“It was all blurry, but I remember Jeff suddenly shouting, ‘Hey, get back here. You can’t leave.’
“I looked up to see the man who hit the girl speeding past us. The front end of his car was damaged but not too badly.
“The young man told me to stay with her. He was going after him.
“But he came back a few minutes later saying he’d lost him. Then we heard the ambulance.”
“What do you remember about the hit-and-run driver?” I asked.
“Not much. I just glanced at him. He looked at me. His hair was thinning, and he had a black beard. He wore sunglasses.”
“The police still haven’t found him,” I said.
“I know. And that young medical student talked to the police. Then he drove off and wasn’t seen again.”
“How terrible,” I said. “Especially now that the girl has died. But I don’t understand why you’ve left town twice. Not because of this accident, surely?”
She leaned back and stroked Bronwyn’s fur absently. “That’s only half of my story,” she said.
Twenty-one
Charlotte said, “The next day I found a printed note in with my mail, unsigned, of course. It said, ‘Forget what you saw or you’ll be sorry.’”
She kept her hand on Bronwyn who rested her head on Charlotte’s lap.
“What I saw could only refer to the accident. The driver’s face.”
“I take it you gave your name and evidence to the police,” I said.
She nodded. “At the time I did. But how could they protect me? We have a small force. They can’t be everywhere.”
I started to contradict her, but she was right. Even with a Personal Protection Order, a person couldn’t be one hundred percent safe if she were the target of a determined assassin.
“Do you still have the note?” I asked.
“No, I threw it away. The same day I saw the driver at Blackbourne’s Grocers. I don’t think he saw me. When I came home, I grabbed food and water and drove up north to the cabin. It’s located on eighty acres. After a while, I thought it was safe to go home. But then I saw his car on the expressway and had a glimpse of his face with that ugly beard.”
“Did he see you that time?”
“I’m sure he did. I took the next exit, and he didn’t follow me.”
“And now you’re going away again?”
“Yes, back to the cabin. I packed more clothes and picked up some medication I need. There’s a shotgun at the cabin. Bronwyn and I should be safe. You can see why I said you couldn’t help me.”
“Not at all. First, you should definitely report this man’s threat to the police. It sounds like he’s still in the area. If they find him, he’ll be arrested for murder, and you’ll be safe.”
He saw Bronwyn too. I’m afraid for both of us.”
“My husband is a deputy sheriff and our friend, Lieutenant Mac Dalby, is on the force,” I said. “Let’s see what they say.”
As she seemed unconvinced, I added, “If this man tracked you down on your eighty acres, they’d never find your body. You do not want to isolate yourself.”
“I’m afraid,” she said.
“I would be, too. How do you think he found you?”
“Possibly because of my car’s color,” she said. “I had it painted. There aren’t many blue cars that shade on the road today. When I stopped for the accident, he had time to see my license. It doesn’t matter how he found me. He did. And I think he got to Jeff and made him disappear.”
The other driver was dead and apparently one witness was taken care of. That left Charlotte—and Bronwyn. In her place I’d be terrified, too.
“Don’t leave today,” I said. “Let me talk to Lieutenant Dalby.”
“That man knows where to find us.”
“Is there any other place you can stay for a few days?” I asked.
“My neighbor, but that’s right next door, and I don’t want to involve her.”
“There’s a new inn in Maple Creek,” I said. “The Shell House. He’ll never think to look for you there.”
“That wouldn’t work. I have Bronwyn. We’re staying together.”
“Call and find out if they allow dogs. Give me a little time to think of something, Charlotte. It’ll all work out.”
“You can’t know that.”
“We can hope,” I said. “Anyway, I believe it’s better to stay and fight than run away. I’ll think of something.”
When I left, I thought she looked a little more hopeful.
On the short drive home, my thoughts were a jumble. I’d encouraged Charlotte to stay in Foxglove Corners. Now I was responsible for what happened next. The safest place for Charlotte and Bronwyn was with Crane and me, but we already had seven collies and Julia was occupying our only guest room.
