I put a hand on his arm and pulled him into the cottage. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
He shook his head but continued to shake from head to toe.
“Are the Hooper boys back? Did they do something to you?”
The closest neighbors to the Farm were the Hoopers. The mother had inherited the home from her father, who’d never complained about living next to Barton Farm. His daughter was a different story. Since day one, she’d been a thorn in my side. She constantly complained to the New Hartford city council about noise and disturbances on the Farm. There wasn’t much that the Hoopers could do about it, because the Farm had all the necessary permits for all our activities. At times, the Hooper boys, as they were known on the Farm, had resorted to vandalism. To keep the peace, I hadn’t pressed charges, but if they’d hurt Jason, my forgiving nature would change in an instant.
Jason shook his head.
I led him over to the dining room table and he fell into one of the chairs as if a great weight had forced him down. “No, not the Hooper boys. At least I don’t think so,” he said. “There’s a woman in the village.”
“She’s trespassing?” I started to gather up my radio and cell phone. I knew I’d have to go over to the village to check this out. “Is she a hiker who’s wandered off?”
It wasn’t unusual for hikers to wander onto Farm grounds when they’d lost the trail in the state park that surround the museum. Technically, the park closed at night, but there was onsite tent camping to the south and sometimes people wound their way to us from there when they lost the path. The Farm was a good place for hikers to come when they were lost, as it was one of few wide open spots in the dense forest and a landmark for the area.
“I don’t know if she was trespassing or not.” His face appeared pinched, as if it was all he could do to hold tears at bay.
“Was?” I caught the past tense, and something about it felt deliberate. The hairs stood up on the back on my neck. “What do you mean was?”
He licked his lips. “Can I have some water?”
Without a word, I went over to the cupboard, removed a glass, and filled it with water from the tap. I handed him the glass and watched as his guzzled it down as if he’d been lost in the desert without water for days. I waited. He set the empty glass on the table, and I asked him again, “What do you mean was?”
He looked up at me from the chair. When Jason was sitting, it was the only time that I, at five one, was taller than his six-foot lanky frame.
He swallowed and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “She’s dead.”
“What?” I yelled, completely forgetting my earlier warning about waking up Hayden. “Who?”
He began to shake again. I had to remind myself to be gentler where Jason was concerned. He was a sensitive kid. After working with him the last couple of years as my farmhand, I suspected that he had Asperger’s or something close to it, although this had never been confirmed. Normal social interactions were a challenge for him. I did know that he’d had a terrible childhood in the foster system and was sent around from house to house. Barton Farm was the first place that felt like home to him, and Hayden and I were the closest thing to family he’d ever had.
I took a breath. “Jason, I’m sorry. Can you start from the beginning? Tell me everything from the start.”
He nodded and closed his eyes for a moment, as if he was trying his best to remember everything perfectly. “I was in my trailer for the night. You know I get up early to take care of the animals.”
I nodded but did my best not to look impatient. I knew he would only shut down if I rushed him.
“Through my window over my bed, I can see the church, and I saw lights in the steeple.”
“Lights? What kind of lights?”
“I don’t know, but I knew they weren’t supposed to be there. I got out of bed and went to check it out. When I was almost to the church, I heard a scream and crash. I ran around the barn to the church and saw her there on the ground. Dead.” He lowered his voice. “I think she fell out of the window.”
My chest tightened. This was bad. This was very bad. I hoped that Jason had been dreaming and imagined all of this, but for all his oddities, I’d never known him to make up a fantastical tale. “Why didn’t you call me on the radio when you saw this?”
His face turned bright red. The radio and Jason’s lack of use of it had been a hot button issue between us for months. It seemed he always forgot to carry it or charge it or something. I suspected that mostly he didn’t want to be found, even if that want was subconscious.
“I guess I forgot,” he said. “I’m sorry. I’ll try to remember to carry my radio from now on.”
It was a promise that he’d made many times before, so I had my doubts he’d be able to follow through with it even though I knew he wanted to. I sighed, and at the moment, Jason’s lack of radio use was the least of my problems. I had to run to the village and see for myself what he’d described. I prayed that Jason was wrong and what he was telling me was just a terrible dream.
“Mom?” Hayden appeared on the stairs, holding Frankie in his arms. He appeared sleepy, and Frankie looked angry. That didn’t mean much, though, because Frankie always looked angry. Hayden was the only person the cat tolerated, and he was certainly the one person that Frankie would let carry him around like a ragdoll. I wouldn’t even attempt it. There was too great a risk of losing a limb.
“What’s going on?” Hayden blinked at me. “Why’s Jason here?”
“Hey, sweetie,” I said in my best let’s-pretend-everything-is-all-right-for-the-kids voice. “I have to go out for a little while, and Jason is going to stay here with you while I’m gone.”
Jason opened his mouth, and I gave him a look. He shut his mouth.
Hayden’s face brightened. He liked Jason almost as much as he liked Frankie. My son had an open heart and an affinity for people and creatures that others might be more likely to ignore. “Can we watch a show?”
