When Lance heard about it, he invited himself to Mountjoy for pizza, which he brought himself. Janice tried her culinary skills at making a chocolate pie—Lance’s favorite dessert—and it tasted as good as one Henrietta could have made.
After they’d washed and put away the dinner dishes, they moved to the living room couch. Lance put his right arm around Janice and pulled her close.
“Linda and Dale are finally talking, and Taylor is over the moon.”
“I know—Brooke told me.”
“I’m not too optimistic yet,” he said, “because Linda is proud and stubborn. She’ll hesitate to admit that she made a mistake. Dale is determined that she’ll agree to some changes before he takes her back. I can’t say that I blame him, but Linda won’t be coerced.”
“Does Linda still love him?”
“Probably—as far as I know she’s never considered dating anyone else. But she won’t talk to me about it.” Linda had been cool toward him since he’d told her to stop manipulating his life and Taylor’s.
“So that brings me to us. Everything has settled down for you—the entrance used by intruders into your home has been found and the drugs confiscated, your parents are reasonably settled, and you’re living comfortably at Mountjoy. I love you, Janice, and want to marry you. What is there to stop us?”
She could see a look of yearning on his face, and Janice lowered her eyes. Had happiness come to her at last? Would she be the owner of Mountjoy that disproved the old legends that it was an unlucky house? She loved Mountjoy, and all she needed was Lance beside her to make her happiness complete. But if she married Lance, would he expect her to live in his house? And would he want Brooke to move in with her parents? His next words settled that question.
“I’m willing to move to Mountjoy and help you renovate the place. Whether or not Dale and Linda go back together, Linda and Taylor can continue to live in my house. We can remodel two second-floor rooms with a bathroom between them. I can have one room for an office, the other would be our bedroom. Brooke can continue to have the downstairs bedroom.”
“I do love you and will marry you,” she said. Her words were smothered as he gathered her close in both arms. She lifted her face eagerly, and he kissed her again and again. Breathless, she pulled away and rested her head on his shoulder.
In a quiet voice, she said, “You didn’t let me finish. I will marry you, but I don’t know when. I’m still uneasy because no one has been arrested for the drug activities here at Mountjoy. There are too many unanswered questions. Sergeant Baxter has warned me to be alert for more trouble.”
“All the more reason that I should be living here with you. The sooner we get married, the happier I’ll be—for many reasons,” he added with a mischievous smile. “Do you want a big church wedding?”
“No, I think not—probably just our families. Give me a few days to think about it.”
The condition of the envelope should have warned Janice when she picked up her mail at the post office. She was on her way to get Brooke from school, so she tossed the mail in the back seat, picked up Brooke and stopped at the grocery store before she went home. She’d worked eight hours today, and Lance was coming for supper, so she said, “Brooke, bring the mail, and I’ll carry in the groceries.”
The March day had been warm and balmy, giving a hint of spring weather, and Janice felt that all was right with her world. She and Lance hadn’t announced their engagement yet, waiting until they could pick out a ring, but they had agreed on a summer wedding.
She put away the perishable items in the refrigerator, except the pork chops. The last time they’d eaten with Henrietta, she had served a pork chop and rice casserole that Janice thought Lance would like. Now that they were planning to get married, she was constantly pestering Henrietta to teach her how to cook. If Henrietta wondered why, she wisely asked no questions.
Janice browned the pork chops. She put rice, celery and onion in a casserole dish, laid the chops on top of the vegetables and put the casserole in the oven. She was preparing a garden salad and humming a favorite hymn when Brooke wandered into the kitchen, carrying a crumpled, dirty piece of paper.
“Look at this, Janice. What does it mean?”
A cry escaped Janice’s lips. She staggered backward against the kitchen cabinet when she read the message.
Tell your big sister that you’re next.
The message was unsigned.
“Is it some kind of joke?”
Struggling for normalcy, Janice took the envelope from Brooke’s hand and scrutinized it. It was similar to the one she’d received in Willow Creek months ago.
