Trust Me II (41 page)

James drove the old Bronco into town, explaining to Creighton the ritual that took the farmers away from home on a daily basis. They pulled into a parking stall at the small restaurant where Creighton had taken Sandra every morning since arriving in Kansas. The parking lot was full of trucks and SUVs; not like it usually was during the breakfast hours.

“
Gathering for coffee is a tradition,” James began as he shut off the engine. “We meet every morning, mid-morning and mid-afternoon to talk about the weather, crops, politics and just small town gossip.”

“
Sounds interesting,” Creighton smiled as he closed the car door and walked next entrance of the restaurant.

He was surprised by the number of people who greeted him by name as he took a seat with James at the same table he had shared breakfast with his wife earlier that same morning. He recognized several of them from the picnic the night before and shared polite conversations with those who stepped up to the table to shake his hand or ask about NHT.

It seemed like everyone in town knew he was married to Sandra and he found each one had a story about Hoisington’s shy, innocent track star who had won the state championship in her senior year. Many told him of the vibrant, intelligent librarian who helped save the small library from closing three years ago when there was no money left in the budget. They relayed the story of her arranging bake sales, yard sales and fund raisers to help keep the doors open and the books on the shelves. He listened to the speakers with interest, proud of his young wife in more ways than when he had woken that morning.

Ten o’clock arrived soon enough and James assured him the bank was open. Creighton was urgent to make certain the money for the sale had been transferred into the old man’s account and even more anxious to get back to Sandra.

James drove one block to the bank in the heavy rain, and parked outside just as the tornado siren started to wale. It was horrendously loud and Creighton jumped, covering his ears with his hands. The siren was the single most annoying sound he had ever heard and lasted for a full three minutes.

They hurried into the basement of the bank, following a number of employees and customers who had gathered for early morning business. Like every home and building in tornado alley, the bank had a storm shelter and those gathered found a place next to the concrete walls. The bank was a newer design, having been built in the 70s to replace the previous turn-of-the-century limestone structure. The modern building had a large community room downstairs that was used for meetings
, social events and other activities.

Creighton found himself once again among new friends. One of the tellers, a young red-head named Sally, told him she had been in the same class as Sandra while another woman told him that her children had loved visiting the library and listening to the stories she would read.

Time seemed to pass by very slowly as they sat pressed up against the concrete walls. Creighton was irritated with James’ carefree attitude as he and the occupants of the shelter laughed and talked as though nothing was going on outside the thick walls. He had never gone through anything like this before and he was feeling very claustrophobic and uneasy. The feeling of helplessness was beginning to wear on him and he nearly shouted with joy when the blazing siren finally stopped.

Because of the severity of the storm, the bank president insisted that they stay in the basement until the all-clear was sounded. Creighton to be in and he watched those gathered around him with thought of Sandra and felt a certain awe for the woman; she was much braver than he ever gave her credit
for. She had endured many storms over the course of her life and managed to come out, practically unscathed. He thought about how she had lost her parents and fear began to grip his stomach as he took the phone from his pocket and pressed the button to call her, but there was no signal; they were surrounded by too much concrete. James saw the worry on the young man’s face and patted his arm.

“She’s a smart girl and she knows what to do,” he told him gently. “She’ll be alright.”

Creighton tried to smile, but it was a weak attempt.

Twenty minutes passed by before two short blasts of a siren sounded the all-clear and the group emerged from the shelter. They walked up the two flights of stairs to the main bank and looked around. There was no damage to the building and the doors had sealed shut when the alarm went off. Creighton
walked to the window and looked out onto the muddy streets; it was raining and the window was cool but it was a steady rain. There were large white balls laying over the ground and for a moment he just stared at them until he realized they were hail stones. He couldn’t remember ever seeing anything so large in his life.

The bank president escorted James and Creighton into his office and asked his assistant to verify the wire-transfer of Creighton’s payment into James’ account. While they visited, Creighton kept looking at his phone. He couldn’t get a signal and his anxiety was starting to mount; he felt like hurling the small black box against a wall!

Everything seemed to return to normal and a quiet calm settled about the building and Creighton looked around in amazement; it was as if nothing had happened out of the ordinary. He watched a man in dirty coveralls enter the building and heard him telling another customer that a funnel cloud had been sighted north of Great Bend half an hour before, but it didn’t seem to touch down. The worse of the storm had passed and now they had to contend with any damage left behind by the winds and hail.

The bank president’s assistant appeared a few minutes later and confirmed the funds had been deposited, bringing Creighton immediately to his feet. He shook the man’s hand and waited anxiously as James followed suit, listening as the man assured them he would be happy to help them with any other transaction they may have. Creighton rejected his offer and walked back toward the doo
r, waiting as James came sauntering up behind him.

They drove back to the farm, looking at the hail stones that remained on the sides of the roads. It was apparent the storm had hit the outlined farms harder than the town and Creighton found his anxiety mounting. He finally obtained a signal on his phone and dialed Sandra’s cell, but the line was busy. He tried the house phone, but nobody answered. He felt like shouting to James to go faster, but as they drove around the curve in the road and saw a large tree branch that had been broken off a nearby tree by the winds, he knew it was unwise to suggest it.

Several farms they passed did not appear to have any structural damage, though there were broken trees and damaged crops as evidence of the storm. The heat was returning and the air was turning muggy as they continued to drive toward the farm. The truck radio said the storm was moving east and Ellsworth County was now under a tornado warning.

