Hiding in Plain Sight

by Mary Ellis

Eric adroitly changed the subject as he offered Jill the bowl of Caprese salad. ‘Speaking of geography, how do you like Charleston so far?’

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ said Jill. ‘But so much larger than I thought. I’m never leaving the house without a map again.’ She held up a mozzarella ball on her fork to inspect.

  ‘I have a great map you can keep,’ said Eric. ‘That’s fresh mozzarella, by the way.’

  ‘Really? I thought they only put mozzarella on pizza.’ Jill popped it in her mouth. ‘It’s delicious.’

  ‘Caprese is finally starting to catch on in America.’ Nonni shook her piece of garlic bread. ‘Europeans have eaten it for years.’

  ‘Speaking of new traditions,’ said Dani. ‘At what age, Jill, do you think girls should be allowed to pick out their own clothes?’

  While his tenant considered, Eric slashed a finger across his throat. Unfortunately, Jill didn’t look his way.

  ‘I guess sixteen is old enough, providing the girl earns her own money. Otherwise, her parents should make the decision while she lives under their roof.’ Jill smiled at Bernie, as though hoping for approval.

  ‘See, Mom. Even Jill thinks I should choose my junior prom dress.’ Danielle’s brows knit together. ‘I earned every penny for it babysitting.’

  Bernie chewed her food thoroughly and swallowed. ‘I appreciate Jill’s opinion, but unfortunately the Conrad family isn’t a democracy. If your dad says the dress is too low-cut, back to the mall it goes. Period.’ His sister’s expression didn’t encourage further discussion.

  ‘Now that that’s settled, did you make any progress in your case today?’ Eric directed his question at Jill.

  ‘None whatsoever,’ she said. ‘I hope to hear something helpful soon from our office’s computer expert.’

  ‘Well, I’ve got a story to tell.’ After scooping another portion of lasagna, Aunt Estelle launched into a convoluted tale about her next-door neighbor, Mrs Brockman, a woman none of them knew. For the next fifteen minutes, Estelle explained in detail the woman’s fall in the back garden, subsequent hospitalization, and rehabilitation regimen.

  Throughout Estelle’s saga, Eric stole glances at Jill, but she was either intrigued by the story or a very good actress.

  ‘I hope Mrs Brockman makes a quick recovery,’ Jill said when Estelle finally wrapped up the story.

  ‘Yes,’ added Eric. ‘Let me know if we can send over meals for her. Now, does anyone want dessert or coffee?’ His gaze flitted around the table, landing on Jill.

  ‘Not me, I’m stuffed.’ Dani jumped up to start clearing the table.

  ‘Ugh, I’ve got indigestion.’ Nonni stood and moved slowly from the kitchen.

  ‘Not for me either,’ said Jill. ‘But I want to help you clean up before I head upstairs.’

  ‘We’ve got this, Jill, but I would like a word with you.’ Eric practically dragged Jill away from the table. When they reached the bottom of the steps, he burst out laughing. ‘Sorry, that had to be the worst dinner of your life.’

  ‘Not by a long shot. I enjoyed it once we got past the prom-dress crisis.’ A smile filled Jill’s face. ‘The food was wonderful and everyone was so … straightforward. There’s no beating around the bush in your family.’

  ‘The Manfredis are nothing if not forthright.’ Eric picked lint off his sweater so she wouldn’t see how happy her comment made him. ‘Join us whenever you can, but be prepared for anything.’

  ‘I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks.’

  Briefly, he considered asking the question on his mind all day: Would you really say no if I asked you out?

  But suddenly her phone rang and his golden moment was gone. ‘That could be our office tech expert. Good night, Eric.’ Jill bolted up the steps.

  He had lost his chance. But as things turned out at Bella Trattoria, it was for the best.

  ‘Michael?’ Jill asked, picking up the phone.

  ‘Just getting ready to leave you a message. I have Baby Girl Allston’s new name and address. Got something to write with?’

  Jill fumbled in her purse for pen and paper. ‘Yep.’

  ‘Baby Girl Allston was adopted by a Steve and Betsy Cross who renamed her Emma. She is now Emma Norris, married to Ralph. The family lives on Chester Road in Orchard, South Carolina.’

  ‘Where’s that?’