For a moment, she wondered if she should gloss over the situation and pretend there wasn’t any problem, but Brooke had to be warned.
“I doubt it’s a joke,” she said. “The drug dealers probably blame me because their money and drugs were confiscated by the police. That may have been why they sent this. They probably think they can hurt me through you, and that’s true. You must be extra careful, Brooke.”
“It might be just to scare us,” Brooke said.
“It might be,” Janice agreed, “but in case it isn’t, don’t let any strangers in the house and be sure and stay at school until I come for you.”
Janice telephoned Sergeant Baxter immediately, and he told her he’d come by in a few hours to get the letter. In an attempt to keep Brooke from suspecting how unnerved she was, Janice watched television with her sister until bedtime. But her mind wasn’t on the programs—her mind was burdened with a new threat. How could she keep Brooke safe?
Chapter Seventeen
Janice opened her eyes, wondering why the room seemed so bright. A sudden boom jarred the house and she jumped out of bed. Through the window she saw that the outbuilding was on fire.
“Brooke,” she shouted. “Get up!”
With shaky hands, she managed to dial 9–1-1. “This is Janice Reid. There’s a fire at Mountjoy.” She hurriedly rattled off her address.
She severed the connection, noticing that Brooke was still in bed. She ran to the bed and shook her sister vigorously. “Brooke, get up. The outbuilding is on fire, and this house may burn next. Wrap a blanket around yourself. We have to get out of here. I’ve got to unlock the gate so the fire truck can get in.”
She slipped her feet into her shoes, grabbed a coat from the closet and hustled Brooke outside, put her in the car, started the engine and sped down the driveway. She had just unlocked the gate when she heard the siren. She left the car at the foot of the hill to make way for the firemen. The fire truck and a police cruiser rushed by as she and Brooke walked back to the house. As yet the main house hadn’t caught on fire, but as she neared the building, another blast sounded and sparks flew up and settled on Mountjoy’s roof.
Even she could tell that there was no way they could save the outbuilding because it was completely engulfed in flames. But within a few minutes, the firefighters were spraying water on the roof and side of the house. A second tanker truck arrived and turned a water hose on the burning building just as the roof collapsed. The heavy onslaught of water kept the fire from spreading to the house or up the hill to the barn on the neighboring property.
By that time a large crowd of spectators had gathered, and Winston Goodman was ordering them to stay away from the fire. Janice, holding tightly to Brooke’s hand, stood behind the area the firefighters had cordoned off, her mind too numb to contemplate the meaning of this fire. Chief Goodman scuttled from one place to another, obviously pleased that he was in charge rather than the state troopers.
“Looks like the house is going to be saved, ma’am,” he said to Janice, “although the weatherboarding is scorched. You were lucky. Do you know how it started?”
She shook her head. “I have no idea. Brooke and I were asleep. Something woke me, maybe an explosion, because when I opened my eyes, our bedroom was bright like it was in the middle of the day. When another explosion sounded, I called 9–1-1 and got Brooke out of the
house as fast as I could.”
“What was in there that would have exploded?”
“I don’t really know what was in the building. It looked like an accumulation of junk to me, and I decided to let it alone until spring. When Cecil and I put a few pieces of antique furniture in there, I saw a lawn mower. There may have been some gasoline in it—I suppose that could have caused the explosions.”
Janice felt someone move in behind her and knew it was Lance before he spoke. She turned quickly, and put her hand in his. His hair was disheveled, and she thought inanely that he shouldn’t be out on such a cold night without a hat. He had run up the hill and he breathed deeply.
His eyes were filled with fear, and he gasped, “Are you and Brooke all right?”
“Yes, and the house isn’t going to burn.”
“Thank God for that. You can’t imagine how scared I’ve been. Dale is a volunteer firefighter, and he called to tell me that Mountjoy was burning. How did the fire start?”
