Echo of Danger

by Marta Perry

  “No matter how many I had, I’d never be as calm a mother as you are.” She watched as Jason rolled to his feet, shedding little boys as he stood. “I hadn’t realized how much Kevin has needed a strong man in his life since Frank died. There’s his grandfather, of course, but Judge Morris isn’t one for roughhousing. Or any kind of play, for that matter.”

  Judith’s expression grew serious. “Has anything else been said about him trying to get Kevin in his house?”

  “No, nothing. He’s seemed perfectly normal when I’ve seen him. I’m starting to think Sylvia imagined things. Or maybe I’m just hoping.”

  “What about that phone message from him? He sounded serious enough in that.”

  “I know, I know.” She’d been trying to tell herself he’d been overreacting, but the judge didn’t overreact.

  “Have you done anything about getting a lawyer?” Judith pressed, clearly concerned.

  “I’d just about decided I’d have to hire someone from out of town, but then...” She hesitated, wondering how much she should say. But Judith could be trusted to keep her secrets. “I hadn’t intended to, but I told Jason about it. And he insisted that if that happened, he’d fight for me, even though it would cost his job.”

  Judith’s lips quirked slightly. “That says something about how he feels for you, ain’t so?”

  That wasn’t a question she was ready to answer, but fortunately Judith didn’t seem to expect one. Instead she set her empty glass aside and stood, shaking out her full skirt.

  “It’s time Benjamin and I were heading for home, I think. And I see Jason coming. It’s you he wants to see, not me.”

  With that embarrassing observation, Judith started down the porch steps, pausing long enough to exchange a few words while Deidre gathered glasses and spoons onto the tray. As she started to pick it up, Jason arrived and took it from her.

  “I’ll carry it in for you.” He elbowed his way through the screen door.

  “You could probably use a glass of tea yourself after all that wrestling.” She took another glass from the cabinet and turned back to find him looking at her with a quizzical expression.

  “Was I overdoing it? Being too rough?”

  “No. You weren’t. I confess, I’m too protective, but Judith gave me a little talking-to, and I’ll try to do better.”

  She handed him the glass of iced tea, and when he took it, his fingers lingered on hers. “It’s natural enough, after what happened.”

  “Probably so, but I shouldn’t give in to fear. If I do, I’ll make Kevin fearful.” She paused, her mind presenting her with a series of images of Frank as a child. “I always thought that was what made Frank doubt himself so much. His mother was afraid of just about everything he wanted to do, and his father...well, the judge wanted him to excel, but only in the things that were important to the judge, not to Frank.”

  Jason perched on the corner of the table and took a long draught of the tea. “Maybe I was lucky no one cared what I did.” He shrugged and went on before she could speak. “Not to change the subject, but I saw Billy taking off when I got home. Did you get anything more out of him?”

  “Not exactly.” Her frustration showed in her voice, she expected. “He’s worried about Kev and me, that’s plain. But I’m beginning to think it’s just a general fearfulness—knowing that Dixie was killed here and seeing us living in the house.”

  “Nothing to indicate he was afraid of anyone in particular?”

  “No, except...”

  “Except what?” He was on that in an instant.

  “He knew we’d been to the falls.” She tried to remember exactly how he’d put it. “He said to stay away from the mill. He seemed to think it was dangerous.”

  “Dangerous how? We didn’t go inside, so I don’t know what kind of shape it’s in.”

  “We went inside last spring, and everything looked fine then. I really can’t guess what was in Billy’s mind, except that he seems obsessed with safety. Maybe it really is because of Dixie’s death. He’s afraid of losing another friend.”

  “Maybe.” He frowned at her, his mind clearly elsewhere. Then he gave a short nod. “Okay. I should be able to get away from the office around one o’clock tomorrow. Can you be ready then?”

  She stared at him blankly. “Ready? For what?”

  His eyebrows lifted. “To go and check out the mill, of course. You don’t think we can ignore what he said, do you?”