Leonora and Jake were newly married and unlikely to want a houseguest.
Sue? She’d probably be willing to help, especially since Bronwyn was part of the package, but I recalled her tendency to blame Charlotte for not providing a safe home for our rescue, which was unfair. What had happened and might still happen was beyond Charlotte’s control.
Lucy was a better choice. She lived alone at Dark Gables with one collie. I was sure she’d welcome Charlotte, and with all the pines on Lucy’s property, it would be impossible to see a blue car from the road.
How to find Black Beard was the main problem. Fortunately the police were already looking for him.
~ * ~
I was relieved when Lucy agreed to let Charlotte and Bronwyn stay at Dark Gables as long as necessary. Charlotte planned to report the threatening note to the police, while Mac promised to do everything in his power to apprehend the elusive hit-and-run driver, no easy task with the little he had to go on.
Having done all I could to help Charlotte, that night I fell asleep with a clear mind and tumbled into a rare, pleasant dream.
I strolled through a tranquil blue and green world with Luke Emerson at my side. We were at the L Bar E. In the distance, snow-capped mountains reached up to the sky.
“I’ve been waiting for you, Jennet,” he said. “What took you so long?”
“I couldn’t find my way back.”
As I walked, I felt the unaccustomed weight of material against my legs. I was wearing boots rather than heels, and I clutched the edges of my shawl with one hand. Who needed a shawl? The weather was warm with a gentle breeze that smelled of lightly scented spring flowers. It was weather fit for a dream.
I was wearing one of Susanna’s dresses, and Susanna was gone. I had taken her place.
Luke reached for my hand. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.” He added, “And here you’ll stay in the great state of Colorado.”
“I thought Jubilee was in Colorado Territory,” I said.
“It was. As of now, we’re a real honest-to-goodness state.”
Thunder rumbled over the mountains, magical little men playing a perpetual game of nine pins in the sky.
“Looks like we’re in for some rain,” Luke said.
Hand and hand we walked toward a sturdy ranch house that looked as if it had been made by hand, all of the neighbors pitching in to erect a structure in the wilderness, using materials native to the region.
It swam in the lightest of mists that thickened until I couldn’t see the house. It was lost in a dense white fog. But I could still hear the thunder.
I woke, clutching the sheet. The dress was gone. In its place I wore a long nightgown of lightweight cotton that twisted around my knees.
Luke no longer held my hand.
He had gone, too.
~ * ~
I felt a little guilty for being happy in a dream with a man who wasn’t my husband, Crane—until I realized how ludicrous that was. A dream had no more substance than a wish. I hadn’t created it. Except it had been incredibly real at the time. I’d felt the press of the heavy fabric and the warmth and strength of Luke’s hand in mine. I’d seen the color of the grass an
d the sky.
I wondered why I had dreamed of my Western on a night when thoughts of a menacing hit-and-run driver should have filled my mind. And that scene in which Luke and I walked away from the threat of rain toward the ranch house? That hadn’t been part of the movie I’d seen on the haunted TV. It was purely a product of my mind.
A worrying thought surfaced. Suppose the next time the TV decided to cooperate with me, I saw my dream scene played out. That would be way too bizarre.
Highly unlikely. Something else was going to happen. For example, that fancy newcomer from the stagecoach was going to make her presence known.
I turned on my miniature bedside flashlight and glanced at the alarm clock. I had one more hour to sleep. I’d close my eyes and maybe the dream would return.
It didn’t, of course. A dream isn’t a dessert featured on a menu board. You can’t order it and sit back while you wait for it to appear. If you could, though, how wonderful that would be.
Inevitably the alarm clock rang. Just in case I hadn’t heard it, Misty added her high-pitched yelps to the disturbance. I didn’t worry about her waking Julia up as she usually slept until seven-thirty. Beside me, Crane stirred and got out of bed. Immediately the day filled up with activity.