I sighed. I couldn’t see any way out of this, and I had to get to the village as soon as possible to see what was going on. “Sure, honey, you and Jason can watch a show.”
“Yea!” Hayden bounced down the rest of the stairs and ran straight for the TV cabinet, where he began rifling through the DVD collection.
Jason stood up. “Shouldn’t I go with you?”
“No, someone has to stay here with Hayden.”
Hayden already had a Veggie Tales episode up on the screen. It was an old one but a current favorite of my son’s.
“Did you call the police on your way here?” I asked in a low voice, so that Jason was the only one who could hear me.
His eyes went wide. “The police?” He shook his head.
I wasn’t surprised. After his difficult upbringing, Jason was afraid of most authority figures, especially the police.
“Don’t worry. I’ll call them on the way to the village,” I told him. “Just stay here with Hayden and don’t leave until I get back. I don’t care who comes to the door. Do you understand?”
He nodded.
“And bolt the door behind me when I leave.”
I poured my glass of wine into the sink, grabbed a sweatshirt from the coat closet, along with my radio and cell phone, and ran out the door. At the last second, I called Tiffin, my corgi, to come with me. I thought that I might need my dog for backup.
Tiffin and I ran through the maple grove. In the winter months, when the trees were bare, my cottage could be seen, but in the height of summer, where we were now, the foliage hid it from view. This was good, because most visitors came to the Farm in the summer, and I liked to have at least a little privacy even though I was a permanent resident of the Farm.
Tiffin ran ahead of me on the pebbled path as I dialed the police.
“911, what’s your emergency?” the officious-sounding female voice said
over the line.
“Hello. This is Kelsey Cambridge. The director of Barton Farm.” I rattled off the address of the Farm. “There’s been an accident here on the village side of the Farm.”
“Another one?” she asked.
I grimaced.
“What happened?”
“One of my employees reported that he thought someone fell out a window and is seriously hurt.” I couldn’t bring myself to say dead, not yet, not until I saw the dead body for myself. Maybe it was wishful thinking on my part to want to believe the person could still be alive after a fall like that. I prayed that Jason had been wrong and the person, whoever is was, was still alive. Most likely seriously hurt, but alive.
“What’s the name of the person who fell?” the dispatcher asked.
“I don’t know yet. I’m on my way there to see for myself. My employee said it was a woman.” I was out of breath from talking while running. I reached Maple Grove Lane. Tiffin was waiting for me at the edge of the road.
I looked both ways and the two of us sprinted across the street. “Please send EMTs and police as quick as you can,” I said. “The woman needs help. Tell them she fell near the church on the green.”
“They’re on the way. Please stay on the line,” the voice said calmly.
“I’m sorry, I have to go.” I ended the call. I knew I’d hear about hanging up on the dispatcher from the police chief, but the phone call was slowing me down and I had to beat the police to the scene. I had to assess the situation for myself before they did.
It was close to nine thirty, and the sun had dropped below the horizon. Barton Farm was devoid of street lights, so the night always seemed much darker than in town. I wished I’d thought to bring a flashlight. I fumbled with my phone and turned on the flashlight app. It wasn’t as strong as my trusty Maglite, but it worked in a pinch.
As I reached the green, the moon moved out from behind a cloud and the village was awash with moonlight, which seemed jarring after the solid darkness. My eyes traveled up the church’s steeple, and I knew right away that something was wrong. A string of twinkle lights hung from a broken window. The lights were lit and looked like a line of listless fireflies floating in the breeze. Most of the wooden slats that had once been the window in the bell tower were gone. All that was left were jagged pieces of wood that resembled shark teeth. The moonlight reflected off the shards that had managed to hang on.
With my eyes, I followed the string of twinkle lights down. They only dangled a couple of feet below the window, but they seemed to point downward to a heap at the foot of the church steps. My stomach turned. It was a body.
I ran to the crumpled form and knew within five feet of it that the person couldn’t still be alive. And I had a sinking feeling I knew who it was, even before I saw her face. The face of Vianna Pine.
I dropped to my knees beside her. Her neck was clearly broken. No one’s neck should bend that way. I had to look away, and my eyes traveled up to the dangling twinkle lights again. A shadow moved in the steeple above.
eight
I blinked, convinced that I’d imagined what I’d seen. Then I saw it again. There was someone looking down at me from the bell tower’s broken window. “Hey!” I cried, jumping to my feet. “Hey!”
The shadow jerked back from window and disappeared. But it had been there. I was sure of it. In the distance, I heard the approaching sirens. I had a couple of choices. I could stay with Vianna, who was clearly beyond help, or I could find out who was in the bell tower. The police would arrive in a matter of moments—I would be safe, or so I told myself.
Before I could change my mind, I ran to the back of the church, Tiffin on my heels. I figured that if I had just killed someone, I would be much more likely to run out the back door than the front door, especially if I heard the sirens of oncoming police.
I was right in my guess. I rounded the back of the church just in time to see a dark figure sprint into the woods. I ran after the shadow. “Hey! Stop!”
