by Jan Washburn
When the dispatcher had all the information, Leif rushed to the back of the SUV and pulled out a tire iron. Instantly he skidded back down the embankment.
Tracy sat dazed for a moment and then Leif’s words began to sink in. A baby. A baby! She shoved the door open. Jumping to the ground, she raced down the slope behind him.
The hood of the sedan was folded in like an accordion against the trunk of a huge oak tree. She could see the unconscious woman wedged behind the steering wheel. Her face had been burned from the explosion of the airbag, but that may have saved her life. Faintly Tracy heard the frantic cries of an infant. But where was the child?
Leif tried to force a door open. The crash had bent the frame of the car. The doors were all jammed tight. It would take more than a tire iron to pry open one of the doors.
Desperate, she peered through the window. Where was that baby? Where were the muffled cries coming from?
Stand back, Leif ordered. I’m going to break a window.
She backed off a few steps as he swung the tire iron against the window behind the driver. The glass became a spider web of cracks. With several more heavy blows, he cleared the window frame of shattered fragments.
Now she could clearly hear the baby’s hysterical screams. Each shriek felt like a knife in her heart. She whispered a prayer. Please let it be fear, not pain.
The impact of the crash forced the back seat of the car forward and tipped it downward. The baby seat had been pushed down almost out of sight against the back of the front seat. The child was trapped in his seat head down.
She felt Leif’s gaze. There was a question in his eyes. Tracy, I’m too heavy. If I climb in there, I’m going to crush that baby. If I lift you through the window, can you crawl in and try to get him out.
Too breathless to speak, Tracy nodded. He reached through the broken window, trying to brush away the scattered glass. He cupped his hands to give her a step up. Watch out for those splinters.
But avoiding the splinters of glass was impossible. The sharp fragments were like needles pricking her palms and her knees as she crawled cautiously over the back of the crumpled rear seat.
Could she get close enough to un-strap the baby from his car seat without jamming it down even further? His little feet were kicking frantically at the air. So far, there were no signs of blood.
She stretched out flat to distribute her weight. Gently she petted the child’s foot. There, there, little guy. We’re going to get you out of here, she soothed. The terrified screams eased into whimpering sobs.
She squeezed a hand down into the narrow space, groping to find the release for the straps that trapped the little one in place. Flying blind, she relied on her sense of touch.
It’ll be OK. It’ll be OK. She tried not to let her frustration show in her voice.
She gasped in triumph as her fingers closed around the plastic buckle. Sobbing and hiccupping, the baby clutched at her arm as she found the release button. And then a snapping sound told her the straps had released. Thank you, Lord .
Now, honey, I’m going to pull you out. I’ll try not to hurt you, she explained. The infant didn’t understand her words, but he seemed to understand her tone of voice.
Sliding her hands down again, she managed to grasp his arms. Patience. Patience. Patience . She edged him out of his seat and slowly began to lift him. Careful. Careful. Careful . A snag could tear his tender skin like a knife. He was heavy for such a little guy, but nothing stood in her way now.
At last, like a cork coming out of a bottle, he popped free. He continued to sob and whimper, but it was weariness not panic in his voice. Arms trembling from the strain, Tracy cuddled him as best she could in her awkward position.
Framed by the broken window, Leif watched her every move. Great, Tracy. Perfect. He thrust his arms into the car. Can you pass him to me?
She managed to wriggle her way close to the window. Tears of relief rolled down her cheeks as Leif took the baby and carried him to a mossy spot on the ground. She barely had the energy to lift her head when Leif came back to the window to help her climb down.
She wanted to rest, but the baby started screaming again, frightened at being left alone. She dropped down on the ground and swept him into her arms. Cuddling and rocking him, she quieted his cries.
With his head inside the back window, Leif checked on the baby’s mother.
How is she? Tracy worried.
She’s still unconscious, but I checked her carotid artery. She’s got a strong pulse. We just have to hope there’s no internal bleeding. Is the little guy OK?
The baby was almost completely covered by his blue bunny pajamas, but Tracy checked for any signs of cuts or bleeding. He watched her with big, solemn, dark eyes. His breath came in deep, heavy gasps, but miraculously he appeared to be uninjured.
Tracy had to smile. You’re going to be a lady killer with those eyes, she told him.
Probably only ten minutes passed, but it seemed like hours before they heard the wail of sirens. The chill in the air began to penetrate Tracy’s thin blouse. Hugging the baby close to keep him warm, she tried to stay out of the way of the horde of state troopers and paramedics who swarmed over the car. Leif worked with them as they struggled to force the car door open and free the woman.
There were grunts of triumph as the door gave way. As the paramedics eased the woman out of the car, she began to regain consciousness. Her eyes frantically searched the scene. Michael. Baby, she whispered.