Take care of the dogs, get dressed for school, pack a lunch, make a hearty breakfast for Crane.
In the hustle and bustle of the real world, the last fragments of my Western dream disintegrated.
Twenty-two
With Charlotte and Bronwyn safe at Dark Gables, I had to decide what to tell Sue about their situation. How would she react if she knew that our rescue and her new mistress were the targets of a killer who was determined to keep his identity a secret?
In two words—not well.
Eventually I decided not to tell her. Not yet, anyway. Immediately a sense of well-being settled over me. For two whole days my classes were somewhat civilized. If Veronica had approached Crane about our getting together for dinner, he didn’t tell me. Julia was considering applying for a position at her first-choice college.
And the sun shone on the sweet fields of autumn as the many-colored leaves stirred in the wind.
As I walked with Gemmy, Misty, and Star down to Sagramore Lake Road, I had an almost irresistible desire to see Brent’s wildflowers on Huron Court in the fall of the year. I especially wanted to view for myself the mysterious violet that we associated with the spirit of Violet Randall who haunted the road. Was it still in bloom?
Of course I wouldn’t go. I’d vowed never to set foot on Huron Court again, and that was one vow I planned to keep.
Misty slowed as we approached Charlotte’s house. How desolate it looked. You could tell when a house’s people had left it, even with the walkway and driveway neatly raked. The cloud of sadness that enveloped its walls was almost palpable.
Jennifer and Molly were running with Ginger on the deserted beach. All three came to a stop, the girls aglow with the energy of the young and Ginger panting. The exhausted collie touched noses with Misty and flopped down in the sand.
“I want to thank you girls for letting me know Charlotte was back,” I said. “It really helped.”
“Why did Ms. Gray go away again?” Molly asked.
“She took Bronwyn and went to stay with a friend,” I said. “And, oh, I forgot. She gave me an envelope of money and a note for you girls. Stop at my house after school and pick them up.”
“Don’t forget to tell Jennet about the man, Molly,” Jennifer said.
“Oh, yeah. It may not be important but, we were walking home from school the other day, and…”
Molly reached down to take a stone away from Ginger. “You can’t eat that, girl.”
Jennifer continued. “We saw a man at Ms. Gray’s house. He went up to the porch and knocked on the door. Then he rang the bell. When no one answered, he tried to look inside, but the drapes are closed, so he went around to the back.”
“Can you describe him? I asked.
“He was going bald and had a long beard,” Jennifer said. “He was mean-looking.”
The hit-and-run driver. Charlotte was right to leave her home when she did. I shuddered to think what might have happened if she’d opened the door.
“Did you notice what kind of car he had?”
The girls exchanged glances. “It was beige,” Molly said. “He came back the next day about the same time and knocked on the door again.”
“Do you think you can keep up the surveillance?” I asked. “And let me know if you see him again or if you see anything unusual?”
“Sure,” Jennifer said. “This turned into a mystery, didn’t it?”
“That man is a mystery,” I said. “I don’t know exactly what his intentions are, but I do know they aren’t good.”
“We are helping, then.”
“Very much. But whatever you do, don’t approach him. Don’t let him know you’re watching him.”
I didn’t want to alarm the girls, but I had to add, “He could be dangerous. Just give me a call if you see him.”
“We will,” Molly said.
“Tell Ms. Gray ‘ hi’ for us,” Jennifer added.
I agreed to do that, and we parted company. On the way home, I gave Huron Court a wide berth. There was enough danger in the air without courting more.
~ * ~
Brent’s before-dinner visit that evening was a surprise. We hadn’t seen him for several days. As usual he didn’t come empty-handed. He had a two-pound box of candy for us and make-believe fudge from Pluto’s Gourmet Pet Shop for the collies.
The dogs were so accustomed to Brent’s largesse that they began to lick their chops as soon as he stepped through the door.