  ‘I have no clue. You’re on your own. Hey, how is life above the restaurant?’

  ‘Great. I just shared an amusing meal with my landlord’s family.’

  ‘Beth won’t like hearing that.’

  Jill remembered Beth’s distrust of Eric. ‘You’re right. So let’s keep that tidbit between us. Thanks for your research.’

  ‘You’re welcome. I just hope this doesn’t come back to bite me.’

  ‘I promise it won’t.’

  Jill hung up, already regretting the promise she might not be able to keep. That night she tossed and turned for hours. When she finally fell asleep, she slept fitfully until the smoke alarm woke her for the second time in two days. She bolted upright and glanced at the clock. Four a.m.? No one was cooking at this hour.

  Jill remembered seeing emergency instructions hanging on the wall:

  In case of fire, do not open your door. Exit through the double window on to the porch roof and approach the edge cautiously. Remove metal ladder from storage box, lower over edge of roof, and cautiously proceed down ladder backwards to the ground.

  Oh, is that all? Jill didn’t like heights. She liked ladders even less. And the idea of proceeding down a swinging ladder absolutely terrified her. So instead Jill chose the stairs directly to the kitchen. But when she pressed her ear to the door, she heard the distinct sound of sirens in the distance, along with the blaring smoke alarm at the base of the steps. This was no false alarm.

  Jill ran back to the dormer, pushed open the double window, and uttered a short but to-the-point prayer: Please Lord, don’t let me break my neck on this ladder. It wasn’t much of a prayer, but she was a novice and didn’t have much time.

  Kneeling on the upholstered seat, she stuck one leg out, clutched the frame, ducked her head, and maneuvered her body through the opening. Slowly, she rose to an upright position. But when the smell of acrid smoke hit her nostrils, Jill forced her feet to move toward the dark precipice. Operating fully on adrenaline, Jill reached the storage box, pulled out the ladder, and dropped it over the edge.

  Don’t think. Don’t look down. Just go.

  Dropping on to her belly, Jill scuttled like a crab to the edge. Then she blindly felt around for the first rung as the ladder swung wildly.

  ‘Stay where you are, Miss,’ shouted a voice from below.

  She froze and released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. ‘Thank you, Jesus.’ Jill whispered words she’d heard her mother use many times. Frankly, she’d thought her Mom was rude to address him so personally.

  ‘Miss Wyatt, are you on the roof?’ called the voice.

  ‘Who are you?’ she asked, rather stupidly.

  ‘I’m Captain Lewis of the Charleston Fire Department. Don’t come down the ladder. We’ve fully extinguished the blaze and a firefighter will be with you shortly.’

  True to the captain’s word, someone soon stuck their head through the open bedroom window. But in full rescue equipment including breathing apparatus, the person looked more like an astronaut than a firefighter. He pushed up his facemask to speak. ‘Stay where you are, Miss Wyatt, and I’ll help you get back.’

  Jill did exactly as she was told. She didn’t move a muscle until the fireman reached her side and coaxed her across the roof, step by step. ‘Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,’ said Jill once safely inside her room, which was surprisingly smoke-free.

  ‘Do you feel lightheaded or faint? Would you like some oxygen?’ He offered her his mask.

  ‘No, I’m fine. But if that fire is down there, I want outta here.’ Jill spoke a bit louder than necessary.

  ‘Shall I carry you down the stai
rs and out the door?’ he asked, steadying her arm.

  ‘Did the steps burn?’

  ‘Not at all. Fire was contained inside the kitchen.’

  ‘Then let’s just go. I’ll follow you.’ Jill grabbed her purse and briefcase and held on to him until they reached the courtyard.

  ‘You’re safe now, Miss Wyatt,’ said the fireman. After a few moments, he gently pried Jill’s fingers from his arm. ‘There is no danger, but everyone must remain outdoors. No going back inside for any reason.’ Once she nodded her comprehension, he returned to the flurry of activity.

  ‘Jill! Thank goodness, you’re all right.’ Eric Manfredi materialized from the smoke and chaos.

  When he tried to embrace her, Jill jumped back as though bit by a snake. ‘What’s going on here? Are you some kind of pyromaniac?’ she spat.

  ‘Of course not, I was asleep at my condo. I’m as confused about this as you.’ Eric looked stricken.

