Bunny Elder Adventure Series: Four Complete Novels: Hollow, Vain Pursuits, Seadrift, ...and Something Blue

by J. B. Hawker

  Bunny had been reluctant to join the cell phone generation, but was forced to see the need for one, after a few misadventures when being unable to use a cell phone was a real handicap.

  She was still unfamiliar with all this smartphone’s options and had a sneaking suspicion the gadget’s IQ was several points higher than her own.

  Nearly half an hour passed before a sheriff’s deputy arrived in response to her call.

  Bunny made her report without receiving much encouragement about the chances of ever seeing her car again.

  After the deputy left, she went back into the house and brewed a pot of lemon-ginger tea.

  The routine task and soothing aroma helped to calm her nerves, while she made plans for dealing with the sudden lack of transportation.

  She pulled insurance papers out of her file box and was filling out an online form when her phone trilled.

  “Hello? Yes, that’s me. Oh my! Well, that’s wonderful! Thank you so much. I’ll be down to pick it up right away.”

  Amazingly, her car had already been found.

  It had been abandoned alongside Highway 101, but it hadn’t been stripped, according to the woman who called.

  The sheriff’s office had towed it to the auto shop in town and Bunny would be able to pick it up after dropping in at the sheriff’s substation to sign some papers.

  She supposed some ne’er-do-well just took her car for a joy ride and then, miraculously, had an attack of conscience. Or maybe he decided it wasn’t flashy enough for his tastes.

  Whatever the thief’s motives, Bunny was elated.

  What a blessing!

  She wouldn’t waste a bit of energy being angry or trying to have the culprit caught and punished.

  If she hurried, she could walk the mile and a half into town in time to get her car and make it to choir practice as planned.

  She grabbed a light jacket, put her wallet and keys and started out, softly singing a prayer of thanksgiving, as she walked along the winding country lane down toward the highway into town.

  Chapter Two

  It is not the sound of victory, it is not the sound of defeat; it is the sound of singing that I hear. – Exodus 32:18

  With a grateful sigh, Bunny sank down onto a folding chair in the choir’s soprano section.

  It felt good to get off her feet.

  The emotional turmoil of discovering the theft, plus that long walk into town to retrieve her vehicle, wore her out. She’d had only time to grab an apple and a low-fat cheese stick before dashing out again for choir practice.

  It was important to Bunny not to miss a weekly practice session, since she was so new to this fellowship and was still getting acquainted with her church family.

  In her years as a pastor’s wife, it was so easy to merge into the life of each new church.

  Everyone knew who she was and she knew her place, almost from the first Sunday.

  Each new congregation provided a readymade group of neighbors.

  A pastor’s family enjoys, in varying proportions in each church, a combination of loving support and critical meddlesomeness.

  In some denominations, the pastor’s wife is actually referred to as the First Lady.

  The many churches Pastor Elder served did not hold their minister’s family in quite such high esteem, although they usually had demanding expectations of their pastoral family, and were always more than willing to give frank opinions and pass judgment on every aspect of the Elders’ life.

  Close friendships can be difficult to cultivate in such an atmosphere and are even harder to maintain, but at least a pastor’s family members are never strangers in a new town for long.

  While Eustace was alive, Bunny was spared the discomfort of being an outsider in church.

  Unfortunately, she was never able to become a true member of those fellowships, either.

  After being widowed, Bunny went to live in Idaho where she attended her sister’s church.

  She was welcomed warmly as Linda’s sister, but didn’t make any strong connections of her own.

  This small community church in Bannoch was her chance to make genuine friendships, with no restrictions or ulterior agendas in sight.

  After trying out a few of the half-dozen churches in the little town, Bunny settled at Bannoch Community Fellowship, a charming little white chapel set back from Highway 101, with its steeple rising above the fir trees and lovely azalea and fern beds surrounding the patch of green lawn between the church and the parking lot.

