Jones, Beverly R

by All Things Sacred (Lit) (Triskelion)

  “Oh, my God, no.”

  “She’s going to be all right, Jackson. I know she’ll be just fine,” Kendall said, trying to soothe and reassure him, though her own panic was rising by the minute. “Please, don’t drive recklessly.”

  “Dear God, no,” Jackson muttered, almost incoherently.

  “Jackson, listen to me,” Kendall persisted. “She’ll be okay. You have to believe that. Now drive carefully, and I’ll see you at the hospital.” She hung up the phone as Jackson mumbled goodbye.

  She ran to her bedroom, grabbed her purse, then returned to the kitchen and retrieved the keys to the truck before running out the back door. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she sped across the yard, her fear and anxiety swelling to a nearly unbearable weight. Casey Anne. Not Casey Anne.

  Kendall suddenly stopped, the dust kicking up around her shoes, and stared in total bewilderment at the car speeding down the gravel drive toward the house. Was that Tom coming back? The car was closer now. No, it wasn’t Tom’s car. Who, then? And why the urgency? Had something else happened?

  She waited under the oak tree, halfway between the house and stable, and watched as the approaching car slowed and came to a stop not twenty feet from where she stood. It sat idling between Kendall and the Coley pickup truck. A man with the ugliest red hair she’d ever seen emerged from the car, then propped an elbow against the open door, wearing a sickeningly insidious grin.

  “Hello, Katherine,” he said, drawing her name out slowly, mockingly. “Long time, no see.”

  Chapter 19

  >What went on inside Kendall’s head at that moment defied explanation, even to her. It was as if each nerve, each impulse throughout her body was short-circuiting in its singular attempt to travel to her brain. Then through some miraculous interconnection, they all came together and exploded into her brain at once. Images flashed throughout her mind at an erratic pace, like blinking Christmas lights shuddering up and down a fir tree. Images of pigtails, park swings, her Barbie and Midge dolls, Mama beaming as she held up the new red dress with a shiny zipper in front, Alice the hamster, Girl Scout cookies. An ice-cream cake with ten candles, Ted blowing them out, then smiling at her, gap-toothed, as he pulled the wrapping paper from the Duncan yo-yo she had purchased with savings from her weekly allowance. High school dances, a Ford Mustang, Jim laughing, fumbling with her buttons. Funerals, her mother’s coffin, then her father’s, ‘Daddy,’ wills, insurance papers.

  Insurance. Insurance.. She saw herself soaring on her red Western Flyer, the rusted bumpers scraping against worn metal wheel rims, her hands free, raised above her head as she laughed, small hands that reached once again for the handlebars, but instead became long delicate fingers that clutched the steering wheel of her blue Pontiac Sunbird. The images continued in fast-forward, flashing and frightening, images of herself, her husband, their home. A home devoid of children or pets. Wedding photos, a sunny room, shelves of clay pots filled with deep green foliage, their leaves sticky with blood. His blood. An interstate rest area, interminable crying jags, feeling inconsolable, aimless, exhausted, the Rest Inn Motel.

  He stood before her now, more or less as she remembered him, yet somehow different. He ran a hand through unruly, orange hair and breathed deeply, as if sucking in the energy he would need for what he would do next. His lip curled in a sinister twitch, the lines on his face deepening like bottomless trenches plowed by Satan. He moved away from the car and as he took a step toward her, Kendall’s body jolted from a surge of fear, rage, self-preservation. She ran then, her long legs pumping determinedly, as she fled toward the stable.

  ≈≈≈

  If Casey Anne had been a less compassionate sister, she would have gone about her business as usual that day. But Jackson had been in her thoughts all morning, and as she moved through the grocery checkout, she decided he needed one final word of support. She knew how difficult this was for him, how responsible he felt, both for Cynthia’s possible pregnancy and for the disappointment he’d brought Kendall.

  Casey wanted to kick herself for having encouraged his feelings toward Kendall, because now it had blown up in his face, just as he had feared it would all along. She knew that Jackson was now even more reluctant to tell Kendall how he felt about her, even if Cynthia’s pregnancy turned out to be a ruse. Kendall seemed determined to leave as soon as possible. Casey wasn’t sure if it was because of the danger Kendall felt she posed to everyone by staying, or if she truly was desperate to leave Logan City and Jackson Coley behind her. In any case, Kendall would surely leave soon. Casey couldn’t blame her.