He’s here. He’s OK. Tracy moved closer so the mother could see her little one. She managed a groggy smile.
Within minutes the paramedics were ready to carry the mother and child away. Reluctantly Tracy surrendered the infant to an EMT. Mother and baby—safe at last.
As they stood on the shoulder of the road, watching the ambulance drive away, Leif threw an arm around her shoulders. Are you ready to go home now? He spoke as though this incident was just a minor blip in his schedule, all in a day’s work for him.
Drooping with exhaustion, she groaned. You certainly know how to show a girl a good time.
He let out a whoop of laughter. Yes, I always try to keep my lady friends entertained.
They trudged back up the embankment to the SUV. She barely had enough energy to climb into her seat, but Leif didn’t drive away. He inspected the cuts in her hands and reached for his first aid kit.
I’m sorry about the broken glass, Tracy, but you were an angel down there. Gently he dabbed disinfectant on the tiny wounds and then brushed her tangled hair back from her face.
She tried not to read too much into the tender touch. He was simply grateful for her help.
You know, you are a handy lady to have around in an emergency, he teased. Have you ever thought about joining the police force?
I think I had a nightmare like that once, she groaned. But the admiration in his eyes was all the medicine she needed to soothe her pain.
****
Leif tried to relax as he waited to speak to Keith Bradford. Although he had made an appointment, the attorney was still closeted with another client. He glanced impatiently at his watch. He didn’t have much time to spare, but he was determined to find out, once and for all, what Keith knew about Tracy’s past. Bradford had been the source of the rumors that tarnished her reputation in Allerton. If there was any basis for the insinuations, Bradford was the only one who held the answers to his questions.
Leif felt he had come to know Tracy well, and his experiences with her didn’t fit into the picture Bradford painted of her mysterious misdeeds. Either Tracy had a split personality or she was innocent.
He started out playing Mr. Nice Guy with Tracy to discover the dark secrets behind that sweet innocent face. So far, he discovered that she was just as beautiful on the inside as the outside. But it’s hands off for you, he reminded himself.
Bradford appeared at last, escorting an elderly lady. Leif waited until the woman was safely out the door and then stood as Bradford returned to gr
eet him.
Well, hello, Chief. Sorry to keep you waiting. Mrs. Stubbleford is a difficult client.
Leif shrugged and shook Bradford’s extended hand.
Come into my inner sanctum. The lawyer exuded charm and good cheer.
Leif followed him into the spacious private office. He had to admit that the rows of legal volumes that lined the walls were impressive.
Bradford waved him to a chair. Now, what can I do for you today?
Leif got straight to the point. I want to ask you about Tracy Dixon.
Bradford’s smile faded. I assume you are investigating Tracy for some reason.
I am, Leif said simply.
I’m sure you are aware that Judge Whitby is already investigating Tracy as the guardian ad litem for Jeff Dixon. I understand that you turned down the appointment.
I did, Leif admitted. I felt that I was too personally involved with the family. But my questions don’t have any connection with Tracy’s petition to be named Jeff’s conservator.
Bradford sat back in his swivel chair and folded his arms across his chest. ‘You understand that I am Tracy’s attorney and that she is protected by attorney-client privilege. Any matters between us are strictly confidential.
You weren’t her attorney three years ago, Leif reminded him. You were her fiancé.
Bradford didn’t respond. His mouth hardened into a straight line.
A number of people have told me that you spread the word around town that Tracy had been involved in some illicit activities. I’ve checked back through the records, but I can’t find her name mentioned in any of the police reports.
Well, of course, that shoplifting incident took place in Brockton.
And is that incident the shady past you were hinting at?
Bradford gave him a sly wink. Not every misdeed comes to the attention of the police.
Pinning Bradford down was as easy as nailing Jello to the wall. He was the ultimate politician. But Leif was determined to persist with his questioning. Did these famous misdeeds include anything illegal?
The lawyer drew himself up, the picture of injured dignity. I don’t think it’s my place to be discussing Tracy’s personal affairs.
In other words, you don’t have a shred of evidence to support your rumors and insinuations about her.
I didn’t say that, Bradford protested.
Then tell me the basis for the stories.
I repeat, I don’t feel it’s my place to be discussing Tracy’s personal affairs. That’s all I have to say. Bradford was stonewalling.
Leif had questioned enough suspects to recognize a bluff when he heard one. That hostile, defiant attitude meant Bradford was lying. There was no basis for his rumors about Tracy.
Abruptly Leif got to his feet. Thank you for your time, Counselor. I’ll see myself out.
He restrained himself from storming out of the room. He should have listened to Lucille from the start. Bradford circulated the lies about Tracy so he wouldn’t look like such a rat when he broke their engagement.