  She fell in love with the friendly people and folksy worship style, with its blend of contemporary and traditional music.

  The pastor was unpretentious and preached intelligently from the Bible.

  She was impressed when she learned the congregation was active in both foreign missions and local service.

  The sanctuary felt like home right away and when she discovered this was one of the few remaining churches with a regular choir, Bunny was hooked.

  The singers were all taking their seats as the director handed out the night’s rehearsal pieces.

  Bunny forgot her tired feet and the misadventures of the day and let the music carry her as she joined her voice with the others in praise of God.

  “Good night, Shirley! See you Sunday,” Bunny called across the parking lot to one of her new friends.

  Shirley Griffiths was one of the first to welcome Bunny to BCF and to invite her to join the choir. She even gave Bunny a ride to her first rehearsal, so she wouldn’t arrive alone.

  Such a simple gesture can make a world of difference to a newcomer and it helped ease Bunny’s entrance into her new church.

  Shirley, a few years older than Bunny, and her husband, Jack, were longtime members of the congregation. Bunny hoped they were going to become her good friends.

  Shirley’s elderly mother, Sharon, suffered from advanced Alzheimer’s and was rarely responsive, but Shirley and Jack kept her in their home and included her in everything.

  Sharon loved to sing above all things and, even though she seldom spoke, she remembered every song she ever heard and still sang with a lovely voice.

  Shirley frequently brought her mother to choir practices, where she would sit in the back pew, singing softly along with the music.

  Remembering the happy look on her face during that night’s rehearsal made Bunny smile.

  Rosamund Davidson strode across the parking lot purposefully, forestalling Bunny as she was getting into her car.

  “Mrs. Elder! Just the person I want to talk to,” Rosamund announced in a loud, hearty voice.

  “You can bring four dozen cookies for this Sunday’s coffee time after church, can’t you? Of course, you can! You look like you must be a wonderful baker. Good bakers always love to eat. I understand you work at home, so you must have plenty of time on your hands.”

  “Well, I suppose I could…,” Bunny responded tentatively to this onslaught.

  “Wonderful! I think brownies and Tollhouse cookies would be the best. You can choose between them, or just bring some of each. Snickerdoodles would be all right, too, I suppose. Some people seem to like them. So many of our young women have jobs these days, those of us fortunate enough to stay at home must take up the slack when it comes to the cookie rotation.”

  With a sharp nod, she turned on her heel and marched quickly away, leaving Bunny feeling bushwhacked.

  Rosamund, the pastor’s unmarried sister, seemed like a parody of a pastor’s wife, on steroids.

  Scott Davidson, the pastor, was a tall, rangy man with sandy hair and a gentle, unassuming manner. He impressed Bunny with his Biblical scholarship, innate kindness and wry humor.

  His sister, however, didn’t seem to have any sense of humor, at all.

  Bunny looked forward to getting better acquainted with the pastor, but felt she already knew Rosamund quite well enough.

  As she drove home, Bunny chastised herself silently for being so critical.

  She was on the receiving end of judgment a
nd criticism often enough to know better.

  She drove her, now precious, car safely into the garage and went into the cabin.

  She forgot to leave a light on in her rush to get to choir on time and stumbled over something as she crossed the dark living room.

  Turning on a lamp to see what it was, she was aghast to find the room in a shambles with books, plants and pillows on the floor and the seat cushions pulled off the sofa and chairs.

  Walking quickly into the kitchen, she was greeted by an even bigger mess. Drawers were upturned and the cupboards had been opened and ransacked.

  When she saw the back door was open with its frame broken, it finally dawned on her she might not be alone in the house.

  Bunny grabbed her phone, ran out to the driveway and called 9-1-1 to report the break-in.

  She stood anxiously in the darkness beside the roadside to await the patrol car.

  She wanted to get into her own car and leave, but her keys were inside the house…and who knew where the burglar might be right now?

  He might even be hiding in the garage.