  But she also knew that Jackson would protect her at all costs until the time came for her to leave. He would never abandon Kendall as long as she needed him, but after it was all over and Kendall was able to regain some semblance of normalcy in her life, able to return to family and friends who had probably been anxious about her safety all this time, would Jackson ask her to come back to him? Probably not.

  If Casey knew her brother at all, he would most likely shut himself off once again, as he seemed to do so easily these days, and turn away from the one person who seemed to bring promise into his life. She hated to see him so resigned to his presumed fate. But most of his adult life, he had either lost the people he loved, or been abandoned or disappointed by them. Starting with their parent’s death and then James Lee’s desertion. It had left such an enormous responsibility on Jackson’s 19-year-old shoulders. But he had lived up to it, the best way he knew how.

  After the death of Melissa, uncertainty and risk were emotions that Jackson had refused to dally with, and after botching his last feeble attempt at it with Kendall, Casey was certain he would retreat to the safety of a dispassionate existence once again, rather than risk the heartache he was sure would follow any further involvement with Kendall.

  It wasn’t just that he feared she would leave him or that she wouldn’t come back to him. He feared the doubt that loving her would bring. He would doubt her love for him, doubt his importance in her life, wonder about the significance his money would play in their relationship. God, sometimes he could be so dense. Casey almost felt sorry for him, though. His past history with women had left those doubts in him and they remained, like a fresh wound still.

  But Casey’s immediate concern was for the emotional upheaval that Jackson must be going through now, on his way to determining if he had indeed fathered a child with a woman who brought him none of what he had discovered in Kendall. It would be a difficult morning for him, and Casey wanted to speak to him one last time before he arrived in Athens, to offer encouragement and to try and keep his spirits up.

  She deposited the bags of groceries in the trunk of her car, then walked back to the pay phone at the entrance to Thompson’s Grocery She glanced at her watch. It was ten forty-five a.m. Jackson should be en route to Athens by now. She retrieved the necessary coins from her purse, slipped them into the metal slots and dialed Jackson’s cell phone.

  “Yeah!” Jackson answered in a near shout.

  It was worse than she feared. His demeanor was more on edge than it should be for someone about to meet the prospective mother of his child at the obstetrician’s office. “Hey,” she drew the word out soothingly, then emitted a light chuckle before adding, “your world’s not coming to an end, Sweetie. Everything will work out, no matter what you find out today, I promise you. We’re all here for you.”

  There was no response from Jackson.

  The momentary silence stunned Casey. “Jackson?”

  “Casey?” It came out in a bewildered stutter.

  “You okay?” she asked. “You don’t sound good at all.”

  “Am I okay? What about you? How are you? Were you hurt? Are you still at the hospital?”

  “Jackson, what in the world are you talking about?”

  He paused for a moment, bewildered. “Casey, where are you?”

  “I’m at the pay phone outside the grocery store. I wanted to call you before I headed home. Wh
at’s going on?”

  Suddenly Kendall’s voice rang in his mind. Tom just left, and I’m following soon in the truck. Jackson tried to keep his voice calm, but his heart began pounding violently in his chest. “Casey Anne,” he choked out breathlessly, “Hang up the phone and call Chief Bullard and tell him to get out to the farm now. Then call Athens General Hospital and leave a message for Tom to get back to the house.”

  “Jackson, what—”

  “And don’t go back to the house! Stay in town. Go to Chief Bullard’s office and stay there until I call you!”

  “But, Jackson, I—”

  “Just do it! Now!” Jackson clicked the cell phone off and threw it on the front seat beside him. He braked, turned the car sharply to the left and did a one-eighty in the middle of Highway 42. He sped back toward home, praying that he wasn’t too late.