“Liver fudge,” I said. “Yuk.”
Crane took Brent’s jacket. “Our girls will love it.”
“Did Julia ever come home?” Brent asked.
“She’s visiting a college,” I said. “She’ll probably stay there overnight.”
“I’ll see her next time around then.” Brent settled into the rocker with Misty on his lap. Raven limped up to lie at Brent’s feet, beating Sky to her favorite spot. Refusing to be discouraged, she lay down next to Raven.
“What’s new around here?” Brent asked.
“Not much,” I said.
Crane sat beside me on the sofa. “Is Charlotte’s story a secret?”
I glanced at him. “Well, not anymore.”
I’d thought that if only a few people knew Charlotte had witnessed the fatal hit-and-run, she’d be reasonably safe. Brent could keep a confidence, though. Besides, as Lucy’s friend, he might see Charlotte at Dark Gables. With this in mind, I told him about her dilemma.
“No one should have to leave their home unless there’s a disaster like a tornado or flood,” he said.
“Charlotte is an older woman alone with a geriatric dog. She can’t have round-the-clock police protection. What else can she do? Jennifer and Molly saw the driver at her house,” I added. “I’m glad she decided to stay with Lucy.”
“Let me know if I can help,” he said.
Crane frowned. “Catching a killer is a police matter.”
“I can still do something,” he countered. “Have the cops found him yet?”
“They’re still looking.”
After a moment, Brent said, “I’m surprised there was any traffic on Huron Court. People must not know how dangerous it is.”
The peculiarities of Huron Court weren’t commonly known at this time. People simply didn’t talk about it. Or perhaps, like Brent, they didn’t give in to their fears.
“Maybe your wildflower field is the draw,” I said.
A sudden frown darkened his face. “Hey, Jennet, you don’t suppose the accident happened because he was distracted by my wildflower field, do you? Because, if it did, I’m partially to blame.”
“That didn’t happen,” I said, remembering what Charlotte had told me. “She’d already passed the wildflowers when she heard the crash around the
next curve in the road.”
“That’s a relief. Speaking of my flowers…” He pulled out his phone, a larger, newer version of mine. “I took these yesterday.”
I could hardly believe my eyes. Amidst the tall goldenrods and stalks of spent coneflowers, the dark blue violets looked as healthy and new as if they had just arrived from a flower shop.
“The babies,” he said.
“It’s uncanny,” I murmured. “It’s fortunate you can’t see the violets from the road. That would be a draw.”
“It’s a curiosity,” he said. “Well, I can’t do anything about it now. Pretty soon everything will die.”
“Even the violets?”
“We’ll have to wait and see. How about your other mystery, the temperamental TV?”
“I haven’t thought about it lately,” I said.
“Let’s see if your movie is on.”
I crossed the room and lay my hand on the top of the television. It felt warm while all the other surfaces in the house would be room temperature. I didn’t have to touch them to be certain of it.
I turned it on, and a kitchen came into focus. The cook, who wore a gaudy sequined top, wielded a butcher’s knife over a slab of undetermined meat.
“We don’t want to watch that,” Crane said.
“Jennet already knows how to cook,” Brent added.
“Thank you.”
“Maybe,” he continued, “you imagined that movie.”
“I certainly did not. I’m surprised you’d say that.”
“If Jennet said she saw it, she did,” Crane said.
“And I’m going to see it again, straight through to the end,” I said, even though I knew whether or not I did wasn’t up to me.
Twenty-three
Somewhere in the house, an old phonograph was playing the waltz from Billy the Kid. That evocative music never failed to transport me to the Old West.
The well-loved strains invaded every corner of the room. At first the music was soft, as if heard from a distance. Gradually the volume increased until it was so loud that I feared Crane would wake. Then abruptly it stopped.
I was awake, the sheet pulled high over my face. Still I heard the melody, now from far off. From downstairs or maybe outside.
The Deadly Fields of Autumn Page 11