James pulled the Bronco into the yard as Sandra came running out of the front porch. Creighton was out of the car in a split second, not waiting for it to stop as he ran through the mud and rain to his wife. He held her tightly against the strength of his chest, feeling the relief flood over him as he kissed her face. This was one event, he would never wish to undergo again.

By lunch time the news reported that an F4 tornado had struck a farm outside of the town of Ellsworth and destroyed a farmhouse completely. The family was safe, but the buildings and their truck was gone
; the family was left destitute and homeless. With a quick glance to Sandra, Creighton picked up his phone and began texting. She knew he was making a call to Michelle without even seeing the message. Come suppertime, she was quite certain the devastated family would not only have a place to live and a new truck, but would have the money to rebuild.

Yet once again, he proved to her that money had a voice and it was very loud and very eager to be heard.

They washed up in the old sink before sitting down at the table to relax.
Creighton and Sandra had spent the better part of the next day inventorying the items in the barn and discussing what they should do with them. James and Mary had left a short time before; it was James’s bowling night and he usually met his team ahead of time for a few beers while Mary went to the local church to set up for bingo, leaving them alone in the house. Creighton was amazed at how life just seemed to go on; no further thought of the disaster that shook their lives the day before. It was one event he did not want to go through again, and one reason he was not allowing Sandra to be out of his sight.

He
looked around the kitchen as he leaned against the counter, drying his hands on a small towel; it really was a pleasant house with a feeling of love and happiness that greeted anyone who entered it. He could imagine what it was like for Sandra to grow up here; it wasn’t much different than his own childhood home and he remembered how much fun he had.

The Stevens’ farm was l
arge, more than a hundred acres - not including the three hundred acres he had purchased outside town - and filled with fruit trees, wheat and corn; fifty sheep, a dozen head of cattle, a hundred chickens, two dozen hogs and an old hound dog named Blue, who was currently sleeping on the old rug in the hallway where it was cool.

“What do you think your grandparents will do now that they have enough money to move anywhere in the world they desire?”
he asked watching Sandra set her glass on the table.

“I know they have been talking about moving to
Florida, but I don’t know if my grandfather would enjoy living there or not. His roots are here; his family has been in Hoisington since the late 1800’s; his parents are buried here, my mom and dad, his grandparents. It’s been home his whole life.”

“What if we suggest they buy a second home in England,” he
said. “We could arrange to hire some honest workers to watch the place while they’re gone and they can come back when they want. They can travel as much as they would like and even spend some time enjoying the simpler side of life.”

“I would love that, and I know they didn’t get to see everything in England when they were there. But I know he’d be worried about this place while he was gone
; that’s just Papa.”

“I have another suggestion,” he said looking at her and smiling his sly grin that made her think he was up to something. “We could buy the land from him. It would be
the perfect place to build housing for the workers of
NHT Kansas
, once it gets up and going. We could make the housing units affordable so the employees would be able to buy them rather than rent and the town wouldn’t have to be concerned about vagrants or drifters messing around the farms or businesses.”

“That sounds like a great idea,” she said with a small grin. “What did Papa say when you presented the idea to him?”

“What makes you think I’ve already spoken to him?” Creighton tried to look innocent, but she could see the truth in his eyes and smiled.

“I know you and I know you have an unquenchable thirst to make things right for everyone.”

“Well, I did ask them about it last night at the park. While you were gone yesterday, it gave me a lot of time to think; not just about us, but what I could do to make you happy. I know how much you would miss your grandparents and I know you would worry about them being here alone, growing older without anyone to help them. There’s the land, the livestock, and the tornadoes to worry about. Even if we come back two or three times a year, it wouldn’t be the same.”

“So what home did you buy them in England?”
Creighton smiled as he looked up at her, a soft blush tinting his cheeks.

“There’s a small farm, only about sixty
hectares, but it’s close by and hasn’t been lived in for years. Unfortunately, it is currently part of the investigation back home.”

“
You don’t mean that girl’s house? What was her name; the second body bound at the farm? Her grandmother’s house?”

“Angela
Meacham,” he said softly with a slight nod. “The place has been vacant for years. Nobody knew what to do with it and it’s in pretty bad disrepair. I’ve already contacted my solicitors who are looking into the matter of buying it for back taxes once the police have released it. Your grandparents liked the idea and want to be close to you, especially now that we’ve taken the first step to having a family.”

“But what kind of house is it? What kind of repairs? I don’t want my grandparents moving into a home where a murder was committed.”

“Andrew’s team hasn’t found any evidence to indicate anything happened there. They are still investigating, but they don’t think the girl was there when she died and the old lady died in hospital.”

“What makes them so certain
she wasn’t killed there?”

“Andrew called me yesterday before you left to go see your
old friend.
He said the autopsy on Angela’s body indicated that she had been tied up and beaten, possibly for days or even weeks before she was killed. Her lungs were filled with dirt, which leads the investigators to believe that she was alive when she was buried. She may have been unconscious and the killer thought she was dead. We may never know for sure.”

“That poor girl,” Sandra said sadly.

“Once the investigation is complete, I can arrange to have my workers begin on the place. It shouldn’t take more than a few weeks at most. It will give your grandparents a chance to decide what they want to do with all the stuff here. They can ship it overseas or move it into a place in Florida if that’s what they chose.”