by Marta Perry
When she went outside, locking the back door behind her, Deidre realized she had dallied almost too long. The lot behind the library was empty except for her sedan, and darker than it usually seemed—or maybe that was just her mood.
The streetlamp in front of the building was blocked by the roof of the library, and the closest one in the other direction didn’t extend its light this far. The massive brick block of the bank building on the other side of the lot effectively hid it from view of anyone passing on Main Street, giving it an isolated feeling.
Deidre walked quickly to the car, heels echoing on the concrete, fingers clasped around her keys. She’d never felt unsafe in Echo Falls after dark, and she wasn’t going to let an odd case of nerves make her start now. Unlocking the car, she slid in and slammed the door, feeling like a rabbit darting into its hole.
She turned the key in the ignition, listening for the comforting purr of the motor. The engine gave a sputter, a grinding sound and then stopped. Nothing. She tried again. She couldn’t have stalled it. But there was still nothing. The engine was dead.
It was pointless to keep turning the key. Fumbling for her cell phone, she tried to come up with the most sensible course of action. If she called the auto club, they’d undoubtedly send someone out from Williamsport, a good thirty miles away, and she’d be stuck here for an hour. She could try one of the people who’d been at the meeting, but they wouldn’t be home yet, and she suspected none of them were entered on her cell phone. If Dixie weren’t babysitting—
A sharp rap on the window next to her sent her heart jolting into overdrive. She turned to see Jason Glassman peering in at her, his strong-featured face an ominous mask in the dim light.
“Trouble?” He raised an eyebrow, giving his face a hint of caricature, and she was swept with a feeling that trouble was exactly what the man represented.
CHAPTER TWO
JASON TILTED HIS face to the available light, making sure the Morris woman recognized him. With a slight nod, Deidre lowered the window manually, apparently deciding he was trustworthy.
She was wrong. Her car wasn’t starting because he’d made sure it wouldn’t. Nothing serious. A mechanic would spot the loose connection in thirty seconds, but he was banking on Deidre not even looking under the hood.
“My car is dead.” She glanced at her watch. “I can’t imagine what’s wrong.”
He shrugged. “I’m not much of a mechanic, but I’ll be glad to wait with you while you call your garage. Or my car is here, and I can easily take you home.”
Now she managed a smile. “The garage will have closed at five, and nothing short of a three-car pileup would get George Frazer away from his television at this hour. If you’re sure you don’t mind...” Deidre was already opening the door.
“Not at all. We’re neighbors, aren’t we?” So easy. She didn’t suspect a thing. Too bad the drive was so short, but at least he’d have some chance of talking with her. “I’m parked out front.”
They walked together along the alley toward the street, their footsteps echoing on the concrete. Shadows lay around the building, and it surprised him that Deidre didn’t seem warier. Maybe small-town living deadened the instincts.
“I appreciate the offer. It’s certainly time I relieved my babysitter.”
“Teenagers always have the meter ticking, I suppose,” he said lightly, wondering who watched the judge’s grandson when she wasn’t there.
“It’s not that. A friend of mine is staying with my son. I hate to call a teenage sitter on a school night, especially when I think a meeting might be lengthy.”
They’d reached his car, and he opened the passenger-side door so she could slide in, then went around quickly to get in and start the car. “It wasn’t my imagination then. It did go on and on.”
“And on,” she said, amusement in her voice. “I’m afraid it wasn’t a very good introduction for you. But typical. Everyone has to have their say.”
“Even if someone else has already said it.” He slanted a smile at her.
“Especially if someone has already said it. No one wants somebody else claiming credit for his or her good idea. I have a theory that the amount of work that gets done is in inverse proportion to the number of people on the committee.”
He had to laugh at Deidre’s dry tone.
“I shouldn’t laugh at them,” she said, shaking her head. “They all mean well. I just hate keeping Dixie out late, even though she insists she doesn’t mind.”
“Dixie?” The name rang a bell. “I think there’s a Dixie in my building.”
“The same one. Dixie James. We’ve been friends since kindergarten, although she just moved back to Echo Falls a couple of years ago. Speaking of which, I hope you’re settling in all right.” She sounded like a good hostess, checking on a guest’s comfort.
All in all, he was beginning to wonder if Deidre Morris, with her honey-colored hair and candid blue eyes, wasn’t just a little too good to be true.
He suspected a show of candor on his part would win her sympathy. “I don’t know if I should bring it up, but I hope...well, I hope it doesn’t bother you that I seem to be taking your late husband’s position in the firm.”
Jase didn’t think he imagined a hesitation before she spoke.
“Not at all. I know the firm needed another person. Trey Alter’s been overworked, especially during the times when court is in session and the judge is unavailable.”
That last bit sounded a tad formal. He should have asked the judge what his current relationship was with his daughter-in-law. If they were in a state of open warfare, he’d have to step cautiously.
He’d been wondering if he should mention her husband or play dumb. But anyone might let it slip that they’d been in law school together. Better play it safe.
