A Killing Frost

by Hannah Alexander

  All she smelled was damp dirt beneath her, and a faint green scent of grass. All she heard was a loud snort, then a quiet snore from inside the barn.

  Relief.

  Carefully, Doriann pushed herself to her knees and tried to see through a crack low on the barn wall. There was something in the way. She stood and rose up on her toes to a crack higher on the wall, but she heard a sudden noise, a brush of movement inside.

  She froze, scared to breathe for several long seconds. Then came the snoring again. She probably wouldn’t be able to see inside where it was shadowy, but if there were other cracks in the walls, and if Clancy and Deb had left a door open…just maybe she’d be able to catch sight of something.

  She leaned closer to the wall, until her nose touched the rough wood. She saw shadows that took shape as she focused. She saw the skinny body of Deb, all angles and sharp points, where she lay on a broken hay bale. They had left the door open-or it had fallen off. Clancy was stretched out beside Deb, lying on his back, arms under his head.

  Deb was the one snoring, her mouth wide-open, jaw slack.

  Doriann studied the two of them. They didn’t look so scary in their sleep. She wondered what kind of people they might have been if not for the speed. Aunt Renee said the drugs did awful things to people.

  Of course, most people didn’t turn into killers just because they took drugs. But sometimes, according to Aunt Renee and Mom and Dad, drugs could take people over and turn them inside out, make them do things they’d never do if they were straight.

  So if Clancy had never taken drugs, maybe he would be a schoolteacher or a bus driver. Or maybe a doctor or a famous chef with his own cooking show. Maybe Deb would be an airline pilot or a captain of a ship or a senator.

  What did their parents think about them? Aunt Renee said that if any of her kids got into drugs, she’d be heartbroken. She’d wonder what she did wrong. But Doriann couldn’t understand why anybody else would be to blame for Clancy’s choice to do drugs. He made the decision. Same as Deb.

  But they probably had some very sad parents somewhere in the world.

  The way Doriann saw it, she could never do drugs because she had parents and aunts and uncles and grandparents and cousins who would all be heartbroken. She wouldn’t be Doriann any longer. She’d be somebody with rotten teeth and bad breath and, as Aunt Renee always said, a dirty soul. Sure, Jesus could clean her up again, and make a good person out of her, but she’d still be a different person, and she didn’t want to be a different person.

  Doriann closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Somebody needed to call 911 and stop the killing-and only she knew where the killers were.

  She crept around the side of the barn, came to the barn door-or what used to be the door. Now it was just a few pieces of wood cobbled together with barbed wire and nails.

  She didn’t want to make any noise so she crept on around to the other side.

  She looked at a hole in the side of the barn. It looked as if some of the slats of wood had been kicked out by a horse or a mule or bull. She studied the tractor door, where the wood gaped in several places, and the side door, which hung on one hinge. She could slip through that opening without making noise.

  This wasn’t as easy as it had seemed when she was safely in the woods out of sight of the killers. She leaned forward and tried to peer through another crack.

  Aunt Renee said that when a drug addict crashed, they could sleep for days, but still, Deb was the only one asleep for sure.

  Doriann couldn’t see anything. Maybe she didn’t have the right angle. She stood on her toes and pressed her nose against the rough wood.

  All she saw was something white. It darkened, then whitened again.

  She caught a scream before it could leave her mouth. She was staring at an eye.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Jama returned the receiver to the phone and braced herself. She called Ruth’s office instead of walking back to break the news. Might as well practice the new system.

  “Hi, Ruth. Sorry to interrupt your interview, but I just received word from River Dance Winery that we can expect at least three more patients, two with smoke inhalation, one with a possible broken arm. Zelda’s gone. Want me to call Tyrell now?”

  “Yes, call him. Let me know if I’m going to have to cancel interviews this afternoon. Keep taking calls if you can, try to get that appointment book filled. We need a ballpark figure of how many patients to expect next week, so we’ll know how to staff this place.”

