Nightwatch

by Valerie Hansen

  The sheriff extended his hand and shook with Mitch to complete their exchange of information. “All right. If you remember any other details give me a holler. In the meantime, keep everybody out of the barn. I want to check it carefully before I leave. Even if I don’t find any clues we’ll increase our patrols out this way. You sure you didn’t hear any vehicles after you were knocked down?”

  “I was pretty out of it,” Mitch admitted, chagrined. He motioned to Jill and her little group. “Did any of you hear anything funny?”

  “I honestly wasn’t paying attention,” Jill said. “I was too worried about you.”

  “Thanks.” He knew his cheeks were getting rosy because he could feel the increasing warmth. “Tim said he thought he saw another man besides the one who jumped me. Right, buddy?”

  The seven-year-old ducked his head. That shy response puzzled Mitch. Tim had sounded positive when they’d talked about it before, yet now he was barely acknowledging their conversation. In addition, he had taken up a defensive position behind Jill and had pulled his little brother with him. For kids who had chattered all during their hurried lunch, they were sure acting strange all of a sudden.

  Maybe it was a negative reaction to the police car, although Mitch could think of no reason for them to be afraid of Harlan. The bear of a man could be a little boisterous sometimes but he was also built a lot like a beardless, department-store Santa Claus. His persona was anything but threatening. Most children took to the sheriff immediately. Of course, considering the traumatic events of the past few days, Mitch supposed it was a wonder these poor kids were coping as well as they were.

  Cradled in Jill’s embrace, Megan was sucking her thumb and fighting sleep. Seeing the toddler with one little arm wrapped partway around Jill’s neck and her tousled head lying on Jill’s shoulder, Mitch suddenly felt so protective it floored him.

  While Harlan checked the barn, Mitch joined her and the children. “Looks like one of us has conked out.”

  “Uh-huh. I’m not surprised. I was planning to bathe her before I put her down for a nap but I think I’ll just wait ’til tonight. She needs sleep more than she needs fussing over. As soon as she’s rested I want to take her and the boys into town and buy them a few things. They especially need shoes.”

  “I can take them,” Mitch offered.

  “Sorry. Not legally you can’t. Now that they’ve been placed with me, the only people who can take them anywhere without me—or even babysit—are folks who’ve been court approved or are official foster parents, too.”

  Falling into step beside her as she headed back toward the house, he asked, “How hard is that to do? I mean, suppose I took the class or whatever else is required? Would I be able to help you out with them after that?”

  She shrugged. “I can’t see why not. I know that statistically there are never enough homes available for all the families in need. If you have Ms. Connors’s number, why not give her a call and ask about it?”

  “Good idea.”

  Mitch held the door for all to pass except the pair of farm dogs. He stepped into the doorway to block their entrance, pointed to the barn and commanded, “No. Go bother Harlan.”

  To his surprise and amusement they loped off as if they understood exactly what he wanted and were more than happy to obey. What would Jill think of that? he wondered. She was already teasing him about knowing where stuff was kept in the kitchen. Having her dogs listen to his orders would probably cause her to raise an eyebrow, that’s for sure. Too bad he didn’t have the same effect on her that he did on her pets. Lately, it seemed as if the more sensible advice he gave, the more likely she was to contradict or ignore it.

  Chuckling wryly, Mitch wandered through the kitchen and lingered in the living room, waiting for Jill to return from putting Megan down for her nap.

  Tim and Paul had already found a plastic bin of toys there and were down on their knees on the carpet, searching through the box as if they were positive it contained fabulous treasures.

  “Did Miss Jill tell you it was all right to do that?” he asked, just in case.

  “Uh-huh,” Tim said. “If it’s in here, it’s okay to play with. She said.”

  “Glad to hear it.” Mitch smiled more broadly as Jill reappeared. “Is Megan asleep?”