“I was sorry to hear about Frank’s death. I noticed it in the alumni newsletter. Guess I should have sent a card, but...well, you wouldn’t have known who I was.”
She turned in the seat to look at him. “Were you a friend of Frank’s?” So that had caught her attention.
“A classmate. I was working too hard to have much time to socialize. But he was a nice guy.”
“Yes, he was.” She didn’t sound overtly mournful, but it had been about a year, and she was probably used to dealing with condolences by now. “When you see our son, Kevin, I think you’ll notice the resemblance.” She was smiling now, maybe at the thought of the kid. “At least, I always thought he looked like Frank, although Frank didn’t agree.”
“Frank thought he looked like you, did he?”
“He claimed Kev was Pennsylvania Dutch through and through. That’s my side of the family, the Wagners. You’ll have to get used to all the German-sounding names in an area like this, especially with the number of Amish we have.”
She was talking more easily now. He’d made some progress, despite the fact that they were pulling up to the house already. She’d feel as if she owed him a favor, and that would make it easier to pursue an acquaintanceship that the judge seemed to feel would pay off.
Jase drove past his own driveway and turned into hers. “I’ll drop you right at the house. No point in walking across the lawn in the dark.”
“You don’t need...” Deidre stopped, staring.
He followed the direction of her gaze, and his nerves went on alert. The front door of her house stood open. That couldn’t be normal.
Deidre grabbed for the door handle, and his hand shot across to arrest the movement.
“Stay here. Call the police. I’ll check it out.” He slid out of the car, not looking back to see if she’d obeyed him. Something was wrong, and there was a defenseless child in that house.
It took him seconds to reach the porch. Deidre was right behind him, and he didn’t waste his breath telling her to stay back. The
y hit the doorway at the same time, and he grabbed her arm, stopping her from plunging inside.
His gut clenched. A woman lay on the area rug in front of a sofa, blood from a head wound soaking into the fibers. Dixie, he supposed. The child—
Deidre gave an anguished cry that sounded barely human. She yanked free of his restraining hand, running toward the stairway at the back of the room. Then he saw what she had. That small bundle on the bottom step, tangled in a blanket, had to be her son.
* * *
DEIDRE STUMBLED TO her knees next to Kevin, reaching for him. Some rational part of her mind shouted for her to be careful, not to move him suddenly.
She had to hold him—had to know he was breathing. Sliding her arms around him, she managed to cradle him against her. His lips were slightly parted, and a gentle breath moved against her cheek. Relief flooded through her.
Please, God. Please, God, let him be all right...
Deidre’s fingers found a fluttering pulse. But he was pale...so pale that the faint blue shadows under his eyes looked like bruises.
“Kevin, baby, can you hear me?”
Nothing, but she could see the vein pulsing at his temple.
Someone knelt beside her, and she realized it was Jason. “Careful. Don’t move him.”
“No. His head...”
Jason bent over her son, seeming to trace the swelling behind Kevin’s ear with his gaze. “EMTs are on the way. They’ll be here soon. Two ambulances, I told them.”
“Dixie...” She hadn’t been able to take her eyes off Kevin long enough to look. And now, when she tried, Jason’s solid body blocked her view.
“Head injury,” he said briefly. “It looks...bad.”
Deidre’s sluggish wits started to move again at that moment. Kevin must have fallen, but Dixie... How could she have gotten a head injury sitting on the sofa?
“What...what happened to her?” Ridiculous to think that he would know any more than she did.
“Someone hit her. She couldn’t have done that much damage falling.”
Amazing that he could sound so calm. Dixie had been attacked. How could that be true? That meant that someone had come into her house and done this.
Jason had turned, surveying the room. Looking for evidence? Deidre cradled Kevin closer, trying to control the trembling that had seized her. She had to be strong. She had to be there for Kevin. She couldn’t fall apart now. Frank was gone, and she was all Kevin had.
Jason’s hand came down on her shoulder, his firm grip steadying her. “It’ll be all right.”
He didn’t sound as if he believed the words. She didn’t. How could anything be all right again when the unthinkable had happened?
Sirens wailed. Jason stood up. “I’ll go signal them. Hold on.”
Deidre managed to nod. She’d hold on because she had to. She couldn’t lose Kevin.
In what seemed a moment, her small living room was filled with people. They’d obviously called out both of Echo Falls’s paramedic teams. One surrounded Dixie while the other moved swiftly into place around Kevin.
“You’ll need to move back just a little.” It was a female voice. “I’m just going to slide your arms out from under him, okay? You don’t need to worry. Joe has him.”
She must have made some sound as hands pulled her away, because the woman patted her. “Just ease back a bit. You can put your hand on his foot, okay? That way he’ll know you’re still here.”
Her throat was too tight to allow for speech. All she could do was close her fingers around Kev’s bare foot, sticking out of the blanket. The superhero pajamas he’d insisted on wearing were getting too small for him. She should get him a new pair. Clinging to the thought was holding her to normalcy for a moment. She held on to a world in which the biggest threat to a small boy was outgrowing his favorite pj’s.
