A Love for Safekeeping

by Gail Gaymer Martin

  “I left the key at home in the blazer I wore yesterday.”

  “You mean my key opens your classroom?” Jane asked.

  She nodded. “All the keys in this hall are the same. All the corridors are that way.”

  Jane’s mind grasped the new piece of information, tucking it in her mental file; then she followed Celia. When she reached the hall, Charlie stood outside Celia’s room.

  “Never mind, Jane,” Celia said. “Charlie’ll do it.”

  Jane nodded and watched Charlie unlock the door. He attached the key to the ring on his belt while his gaze fastened on Jane.

  An eerie feeling crept over her. She wet her dried lips and hurried back into her classroom. Her first parent entered on her heels.

  Trying to spread herself between the parents who arrived, Jane used all the tact she could muster. The hardest part of the evening was dismissing parents who didn’t want to stop talking.

  Her feet ached, and her mind muddied as the last few parents wandered around the room, viewing their children’s work. To Jane’s relief, Sam Malik didn’t appear, and her tension faded as time moved forward.

  At nine o’clock, the P.A. hissed, and Skylar’s voice concluded the evening with a “thank you” to the parents and an announcement ending the open house.

  Jane spent the next few minutes edging parents toward the doorway. As the last couple made their way through the exit, she closed her door with a deep exhale.

  Though she felt tired, the evening lifted her spirits. Her students liked her, that was certain. She heard it in the parents’ voices. She closed the workbooks, placed them on the shelf, then slipped on her coat and locked her room.

  Heading for the exit, Jane slowed her pace. An old fear slithered into her mind. The parking lot set her imagination whirling.

  As she opened the wide outside door, Celia caught up with her. Having company, Jane relaxed. They compared notes on the open house, and as Jane approached her car, she pushed the keyless remote and heard the comforting beep. Celia said good night and moved off toward her own car.

  Jane started the motor before she noticed something under her windshield wiper. Her breath shallowed, and she slammed her eyelids closed, praying it was only an illusion or shadow. Opening them, she caught her breath. It was really there.

  Peering cautiously into the shadows, she steeled herself and threw open the door. In a matter of seconds, she’d grabbed the paper, hopped back into the car and pushed the lock button.

  She sat like a statue, staring at the folded paper. Celia’s headlights retreated from the parking lot. Jane wanted to laugh at herself. Maybe it was only a note from Kyle saying he’d drop by later…or a scribbled thank-you from an appreciative parent.

  She inched open the paper and squinted into the darkness. In the dashboard light, she saw three printed words. Her heart rose to her throat.

  She tilted the paper closer to the dash. See Puff vanish. The words made no sense, but the pattern was the same as the others.

  Her immediate thought was Kyle. She opened her purse, and gratitude filled her mind as she dug inside for the phone. How would she feel now if she hadn’t heeded Kyle’s advice? Staring at the push buttons, she had second thoughts. Why not just drive to the station?

  She peered through the windows, watching cars file from the parking lot. She was nearly alone. She dropped the phone to the passenger seat and shifted into reverse. She’d feel better in a lighted building than alone in a dark parking lot.

  In a few minutes, Jane arrived at the precinct and hurried into the building, wondering what to say. How could she explain that a note saying “See Puff vanish” frightened her? She prayed Kyle was there.

  As she approached the desk, a woman in uniform rose and met her at the counter.

  “Can I help you?” she asked

  “Kyle Manning? Is he around?”

  “No, he’s out. Would you like to talk to another officer?”

  Jane’s spirit nose-dived. “Not really. He’s my…well, a friend, and I thought maybe—”

  The woman’s face broke into a broad smile. “Are you Jane?”

  “Yes.” Relief. The tension fell from her shoulders. “I need to talk with him, but it can wait.”

  “I can call him and see where he is.”

  Her pulse skipped. “Could you? Thanks.”

  Jane listened to the static-filled squawk of the radio, trying to make sense out of the noise.

  “Can he meet you at your house?” the officer asked.

  “That would be great.”