  “Out like a light. She never even stirred when I laid her in the crib. If she’s that easy to care for when she’s not worn out I’ll be surprised, but for now she’s being a little doll.”

  “A very tired one.” Mitch yawned. “Guess I should head for home and let you get some rest, too.”

  His spirits soared when Jill replied, “You must be as tired as the rest of us are. Why not just make yourself comfortable here? You can take a short nap on my sofa or in the recliner, if you like.”

  “I don’t want to bug you.”

  She laughed lightly. “Trust me, Mitch. You won’t be a bit of trouble.” Her smile waned and she gazed at him tenderly. “I like having you around. It makes me feel—I don’t know—safer?”

  Hearing that, Mitch wouldn’t have left her unless the lives of others had depended upon him the way they sometimes did when he was working. As far as he was concerned, he’d never had a better invitation to hang around than the one Jill had just offered. He was not going anywhere. No, sirree. And as long as he was on the premises he’d be able to keep her out of trouble. At least that was his primary goal.

  The boys had eventually gotten bored with playing on the floor and had crawled up onto the sofa next to Mitch. Tim was clutching a handful of plastic toy soldiers and using the armrest at the other end of the leather couch for a pillow. Paul was cuddled up against the fireman’s side as they all dozed peacefully.

  Jill had used that opportunity to duck into her room and change into more comfortable, farm-appropriate clothing—jeans, a scoop-neck T-shirt and sneakers.

  She’d kept tiptoeing into the back bedroom to check on Megan every fifteen or twenty minutes because she wasn’t sure how the child would react when she awoke in a strange place. Plus, she didn’t want the nap to go on for so long that the little girl couldn’t sleep later. She’d made that mistake with some of the first children she’d fostered and it had resulted in some very long, very trying nights.

  Quietly passing the sofa she noted that Mitch was snoring. How cute he looked sleeping that way, with his head tilted back and his lips slightly parted. For an instant she imagined herself bending over him and kissing him awake.

  The mere thought made her blush. Where had that ridiculous idea come from? She and Mitch had long ago promised to remain friends, period. And although they were now quite comfortable in each other’s company, he’d never even tried to hold her hand, let alone kiss her!

  Mortified and deeply glad he could not really read her innermost thoughts, she circled the hassock where he’d propped his booted feet and went once again to the bedroom to check on Megan.

  The blankets in the crib looked jumbled. Perhaps the child was getting restless and was ready to get up, Jill thought as she peeked through the doorway. Good. It was nearly time to awaken her, anyway.

  Silently approaching the crib, she smiled and lifted aside the rumpled bedclothes. Her eyes widened with disbelief. The bed was empty.

  Jill immediately bent to peer under the crib then whirled, frantic.

  “Megan? Megan, where are you?”

  Two strides took her to the closet and she jerked the door open. Except for a few cardboard boxes of extra children’s clothes that were stored there, the space was unoccupied.

  Her heart raced, pounded, fluttered. She felt as if she couldn’t draw enough breath to adequately power her body and brain. Toddlers had been known to climb out of cribs and it was possible Megan was an escape artist. That was the most likely scenario. The one she hoped and prayed was right.

  “Dear Lord, help me,” Jill whispered, continuing to thoroughly search that bedroom, then proceeding down the hall to the next.

  She almost crumpled and fell to
her knees when she flung open that door. A small, familiar blanket lay on the floor next to the window—the open window—as if the coverlet had been accidentally dropped in passing.

  Jill knew what she was seeing but her mind refused to draw the necessary conclusions. In a house this old, forcing one of those thickly painted, wooden sashes open was difficult for a grown-up. Even a much larger child could never have budged it, let alone pushed it as high as it now stood.

  Fear filled her. There was only one conclusion possible. Someone else had been in this room. Someone who didn’t belong. And Megan was gone!

  Panic-stricken, she took a deep breath and let loose with a bloodcurdling shout. “Mitch!”

  Groggy, Mitch was on his feet before he fully realized what had awakened him. It took him a few more seconds to get his bearings.