The paramedics talked to each other in low tones, and then the woman put her arm around Deidre. “We’re going to transport Kevin to the hospital in the ambulance. You can ride with him, okay?”
Deidre nodded, unable to think beyond the moment and the clasp of her hand around Kevin’s foot. Voices murmured in the background, people giving orders, asking questions, making arrangements. All she could do was move when they told her to, watch Kevin being lifted onto a stretcher and maintain a tenuous hold on the feeling that assured her he was still alive.
As they made their way toward the door, someone moved in front of her. A police officer, saying something she couldn’t take in, focused as she was on Kevin. Then Jason was deflecting him, drawing him away.
“I was with Mrs. Morris. I’ll answer your questions.”
Good, because she wasn’t going to stop, wasn’t going to let anything or anyone separate her from her son.
Lights flashed in the dark outside, turning the trees odd colors. Someone helped her into the back of the ambulance. She slid to a position as close to Kevin as she could get, all her attention focused on him, shutting out everything else. The paramedics murmured to each other, but her mind couldn’t seem to sort out the words.
They slid out of the driveway, making the turn toward town and the hospital. The siren wailed, and they sped along. People would be looking out windows, wondering who and what.
Kneeling in the ambulance next to Kevin, Deidre was barely aware of the journey until they came to a smooth stop. She glanced up to see the lights of the emergency room, and then they blurred in a flow of smooth, controlled activity as the doors opened and the ER staff moved to join the paramedics. Kevin was so small—there hardly seemed to be enough space for everyone to work on him.
In seconds they were out on the pavement. As Deidre followed the gurney carrying Kevin inside, another ambulance wailed into the drive behind her. Dixie. She breathed a silent prayer. But Dixie of all people would understand that she had to stay with Kevin.
* * *
HALF AN HOUR LATER, she stood alone in the small room set aside for families waiting for news of their loved ones. With its neutral-toned upholstered furniture and muted landscape prints, it had been designed to convey a balance between hope and comfort. She should know—she’d been on the hospital auxiliary committee that decorated it. A discreet plaque on the wall informed anyone who noticed that the lounge had been given through the generosity of Franklin and Sylvia Morris.
She clenched her hands, trying not to give way to fear, to panic. The door opened, and her breath caught. But it wasn’t one of the doctors. It was Judith Yoder, her neighbor, her friend. Deidre’s control broke, and she stumbled into Judith’s outstretched arms.
“Hush, hush.” Judith patted her as if Deidre were one of her children. “Don’t cry. You must be strong for Kevin. You can be, I know. Let the gut Lord help you.”
Judith’s Amish faith might seem simple to an outsider, but it was bedrock strong and would carry her through anything. It seemed to bolster Deidre’s own faltering strength.
Deidre choked back a sob and straightened. She managed to nod. “How did you know?”
“Eli saw the flashing lights from the bedroom window. He could tell it was at your house.”
She knew it hadn’t been as simple as that. Eli, being a volunteer firefighter, had probably run to the phone shanty to call dispatch and find out what had happened. Then he’d have called an Englisch neighbor to drive Judith to the hospital. But nothing would be too much trouble for either of them when a friend needed help.
Judith sat beside her on the sofa, clasping her hands as Deidre spilled out everything that had happened in a probably incoherent stream.
“They took Kevin for tests. I heard someone say to have an operating room ready. I haven’t heard anything about Dixie. I don’t know what’s happening.” That was the worst thing—not knowing.
“When someone said a woman had been seriously hurt, I thought it
was you.” Judith’s previously calm voice trembled.
Deidre closed her eyes for an instant, seeing Dixie lying on the rug in her living room. “If I’d been home...” She struggled for breath. “Dixie was only there because she was doing something kind for me.”
Judith’s grasp of her hands tightened. “Ach, Deidre, you must not start blaming yourself. This is the fault of the person who did it, no one else.”
She tried to accept the words, but guilt dug claws into her heart. She hadn’t been there. Kevin had been in danger, and she hadn’t been there.
Judith seemed to understand all the things she didn’t say—the fear, the panic just barely under control. She talked, a soft murmur of words that flowed around Deidre in a comforting stream even when she didn’t fully listen.
The door opened and closed as others began to arrive—the judge, gray-faced and controlled, demanding answers no one had; the minister, looking young and uncertain; even Jason, who surely realized he didn’t need to be here at all but seemed unwilling to leave.
Deidre roused herself to speak to Jason. “Thank you for your help. I’m sure you’d prefer to go home.”
It was her father-in-law who answered. “I’ve asked Jason to stay, for a time, at least. He can deal with the police and any reporters who show up.” His tone implied that any reporter unwise enough to attempt to speak to them wouldn’t have a job for long.
One of the aides carried in a tray with coffee and tea. Deidre shook her head, but Judith insisted on fixing her a mug of hot tea with plenty of sugar.
“It will make you feel better. Drink it up, now.”
It was easier to obey than to argue. And Judith was right. The hot liquid eased the tight muscles in her throat and warmed her cold hands.