  The marine layer was rolling in and Bunny shivered from both chill and fear.

  Straining her eyes to see anyone who might be lurking among the trees and shrubs surrounding the cabin was only making it worse, as each branch and shadow became a possible intruder.

  The little house which felt so cozy before, now seemed malignant and threatening.

  All the peace and calm she experienced while singing fled, as she struggled to understand what was happening.

  It was just too bizarre for her car to be stolen and her house broken into on the same day.

  Considering she owned practically nothing worth stealing, it became even more of a mystery.

  Maybe moving out alone into this journey of self-discovery had been a mistake, after all.

  Couldn’t she get to know herself just as well living with Max in his nice, secure Houston condo?

  She felt a surge of relief when at last a sheriff’s unit drove up.

  The deputy asked Bunny to tell him what she had seen, and then took his flashlight and walked around to the back of the house, while she remained anxiously by her mailbox out front.

  A dark green SUV pulled up and Bunny was surprised to see Pastor Davidson get out.

  “Mrs. Elder. Hi. I’m serving as chaplain for the Sheriff’s Office this month and when I heard your name on the scanner I thought you might like some moral support. The radio said you had a suspected prowler?”

  “Hello, Pastor. Please call me Bunny. Thanks so much for coming. Yes, it was a prowler or, no, actually not just a prowler, but a housebreaker. They broke the back door. Somebody has been in my house going through all my things!”

  Bunny felt on the verge of hysterics, so she drew in a ragged breath and tried to slow down before continuing.

  “When I got home from choir practice tonight, I discovered the cabin had been broken into. Everything is all tossed around. I can’t figure out why anyone would want to do this. And earlier today, somebody…probably just some bored kid who spends way too much time playing that video game ‘Grand Theft Auto’… stole my car and took it for a joy ride. It was snatched right out of my driveway while I was home! Can you believe it? Luckily, it was found abandoned up on the highway, so no harm done. But, could this all be childish pranks? You don’t suppose I’m being targeted for some reason? Does this stuff often happen to newcomers in this community?”

  Bunny knew she was babbling and stopped herself, on the brink of tears.

  The deputy came out the front door and waved Bunny and Pastor Davidson into the house.

  “It’s all clear, ma’am. No one is in the house or the yard. Whoever was here sure made a mess of things, though. Can you take a look around and tell me if anything is missing?”

  Bunny walked through the rooms of the cabin with the men tagging along.

  Although every nook and cranny seemed to have been touched, nothing was missing as far as she could tell.

  Her laptop computer, printer and camera were still there, as were her TV and DVR. She possessed no real jewelry or other valuables worth stealing. Even her few prescription pain killers remained in the medicine cabinet.

  “Could this be some sort of teenage mischief, Officer, or a gang initiation, maybe? Do you see this sort of thing around here, often?”

  “No ma’am. We’ve got pretty good kids in this town. It looks like someone was looking for something, but if nothing is missing, I can’t figure it. Maybe the prowler got the wrong house. Anyway, they’re gone, now. You will need to have that backdoor repaired, and you might want to get some motion sensor lights installed. Maybe get a dog. You are pretty isolated out here.”

  “I rent this cabin, so I’ll report the door to the landlord in the morning. What should I do tonight?”

  “I’ll nail the door shut for you tonight, Bunny. I saw some scrap lumber by the garage. Do you have some tools, maybe a few nails?” the pastor asked.

  “Oh thank you, Pastor! I’m sure I have some in the garage.”

  “Please call me, Scott, Bunny. I’ll come with you.”

  Bunny appreciated the company.

  Going into the dark garage, alone, would have been intimidating, just now.

  The deputy asked her to sign his report and then left before she took the pastor to look for her tools.

  The garage had been spared the prowler’s attentions and was now much tidier than the house.

  Bunny was able to locate the hammer, saw and nails quickly, while Scott rummaged in the wood pile for suitable planks to bar the broken door, until it could be repaired and new locks installed.

