Past Forward- A Serial Novel: Volume 6

by Chautona Havig

  A slow smile crept over her face. “I think I will.” The smile dissipated as Chad peeked his head through the side of the curtains. “Is he out there?”

  “I can’t see a thing. Where was he?”

  “I couldn’t be sure, but a car passed and I know I saw some kind of reflection—probably a windshield—at the end of the drive and back a few feet. He did head toward Brunswick when he left, so I thought it might be him.”

  “Did you see anyone when you came in, Chad?”

  Chad shook his head. “Didn’t see anyone coming or going. Road was bare all the way from Fairbury.”

  “Well, that’s not very helpful.” Willow jumped up and went to retrieve a glass of water for Becca. When she returned she said, “You can’t let her walk home alone, and she has to take the shotgun.”

  “She’d fall on her—”

  “Better that than not to have any kind of protection!” Willow didn’t wait for Chad’s agreement. She hurried upstairs and retrieved the gun from the shelf Chad had built above the door to their bedroom. Beside it sat the box of ammunition, something she’d fought for and knew she’d only won temporarily. “I can’t protect us if I have to pass some intruder in the hall on the way to get the shells! What do I do? Say, ‘Excuse me while I grab my ammunition. Then I’ll be ready for you.’”

  The memory amused her, but it wouldn’t do much good if she couldn’t change his mind. “At least we have a few years before they can reach even with stools and chairs.”

  “Who—oh. Gun. Yeah.” Chad leaned against the doorway. “We could invite her to stay.”

  “I will.” She kissed his cheek and tugged on his hand. “Let’s go.”

  “You know what this means, lass.”

  “You were right. Yes. I concede. I will not entertain strange men at any time and for any reason without you present.” Despite her best intentions, a hint of bitterness in her tone stung her as well as Chad. “Oh, that came out wrong. I’m sorry.”

  “I didn’t mean that. I meant it means we have to be extra careful. Day, night—doesn’t matter. We can’t let the children out of our sight—”

  Willow’s eyes widened. “Chad, I had the boys sleeping on the porch today while I cleaned. I even shut the front door. Becca warned me, but—”

  “You had no reason to be concerned then, but I wouldn’t do it tomorrow.”

  Distracted by the thought that she’d possibly put her boys in danger, Willow responded absently, “Well, I won’t be doing housecleaning tomorr—oh. Right.”

  “You’re tired.”

  “Exhausted.”

  Chad’s eyes softened, some of the concern disappearing as he gazed down at her. “Go to bed. I’ll get Becca home or settled—whichever she prefers.”

  “Is she safe at home—really?”

  “I think so.”

  “Then she’ll go home.” Willow handed him the shells and the gun. “Make sure she knows how to take off the safety.”

  “Aim? Aim might help—”

  “That’s why I wanted her to have this. If she points it at a body, she’s sure to hit something. The .22, not so helpful.” She started downstairs, but Chad tugged at her sleeve. “Seriously, lass. Go to sleep.”

  “I’m not leaving my baby alone under the coffee table all night. What kind of mother do you think I am?”

  “A better one than me. I forgot about her under there.”

  Snickering, Willow led the way back downstairs. “Of course I’m a better mother than you. I’m that by default. Besides,” she added with a wink at Becca, “Kari knows how to make herself noticed when she wants to be.”

  The lantern bounced across the fields, illuminating what seemed to be two people. Do you see what kind of man you have, Willow? You throw me off your land, but look at that! Your husband is walking her to her house. If he stays at all, it’ll prove me right.

  Jason waited, but when the lantern’s light disappeared behind the trees, he climbed from the vehicle and walked along the dark highway, following the fence for a guide. At the new drive—the one they’d made to give Becca privacy—he turned in and crept closer, trying to listen, trying to hear. Minute by minute passed until he saw the light again and heard the soft laughter of man and woman in the brisk autumn air. Again, he inched closer, but he heard nothing.