Tiffin barked.
The shadow kept running. I didn’t know why I thought yelling “hey, stop” would help. It never works in cop shows, so why did I think it might work for me? “Stop!”
The shadow melted into the trees. The weak light from my cell phone was my only guide as I followed. “Wait!” I cried. I could see the shadow just out of the range of my light. “Wait. Ahhh!” I cried out as the toe of my shoe caught on a tree root and I fell to the ground face-first.
After a moment, I rolled onto my back and caught my breath. I felt on the ground around me for my phone but couldn’t find it anywhere. Great. It was almost pitch-black in the forest. The dense canopy of trees barely let any moonlight peek through.
A twig snapped somewhere in the forest and my heart skipped a beat. What was I doing lying here like a sitting duck? What was I doing chasing a possible killer into the woods in the first place? I could be murdered myself and then what would happen to Barton Farm? More importantly, what would happen to Hayden? I struggled to my feet.
Tiffin whimpered and dropped my phone on top of my shoes. I scooped it up and scratched him between the ears. “Good dog.”
He barked agreement.
“Let’s get out of here.” I turned the flashlight app back on and made my way out of the trees with Tiffin on my heels. I was surprised by how far I’d traveled before I took that tumble.
Tiffin stopped in the middle of the path and whimpered. Every fiber of his being still wanted to race after the culprit. I understood. I felt the same way, but I wasn’t going to risk it in the dark.
I slapped my thigh. “Come, Tiffin.” The corgi dropped his head and galloped to my side. Together we shuffled out of the woods and back around the side of the church. We’d almost reached the front when another figure jumped in front of me. I screamed.
“Police!”
“Geez, Detective!” I cried, placing a hand to my chest. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
Detective Candy Brandon lowered her gun and shined a flashlight in my face. “Cambridge. I could have shot you.”
“I know. But there’s no time for small talk.” I pointed into the trees. “That way! Someone ran that way! I saw them! Hurry!”
“Who was it?” she demanded.
“I don’t know, but I think whoever it was might have been inside the church and pushed that poor woman out the window.”
Without questioning me any further, the detective took off into the trees. A moment later two more police officers, one of whom was Officer Sonders, raced across the village green and into the woods. I hesitated, unsure as to whether or not I should follow them or stay behind to guard Vianna’s body.
Before I could make up my mind, Detective Brandon reappeared. Although she’d been running, she wasn’t the slightest bit out of breath.
“Did you find them?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I radioed for backup. My officers will keep looking while I check out the scene.”
I nodded. I could hear the two police officers crashing through the trees like a herd of bison.
She shone the flashlight in my face for a second time that night.
I raised a hand to block the flashlight’s beam. “Is that necessary?”
She lowered the flashlight, but I noticed that she had her finger on her gun’s trigger.
“Can you put the gun away too? You’re making me nervous.”
She grunted but finally, after a long beat, holstered her gun.
“About time,” I grumbled.
She scowled at me. As usual, her dark red hair was pulled back into a bun on the back of her head and she wore a loose-fitting suit to hide her figure. Despite her efforts, the detective couldn’t hide the fact that she was a striking woman. I could see why Chase had been drawn to her. The two of them had once been engaged, which went right to the heart of why Detective
Brandon wouldn’t have minded shooting me.
“What do you know about the body?” she asked, getting down to business.
“She fell out the church window.” I decided to stick to the facts.
“How do you know that? Did you see her fall? Were you in the church when she fell?” Her questions came in rapid succession.
“No. I just inferred it based on where she’s lying and the broken window in the church steeple.” I tried to keep my voice calm. The detective was just doing her job. I had to remind myself of that and push all the personal stuff aside. What was most important here was to find out what had happened to Vianna. Even though I hadn’t cared for her, she didn’t deserve to die, and certainly not in such a horrible way.
“It’s not your job to infer anything, Ms. Cambridge. This is a police investigation. We don’t need any of your assistance.” Brandon took a step closer. Her five-nine height loomed over my small frame. What I would have given for eight more inches so I could look her in the eye!
I wanted to take a step back, but I held my ground. I wasn’t one to back down, and heaven knows, Detective Brandon was the last person I would back down from—I’d dealt with more formidable opponents than her.
“You and I both know what another death on Farm grounds will mean for your little museum,” she added. “More bad press. I’ll be surprised if you’re able to keep your doors open at all.”
I felt a flush start at my neck and run up to my hairline. What the detective said was true, but I certainly didn’t want to hear the thoughts already running through my head spoken aloud. Even more, I didn’t want to hear them from her.
“Maybe you should focus on Farm safety so that people stop dying here.” Her lips curved into a mocking smile.
I would have loved to do that, if I knew how. Things kept happening at the Farm that were completely out of my control. But what if the Cherry Foundation removed their support or funding? I closed my eyes for the briefest of seconds. I couldn’t think about that right now, not with Detective Brandon staring down at me. The detective didn’t miss a thing, and I didn’t want her to know I was worried.
The Final Vow Page 5