  The woman repeated her message and ended the call. She gave her a smile. “He’ll pass by your house.”

  Jane thanked her, then hurried to her car and home. As soon as she arrived, Kyle’s squad car lighted the road from the opposite direction. He pulled in behind her.

  Kyle exited the squad car, his broad chest and towering frame a refuge for Jane. The sensation charged through her. Instead of fear, she felt safe, seeing the blue uniform.

  Silhouetted in the front seat, Jane noticed another figure. She felt embarrassed to share her silly fears with a stranger.

  She stepped from the car and met him on the grass.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice deep with worry.

  Her hands trembling, Jane handed him the note.

  He used his flashlight to see the words. “What does it mean?”

  “I don’t know.” She stared at the small paper in his large hand.

  “It’s like the other messages…except what’s a puff?”

  Jane shrugged.

  He glanced toward the squad car. “Let me see if George has any ideas.” He walked back to the other officer.

  Though the note was meaningless, the cryptic message frightened her. Puff. She faltered. Was that the Dick and Jane cat? She braced herself against the car to combat the horrible sinking feeling.

  The second officer followed Kyle from the car and introduced himself. “Puff’s the cat in Dick and Jane,” George said, validating her own thinking. “You don’t happen to own a cat, do you?”

  She nodded, her heart hammering double time.

  “We’d better take a look,” Kyle said. He clutched Jane’s arm and steered her toward the doorway.

  Stunned and fearful, she let Kyle lead her up the porch stairs and turn the door handle. “It’s locked, Jane.”

  Hope filled her. If her tormentor couldn’t get inside, Wilcox was safe. She handed Kyle the key. He entered first.

  Jane flipped on the light switch. She faltered. Wilcox usually greeted her at the door. She raced through the house, calling the cat’s name. Wilcox was silent. A wave of nausea swept through her.

  “Do you see anything missing?” Kyle asked, surveying the rooms as they passed through.

  “Just Wilcox,” she said, her legs weakening with each step.

  George returned from the kitchen. “The back door’s locked. It looks like a hoax.”

  Jane stopped in the hallway. “Maybe, but where’s my cat?” She dashed into her bedroom with the men behind her. Pivoting, Jane saw nothing out of place. But before she spoke, an urgent “meow” came from her closet. She froze.

  Kyle’s hand shot forward, pushing her out of danger, and he edged toward the closet, his pistol drawn. Then, stepping to the side, he yanked open the door.

  Wilcox leaped from the confines and darted from the bedroom with George hurrying after the cat.

  Dazed, Jane gaped at the action.

  “You must’ve locked him inside when you got dressed this morning,” Kyle said, eyeing the closet.

  “I don’t think so. If I did, what about the note? Is that another coincidence?”

  A ragged sigh escaped him. “Jane, I don’t know.”

  Her hands knotted to fists. “And who knows I have a cat? That scares me, Kyle.”

  Seeming distracted, Kyle gave her a faint nod, then crouched in front of the closet and frisked the floor. Palming something, he straightened and gave her an uneasy look.r />
  George barreled through the doorway. “The cat seems to be okay,” he said, cradling Wilcox in his arms. He came to a stop.

  Kyle glanced at him, then back to the slip of paper clutched in his fingers. He unfolded the note and scanned the message, then shook his head. He thrust the paper in Jane’s hand.

  She stared at the words. See Jane suffer. Tears she’d struggled to control streamed down her cheeks, and she swung toward Kyle. “I can’t stand this anymore.”

  He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her against his chest, and she gave the sobs free reign. When she calmed, she lifted her head. “How did he get in? The doors were locked….”

  Suddenly the answer struck her. She bolted from his arms and down the hallway. The key in the rock. Someone knew. But who? Celia…and Kyle…or Len. No, he’d been at the pharmacy. Or had Celia told him about the key? Maybe someone else had stood in the bushes and watched her.

  Kyle tensed when she broke loose and darted from the room. With George on his heels, he followed, having no idea where she was headed until he saw her open the front door. Then he remembered the key. He stood at the door as she knelt on the ground, groping beneath the shrubs.