  The door to the fifth-wheel opened. Jason watched, nearly holding his breath, and a slow smile crept across his face as Chad followed Becca into the camper. With the soft click of the latch, he leaned against a tree and closed his eyes, thinking. What do I do? Video it? I should have videoed him going in. But I could start now. Yeah. Now.

  The time seemed to drag past, each minute seeming like an hour—all six of them. Jason stared at the time on the video, astounded when the door opened at five minutes fifty-eight seconds. How had it only been that long? Chad called out as he stepped down the tiny metal steps of the trailer, “See you tomorrow. Sleep well.”

  I bet she’ll sleep well, you jerk. What will your wife say when she sees video proof that you are just as corrupt as the other cops who let your family off for murder? Murder! Pigs.

  The temptation to follow Chad back to the farmhouse prompted him to take a step forward, but Chad swung the lantern around as if he’d heard something. Don’t tangle with the cop. He’s still in uniform—probably got a gun. You’ve seen enough.

  Still he waited, watching the light bobbing along the ground. Fear gripped him as Jason realized Chad walked diagonally across the property—not straight to the house. The man suspected something. Why else would he walk toward the drive—right toward where he would find a car—a rental? A vehicle easily traced to Jason Rossum. If Chad got ahold of his full name, they would know who he really was—why he had come.

  He ran, stumbling, falling. With every step, he flip-flopped between balance and landing face-first in a pile of frost-covered grass. The entire trip seemed an exercise in futility. Still, he trudged onward, running as often as he could. Making it there before Chad—nearly impossible, but he had to try. If Chad saw his car, it would ruin everything.

  Along the highway, it became easier. His feet pounded the blacktop of the road, his lungs screaming for relief. The car came into view just as he saw Chad and his lantern—a few hundred yards from the road. He stumbled as he reached the bumper, rolling into the ditch and covering himself in mud. Jason scrambled up the bank and the mud on his hands gave him an idea. Swiping his hands across the license plate, he jerked the door open, grateful that he hadn’t locked it, and fumbled for his keys. A glance at the field told him that Chad was almost there. He turned on the car, jerked it in gear, and floored it, lights off and praying that it would hide the make and model of the car if Chad got close enough.

  When he nearly ran off the road, Jason flipped on the lights and drove to Ferndale—time for a car wash.

  Chapter 186

  The stove slowly heated the kitchen. Chad sat with his jacket still on, one hand curled around a coffee cup, the other holding Willow’s journal. As minutes passed and the hot liquid warmed him from the inside out and the air in the room lost its chill, he shrugged out of the jacket. Willow’s observations amused and encouraged him.

  When she crept into the kitchen, Kari half-asleep into her arms, Willow handed him the baby. “Good morning. Sorry for falling asleep last night.”

  “You were tired.”

  “Is Becca feeling any better about being alone—with the shotgun, I mean?” Willow set the kettle on the stove.

  “I showed her how to load and unload it and how to disengage the safety. We also decided to store it under the overhead bed mattress near the front—thought you should know where it is.” Chad hesitated before he added, “I think she’s right about Ross watching her or us last night. Someone was parked out by the gate. I crossed the pasture to the tree by Mother’s grave, and a car took off when I was still fifty or more yards out.”

  “Was it him?”

  He shrugged. “Can’t know for sure, but who else w
ould it be?”

  “You have a point…” She frowned as Kari began fussing. “What’s with that child? She ate half the night and wants to eat again?”

  “Or she’s just uncomfortable. Too early for teeth?”

  “Probably.”

  Chad flipped Kari over onto his arm, his hand cradling her head, and rubbed her back. “What’s the matter Kari-ann-ily?”

  “Kari-ann-ily?” Willow stared at him. “Are you serious?”

  “I was just flirting with my daughter. What’s it to you?”

  “Baby talk. That’s what it is. Call it flirting—” Willow dodged Chad’s attempt to grab her with his free hand. “—if you like, but it doesn’t change facts. Baby talk. Oh brother.”

  Smiling at his daughter’s contented sigh, Chad nuzzled her head and whispered, “Isn’t she just amazing little lass? I am so glad I came back that first day.”

