Nightwatch (13 page)

“Sure. Go ahead. I'll put everything on my credit card.” His brow furrowed. “Is Tim all right?”

“He will be. We all will be,” Jill said. “I think we'll finally have something concrete to tell the sheriff.” She gritted her teeth.
I just hope it's not too little or too late.

 

Harlan's men had combed the woods in the direction the farm dogs had first led them, then had regrouped and followed the scent of the more recent arsonist. Neither trail had led to Megan or had turned up any sign of her.

Sitting with Jill and the sheriff at her kitchen table, Mitch felt as if he'd been punched in the stomach. “There has to be a connection,” he insisted. “Did Jill tell you what Tim said this morning? Who he thought he saw at the time of the bombing?”

The older man wrapped his hands around his coffee mug and nodded solemnly. “She did. It's not exactly news. Rob figured somebody was stealing from the company. He'd already mentioned it to me and I'd briefed the police chief. Our problem was a total lack of proof.”

Mitch leaned forward intently. “Rob must have had a good reason for his suspicions.”

“If he narrowed it down he never shared his ideas with me. And, thanks to the explosion and fire, doing an audit is out of the question.”

“Tim said his parents were fighting that night,” Jill offered. “If there was a theft, why would they be at odds about it? I'd think they'd want to stick together to catch the criminal.”

“Not if it was a family member or maybe an old friend,” the sheriff said. “I've had my eye on Thad and Natalie. Vernon Betts, too, mostly because of all the unexplained losses while he was working at Pearson's.”

“But why? How?”

“That's a good question. Natalie had better access to the company books, but Thad's the one who should know plenty about making bombs, especially considering the time he just spent serving in the Middle East. Trouble is, he had a solid alibi for the time of the explosion and so did she. No matter who the boy thought he saw, it can't have been his uncle Thad.”

Mitch chimed in. “Natalie was a basket case over losing Ellen the night of the fire. And Thad was always very close to Rob. They were more like best friends than brothers. You can't really suspect either of them.”

“I have to suspect everybody,” Harlan said. “Money can do strange things to people.”

“I still like the disgruntled ex-employees for the arson fire,” Mitch countered. “So does Chief Longstreet. Tim might have been mistaken just because he was expecting to see his uncle in the vicinity.”

“We're not ruling
anybody
out for sure. Now that
we've tried the tracking dogs and gotten nowhere, I think our best chance is the Amber Alert.”

“And prayer,” Jill said, trying not to choke up. “Lots and lots of prayer.”

J
ill and Mitch had discussed what to do with regard to the pending funeral for the children's parents and had basically come to an impasse. Mitch was dead set against involving the boys at all, while she argued that they deserved the chance to bid their mother and father goodbye.

Standing in her kitchen, washing the previous day's dishes while Mitch dried, she made sure the boys were occupied watching cartoons in the living room before reopening the discussion.

“Honestly, I don't know why you have to be so stubborn about the funeral. It's not going to be held in church, right? Brother Malloy is going to conduct the whole service for Rob and Ellen at graveside.”

“That has nothing to do with it,” Mitch responded.

“It has everything to do with it. I might feel differently if I thought the boys were going to get turned off about going to church after seeing the caskets sitting in the sanctuary. Visiting the cemetery won't hurt them a bit.”

“I totally disagree,” Mitch said flatly. “Kids won't understand what's happening and they'll either end up
confused or traumatized—or both.” His voice gentled. “Let them be innocent a little while longer, Jill. There will be plenty of time for them to see the world realistically after they grow up.”

“That's the point,” she said, shaking her head. “Now is the time for them to learn to accept loss—before a lot of complicated adult reasoning gets in the way. You said yourself that Tim talked about his folks going to Heaven.”

“Yes. And that's a good thing. But it doesn't mean I think he's ready to watch a pair of caskets being lowered into the ground.”

Sighing, Jill had to admit he had a valid point. “Okay. Suppose we talk to Tim and Paul about it and then make our decision based on their reactions?”

Mitch shook his head. “Uh-uh. Not when Natalie and Thad are likely to be at the cemetery. There's no way to predict what those two might do or say.” He paused, frowning. “Besides, I'm not even sure it's okay to take the kids. Are you?”

“No. I didn't see any reason to ask Samantha to see about getting permission until we'd decided. I imagine she's encountered this problem before in her work with CASA so she'll know what's legal and what isn't.” Thoughts of upholding the law immediately reminded her of Megan.

Blinking rapidly, Jill averted her face. If, Heaven forbid, Megan didn't live through her current ordeal, what would Tim and Paul do; what would they think? Perhaps Mitch was right. Perhaps it was best to leave them out of the actual service and take them to the cemetery later to visit their parents' graves if they seemed to need more closure.