  “Got it. I’m getting another call.”

  Ruth disconnected without replying.

  The call was from the mayor of River Dance.

  “Jama Sue, what’s going on down there?” Eric Thompson had the deepest, smoothest bass voice, which he used to good effect when running for office or presiding over a town meeting. “Yesterday, Ruth said she wouldn’t have the clinic ready for a full load of patients until next week. I just heard down at Mildred’s café that you’ve already treated some patients.”

  “It seems we’ve been forced into operation a little sooner than expected. I just hope nothing serious comes in, because we certainly aren’t set up for it.”

  She thought of Monty. Of the fire. Serious had already broadsided them.

  “How many slots have you filled in the appointment book for Monday?” Eric asked.

  “Most of them, and we’re working on Tuesday. What did you do, advertise in every paper along the Missouri?”

  “You have a problem with that? We’ve got to get this clinic up and running and bringing in revenue ASAP. We’ve got almost every cent in the till invested in this place, and we’re up to our necks in debt.”

  “I thought there was enough to build the clinic without going into debt.”

  “That was until we took you on. And I might have underestimated the cost of X-ray machines and lab equipment. I’ve been to the schools to promise end-of-term physicals at a discount, I’ve offered weekly blood pressure checks for anyone over sixty, I’ve-”

  “Are you worried we’ll fail?”

  “With you here, hometown girl, coming back to treat the sick, I think we’ll make a go of it.”

  “No pressure to perform, though, right?” she said dryly.

  “The day you signed that contract, I could see your mind working. You’d rather be anywhere but here.”

  Jama didn’t argue.

  “I heard you hit the ground running today, and did a great job,” he said. “That’ll draw some business this way.”

  Jama smiled to herself. This clinic had been Eric’s idea. He had a right to be proud. Because of his hard work and vision, River Dance had a small industrial park at the east edge of town, and other growth was taking place on Main Street. The town may not always be so dependent on the vineyards.

  “Have you considered staying past the two-year period?” Eric asked.

  “Nope.”

  “Not at all? You know Tyrell’s planning to stay.”

  “And you’re telling me this because…?”

  “Word gets around. You know that. He’s crazy about you, Jama. I can see it in his eyes when he talks about you.”

  Jama sighed. She’d seen it, too. Time for a subject change.

  “Eric, has Ruth ever done administrative work before?”

  “Nothing like this.”

  “What has she done?”

  “She hasn’t told you?”

  “There hasn’t been a lot of time to chat. What’s up with her?”

  There was a pause. “What has she said?”

  “All she mentioned was that the last place she worked had poor equipment.”

  “That’s an understatement.”

  “Care to let me in on the secret?”

  “She was a missionary,” Eric said.

  “You’re kidding.” And no one had said anything about it?

  “Sounds to me as if she doesn’t want to talk about it yet.” Eric’s voice was soft. “Don’t ask her, okay?”


  “Okay, but where was she a missionary, and why is she here now, and-”

  “Tanzania. Her reason for being here is her business unless she decides to tell you. I met Ruth and Jack a few years ago when I was with my guard unit on a peacekeeping mission near their medical clinic in Tanzania. I was taken there for treatment after an injury. She’s on leave from her mission for the immediate future. That’s all I can tell you. Let it drop for now, okay? That poor woman’s been through enough.”

  When Eric disconnected, Jama sat staring at the phone for a moment, then shook her head. How many more surprises could she expect before the end of the day?

  She called the Mercer Ranch, and was once again amazed by the warm comfort she felt at the sound of Tyrell’s voice.

  “Hi,” she said. “Did you mean it when you said you’d be willing to help us here at the clinic for a while?”

  “Of course. Daniel just arrived. He can direct the men to prepare for tonight’s freeze. Our cousin, Mae, is driving the tractor, and she’s an expert. I can consult with him by phone if he needs any help.”