  Jason’s energetic approach must be contagious. She felt her spirits lift at the prospect of taking any positive steps. “Okay. I can’t imagine that we’ll find anything, but okay.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  JASON MANEUVERED HIS car along the rutted lane through the woods the next day, wincing when he hit a pothole. He glanced at Deidre, but she didn’t seem to have noticed the jolt. She was straining ahead, as if anticipating...what? Answers?

  He didn’t have high hopes of finding anything. Billy might have some reason for fearing danger at the cottage, but he doubted there’d be any indication as to why. Unless, of course, it proved to be so decrepit that just going into it was dangerous.

  Any lead at all was worth following, he reminded himself. Besides, checking out the cottage gave him a good excuse for spending time alone with Deidre. Unworthy of him, maybe, but a man had to take what he could get. Much as he liked Kevin, he had to admit that having a small child around was something of a barrier to romance. With Kevin at school and a friend picking him up, they didn’t have to hurry.

  The tense look on Deidre’s face disturbed him, and he sought a distraction. “So tell me about wandering in the woods when you were a kid. Did your parents really think that was all right?”

  Deidre blinked, as if trying to refocus. “I guess. They wouldn’t have wanted me to wander off alone, but usually there were several of us. I suppose they figured there was safety in numbers.”

  “You and Judith, I know. Who else?”

  She shrugged. “It differed. Sometimes one or another of Judith’s brothers. Often Frank came. And Dixie. And Billy, of course.”

  “Why ‘of course’? Kids can really be unforgiving with someone who is different.”

  “I was going to say there was more of that now, but I’m not sure that’s true. Kids picked on Billy sometimes, I know. But Judith and the other Amish kids are taught to care for people like Billy. And my parents...well, to them, kindness was the most important attribute you could want for your child.”

  “Billy was lucky, then.”

  “Maybe we were the lucky ones.” Her smile flashed. “You’d be surprised how much we learned from Billy. He might not have been able to read very well, but he could follow the track of a rabbit or identify a bird by its call.”

  “Your parents did a good job. Raising a kind daughter, I mean.”

  He loved that her eyes brightened at the compliment. “I hope so.”

  They were approaching the end of the road, and he slowed. “Sounds like you had a real Norman Rockwell painting of a childhood.”

  “Maybe so. That’s not a bad thing. Sometimes I regret that we’ve become so cautious in raising our children now. So much organization in their play and sports and lessons can mean little time for just being kids. I’d rather see Kevin running around the farm with Benjamin than playing some organized sport or taking extra classes.”

  But a faint line had settled between her eyebrows, and he thought he knew what that meant. He parked and turned off the ignition while he tried to find the right words.

  “You’re a good mother, Deidre. Don’t let anyone try to convince you otherwise.”

  He got out before she could answer, while a skeptical part of his brain suggested that he didn’t know a single thing about what constituted good parenting. How could he? Still, he couldn’t be deceived about th
e depth of the bond between Deidre and her son.

  A little flushed, Deidre grabbed a small backpack and stuffed a cell phone and water bottle into it. “Okay. Let’s go see what we can find.”

  Deidre set a quick pace along the trail, now that she didn’t have to slow down for Kevin’s short legs to keep up. Jason stayed at her heels, projecting his mind ahead to the old mill. What was reasonable to expect to find there?

  If Billy thought it was dangerous because of a broken stair or a sagging floor, that should be obvious. But he suspected that Billy’s fear was rooted in something subtler—maybe something no rational person would ever guess.

  “When you were kids, did Billy seem to be afraid of anything up here? The ghosts of long-ago Native Americans, maybe?”

  Deidre slowed, glancing over her shoulder. “Not that I can remember. He was impressed by the legends, but then, we all were.”

  “Legends plural? You mean there’s more than the story you told?”

  She nodded. “Quite a few. Some unsuitable for a five-year-old, to my way of thinking.”