  Twin wails in perfect—ly terrible harmony drifted downstairs before the lads began calling. Alternating, each boy called out, “Mama! Mama!!”

  “I think we can toss the idea of them being the next great boy band.”

  Willow dried her hands before turning to him, a blank expression on her face. “Do I want to know?”

  “Probably not.” After a moment’s pause, he added, “Or rather, I doubt it’ll mean much or matter to you if it did.”

  On her way to get the boys up and dressed, Willow set the kettle on to boil. “Will you hook the gate for me?”

  “Will do. Milked and fed the goat and Lacey—well, fed her anyway—but not the chickens. If she falls asleep, do you want me to get them or leave them for you?”

  “Leave them. I have an excuse to do it myself today. Can’t dawdle. It’ll be wonderful.” She kissed him, lingering for just a moment until the insistent cries of “Mama!” drove her out of the room.

  Chad snuggled with Kari as he listened to toddler giggles and his wife’s laughter echoing upstairs. He slipped his phone from his pocket and sighed in relief. Still two hours before they needed to leave for church. Why he worried about her not being ready on time, Chad could only attribute to a lifetime with a younger sister with time issues and an addiction to cosmetics that should require treatment at a rehab facility.

  Josh burst through the front door, waking Chad from his nap and startling Willow enough to make her jab herself with a needle. “Is she safe?”

  Chad and Willow exchanged glances before Chad shrugged and asked, “Is who safe?”

  “Becca! She told me about Jason Ross and how he wouldn’t leave. She even—” The man choked. “She even said she wanted me to move in because she wanted my protection!”

  “Well, I don’t think—” Willow began.

  “I saw footprints out there! I don’t think she even realizes that they aren’t hers or mine or either of yours, but they’re not. They’re fresh, they’re on her road, and someone fell—a lot.”

  Pushing back his chair, Chad rose and pulled Josh out the door. “Be back in a bit.” To Josh he added, “Show me.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “She can hold her own. I need to see what you’re talking about. Start at whatever made you notice the footprints.”

  “Like I said, she told me about that guy and everything. If she hadn’t, I don’t think I would have noticed, but it made me a little skittish. A paper blew away and I chased it. I just saw the footprint when I picked up the paper and then…”

  “Then you saw the print. It’s too big for Becca?”

  “And Willow. You didn’t walk that way. Becca said you took off across the fields—”

  “How did she know that?”

  Josh pulled open his door and slid into the driver’s seat. When Chad climbed in, Josh answered the question as he started the car. “She watched you leave. I think she half-expected this Ross dude to jump out and hit you over the head or something.”

  At the corner of the drive, Chad got out and followed Josh to where the car had been the previous night. As he stared at the tire tracks, he tried not to punch something in frustration. “I can’t believe I didn’t check these. I knew this car was here. I just assumed someone was in it with binoculars.” He followed footprints, muddy prints that led to the ditch and then disappeared. “Gone—must have ran along the highway. I wonder that I didn’t see a flashlight or whatever.”

  “From the drive to Becca’s, I’m guessing he didn’t have one. C’mon.”

  The moment Chad stepped out of the car at the end of Becca’s drive, he saw what Josh meant. “Ugh. We have to tell Becca.”

  “Really? It’ll just—”

  “She’s going to see them. You can’t miss it. Better to be prepared and have time to let it sink in before it gets sprung on her like that.”

  Josh resisted. He gripped the fence, shaking it. Amazed, Chad watched as fury rippled over the man and then slowly recessed as Josh managed to rein it under control “I hate this. She finally gets the one thing that brings her such happiness, and some idiot ruins it for her.”

  “The one thing that brings her the most happiness is you, Josh. But we’ll stop this. Okay? This is what I do for a living.”

  “Well, you’re not doing it well now, are you? You didn’t even go look at the tire tracks, and you knew that car was there.”

  Chad leaned against the post. “I’m not the enemy, Josh.”

  Eyes closed, Josh took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I just don’t want her hurt. For the first time, I want to live out in this crazy place to protect her. If I get that job in Brunswick, I’m finding someone to room with in Fairbury until the wedding.”