  He jumped off the edge of the porch as she pulled out the rock. The key lay inside, as if untouched. She raised her face to his, tearstains lacing her ashen skin.

  “It’s here. Would a burglar put it back?”

  “Maybe, Jane. The person is obviously playing games.” He drew her from the ground, his heart heavy. The bottom of her skirt was wet from the damp earth. He was overwhelmed with sadness…and anger.

  He clutched her against his chest, his wary eyes scanning the shrubbery and street. Was someone in the dark watching now? Who was getting a sick delight out of scaring her to death? And why?

  A sound caused him to reel toward the porch. George stood in the doorway holding open the storm door. “What’s up? Find anything?”

  He shook his head, “She keeps a key here.” He showed George the rock. “But it’s still inside. I wouldn’t think anyone would put it back.”

  George shrugged. “I’ll call the station and see if they want to dust for fingerprints. What do you say?”

  “Good idea.”

  His mind was more torn than it had ever been. With Jane involved, he wasn’t thinking clearly. And he needed to be on his toes. The old fear knifed through him. Marriage and cops? The two didn’t mix at all.

  He pushed the thought out of his head. He had to go over the whole thing step by step with Jane. What were they missing? A person didn’t stalk someone without a reason. Someone out there knew something, but who?

  At the station, Kyle bent over a desk, filling out his paperwork, but he couldn’t concentrate. Jane’s scare a few evenings ago sat on him with the weight of a sumo wrestler. He pressed his fingers against his temples and wished he could push Jane’s predicament from his mind so he could finish the work and go home.

  He’d only settled one of her problems. He arranged to have the house locks changed…and insisted she leave no key outside. He’d hear about it, for sure, if she locked herself out, but he could live with that. What he couldn’t live with was someone harming her.

  Jane disturbed his thoughts like a sliver. He couldn’t rid himself of the constant worry. He flipped over the report form and doodled on the back.

  Kyle searched his mind, seizing every fact he could recall. He dismissed the vandalism situation. That was kids. But he jotted the other incidents on the paper: flat tires, library, cider mill, cat. All those notes but not one fingerprint.

  Then he pried names from his mind. Celia, Len, Malik, Keys. Anyone else? The principal came to mind. Skylar? It seemed far-fetched, but Kyle shrugged and added his name to the list. Somewhere in his mind, other phantom characters jogged through his memory, but he couldn’t put a name to the faceless people.

  “What’s up?”

  Kyle lurched as a hand slapped his shoulder. “Whoa, George! I’m as bad as Jane.”

  The other officer straddled a chair beside him.

  “I can’t get her off my mind,” Kyle said.

  George let out a loud guffaw. “Situation or woman?”

  For a moment Kyle didn’t understand. When he did, a surge of awareness shot to his toes. He glanced at George without commenting. “I’m playing detective.”

  “Why worry now? It’s on the books as a break-in.”

  “Right. Break-in with a key.”

  George snorted. “Right, those reports go in the circular file.” He poked the trash can with his toe.

  “So I’m here, playing detective.” He pointed to the scribbled notations. “List of suspicious events. List of possible suspects. That’s all I have, and I’m sure I’ve left out suspects.”

  George leaned over the desk, scanning his chicken scratches. “What about opportunity? Motive?”

  Kyle gave a knowing harumph. “Thanks, George. Just get technical.”

  “Listen, pal, you can’t have a crime without a motive.” He slid into a chair next to Kyle. “Once you get the list of suspects, check out possible motives and opportunities. At least you can shorten your list.”

  “Like Celia. I can cross her off right now. She was at the open house with Jane. Plus I was talking to her when Jane was pushed at the cider mill.”

  “Okay, your list is shorter already.”

  “I’m forgetting a couple of people she’s mentioned, I’m sure.” He leaned back in his chair. “The night I met her, she ran into an old high school friend…Perry. I think that’s his name. I wonder.”

  George eyed him. “Suspect list?”

