group exiting the lodge, toting their decorated pumpkins and gnawing on candy apples.

Celia checked her wristwatch and eyed the group. “Jane, you ride back with Kyle. We have enough adults to handle the kids. Anyway, you’re so pale, you’ll scare them to death.”

Jane hesitated, but knew it was true. The scare had left her shaky and weak.

Celia took a step toward the bus, then paused. “This is another one of those pranks, isn’t it?” Celia whispered.

“Pranks?” Her shoulders rose, reliving the horrifying experience. “It’s no prank, Celia. The dummy was wearing my dress.”

She saw Kyle stiffen. “
Your
dress? Are you sure?”

Celia’s face contorted with disbelief.

“I think it’s one of mine.” The image clung in her mind. She could see the line of the dress, the buttons. It was hers, she had no doubt.

Celia gasped. “But how in the world—”

Kyle stopped her in midsentence. “The break-in.”

Jane closed her eyes and nodded. “I haven’t noticed it missing. But the dress is exactly like mine. It’s mine. I know it.”

Celia faltered again. “I’d better get going,” she said, giving Jane a hug and racing to the waiting bus.

Tears pooled in Jane’s eyes, and she reached into her pocket and pulled out a packet of tissues. As she did, a torn slip of paper fell to the ground.

Kyle noticed and retrieved it, then handed it to Jane.

But she froze, repulsed by the paper. It hadn’t been in her pocket before. She knew it. She pushed Kyle’s hand away from her. “I can’t read it. I can’t.”

Startled, he stared at the dreadful object. “Jane, I thought it was…” He didn’t move.

“Read it,” she breathed.

He unfolded the paper, then glanced at the words, his face blanching. “It could have been your dress.”

“What does it say?”

He held the note up for her to read.

The printed words leaped from the page.
See the rope. See Jane hang.

Her body swayed, and Kyle gripped her arm, bracing her at his side.

When they were alone, Jane hung her head. “Please, Lord, help me,” she whispered. Questions tumbled through her mind. What? Why? Who? She thought of the lone scarecrow and relived over and over the terrifying moment the body hurled from the loft. Whoever was following her had been with her inside the barn, watching.

As they drove, Jane inquired again. “Why were you there…at the farm? I don’t understand.”

“I heard the dispatch on radio,” Kyle said. “Something told me to check it out. I had a bad feeling.”

A bad feeling. Jane chastised herself for not using her common sense. Why had she run from the lodge without thinking? But she had. Danny’s safety was all she’d considered. An insurmountable weakness washed over her. She let her head drop against the seat and she slept.

When they arrived home, Jane rallied and, without hesitation, checked every closet in the house. Her dress was missing. She had no doubt the one on the dummy was hers.

Kyle insisted she go over the story with him, and she repeated the events, her palm stroking Wilcox’s fur as he nuzzled between them on the sofa.

“The story doesn’t change, Kyle,” she said, losing patience. “I tell it the same way every time.”

“What about the whimper you heard?” Kyle probed.

“It had to be the madman imitating a child.” She
glared at him. “Is this how you interrogate suspects at the station?”

“No. We use one of those big lights and have a faucet dripping in the background. Drip. Drip. Drip. Finally out of desperation, the culprit confesses.”

“Well, you won’t get a confession out of me. It’s just like I told you.”

He slid his arm behind her and drew her closer to his shoulder. She rested her head, and he brushed his fingers along her cheek in a soothing caress. She tried to calm her irritation. It wasn’t Kyle, but the situation.

“I’m as frustrated as you, Jane. Nothing makes much sense. I know you think I’m silly, but I really want you to look for those old diaries. Just maybe, something will trigger an idea.”

“I haven’t had a chance. I’ll look as soon as I can.” She monitored the frustration etching her voice. The talk seemed ridiculous. Useless.

“How about tomorrow night? We could have a search party,” Kyle said.

“I’ll look in the daylight.” He was pushing again. “It’s so gloomy in the attic…and the basement. I’ll take care of it tomorrow.” She said anything to appease him.

Kyle lay his fingers beneath her chin and tilted her face upward. “I’m telling you, Jane, I’ll never forgive myself if anything happens to you. If you get hurt in any way, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

His hand dropped from her chin and he fell against the sofa cushion. “I can’t get any more action out of the department. The only real crime is the burglary, and even then the door was opened with a key.”

“I know,” she said, looking at his face and under
standing his frustration. She felt the same. “You’ve done all you can.”

The fire in his eyes softened, and a rush of tenderness eased through her limbs. She’d been tense since the afternoon, but in Kyle’s arms she relaxed, feeling safe…and cherished.

Seeing the yearning in his eyes she met his lips in a warm, lingering kiss. She shifted to catch her breath, but Kyle lowered his mouth again, nibbling her lower lip, then kissing her until a sigh trembled from them both.