She thought she'd managed to hide her emotional reaction until Mitch laid aside the dish towel and touched her shoulder. She didn't want to turn to face him. Didn't want him to see her misty eyes. Didn't want to admit how upset she still was over a crisis she should have turned over to God long ago. Either she trusted her heavenly Father or she didn't. It should be as simple as that. Only it wasn't.

“Look,” Mitch said quietly, tenderly. “Try to put yourself in my place. I can't do anything more for Rob except protect his kids. We've both been trying to do that. And in spite of all our best efforts, we haven't been totally successful.”

“You don't have to remind me.”

“I think I do,” Mitch said. “This isn't a simple problem. We have to not only handle today's decisions, we have to assume there will be others in the near future that are just as difficult. Maybe more so.”

Jill knew exactly what Mitch meant without him having to spell it out. He was thinking of Megan, too. And he was trying to say that he feared the worst.

Tears began to slip over her lashes and slide down her cheeks. She swiped at them with the back of her wrist until Mitch handed her a paper towel and she was able to cover her face, to mask the sorrow she knew he was sharing.

Suddenly, from the other room, a child's high-pitched voice echoed. “Megan!”

Jill and Mitch stared at each other.

“Megan?” Jill's jaw gaped.

Mitch sprang into action more quickly than she did but they reached the boys only moments apart. The television program had been interrupted for a news bul
letin. Megan's picture was on the screen. It had been cropped from a family shot that Thad had provided so it was grainy and indistinct but Tim had recognized his sister immediately.

He pointed and jumped up and down. “Look! It's Megan.”

Jill's reddened eyes met Mitch's and she saw her own pain reflected in his gaze. Turning away and blotting her tears with the paper towel, she took the coward's way out and fled back to the kitchen. Would this waking nightmare never end? Was it possible that no one would locate Megan, that she had vanished forever?

That thought settled in Jill's heart and made her ache all over. She gripped the tiled edge of the sink and leaned against it for balance. “Please Jesus,” she prayed. “Please? Give us something. Anything.”

Logic kept insisting that her efforts were futile while her faith did battle with doubt. She did believe in God, in Jesus. Really, she did. It was just so hard to accept those things for which she had no earthly answers.

Eyes tightly closed, heart racing, Jill was out of words, out of wishes, out of imagined, fairy-tale outcomes.

And now, unable to reason her way through this dilemma, she did what she'd truly wanted to do all along. She gave in and turned herself, her life and her currently needy loved ones over to the Lord's mercy and care.

 

By the following weekend Mitch was satisfied that his concerns about the upcoming funeral had been addressed. Jill had spoken with Brother Malloy and the wise pastor had visited her home to counsel the chil
dren. Apparently, that had satisfied Jill because she was no longer insisting that the boys had to attend the interment when it was eventually scheduled.

Regular Sunday school attendance, however, was another matter. One they could agree upon.

“I'll need to go home and pick up another change of clothes for tomorrow,” Mitch had said Saturday evening.

Jill's expression had told him she wasn't thrilled to have him leave at all and that conclusion had warmed his heart. “I won't be long.” Grinning, he'd gestured at his boots and jeans. “I know the folks at Serenity Chapel accept everybody, no matter how they're dressed, but I prefer to wear my best to church.”

“Of course. I do, too.”

“You look good in whatever you wear,” Mitch had said honestly, enjoying the flush of her cheeks his compliment had produced.

“Thanks.” She'd taken a step closer then and he'd wondered if she was going to give him the customary, Southern-hospitality, parting hug.

When she stopped short of putting her arms around him Mitch had waved to the boys and hurried to complete his errand. He'd been home several times since he'd started spending every free moment at Jill's but there were still a few things he needed to take care of, such as picking up his mail and making sure his apartment was secure.

On Sunday morning it took both Mitch and Jill to get the boys ready. Tim kept insisting he wanted to wear his new superhero shirt and whatever Tim wanted, Paul did, too. The compromise had been to
allow the children to don their special shirts underneath their plain ones.

They escorted the kids back to their respective Sunday school classes, where their friends and teachers greeted them warmly. Because neither boy had wanted to be parted from his guardians, Jill stayed with Paul and Mitch with Tim.

They met up as soon as the classes were dismissed. Mitch couldn't help grinning the moment he spotted Jill. “Well, did you have fun coloring Noah's ark?” he asked. “We did. We even added drawings of Salt and Pepper to the other animals.”

“Good for you. Every shepherd needs dogs like mine.”

“That's what Tim said.” Mitch felt the child take his hand. The gesture of complete trust warmed his heart every time it happened.

Jill was carrying Paul on one hip.

“Don't you think he's big enough to walk?” Mitch teased as they entered the sanctuary together for the worship service. He followed her down an outside aisle, greeting fellow worshipers and wishing them good morning as he passed.