  “Like that business of the mist being the Native American woman’s ghost?”

  The path went from thick woods to the clear space along the banks of the stream abruptly. He’d been hearing the murmur of the waterfall for some time, but now it rushed at them.

  Deidre stopped, looking up at the mist rising above the falls, and he moved closer, watching her face. “I wish Billy hadn’t told him that story. Maybe it’s silly, but I’d rather put off really spooky stories until he’s a bit older.”

  “Then you won’t mind?” He eyed her, curious.

  Her lips curved as she met his gaze. “I’ll probably still mind, but I know better than to try to prevent it. I have vivid memories of the ghost and monster stories we used to tell each other as kids. Especially when we had sleepovers. And of the nightmares I had as a result.”

  “So Kev comes by his nightmares honestly.”

  “I never had nightmares like his.” Her smile had vanished. “He had another one last night. Not quite as bad, but still scary. I called his pediatrician, and we’re going to talk in a day or two if it doesn’t get any better.”

  “Sorry.” He touched her hand, wishing he’d been there to help. “I think that’s the right thing to do.”

  “I hope so.” She turned and started downstream toward the old mill. “His grandfather stopped by earlier to see how we’re doing, so I told him about it.”

  “What did he think?”

  She shrugged. “He didn’t seem to take it seriously. Said he thought I ought to just let it run its course.” She glanced at him. “Maybe he had a point. He said it wouldn’t be good for Kevin to focus attention on it.”

  “You have to do what feels right to you,” he said, putting some iron into his tone. The judge was too fond of making other people second-guess themselves.

  They rounded the curve in the path, and the cottage came into view, the mill wheel creaking as the flow of water struck it.

  “I have the key.” Deidre dug in her pocket. “I remember coming up here once with the other kids, and Frank bragging that we could go into the cottage because his family owned it. But it turned out he didn’t have a key, and all we could do was look in the windows.”

  “I wouldn’t let a gang of kids have the run of the place, either,” he commented. He caught her wrist as she started up the steps to the porch. “Wait. Let me go first and check it out.”

  Deidre’s eyebrows lifted. “Being macho?”

  He grinned. “I’m heavier. If it’s going to break under my weight, we’ll find out fast.”

  But the steps seemed perfectly solid. Even the handrail didn’t wobble. Deidre followed him onto the porch and put the key in the lock. When she turned it, he reached over her shoulder to push the door open.

  Nothing. It was a perfectly ordinary rustic cottage, the type of place he’d imagine people wanted as a woodsy retreat. A stone fireplace, blackened by years of wood fires, with a deer’s head mounted over it. The glass eyes seemed to follow him when he moved. There were a few pieces of soft furniture grouped around the fireplace, and a table and chairs at the other end.

  Deidre stepped inside, looking around. “It all seems just as I remember it. I can’t imagine what Billy finds to be afraid of here.”

  Walking over to the gun cabinet on the far wall, Jason tested it. Locked, and no sign of tampering. “Isn’t it dangerous to leave guns in an unoccupied building like this?”

  “I suppose it is. I’m surprised the judge hasn’t removed them. He’s certainly aware that there’ve been break-ins at hunting cabins in recent years.”

  His lips quirked. “Could it be that he thinks no one would dare steal from him?”

  “He does usually put the fear of the law into the people who appear before him,” Deidre admitted.

  Open steps led up to the second floor. He gestured. “What’s upstairs?”

  “Two bedrooms. You can have a look if you want.”

  “Leave no stone unturned, as the cliché goes.” He went quickly up the steps and peered into the rooms. A smaller room had a double bed and a dresser, while the larger one was set up with two sets of bunk beds, probably intended for the younger members of the family. It was simple, rustic and perfectly ordinary, posing no danger at all that he could see.

  “What exactly did Billy say about the place?” He asked the question as he rejoined her on the lower floor. “Do you remember his exact words?”