  Paul was still sleeping soundly. Tim had dropped the toy soldiers into his lap and was starting to sit up.

  “Is it time to go shopping?” the boy mumbled, yawning and rubbing his eyes.

  Just then, Mitch heard a second shout. He hadn’t been dreaming as he’d first thought. That was Jill’s voice. And it was coming from the rear of the house.

  “Jill!” he shouted, on the move before he was fully awake. “Where are you?”

  “In here!”

  When Mitch entered the hallway and saw her, he understood why her response had sounded muffled. Both hands were pressed over her mouth and she was leaning against a doorjamb as if she were in shock.

  He grasped her shoulders and held tight, forcing her to face him. “What is it? What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

  “L-look,” was all she managed to say.

  “Look at what? What scared you?”

  “I—I never dreamed…”

  Mitch gave her a shake. “Pull yourself together and tell me what’s going on.”

  As he watched her struggle to comply, he was growing more and more anxious. Jill was one of the most sensible, levelheaded women he knew. Anything that could take away her ability to properly communicate had to be deathly serious.

  “Is this where you put Megan?” Mitch asked.

  “No. Down there.” Jill pointed with a trembling hand. “In the crib.”

  Mitch left her and raced to the open door of the other bedroom. There was a crib, all right. No one was in it.

  He whirled and shouted, “Where is she?”

  Through Jill’s shuddering gasps he was able to make out one clear phrase. “I don’t know.”

  That chilled Mitch so deeply he could barely think. No wonder Jill was overwrought.

  “Did you look everywhere?”

  She raked her long hair back with shaky fingers and grabbed a tissue, clutching it in her fist. “Not yet.” She motioned to him. “Come here.”

  Mitch was beside her in seconds. The more he studied her expression, the more he realized she was not overreacting. She was truly terrified.

  “Why? What have you found?”

  “The—the window,” Jill stammered. “It shouldn’t be open like that. I never leave them open unless I’m airing out the house. And that one really sticks.”

  “You mean somebody else opened it?” His misgivings blossomed into full-blown panic. “You think they took Megan? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

  “Yes!”

  Part of Mitch’s mind refused to process that conclusion. After all they had already been through, this simply could not be happening. Serenity was a peaceful place, a haven from the kinds of threats found in more populated areas. Everybody knew everybody here. There was no one he could think of who would be so bold as to break in and steal a child this way.

  Except for Natalie Stevens, he told himself, gritting his teeth and praying he was wrong. There had to be another explanation. After all, kids loved to play hide-and-seek. Maybe the little girl was teasing them.

  He caught a glimpse of Tim’s ashen face peeking around the corner. “I have a job for you and Paul,” Mitch said. “I want you to help Miss Jill look, really carefully, and see if Megan is hiding and playing a joke on us. Will you do that?”

  Tim’s mop of tousled brown hair shook as he nodded rapidly.

  “Good boy.” Mitch looked to Jill. “All of you stay inside, stay together and search the house while I check the yard.” Lowering his voice he meant his next statement for only her. “And call Harlan. Tell him exactly what we’ve found and that we can’t locate Megan. Tell him we’ll call back the minute we’re sure she’s not here.”

  Jill grabbed his arm. “Do you really think she’s still in the house?”

  He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. They both knew that Megan Pearson had probably been stolen from right under their noses.

  Making her way cautiously to the open bedroom window, Jill shivered in the chilly air as she reached into her pocket, pulled out her cell phone and dialed 911 to report the crime.

  “Nine-one-one. What is the nature of your emergency?”

  “This is Jill Kirkpatrick out on Farm Road 19. One of the Pearson kids is missing.”

  “When did you last see the child?”

  “Maybe twenty minutes ago. She was taking a nap. Somebody kidnapped her.”

  “Did you actually see the child being abducted?”