She drew back, gazing at him with flushed exhilaration. “No bright light or faucet handy, so this is your new technique for a confession,” she said.

Kyle laughed. “You like it?”

“Love it,” she said. “Better than a glaring bulb or a drip any day.”

“I’m glad,” he said, drawing her close to his chest. “You’d better get used to it.”

Jane reveled in the two weeks that followed. A precious lull enveloped her. The stalker seemed to have vanished. She prayed he was gone for good. Time had flown since she’d first met Kyle. In three days she would celebrate Thanksgiving with his family. Then Christmas was soon to follow.

Though the northern wind had grown colder and promises of snow crept into the weather forecasts, today autumn pirouetted outside her living room window—the last of the burnished leaves dancing on the gusty winds.

Jane’s thoughts of Kyle were as bright as the golden landscape, but like the dying leaves, old fears crackled in her thoughts. Could her warm feelings last or would
the icy fears of her past kill the love that she felt at this moment?

Guilt filled her. She’d done everything to avoid searching the attic. But hearing Kyle’s plea in her ears, Jane pushed her thoughts aside and began her search for the long-forgotten diaries—though she knew they would provide nothing pertinent.

With daylight seeping through the small, dusty windows, she plowed through the attic and located four old leather-bound journals tucked inside a box of her teenage memorabilia. Two books were locked, and she had no idea where the keys were. But she carried them all downstairs anyway.

Expecting Kyle later, she sank into a chair and opened a diary from her sophomore year in high school. The entries sounded foolish. “Got up. Went to school. Did homework. Practiced the piano. Went to Shirley’s.”

She’d almost forgotten about the piano lessons. Scanning the next few pages, Jane knew she’d been right. Kyle could read her daily accounts until he turned purple, and he’d never find anything helpful.

When she heard the doorbell, Jane dropped the diary, unlocked the door and let Kyle in the house. When he strolled into the living room, a smile lit his face, seeing the four worn, miniature volumes.

He slid his arm around her and kissed her cheek. “You did find them. Thanks.”

“I found these four, but two are locked. I suppose I can pry them open. Shouldn’t take much.”

She handed him one, and he tested the strap’s strength by pulling on the closure.

“I’ll look for the keys,” she said. “They’re probably
in the bottom of the box where I found these old things. I can’t believe I actually locked them.”

Grinning, he turned the journal over in his hand. “They held all your secrets.”

She chuckled. “Right. Read a couple of entries. They’ll bore you to tears. ‘Got up. Went to school. Went to bed.’ That’s mighty confidential material, wouldn’t you say?”

“That’s it? You didn’t spill your guts on these pages?”

“I’m not kidding.” She crossed her heart with her index finger. “I wasn’t sure I wanted you to read about my girlhood antics. But skimming a few entries, there’s not one antic that I can see.”

Though he looked disappointed, he winked at her. “No sense in reading them if I can’t get the ‘goods’ on you.” He kissed the top of her head.

“Enough silliness,” she said, giving him a playful shove. “I have pasta in the oven and a salad in the fridge. Hungry?”

“Sure am,” he said, shifting his hands to rest on each of her shoulders and, like a caboose, followed her into the kitchen.

After dinner when they’d settled again in the living room, Jane tossed him a diary. “Have fun.”

He opened the book and delved into the yellowed pages. Before long, Jane laughed and was also reading her mundane, meaningless entries. “This is ridiculous.”

“You’re right,” Kyle said, closing the book. “This is getting us nowhere.” He rose and ambled to the sofa where Jane sat curled in a corner.

She eyed him, guessing what he was up to, but kept her eyes focused on the diary.

Kyle ran his fingers along her arm, then slid his hand behind her neck, distracting her. When she’d had enough, she closed the volume and scowled at him. “Okay, buddy, you were the one who insisted we read these silly things. What’s gotten into you?”

“Want the truth?”

“Sure.” She held the book in her lap and folded her hands over it like an attentive schoolgirl.

“I can’t stop looking at you.”

She couldn’t stop looking at him, either, but she refused to admit it. “You’re supposed to be looking at the diaries.”

“But they’re boring.”

She chuckled. “You can say that again.”

“But you’re not,” he said, his gaze caressing her face. “I think we need to take a break.”

With his comment, her earlier hope surfaced, and her humor vanished. “Do you think it’s over, Kyle?”

His expression fell. “Over?”

“Over. The stalker. Whatever he is.”

A flash of embarrassment flickered on his face.

Jane understood. “You thought I meant
us.
”

He averted his eyes. “For a minute.”

“That’s not what I meant at all.” She reviewed the flood of emotions that had washed over his face, then pressed her hand against his with understanding.