  ≈≈≈

  As Kendall ran toward the stable, she saw that the huge sliding front doors were closed tight. She realized there would be no time to engage the mechanism to slide them open, slip inside and close them again before he caught up to her. She ran around the side of the large building and reached the small entrance door just seconds ahead of him. She pushed against the wooden door with her palms and barreled inside, then turned in one swift movement and slid the bolt shut. She could hear him cursing and bellowing on the other side of the door as he shoved his body against it repeatedly.

  She wasted no time in racing to check the front entrance. As she ran toward the electronic box beside the large sliding doors, her mind screamed, ‘the code, ten-two-three, no, ten-three-two, God, what’s the code!’ She nearly collapsed in relief when she saw that the red light was lit on the metal box, insuring her that the mechanism had already been coded and the doors were locked. The thought rushed through her brain at how odd it was that the front entrance was secure. Jackson normally left it coded open during the day. He must have begun locking it after hearing of the threat of a stranger lurking about. In spite of her protestations that extra precautions weren’t necessary, she thought, God bless him for his vigilance.

  She spun around and darted toward the rear of the building, running past the stalls, the horses moving about in various degrees of agitation, some sensing alarm more than others. She reached the rear side entrance that opened into the corral and was once again relieved to see that it was locked, as well. She heard him then at the front entrance, pounding and rattling the large sliding doors. It would do him no good. It would take much more strength than a mere man possessed to break open the massive electronic doors. But she had no time to rest, no reason to fancy feeling secure. If he was so disposed, he could break down the small door through which she’d entered. He’d obviously checked all the entrances by now and it wouldn’t take him long to figure out which opening held the better chance for access into the stable.

  Kendall looked around the stable, turning in a frenzy, her head whipping about, searching for a weapon, a hiding place, anything. She dismally conceded that a hiding place would do her no good. He would surely gain entrance into the stable eventually, find her and kill her long before anyone returned home. Her time was running out. Maybe she could find something in the tack room that would serve as some sort of weapon.

  She was momentarily distracted by the sound of cracking wood and was alarmed to see that it was Sam, almost frenetic in his determination to escape his stall. He whinnied and shook his head back and forth, his massive body convulsing in tremors as it pounded against the wooden gate.

  “Easy, boy,” she called to him. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

  The idea struck her then and she wondered why she hadn’t thought of it before. She ran to the tack room, retrieved a blanket, saddle and bridle and lugged the heavy gear back toward Sam’s stall, moving as fast as she could under the weight.

  She could hear him now at the side entry, whacking away at it. She didn’t know what he was using to pound at the small door, but it emitted a dense, thudding sound as it made contact. Kendall quickly put the bridle on Sam, then threw the blanket over his back. As she leaned down to lift the heavy saddle, she heard a splintering sound at the small door. God, she was running out of time.

  ≈≈≈

  Jackson didn’t bother checking his speedometer. He didn’t care that he was now going 105 miles per hour down the desolate country highway. He prayed that a Sheriff’s deputy was in the vicinity and would spot him or that one of the highway patrolmen would cross his path and take up a pursuit. He was still more than fifteen miles from home. It shouldn’t take him much longer to get there at this speed.

  A forty-five-degree curve in the road was fast approaching. And there were many others up ahead along the stretch of Highway 42 that ran between Athens and Logan City. Jackson cursed as he slowed the car in order to maneuver the sharp curve. He was disheartened at the need to decrease his speed even momentarily, for he knew that Kendall could be in grave danger. It was more than likely she was already in need of his help. But he would do her no good at all if he lost control of the car and ended up in a cornfield. He rounded the curve and emerged once again onto a straightaway, slamming his foot down onto the accelerator, the speedometer needle rising above the one-hundred-ten mile-per-hour mark.

  He knew in his gut that it was no mere coincidence that he and Tom had been called away from the house at the same time. Jackson didn’t wonder long about who had called Kendall and given her such news. He was convinced it was the same man who had stopped at Cynthia’s to ask questions of Kendall’s whereabouts.