“I don’t know. The building was engulfed in flames when I woke up.”
A firefighter came toward them, and not until he spoke did Janice realize it was Dale.
“The fire chief is leaving one of the tanks here the rest of the night, and I’m staying with it. I think the fire is out now, but we’ll soak this side of the house and roof occasionally just to be sure. It’s safe enough for you to go back inside now, Janice. And don’t worry about your safety. I’ll be outside.”
Janice realized she was shivering, because the coat she’d pulled on in a hurry only came to her knees and covered her short nightgown. Her bare feet and legs felt like icicles.
As Lance took her arm and helped her into the house, she said, “I can’t understand why Hungry didn’t bark, or where he disappeared to. After I thought our trouble was over, I’ve been putting him in his box at night. He wanders around too much if he’s inside, but I haven’t heard anything out of him.”
“He might have broken loose when the fire started,” Chief Goodman suggested. “He’ll probably come back as soon as Winston chases this crowd away.”
The house smelled of smoke, but at least it was warm when Janice and Brooke went inside.
Lance followed them and Janice said, “You don’t have to stay. The firefighters will be here all night—we’ll be fine. Brooke, why don’t you go back to bed and get warm?”
“I don’t think I can sleep.”
“Let’s have a cup of hot chocolate then,” Janice said. “I have some decaf chocolate mix. Do you want a cup, too, Lance?”
“Might as well,” he said, listening as the hall clock chimed three o’clock.
When Brooke went to the bathroom, Lance said quietly, “Was this an accident?”
“How could it be?” Janice said, pouring milk into a pan. “Someone set that fire. Is there never going to be an end to this harassment?”
“There’s still something going on that we don’t know about. I just can’t figure it out.”
Janice hadn’t locked the door, and as she was stirring the chocolate mix into milk, she heard the door open. “Janice, can you come here a minute,” Chief Goodman called. His expression was grave.
“What now?” she said.
“We found your dog—looks like he’s been poisoned.”
She was speechless. Standing behind her, Lance said, “Is he dead?”
“Not yet, but he’s in bad shape. Do you want us to take him to the vet?”
“I’ll do it,” Lance said. “Keep Brooke in here so she won’t see the dog. I’ll take care of it.”
Chief Goodman seemed bewildered, as if all of these incidents were too much for him. By that time, Sergeant Baxter and another officer had arrived at Mountjoy, and Janice went to bed, although she slept fitfully. The next morning, Baxter knocked on the side door soon after Janice went into the kitchen. She unbolted the door.
“I’d like you to come outside for a minute and look at something,” he said.
She followed him to where a stack of charred brush was piled against the house. A fire had been started there, but apparently the brush had been too damp for the fire to spread.
“Janice,” Baxter said, “this was an attempt to destroy your home. The dog was poisoned to keep him from barking and waking you.”
Janice shuddered. “So someone did try to kill us,” she said as she headed back to the warm kitchen.
Baxter followed her in and she poured a cup of coffee for him. “I’m afraid so. If you hadn’t woken up, the house might have caught fire, and you’d have perished. I don’t mean to pry into your business, but who’d get your property if you died?”
“Brooke. Three years ago when I learned that my uncle had left his estate to me, I made a will making Brooke my sole heir. If I died before she became of age, the money was to be put in trust for her with Miss Caroline, director of the Valley of Hope, as the trustee.”
“But if you and Brooke both died, where would the money go?”
Janice felt as if she was drowning. “My parents, I suppose. I didn’t make any provision beyond Brooke. But nobody knows this except Miss Caroline.”
“There’s some clue we’re missing in this mystery. I can’t sleep nights trying to figure it out.”
After Baxter left, without telling Brooke about Hungry, Janice encouraged her to stay in bed. She went into the kitchen to wait for Lance’s call after he’d seen the vet. She leaned her head on the table. Was her uncle trying to kill her? Or was it her parents? They would gain a lot if she and Brooke died.