  ‘Then how could you get here so fast?’ Jill thumped her fist against his chest.

  ‘I only live two blocks away. Whenever the alarm is triggered, I’m automatically called along with the fire department.’ Eric’s eyes flashed in anger.

  Jill stopped thumping his chest and held up her hands. ‘OK, but two fires in two days? The coincidence is a bit much for me. I may need to rethink my temporary address.’

  ‘I understand perfectly.’ Eric spoke without meeting her eyes. ‘I’ll see that your deposit is returned and reimburse any losses you suffer from smoke damage. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to check on my grandmother. Captain Lewis will let you know when we can go inside.’ Eric stomped across the courtyard to where Nonni sat at a back table.

  When Jill saw the elderly woman waiting without a bit of hysteria or overreaction, she was embarrassed. But then again, not everyone is afraid of both heights and ladders.

  Jill found an out-of-the-way spot to watch fire personnel come and go from the building with much conversation but little drama. Ninety minutes later, Captain Lewis approached her table under the magnolia.

  ‘You may now return to your suite, Miss. Thanks to the sprinkler system, the fire caused no structural damage to the support beams or floor joists, although the restaurant will remain closed for a while.’

  ‘Thank you, sir. And please thank the brave firefighter who rescued me. I will need to go upstairs to pack. Hopefully, my clothes won’t smell too much like smoke.’ In light of his department’s heroic endeavors, it was a very stupid thing to say.

  ‘I hope so too, Miss Wyatt.’

  Not wanting to see Eric, Jill hurried up to her room. Although her room now smelled of smoke, surprisingly the clothes in closets and drawers had barely picked up the scent at all. Wisely, the fireman had pulled the door shut behind them when they left.

  She took a long, hot shower to wash off the soot and regain her composure. Then she slinked out of Bella Trattoria to her car. With each passing minute, Jill regretted her harsh words to Eric. She of all people should know bad things often happened to good people. But she had lashed out at a man who’d been nothing but sweet to her. After practically accusing Eric of attempted murder, her packed bags would most likely be waiting by the time she got back.

  Jill grabbed breakfast at a drive-thru and punched the town of Orchard into the Toyota’s GPS. It was time to get out of town … and do her job.

  EIGHT

  Jill had no trouble finding the town, but that was the extent of her success. Chester Road was unknown to her sophisticated GPS system and it certainly didn’t appear on the South Carolina map in her atlas. After driving around aimlessly, she stopped in the Lazy Bear Diner for lunch and remembered sage advice from her mentor: If you need local information, find a diner, sit at the counter, and for goodness sake, smile …

  Jill not only ate the best meatloaf sandwich of her life, the waitress she chatted Atlanta Braves with turned out to be Emma Cross’s pal from high school.

  ‘So what brings you to the middle of nowhere and how do you know Emma?’ asked the waitress once they exhausted the topic of baseball.

  ‘I don’t know her very well, but I got a flat tire on their road a few years ago. I was lost at the time. Ralph changed the tire and pointed me in the right direction. Emma told me to stop back if I’m ever in the area.’ Jill hoped her aversion to lying didn’t show on her face. ‘I’m on my way to Charlotte with a little time on my hands, so I thought I’d take the scenic route. Trouble is I can’t seem to find Chester Road to stop in and say “hi.”’ She produced the slip of paper with the Norrises address.

  ‘Whoa, you’re not kidding about a scenic route to Charlotte.’ The waitress walked away to refill a few cups, but returned with a faded township map. ‘Chester is this dotted line, because the road’s not paved.’ She tapped with one long nail. ‘But you won’t find a mailbox with an address. There’s no delivery out there. They must be living in her parents’ old house. Once you turn down Chester, watch for the first drive past an old sycamore tree. It’s a very long driveway so don’t get scared. Tell Emma that Frannie Davis sends her regards. I haven’t seen her since she got married and changed churches.’

  I’m supposed to find a certain tree? Jill wasn’t sure if she’d stepped into The Twilight Zone or The Waltons. ‘I will be sure to – and thanks.’ She slipped the map into her purse, took a last bite of sandwich, and left a large tip. Unfortunately when she walked out of Lazy Bear the light drizzle had changed to a downpour.