  “You know, Deputy Williams was right about you needing a dog out here. I’ve got Reacher in the car with me. I’d be happy to leave him with you tonight. He’s a retired K-9 service dog, a great companion, and he has good manners.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t let you do that, Scott. I’m sure I’ll be fine. The person who did this knows, now, there’s nothing here he wants. But, why not bring your dog in while you work on the door. The poor thing’s probably lonely in the car.”

  Scott went out to the car and Bunny began the tedious work of straightening out the mess.

  A few items were broken, or too damaged to salvage, but it could be so much worse. What if her computer was taken with all her writing on it?

  She was going to back up everything to her Internet “cloud” storage site, right now, before doing anything else.

  She was working at her computer when she felt Reacher nuzzling her arm in greeting. Scott was right, he had beautiful manners.

  “Well, hello there, Reacher. Aren’t you a good boy, though?” she cooed to the animal.

  “He likes you already, Bunny. He’s not so friendly to just anyone. Are you sure you won’t let me leave him with you tonight?”

  “You know, Scott, I think I will. Since he came in, I feel safer than I have all night. Thank you. I promise to take good care of him.”

  “And he’ll take good care of you, too.”

  Chapter Three

  Do not lurk like a thief near the house of the righteous; do not plunder their dwelling place -Proverbs 24:15

  Reacher was a magnificent animal; a mahogany-coated Belgian Shepherd with a friendly black face and a white blaze on his muscular chest.

  When he rested his upper body on Bunny’s lap for a get-acquainted cuddle, she was reassured by how heavy and solid he felt.

  Although he acted like a lap dog, she felt certain he would be more than a match for any midnight marauders.

  After helping Bunny clean up the worst of the mess from the break-in, Scott reassured her of the dog’s protective instincts and left them to get better acquainted.

  It took Bunny a long time to get to sleep that night.

  She was too keyed up after all the excitement of the day, but comforted by the dog’s presence, she eventually drifted off.

  Bunny was peacefully dreaming of her old calico cat,
Betty, purring in her ear, when she awoke to low growls emanating from the floor beside her bed.

  After a moment of disorientation she remembered the dog and was instantly wide awake.

  Reacher stood up, continuing to growl.

  He looked at Bunny, as if waiting for instructions.

  Bunny was momentarily unsure, but when she heard a crash of glass from the other room she whispered, “Get ‘em, Reacher!” and the dog dashed into the next room, barking loudly as he ran.

  Someone shouted roughly, “Get off!”

  Sounds of a scuffle followed, with thumps and crashes of falling furniture.

  Bunny was on the phone with the emergency dispatcher as soon as the dog left her side. She was explaining her situation when she heard a loud pop and the front door crashing open.

  “I think I just heard a gunshot! Please send someone, right away. Yes, I’ll stay on the line as long as I can.”

  If the intruder came into her bedroom, Bunny would have nowhere to run. She hoped the banging of the front door meant the prowler had flown, but she was afraid to see what might be awaiting her in the other room.

  After ten or fifteen of the longest minutes of her life, Bunny heard a siren approaching.

  When she saw the flashing lights of the sheriff’s department cruiser she hung up the phone, grabbed her robe and ran out of the bedroom.

  Her living room looked even more like a warzone than earlier, but there were no casualties in sight.

  Where was the dog?

  Hearing the gunshot, Bunny feared she would find his lifeless body, but there was no sign of Reacher or the burglar.

  She stepped carefully over the debris and through the wide open front door to greet the deputy.

  As she was explaining what happened, Reacher ran up, tail wagging, and stood to rest his paws on Bunny’s shoulders.

  When she began to pet and praise him, she felt wetness on his fur. Pulling her hand back, she realized it was covered with blood and cried out in dismay.

  “Oh, Reacher! Have you been hurt?”

  She took the dog onto the porch to check for wounds, but couldn’t find the source of the blood.