But she couldn’t believe that they would try to kill their daughters. They’d been doing so well, seemed to enjoy their work, and were proud of themselves for saving some of their weekly salary. Since they were ex-cons, her parents would be the first suspects.
It was past five o’clock before Lance called, and by that time Janice was pacing the floor with the phone in her hand. If Hungry died, how would Brooke take it? Janice had also grown fond of the dog. After her traumatic childhood, she’d come to believe that she could stand anything, but there had to be a breaking point and she’d about reached it.
Lance wasted no words. “He isn’t going to die, but it was close. Another hour and the vet probably couldn’t have saved him. She wants to keep him under observation for two or three days.”
“That’s good. It isn’t safe to bring him home. Lance, they’ve found where a fire was set at the foundation of the house, but it fizzled out.”
“Janice, you’ll have to leave. If someone wants Mountjoy that bad, let them have it. It isn’t worth your life.”
“Chief Goodman says he’s going to keep round-the-clock police guard around the house until the fire marshal’s investigation is complete, so we’ll be all right for a few nights. When I tell Brooke about the dog, she’ll probably be too upset to come to school. Taylor can get her assignments and we’ll work on them at home.”
The next call came from her mother, who’d heard about the fire. Janice believed her concern was genuine, and that her parents hadn’t started the fire. She prayed that the police wouldn’t investigate them, because it wouldn’t take much to destroy their newfound confidence in themselves. When Brooke woke up, Janice told her that the dog was sick and Lance had taken him to the vet. She didn’t mention that the dog had been poisoned.
With representatives from the fire marshal’s office and policemen in and out of the house all day, Janice had no chance to rest. Her eyes grew heavy early in the evening. She talked with Lance on the phone and told him that she intended to go to bed before long, but that she’d bring Brooke to school the next morning.
“Brooke’s already in bed, and I’m headed that way soon. Sergeant Baxter did ease my mind on one count. His detectives quietly checked out my parents. Dad had worked an extra shift at the company, and Mom sat up most of the night with a sick neighbor. I didn’t believe they’d fired the building, but it’s a relief to know for sure.”
“Do you feel safe enough?”
“Yes
. Winston Goodman is on guard tonight, and he has his police cruiser parked beside the front porch. I don’t have anything to worry about, so I’m sure I’ll sleep.”
Yawning, Janice started down the hall, and she stopped quickly as a knock sounded on the door. In spite of her confident words to Lance, she was still apprehensive, so before she opened the door, she said, “Who is it?”
“Officer Goodman” was the reply, and recognizing Winston’s voice, she opened the door and turned on the porch light. He put his fingers to his lips in a bid for caution.
“Something’s come up,” he said in a hoarse whisper and motioned for her to join him.
Her concern for Brooke overrode her innate caution, and she stepped outside and followed him down the steps. Feeling a presence behind her, Janice opened her mouth, but her cry was stifled when Winston Goodman jumped forward and put his hand over her mouth. She bit him, and he swore. Grabbed from behind, Janice felt a sharp blow to her head and then darkness.
Chapter Eighteen
Lance didn’t know that Brooke wasn’t in school until midmorning when the day’s absence list was placed on his desk. Even then, he wasn’t too distressed, thinking that Janice had let her sleep in again. But uneasiness kept niggling at his mind, and he telephoned Janice. His anxiety increased when she didn’t answer. Except when it was charging at night, Janice kept her phone in her pocket. For months, his emotions had been so attuned to Janice’s that he could sense immediately when something was wrong. He was expecting a conference call from the State Board of Education, and he couldn’t leave. But after fidgeting in his office for ten minutes without receiving the call, Lance couldn’t stand it any longer.
He telephoned the police station, and when Chief Goodman answered, he identified himself and asked, “Who was on duty at Mountjoy last night?”
“My brother.”
“Has he reported in this morning?”
“No, but we’re shorthanded, and he said he’d do an extra shift. I hadn’t expected him to call.”
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