  “How soon can you be here?”

  “Will five minutes work?”

  Jama smiled. “I’ll see you then.”

  Doriann heard Clancy’s laughter as she stumbled over her own feet, crashing through the woods, noisy and obvious. He’d tricked her, made her think they were both asleep when he was wide-awake. Had he known she was out there all this time?

  The sound of his footsteps grew louder, the sound of her breathing harder. It wouldn’t help to scream, because there was nobody to hear except Deb.

  Doriann stumbled through a creek, in water up to her knees, scrambled around a small cliff, then plunged beneath some cedar trees.

  Grandpa always said the only good cedar tree was a dead cedar tree. That wasn’t true. This was the only place to hide…if Clancy hadn’t already seen her. Twigs and branches popped behind her. Too close!

  She ducked behind a thick growth of a stickery green tree, caught the hood of her jacket on a branch that dragged at her for a second, then snapped away.

  Clancy stopped a few yards away; she could hear him breathing, talking to himself under his breath. There was a footstep, then another, coming closer. Slowing near where she hid…whispers…laughter under his breath, as if this was all such fun for him. It made her mad.

  She saw the toes of his grungy running shoes when he reached the stand of trees. She opened her mouth, breathing as shallowly and quietly as she could, but her heart pumped so hard, she felt sure he could hear the thrum of it in her chest.

  And still he whispered. Like a crazy person. Which he was. Mad with cravings for the drugs that kept him high.

  Doriann was never doing drugs. Never.

  He fell silent for a moment, and Doriann held her breath. Then she heard his laughter, dark, wicked, evil…barely a few feet behind her.

  She yelped and plunged from the cedar blind, into the woods where blackberry brambles scraped her face and hands and grabbed her jacket, as if trying to slow her down so he could catch her. But he wasn’t going to catch her. No way!

  She raced and stumbled past trees, through thickets, to a hillside with a tiny waterfall running down it. She scrambled over it and down the hill. There she found a stretch of road.

  She didn’t dare take time to stop, but she looked both directions as she crossed. This was the Katy Trail! But there weren’t any people on the trail. No surprise.

  The road and the river couldn’t be far away.

  Clancy plunged from the thicket she’d led him through, and he was angry now, not whispering but cussing out loud. There was no one to help her. She was alone.

  She paused long enough to grab up some sandy gravel from the trail. Both hands full, she turned and flung the gravel into his face. With a cry of surprise, he stumbled backward, hands covering his eyes as he spewed his bad words.

  Doriann threaded her way into the trees and ran as fast as she could, stumbling over roots, ripping her clothes on thorns, slipping in mud.

  She couldn’t tell if he was following her, and couldn’t stop long enough to listen for him. She just ran deeper into the trees and prayed he wouldn’t be able to get the sand out of his eyes and come after her.

  Tyrell was in his mother’s car, on his way back to town, when his cell phone jingled its tune from his shirt pocket. He was wishing he’d allowed Jama to talk him into a Bluetooth earpiece when his mother’s voice reached him over the airwaves.

  “Tyrell.” It was soft. Dead soft.

  He nearly missed a turn. “Mom? What’s wrong? Is it Dad? Has something-”

  “Monty is sleeping peacefully. I took a walk around the hospital for some exercise, and I just happened to pass a waiting room with a television.”

  No. Oh, no.

  “There was an announcement about a child abduction in Kansas City early this morning,” she continued. “The child is still missing and the kidnappers are still at large.”

  Tyrell could not speak.

  “These abductors are on the FBI’s Most Wanted list. Killers.”

  He swallowed. “Mom, what-”

  “The child was described as a preteen with red hair and a purple jacket, abducted in the neighborhood where Heather, Mark and Doriann live.”

  “Kansas City has a lot of redheaded-”

  “I don’t know why, but something disturbed me about the announcement. Maybe it was because of the way you and Jama wouldn’t look me in the eye when you left, or maybe it was because that maintenance man who removed the television from the room couldn’t tell Monty what was wrong with it when he asked.”