“Only if I want to go everywhere at a snail's pace,” Jill replied. “This kid is the exact opposite of Mugsy. Getting him to hurry is impossible.”

“Okay. Give him to me.” To his surprise, Paul tightened his hold on Jill's neck and buried his face against her shoulder.

“I think he's adopted me,” she said, smiling and placing a tiny kiss on the top of the child's head.

Mitch knew her well enough to tell that the boy's newfound attachment was touching her deeply. She was
not only holding him, she was also patting his back and speaking to him in a private whisper.

Entering an empty pew, Jill placed Paul on the bench next to her while Mitch directed Tim to join his brother. Taking the last place on the aisle, Mitch looked over at his companions. Although Jill was as pretty as ever, he couldn't help noticing another aspect of her character that impressed him greatly. In the space of a little more than a week she had become a mother to those boys as surely as if they had been born to her.

So what did that make
him?
Mitch wondered. Was he still playing the role of the kindly uncle as Rob had always implied? Or was he beginning to view the boys the way he might his own sons, assuming he ever had any?

That was an easy question to answer. It also made him decidedly uneasy. To anyone who didn't know their situation, he and Jill would appear to be a nice, normal couple raising two well-behaved children. Nothing more, nothing less. Yet they were far from it. They were merely temporary caregivers, and he wasn't even officially that. So why was it so effortless for him to imagine them as a true family? And what in the world was he going to do about it?

Nothing,
Mitch decided firmly. No matter what he wanted for himself, no matter how much he cared for Jill and those orphans, this was not the right time to speak his mind and open his heart.

He knew without a single doubt that his duty was to see this ordeal through to its end, no matter how its outcome personally affected him; no matter how much it cost him to play a part for the sake of others.

Then Jill looked up and smiled directly at him, and all his rational convictions vanished in a heartbeat.

 

Although Mitch had to return to work on Monday, the following few days sped by for Jill. She was thankful that she had insisted on one new outfit for each boy that was suitable for church because those same clothes were perfect for court appearances, such as the one they were about to participate in, thanks to Natalie's ridiculous custody demands.

The brick-and-stone courthouse at the center of the town square was relatively quiet as Jill, the two orphans and the CASA volunteer climbed the stairs to the second-floor courtroom.

Sniffing, Jill wrinkled her nose. The place smelled like disinfectant and mildew, which was probably an improvement over the decidedly unpleasant aromas the hundred-plus-year-old building might have given off if no one had tried to clean and freshen it.

She paused in the anteroom and crouched to make sure both children were neat. Tim looked pretty good but Paul was sniffling so she took a tissue from her purse and wiped his nose.

“There. Ready?”

Shorter, dark-haired Samantha Rochard gave Jill a sisterly pat on the back. “Relax. They look great. Everything will be fine.” She lifted her slim briefcase for emphasis. “I told you what I was putting in my report.”

“I know.” Jill straightened and smoothed her sweater over the waist of her matching slacks. “I just keep remembering what this kind of thing was like when I was a kid. I never knew what was going to happen. One day I'd be settling into a nice, comfortable rut and the next
I'd be packing my bags for another change, another move.”

“That's too bad. The CASA program existed back then but it didn't go national until Congress passed a victim's rights law in 1990. Even after that it took a while to develop the kind of widespread coverage we have now.”

“I sure wish I'd had somebody like you to speak for me,” Jill said. “By the time I'd been in the system for several years I'd given up having anyone listen to my opinion.” She began to smile wistfully. “I believe more than one judge referred to me as ‘sullen.'” The smile broadened. “Can't imagine why.”

“Probably because you'd surrendered. That's what I see all too often with the kids I represent. When they decide they can't win, they just quit trying. It's a form of self-preservation. Perfectly normal.”

“The word
normal
has never described my life,” Jill said with a chuckle. She was nervous about the hearing and exchanging silly banter helped keep her from dwelling on the looming ordeal.

It would have helped if Mitch could have been there too, but he'd been unable to prearrange more time off work, much to the Pearson boys' chagrin. Tim, especially, had been upset over the idea of probably having to make do without his real-life hero.

Jill had wondered if the boy was going to spoil things by acting up in front of the judge—until Mitch had taken him aside before leaving for work and had a heart-to-heart.

After that, although Tim had still not seemed happy, he had at least cooperated. And, given his influence
with Paul, the younger brother was also on good behavior.

Samantha gestured toward the door framed by a metal detector, then grinned at Jill and the boys. “Everybody ready?”

“I hope so.” Jill held out her hands and was thankful when each child grasped one. She stood tall and lifted her chin. “Let's go.”

Instead of moving forward, Paul tugged on her hand. When she glanced down she noted his pained expression. “What's the matter, honey?”