  Armed with the local map, Jill successfully found Chester Road, but the rain had changed the hard-packed surface to a sloppy mess. After googling what a sycamore tree looked like, she located their driveway easily. Few trees grew among the acres of cotton for as far as the eye could see. But mustering the courage to drive up another dirt road with no house visible was another matter. She considered texting Beth with her whereabouts, but the lack of cell coverage ended that plan.

  Jill paused at the mouth of their driveway. Surely Emma can’t be a serial killer if she attends church and knows nice people like Frannie. So she took a deep breath and guided her Toyota around deep ruts and puddles of standing water for more than half a mile. When a two-story white farmhouse appeared around the next turn, Jill breathed a sigh of relief. Green shutters framed the windows and red flowers overflowed several pots on the porch. Serial killers never planted marigolds along the walkway.

  But some of her confidence waned as Jill climbed the front steps. Two of the porch boards were rotted, while several cracked windows had been repaired with duct tape. Up close the homestead gave the appearance of poverty or neglect or both. As she contemplated fleeing back to her car, a tiny face peeked through the curtains. When Jill knocked, a young girl not much older than Joan Sugarman opened the door.

  ‘Who are you?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m Miss Jill Wyatt. Is your mom home?’ She realized too late her real name might not have been a good idea.

  ‘Go upstairs with your brother, daughter. You’ve got spelling to do.’ A tall woman with a baby in her arms appeared in the doorway. The child scampered off without a word of argument. ‘May I help you?’

  The woman had the strongest accent Jill had ever heard and, without a doubt, bore a strong resemblance to Charlotte Sugarman. ‘Hi, are you Emma Norris? I’m a friend of Frannie Davis. She thought you might be able to help me or at least point me in the right direction.’

  One of Emma’s sparse eyebrows arched. ‘Are you lost?’

  ‘No, my husband and I are looking for land to buy.’ Jill was amazed how easily the lies rolled off her tongue.

  ‘There’s a real estate office in Kingstree. They’re your best bet for farms for sale around here.’ Emma started to close the door.

  Jill reacted quickly. ‘Please, I’ve already talked with an agent. You are my last hope.’

  ‘Why is that?’

  ‘All the farms ’round here are too expensive for us. We’re looking for ten or twelve acres of privacy, with no road frontage. A place
my husband could build a cabin and small barn – more of a subsistence farm than income producing.’

  ‘Good you don’t have false hope.’ Emma issued a wry laugh. ‘There’s no money to be made in cotton these days. Ralph barely clears enough profit to pay our taxes.’

  ‘Frannie thought you might be willing to sell a dozen acres or might know one of your neighbors.’ Jill produced her most earnest expression.

  As Emma studied her, Jill was glad she wore a skirt and blouse instead of a suit. ‘I suppose you could get out of the rain for a spell.’ Emma motioned her in. ‘Please have a seat.’

  Jill walked into a spotless living room straight from the movie Witness, complete with oil lamps, rocking chair, and a threadbare braided rug. She perched on a sofa that hadn’t been in style for years, guessing the Norris family inherited the farm and had changed nothing since. ‘That’s one huge fireplace,’ said Jill, feeling Emma’s gaze on her. ‘I bet it keeps the downstairs toasty warm.’

  ‘Actually that fireplace heats the entire house.’ Emma pointed to grates in the ceiling. ‘Heat rises to the second floor. With plenty of firewood in the back acres we’ll always have free heat as long as our chainsaw works.’

  ‘That’s what my husband and I want too – no utility bills. You have a well for water?’

  Emma nodded. ‘Plus a spring-fed pond for crops and livestock.’

  ‘I bet you grow all your own food.’

  ‘No one can provide everything a family needs, but I have a large garden, fruit trees, chickens, pigs, and a few cows.’

  ‘But what about your stove and fridge?’ Jill tried her best to sound like a would-be new farmer.

  ‘They run on propane.’ Emma shifted her infant as the baby began to whimper.

  ‘Do you mean you live without electricity?’

  She shook her head. ‘We got an electric pump on the well, plus lights we seldom turn on. Right now our windmill and backup generator provide what we need, but we could tie into the grid if necessary. Plus I bought this electric carving knife at the Goodwill store that comes in handy when Ralph bags a deer.’ Emma beamed with pleasure.