  Jackson soon hit another dangerous curve, which could more closely be defined as a left turn. He had to brake drastically in an attempt to keep the car under control. The right tires slipped onto the grassy shoulder, the rear-end of the vehicle fishtailing as he maneuvered the car back onto the asphalt surface. Just at that moment another car approached from the opposite direction, weaving maniacally as it sped toward him, its driver fighting to maintain control around the curve. Jackson’s heart pounded as the flash of dark green metal whizzed past him, their cars passing within less than a foot of each other. Jackson recognized the car and hit his brakes, coming to a complete stop in the middle of the road. He looked in his rearview mirror and saw that the other car had stopped, as well. Jackson put the car into reverse and began backing frenetically toward the other car until he reached the driver’s window.

  “Follow me!” Jackson bellowed at Tom, who sat gunning his car, anxious to continue on his quest to be at his wife’s side, his skin an ashen, chalky color. “Casey’s fine!” Jackson shouted frantically. “There was no accident! It’s Kendall!”

  With that, Jackson took off again, glancing in his rearview mirror, relieved to see that Tom had turned around to follow him.

  ≈≈≈

  Kendall tightened the back and front cinches of the saddle, grabbed the pommel, then raised her foot to the stirrup. Her foot missed and slipped away, nervous panic taking hold of her, robbing her of steady control. She hurriedly tried again, her boot securely finding its home in the stirrup this time, and hoisted herself up. She leaned over and grasped the reins, then guided Sam away from the stall toward the front sliding doors. She looked to her right, heard his shouted curses more distinctly now, saw that he had chipped away a small section of the door. He tried to reach his hand through the jagged opening, but it was too small, the splintered wood drawing blood as he yelped and cursed more loudly. He began whacking away at the door again.

  She reached the electronic box beside the large sliding doors and leaned sideways in the saddle to punch in the code. She tried twelve-oh-three. Nothing happened. Twelve-three-oh. Still nothing. Dear Jesus, the code. What’s the code? Casey Anne’s birthday, Kendall. She punched in ten-two-three. The loud whirring of machinery sounded blessedly in her ears as the heavy doors began sliding open. Thank you, Jesus.

  She turned Sam toward the back of the stable and galloped as fast as the short distance to the rear wall would allow, the opening doors moving slo
wly along metal tracks, screeching loudly behind her. He would be at the opening any second now. She had to hurry. As she reached the darkness at the back of the stable, she jerked the reins to the left, Sam turning about in frenetic steps until they faced the opening doors, sunlight gradually pouring in and illuminating the interior. The doors were moving aside, now offering an opening of little more than the width of a large tree trunk. Just a little bit more. Come on. Kendall prayed her timing was accurate as she kicked Sam’s flanks, spurring him into immediate action, and the two of them, horse and rider, barreled toward the opening doors and welcome daylight. Kendall leaned over in the saddle, tilting her head down, as they neared the exit. The doors continued to slowly slide apart in the metal tracks. Come on. Open! Wider! She was less than ten feet from the doors now, Sam having built up an incredible amount of speed in such a short distance. Kendall kept her eyes on the opening. A shock of orange-red hair shone briefly in the sunlight that poured into the stable. Four feet to go. Two feet. Whoosh! Kendall felt the air compressing around her as they squeezed through the opening doors at lightning speed, saw the orange-red hair dive sideways to avoid impact.

  She was free! Sam gained even more speed, barreling across the rear yard, under the massive live oak, past the chicken coop and the barn, as Kendall guided him down the hard-packed dirt road that wound around fenced pastures and open fields. She turned back to look, the wind whipping her long auburn hair against her face, but she saw no sign of him. Sam seemed determined in his desire to escape with her, his muscled shoulders pumping powerfully, his hooves fiercely pounding against the hard dirt, as the farmhouse disappeared behind them.

  Kendall prayed the clouds of dust that spat from beneath Sam’s hooves as they raced away would soon dissipate, leaving little to no trace of where their journey would end.. They were less than a mile from the woods now. The dirt road curved to the left and continued on, bordering the forest. The trail that led through the woods to the sanctuary of the pond lay at the bend of the curve. It would be unnoticeable to unfamiliar eyes, its narrow opening surrounded by pine branches and dense foliage. Wide enough for horse and rider, too small to accommodate a car. She prayed that if he searched for her, he would continue his quest along the dirt road that meandered throughout acres and acres of Coley farmland. Kendall pulled lightly on the reins, bringing Sam to a slower gait as they neared the trail.