  “That…or his memory.”

  “Memory?” George’s mouth pulled to one side.

  “Maybe this Perry can recall something. I really think she needs to comb through her past. Redmond is where she grew up. Maybe someone’s harboring a grudge.”

  He knew Jane had said no a million times, but that’s where his thoughts kept heading. He leaned back in the chair and swiveled toward George. “She says she can’t think of a thing, but maybe Perry can…or his wife. She and Jane were good friends.”

  George shrugged and mumbled a “maybe.”

  “I need to hash this over.” Kyle snatched up the paper from the desk, folded it and tucked it into his uniform pocket.

  Chapter Eleven

  Heading toward Perry and Betsy Jones’s home, Kyle’s shoulder weighted with guilt. His guilt really stemmed from manipulating their visit to her old school friends. When he told Jane he’d like to meet them, he wasn’t lying…exactly. But information was his ulterior motive.

  Though he’d sifted through every detail, he’d found nothing. And Jane was no help. She continued to dismiss his questions with “I can’t think of anything.” But learning more about her past riddled his mind with questions, and he couldn’t give up.

  “Okay,” he said, knowing she’d be irritated with him. “Let’s go over it again.”

  She heaved a dramatic sigh. “Kyle, do we have to?”

  He ignored her question. “Besides scaring you to death, can you think of any common detail about the incidents? Anything at all, other than the notes?”

  “Look, I’ve been praying so hard to give my fears to the Lord. Now you’re riling them up again.”

  He saw the tension in her face, but he had to stay hard-nosed. “I know, but I’m a cop, Jane. I’m praying that God protects you, but God made policemen to catch criminals, and since the department isn’t actively investigating this, I have to…for your sake. So answer me. Is the note the only similarity?”

  Her pained expression tugged at his conscience. He started to withdraw his question, but to his amazement, she answered it.

  “Yes,” she said, her voice barely audible. For a moment, she paused, then answered his question. “Except for the tires, the note is the only constant. Well, I was alone each time, except for the break-in. Then I wasn’t home. But I would have discovered it alone if I hadn’t called you.”
r />   “Okay.” He juggled her data. “You’ve mentioned the school custodian. And that sub, Dale Keys, who makes you feel guilty for replacing him—and his friend…the art teacher. His name is Larry Fox, right?”

  “Yes. But I don’t really know him. He’s a special in the building. You know, he comes into the school a day or two a week to work with students. Other days he’s in different buildings.”

  “But he’d hear the scuttlebutt, right? He’d know about meetings, open houses, things like that?”

  “Sure, but—”

  “No buts. If he knows things, he might be involved. Or he could be feeding someone else information. Was he at the open house?”

  Jane bit the edge of her lip. “I don’t think so, but I could be wrong. Usually the specials don’t come to conferences because they work at so many schools.”

  His jaw felt tight, and he opened his mouth to relax the tension. “Okay. We know Celia was at the open house.”

  “And at the cider mill. She’s a friend, Kyle.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m just brainstorming.”

  “Well, ‘storm’ in some other direction, okay?”

  When he looked at her face, Kyle stopped. He was getting nowhere. “Okay, sorry.”

  She gave him an edgy look.

  “Skylar was at the open house, I suppose.” He knew she wouldn’t mind talking about him. He’d done nothing but knock the stool out from under her since she arrived.

  She stared out the passenger window for a moment, then shifted toward him. “He made an opening welcome at six-thirty and a closing speech at nine. That’s it. I don’t know what he did in between those times.”

  “That would make a great alibi.” He sidled a look at Jane, but she seemed to ignore his comment. “Let’s consider possible motives.”

  She faced him with an arched eyebrow, but didn’t say no.

  “Skylar?” he asked.

  “Doesn’t seem to like me. Thinks I’m off-the-wall.”

  “Not worth tormenting you, I wouldn’t think,” Kyle said. “He irritates you enough every day.”

  A hint of a grin shifted across her face.

  “Celia… We’ll forget her,” he said quickly. “Len?”