  “Not perfectly, I’m sure.” She frowned, rubbing her arms as if chilled. “He mentioned the old mill—that’s what he always called it. He said we shouldn’t go there. That it was bad.”

  “Bad. Well, that could mean anything.”

  Deidre shivered, rubbing her arms. “Let’s get out of here. It’s chilly and musty. And I never did like that deer staring at me.”

  He had to laugh, but he understood. There was something desolate about the mill, maybe just because it hadn’t been used in a long time. “Does the judge ever come up here?”

  “Not that I know of. He rarely takes time off, and when he does, he and Sylvia spend a few days in Philadelphia or New York.”

  “You’ll inherit it eventually, I suppose.” He held the door for her to go out.

  Deidre looked startled. “Me? I doubt it. I’d imagine he’d leave it to Kevin, if anyone. Or possibly donate the rest of the land to the state.”

  He lingered on the porch while she locked the door, and then they both moved to the steps. He went down first, and just as he reached the bottom, he heard it: the crack of a weapon, followed by the thud of a bullet hitting the wood facing of the cottage.

  Jason spun, reaching for Deidre. She stood at the top of the steps, face white, eyes dazed. He grabbed her, pulling her down beside him, then dove with her to the side, searching for shelter—any shelter.

  They fell, with him trying to soften her impact. “Are you hurt?”

  “No, I... It must be a hunter,” she gasped.

  “It’s not hunting season.” And that shot had been too close to be an accident. They were too visible here. He had to get her to safety.

  No time to get back into the cabin, not with the door locked. There had to be another place. His gaze caught the paddle wheel, leaning drunkenly against the bank. “Crawl. We can shelter behind the paddle wheel. He can’t get a clear shot there.”

  “Just someone trying a gun...” she began. Another shot hit barely a foot from her.

  A rifle, he decided. The shooter had to be at the top of the escarpment, giving him a clear view of the cottage.

  “Someone’s shooting at us.” Deidre sounded stunned. Looked stunned. She needed reassurance, but not now, not until they weren’t out in the open.

  “Move,” he ordered, crawling backward and pu
lling her along. “When we get to the stream bank, slide down it and grab on to the wheel.”

  He could see his words penetrate. She nodded and began moving with him. It was slow, too slow, but they couldn’t risk getting up and running. Another shot, but this one hit farther away. Maybe the shooter was getting rattled. It was taking too long, every second giving them a chance to call for help.

  Not until he had Deidre safe. That first bullet had been intended for her.

  He was pushing her now, trying to keep himself between her and where he judged the shooter might be. It seemed an eternity before he felt her slipping back, over the bank. He heard a separate splash of water.

  “Okay, I’m down behind the wheel. Now you.” Her hand grasped the leg of his jeans, pulling him.

  He slid down, felt the shock of cold water up to his knees and grabbed on to the paddle wheel. It held fast even with his weight added. Holding on with one arm, he wrapped the other around Deidre.

  “Sure you’re not hurt?”

  “Just shaky. But my phone... In my backpack, and I must have let go...”

  “It’s okay. I have mine.” He pulled it from his shirt pocket and hit 911. It connected immediately, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He rattled off his name, location, their situation. “Tell Carmichaels I’m here with Mrs. Morris, and there’s a shooter on the ridge firing at us.”

  The dispatcher repeated it back to him. “Help is on the way. Shelter where you are.”

  “We will.” Standard advice that had become too familiar in an era of gun violence. But he didn’t think the man on the ridge was a random nutcase.

  He slid the phone back in his pocket and focused on Deidre. Her face was white, she was shaking, but she hadn’t lost her composure.

  “Has he stopped?”

  “Hard to say.” There hadn’t been any fresh shots since they’d made it to the stream. “He may be waiting for us to show ourselves. Or he might be gone.” Or he might be trying to get a better angle on them, but he didn’t think he’d say that to Deidre. It would take him time to get to the other side of the falls, if so. Time for the cops to get there.