  “No, but…” She bit her lower lip. “I’m positive, okay? Sheriff Allgood was just out here a little while ago. He knows what’s been going on.”

  “All right. Please calm down, ma’am, and stay on the line. All our deputies are busy right now. We’ll send someone out as soon as we can.”

  Jill could barely speak. “I’m not going to stay on the phone and I’m not going to stay calm. I’m going to go look for that little girl. Tell Harlan. He knows how important this is, even if you don’t believe me.”

  Frustrated almost to the point of anger, Jill ended the call. There was so much she didn’t know. Couldn’t possibly guess. Such as, how had anyone known about that particular window? Had they simply tried them all until they’d found a weakness in her safety measures? Or had they been casing the place before, maybe when they’d attacked Mitch?

  She paused and peered out into the side yard, trying to form a clear picture. The exterior screen had been taken down and cast aside. A six-foot-tall forsythia bush that was in bloom next to the house had obviously been disturbed, too, because hundreds of tiny, yellow petals lay strewn on the ground at its base, the pattern extending onto the lawn.

  Her jaw muscles clenched. Some of those flowers had landed atop the discarded window screen, meaning they had been dislodged after it had been removed. Something had jostled the cascading branches, brushed against the delicate flowers and caused them to shed petals.

  Filled with a sense of escalating dread she called, “Tim. Paul,” and hurried toward the living room. “Where are you? We need to check the house together like Mitch said. Maybe you guys can get Megan to come out if she’s hiding from us.”

  There was no response. She frowned. “Boys? Where are you?”

  A quick look up and down the hallway showed no one. Hurrying through the rest of the house, Jill found Paul still half-asleep on the sofa.

  With trembling fingers she touched the child’s shoulder and gave him a gentle shake. “Paul? Wake up, honey. We have to go look for your sister.”

  The brown eyes opened, focused on her, then widened. “Where’s my mama?”

  “I’m Jill. You’re staying at my house, remember?

  “Where’s Timmy?”

  That was a good question, one she was about to pursue. “I’m not sure. Let’s go look for him, shall we? He may have found Megan for us.”

  Although the five-year-old took her hand he lagged back, clearly unwilling to trust her to lead him anywhere. Rather than continue to struggle against his reluctance she simply scooped him up and perched him on her hip.

  Calling, “Timmy? Megan?” Jill made her way from room to room, checking carefully while also chatting with Paul to keep him interested and hopefully distract him from se
nsing the depth of her anxiety.

  The farther they went, the more they searched, the more disheartened she became. It wasn’t a big house and she knew every inch of it. The children were simply not there.

  Heart racing and head pounding, she carried Paul out onto the porch off the kitchen. There was only one person she could go to, one person she could trust and always rely upon no matter what. Mitch Andrews. And right now she could hardly wait to rejoin him and at least feel a little less alone in this terrible mess.

  There was no sign of him anywhere in the backyard so she shouted, “Mitch! Where are you?”

  His head popped through the open barn doorway. “In here. Did you find her?”

  Jill was so distressed she could hardly speak, hardly bring herself to answer. “No.”

  “Then why are you out here? I thought I told you to…”

  Jill saw his eyes narrow, his brow furrow. When he spoke again she knew he’d spotted her problem.

  “Where’s Tim?”

  Her voice broke when she said, “I have no idea.”

  Mitch was beside her in seconds. Instead of berating her the way she’d expected, he circled her shoulders with one arm, steadied her and leaned closer to say, “Don’t panic. He has to be around here somewhere. When did you see him last?”

  She blinked to clear her head. “Um, when you did, I guess. You told us to stay together and I just assumed…”

  “You figured he’d listen to me. I know. I did, too, or I’d never have left you.” He concentrated on the child she was still carrying. “How about you, buddy? Did you see where your brother went?”

  Paul rubbed sleepy eyes and shook his head.

  “He was still napping when I went to get him,” Jill explained. “I don’t think he has a clue about what’s been going on.”