And he had swallowed those rumors too. You’re an idiot, Ericson. You were as gullible as the rest of this town.
At last, he didn’t have to worry about the problems in Tracy’s past, but what about the present? There was still the small matter of Ronda Starr’s jewelry.
More than Great Riches
CHAPTER X
It was a glorious spring day. Tracy decided to forget about burglars and weird strangers and shadowy figures that might or might not be following her. She threw open the windows to inhale the haunting fragrance of lilacs. The bushes on either side of the front door were heavy with the pale purple blossoms.
You lived in the city too long, she thought. She had forgotten the wonderful sights and smells of the country in spring. The house was clean from top to bottom. It was time to do something about the yard.
With her wardrobe so limited, it was not a good idea to subject her clothes to yard work. Her roommate had sent off her clothes from New York, but the boxes had not arrived yet. A search of the ragbag produced a pair of her mother’s old gardening pants—patched, re-patched and heavily stained. They were baggy, but she anchored them around her waist with a length of rope.
How about her brother’s clothes? Jeff wouldn’t mind, but there was a problem—he stood eight inches taller and at least eighty pounds heavier. His T-shirt covered her from neck to ankles like a nightgown.
She couldn’t resist a glance in the mirror. Luckily there were no close neighbors to catch her looking like a hobo. Just don’t let this be the day Rev. Jim comes calling.
Raiding the old shed in the backyard, she armed herself with gardening tools and began a survey of the property. Daisies sprang up along the low stone walls that marked the boundaries of the property. New England did not suffer from a shortage of rocks.
She stopped to admire the delicate apple blossoms in the neighboring orchard then got down to business. Her mother always kept a flower garden along the side of the house, but her plants had succumbed to neglect. Here and there a brave iris thrust its head through the weeds. The planter boxes under the windows showcased dirt instead of petunias and morning glories.
I’ll start with Mom’s garden, but you’re next, she promised the planter boxes.
She lost all track of time as she uprooted weeds and turned the soil. This is my father’s world, she sang cheerfully, feeling in tune with nature. One more weekend at Fisherman’s Landing should give her enough money to invest in some seeds and plants.
It was nearing dusk when she heard the sound of an approaching car. She looked up to see Leif’s SUV pulling into her driveway. Oh, no. Why did he have to show up now when she was on her knees looking like Dorothy’s scarecrow in raggedy clothes, with every hair on her head blowing in a different direction?
Leif was usually so stoic, but he broke into a huge grin as he crossed the yard.
Is this the elegant and fashionable Miss Tracy Dixon? he teased.
She scowled at him.
He reached out to rub a smudge of dirt from her cheek. For such a big tough guy he could be so gentle.
I have orders to deliver you to Maggie Scalia’s, he announced.
To Maggie’s? she puzzled.
Instructions said, ‘Do not take no for an answer.’
But—but—I can’t go anywhere looking like this. I need a shampoo and a shower and clean clothes ...
I’ll wait, Leif said calmly.
Too embarrassed to argue, she plodded meekly toward the door. Leif followed her into the house. Maybe there’s something on TV you’d like to watch, she suggested.
Just go, he ordered.
Yes, sir. She saluted him gravely and hurried up the stairs.
I’ll bet that sneaky Maggie remembered it’s my birthday, she decided as she rinsed her hair under the shower. But how did Leif get involved? If Maggie was playing matchmaker, her schemes would go down the drain when Leif decided to arrest Tracy.
She dried her hair and pulled on jeans and a blouse in record time.
Leif looked totally at home, relaxing in the recliner as he leafed through her high school yearbook. That was quick. I thought we’d be here a while. He closed the book and got to his feet. I see you were voted most popular girl at Allerton High School.
Tracy blushed, remembering the circumstances of that election. She had just been charged with shoplifting. I think my friends voted for me just to irritate their parents, she confessed. I wasn’t too popular with the adults in town about then.
Leif insisted on following her around the house, peering over her shoulder as she locked up. No matter what he thought about her character, he was as protective as a secret service agent. Obviously, there would be no more burglaries on his watch.
The Scalias’ house blazed with lights when they arrived. Maggie and Bud were waiting in their living room under an array of red and gold streamers and balloons. Our high school colors, Tracy remembered. A gigantic banner across the wall proclaimed, Ha
ppy 26th Birthday.
Tracy hugged them both. You are really sneaky. You wouldn’t believe what I looked like when Leif came to get me. Thank goodness he didn’t have a camera.
The picture is etched in my memory, Leif announced solemnly.
Don’t worry about it. This is a come-as-you-are party, Maggie explained.
If I came over dressed as I was, you would have locked all the doors and hidden in the kennels.
Maggie’s dinner was a triumph. Tracy’s very favorite foods—New England clam chowder and steamed Maine lobster. What more could anyone want?