  “Mom, it’s been a hard day for you and Dad-”

  “I just called Heather.”

  He felt sick.

  “She started crying, told me they had to keep that line open, then hung up. Tyrell, I want you to tell me what’s happening, and I want you to tell me now.”

  Doriann’s toe caught on a fallen limb and she fell headlong, her face landing in a soft bed of pine needles. Stickery pine needles. She rolled over, looked behind her, scrambled back to her feet, and then stopped. Listening.

  A breeze whispered through the pines. A bird sang somewhere above her. It sounded like a mockingbird. She didn’t hear anything else.

  But the wind and the birdsong could be masking other sounds.

  She looked up into thick clouds. She couldn’t tell where the sun was in the sky. How long had she slept outside that barn, and how far had she run? Would it be twilight soon? It could get dark before long, and yet she knew her sense of time and direction were both wacko.

  She didn’t know which way to run. So she didn’t. She looked around for the tallest pine tree with limbs low enough for her to reach. She saw one across a narrow, rocky creek bed. She crept to the tree and ducked beneath its branches, then reached up and began to climb.

  Tyrell turned onto River Street toward the clinic as he explained to his mother what might have happened to Doriann, and then, because he wanted so badly to be able to convince himself, he said, “Mom, nothing is certain. I know how it looks. I want to believe that this is all some big mistake, and that Doriann will come walking home any time after a day in the park.”

  “But we both know that probably won’t happen.”

  He shifted his cell phone to his other hand to signal a turn.

  “It’s four o’clock in the afternoon, Tyrell. She may be strong-willed and impulsive, and she may be desperate for some downtime, but she wouldn’t worry her family like this. Not all day. She would know her parents would call and check on her frequently during the day.”

  Tyrell knew this far too well. He’d been driving himself half crazy with this knowledge. Denying the obvious did no one any good, but what else could he tell his family? That if Doriann had fallen into the hands of killers, she was most likely already dead? And yet…he prayed this wasn’t the case.

  “Doriann is a very mature child,” Mom said. “She’s bright and capable.”
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  “She is.”

  “If she is in a bad situation-”

  “Worrying won’t help us right now.”

  Another silence, this one longer. “I want to know where my granddaughter is, and I want to know now.” She could no longer hide the tremble in her voice.

  “Mom, you’ve got to hold it together for Dad’s sake.”

  “I…I know.” There were tears near the surface; he could hear them.

  “This is an impossible situation for you,” he said. “Jama did all she could to keep you from having to go through it.”

  “But I needed to know. Don’t you understand? I need to be praying.”

  “The news about Doriann right now could slow Dad’s healing, even set him back.”

  Silence.

  “That’s why we tried to keep this under wraps until we had more information,” Tyrell said.

  “I understand, but Doriann’s my flesh and blood. She’s your father’s oldest grandchild, and he would be livid if he knew he was being coddled this way.”

  “Let him be livid later,” Tyrell said. “Right now, he needs to heal. Do you think you can keep mum until he’s out of the woods a little further?” Tyrell pulled into the clinic parking lot, relieved to see only two cars. The patients hadn’t arrived yet. Jama would have time to give him a quick orientation.

  More silence from Mom. Longer this time. “I can do this, honey,” she said. “Dad’s going to be fine.”

  “Are you going to tell him?”

  “Not before it’s necessary. He’s the worrier of the family, you know.”

  “The stroke he had when Amy-”

  “I know. Let me handle him. And please, Tyrell, keep me in the loop.”

  “Do you have to go back to the room for a while?” he asked.

  She sighed. “No. I can have a nurse tell Monty I’m tired and decided to get a room. Tyrell, you do understand I’m serious about this. I want every update. I’m going to glue myself to the waiting-room chair and watch for every television announcement.”