“I have no idea. Maybe he hates Celia and is really in love with me. He hopes that I’ll turn to him in despair and—”
“Nice romance novel, Jane. But let’s stick with reality. No reason that you know?”
“I didn’t know him when this mess started.”
“Okay, but that doesn’t mean much. We’re speculating. The perpetrator could turn out to be someone you’ve never met. Then there’s that Dale Keys guy.”
“Wants his job back maybe.”
“We don’t know that for sure. But at this point, everyone’s a possibility. How about that parent…Malik? Far-fetched?”
She glared and hit him with rapid-fire comments. “Far-fetched? How can you say that? He hates me. He hates women. He’s the most logical. And he was at the cider mill. Remember that? And…not at the parent conference.” Her pitch rose with each sentence.
“Yeah, but…I think he’s after money. A lawsuit would give him a financial settlement of some kind. Didn’t he mention seeing you in court? If he really wanted to hurt you, he’d say nothing.”
She dragged her fingers through her burnished curls. “I suppose you’re right.”
She said it, but her disbelieving tone sent another message. “What about the janitor? Any motive?”
“No, he’s harmless,” Jane said. “He’s a little slow and watches me a lot. Thinks I’m pretty.”
Kyle struggled to ward off a grin.
“Why are you smiling?” she asked.
“If I worked there, I’d probably ogle you, too. You’re more than pretty. You’re beautiful, gorgeous—”
Jane poked him with her elbow. “Get real.”
“I am.” He could tell she’d had enough. He waylaid his grilling by snapping on the radio. A love song drifted through the speakers. He liked the tune and prayed it would ease the tension he’d aroused with all his prodding.
Soon, Jane pointed to the Joneses’ house, and he pulled to the curb in front of the tidy bungalow. Perry opened the door to greet them, and Betsy stood behind him with a generous smile.
After the introductions, Perry invited them into the living room. They settled on the sofa while he plopped into the recliner, and Betsy went to the kitchen for snacks and drinks.
As the evening progressed, Kyle felt antsy, wanting to initiate his questions. He listened patiently while they reminisced about their school days. He hated to ruin their fun, but he hadn’t heard a thing that was helpful. Maybe Jane was right. Maybe she’d been that lovable.
When a lull came late in the evening, Kyle jumped in. “So, has Jane told you about her stalker?”
Betsy’s large eyes flew open wider. “Stalker? You’re kidding.” She jerked her head toward Jane. “You haven’t mentioned a word.”
“I hadn’t planned to, either,” Jane mumbled.
Her poison-dart look hit Kyle. Bull’s-eye. He squirmed. He’d made her angry, but he felt justified.
The term stalker captured Perry’s attention. “You mean someone’s following Jane?”
“And tormenting her. Frightening her to death.”
“Who? Why?” Betsy whispered.
“That’s what I’d like to find out.” Knowing he’d already roused Jane’s ire, Kyle told them the story. “I’ve been asking her about the past. A rival, an enemy, a rejected boyfriend. Maybe a jealous classmate.”
They both stared at him with sagging mouths and blank faces. They glanced at each other, then at Jane, but no one opened his mouth.
“So?” Stunned by their silence, he waited. “Any ideas?”
Nothing.
Irritated, Kyle prompted them. “No one? Jane didn’t have an enemy in the world? Everyone loved her?”
Their lips curved in unison to an embarrassed grin.
“Right,” Betsy said.
Perry leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “This is hard to believe. Jane was like the ‘girl next door.’ She was always helpful, thoughtful…. Really, I can’t think of one negative attribute.”
“I can’t think of a soul,” Betsy agreed.
Like slow motion, Jane turned her head toward Kyle. “I told you.”
Kyle released a blast of air. “You did, but I couldn’t believe it. You’re too perfect.”
“She is,” Betsy agreed. “Show him one of your diaries, Jane. We used to read them to each other and laugh. Mine was always filled with hateful digs and awful envy. Jane’s sounded like the Bible.”
Though Kyle heard Betsy’s voice, her words faded and his thoughts clung to one word—diaries.
Betsy laughed. “I’ll never forget one day when—”
Her voice droned on until Kyle gathered his thoughts and unmindfully cut her off. “Jane, you have diaries?”
“I did years ago. Why?”
“You’ve never mentioned them.” He gaped at her surprised face in amazement.
“Why would I? I haven’t kept a diary since my freshman year in college.” She shook her head. “No, Kyle, I’m sure they’ll tell you nothing.”
He leaned forward, a hint of promise rising up his spine. “But it’s a hope. Maybe some little comment will trigger something. I’m grasping at straws, Jane.” He heard his pitch rise but he didn’t care anymore. “You want to find out who this jerk is, don’t you?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“Then find your diaries and start reading them. It might be an unlikely source, but it’s a possibility.”
“I have no idea where they are. In the attic? Basement? Maybe thrown away? But I’ll look.”