  “Think you’ll get it?”

  “Yes.” A hint of a smile crept to the corners of Josh’s mouth. “The woman as much as told me.” He kicked at a rock, staring off into the pasture. “She only wants me because she thinks I’m gay. She thinks it’ll be chic—add an air of urban sophistication to her business.” His eyes met Chad’s. “Regardless of your opinion on ‘alternative lifestyles,’ it’s wrong to use people’s choices as an advertising agent.”

  “You don’t think she’ll fire you when she hears about your wedding…”

  “That’d be a first. Can you hear the discrimination report? ‘Mr. Roth claims that he was dismissed for not being a homosexual as his employer expected.’” Josh snickered. “It’s hilarious.”

  “Or would be if it wasn’t so sad.”

  Chad’s words seemed to hit Josh hard. “We’re going to get him, right? Well, you will. You’ll find out if it was this Jason guy, and then you’ll stop it?”

  “I’ll stop it.”

  Josh then asked the burning question in Chad’s heart. “Why would he care? The stuff with the Solaris is over. Who else would care what happened at this farm?”

  The answer made no sense and yet explained much. He turned away from Josh and moved to open the car door. “I can only think of one reason that anyone would care, and it doesn’t make sense.”

  Chapter 187

  Pedestrians strolled from store to store, and cars crawled past, likely due to the cop on the corner’s presence. One car whizzed around a corner and came to an abrupt stop before inching forward again at the sight of the cop’s hand. A resigned wave sent the car onward.

  It’s like Mayberry, but there’s no Andy or Barney. If he listened, at moments when no cars passed, he could hear the jingle of shop doors opening and closing. People ache for places like this. Our society has lost some of the things this place seems to have. But is it real?

  The diner on the corner drew him when he saw a booth that looked out over the town square. A young girl—probably a college student or something—started to seat him in a more private booth, but he shook his head. “Mind if I sit there? I just wanted to watch the town a bit.”

  “Sure. Can I get you something to drink?” She passed him a menu. “I’m Kelsie and I’ll be your server today.”

  “Coffee would be good, thanks.” He nodded ou
t the window. “That cop keeps people in line there, doesn’t he?”

  “Joe’s been here a long time. He’s the best.” She glanced at him. “You’re not from around here. I’ve never seen you before.”

  “Doesn’t Fairbury get quite a bit of tourist trade?”

  Kelsie nodded, “Yes, but tourists don’t usually comment on the local cops unless to complain about a ticket. You sound like a new resident.”

  “Resident—not yet. Maybe.”

  “Well, I hope you find what you’re looking for Mr.…”

  “Myner. Ralph Myner. And yes, I’m here on vacation, but not as a tourist. I’m scoping out retirement ideas.”

  “I hope Fairbury has what you’re looking for. I’ll get that coffee.”

  Ralph half-nodded as his attention bounced from the activities on the street and the menu in his hands. The breakfast menu boasted “fresh free-range eggs from Walden Farm.” Ralph’s mustache twitched as he pictured what “free-range” must mean. “Bet the chickens get two square feet of space instead of one.”

  “Excuse me?” Kelsie set down the cup. “I missed that.”

  “Just amused at what companies will do to sell their product.” Ralph pointed at the menu. “Free-range eggs.”

  The girl’s eyebrows drew together and she tapped her pen on the order pad. “I don’t get it.”

  “Look, I’m not trying to be rude, but have you seen the regulations that they have in place to call eggs ‘free-range’?”

  “Nooo…”

  “And you won’t. There aren’t any. Anyone can slap a label on their food and call it what they want as long as they’re real eggs popped out by a real chicken.” Ralph smiled. “I’m not upset—really. Not at you anyway. I just hate the deception that companies propagate with this nonsense.”

  “I don’t know what companies you’re talking about, but Walden Farm is just outside of town and they have a couple hundred chickens that actually do roam around. I’ve seen it myself when I went to pick up eggs one week. They’re super fresh eggs. We pick them up twice a week.” She groaned. “Sorry. It’s the job…”