“That’s all I ask.”
“No, you’re asking more than that, Kyle. You’re asking me to go on a wild-goose chase.”
Perry snickered. “I’ve been on a few wild-goose chases, remember, Betsy?”
Betsy grabbed a pillow from behind her and pitched it at him. “Hush.” A bright flush colored her cheeks.
“Silly, maybe, but fun,” Perry murmured.
Kyle took advantage of their playful tone. “Come on, Jane. We can have a wild-goose chase of our own. What do you say?”
“Theirs sounds like lots more fun.” Finally, Jane gave Kyle a faint grin.
“Hey,” Kyle asked her, “ever made out in an attic?”
“No, and I’m not starting now.” Her grin deepened to a coy smile. “Look, I’m trying to be angry, and you won’t let me.”
Kyle nuzzled his cheek against her hair. “The greatest part of being angry is making up.”
“See! I can’t win. He’s always—”
“On a wild-goose chase,” Kyle murmured.
On the last Friday in October, Jane and Celia stood outside the school bus door while two other teachers herded the children toward the Pinckney Pumpkin Farm entrance. To Jane’s delight, four classes elected to visit the farm for their autumn celebration.
When they’d gathered outside the lodge, scarecrow-costumed employees led the children to wagons. The children giggled at the workers lumbering past with straw sticking from pant legs and sleeves and burlap bags with eye holes covering their heads.
Looking behind her for dawdlers, Jane felt an eerie sensation prickle up her arms. Leaning against the lodge, a scarecrow seemed to follow her movements, but the bag over his head camouflaged his visual direction. He could have been looking at anything. Admitting her recent jitters, she pushed aside her fears.
A scarecrow stepped into line, and Jane jumped, then cringed at her foolishness, realizing the worker was helping the teachers herd the children toward the wagons.
While the children clambered aboard, Jane focused again on the lone scarecrow. He hadn’t moved. Could he be a prop? A real scarecrow? She drew in a wavering breath, trying to rid herself of the horrible feeling.
When everyone was accounted for, the horses strained forward and tugged the rigs along the rutted lane past vast furrowed fields. Jane hung on, jiggling and laughing with the children. The bumpy ride was far more pleasant than the fears that rode roughshod through her.
A cos
tumed employee sat with the driver and spoke into a static-filled microphone, describing the process of farming. The students’ excitement built as the wagon rumbled into the immense pumpkin field and halted while each child climbed down and selected a pumpkin to paint.
Jane wandered up and down the rows checking on her class and pushed her agitation aside. She had enough to do keeping track of her students, especially Danny Jamieson. With his large brown eyes and spiraling curly hair, he looked as innocent as a lamb…but one in sheep’s clothing. She grinned at her analogy.
Jane turned in a slow circle, scanning the broad field and giving a thumbs-up to Celia. Despite her attempt to put her worry aside, Jane glanced around, relieved that the lone scarecrow was nowhere in sight.
Lena and Sara headed toward the wagon, each one carrying a pumpkin. As the others returned, workers helped the children and pumpkins onto the straw-covered floor. When the field emptied, Jane and the other teachers worked their way back to the wagon and their return to the lodge.
At the lodge, children scattered, and Jane scoured the group, counting aloud as she tallied off her students. As she feared, Danny seemed to have vanished.
Moving into the lodge, Jane watched farmhands coach the pumpkin painting, but she stood her vigil, waiting for Danny to appear from the rest room. While she waited, a second grader caught her sleeve.
“Miss Conroy, a scarecrow man said to tell you one of the kids is in the barn.”
“The barn?” She gaped at the child, feeling the blood drain from her face. “Are you sure?”
“Uh-huh.” The child’s head bobbed like an apple in a tub of water.
“Thanks,” she said, sensing the child’s wide eyes were a reflection of her own. How had Danny roved that far?
Heading for the door, she caught Celia’s arm. “Listen, I think Danny wandered off to the barn or something. One of the employees sent a message.”
Celia frowned. “Why didn’t they bring him back?”
Dismayed that she hadn’t questioned that herself, Jane’s heart fell to her toes with a new fear. “Maybe he’s hurt, and they didn’t want…” Her concern shifted to panic.
“I’ll come with you,” Celia said, falling into step beside her.
“No,” Jane said, and nudged Celia back toward the others. “Stay with the kids. I’ll be fine.”
Jane raced from the lodge, praying nothing was seriously wrong. Her heart pounded as she rushed toward the barn, fearing the worst.
The door stood ajar.
Adrenaline fired her action. She took a deep breath, tugged back the door and stepped into the dim interior.
When her feet hit the straw-covered floor, terror charged through her. She faltered, peering into the shadows. No one was there. Nothing.
Yet, from inside, she heard a childlike whimper. “Danny? Danny, are you in here?”
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.
Chapter Twelve
When 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.
A Love for Safekeeping Page 12