“Yes – that’s where I saw him.” She winced at the memory.
“It must have been terrible for you!”
“It’s just so odd. I mean, why our house? It’s pretty obvious that we just moved in, and we don’t have anything fancy. Do the police have any clues as to who did it?”
“I don’t know, but Officer Robert said that he’s coming over to see you as soon as he’s done with Ron. He probably has all the information – he worked straight through last night, I think. I’ll be taking the children up to see you later. I know Ron said that they called your parents, but they still haven’t answered their calls. Should we be concerned?”
Julia was tired again. “No, it’s not unusual. They like to take weekend trips with the cell phone turned off. Dad says people have entirely too much access to them.”
“When they do get the message, it just says to call Ron. We didn’t want to panic them. When do you think you’ll be released?”
They discussed the particulars of Julia’s medical condition, then Caroline had the kids, except for Ron, talk to her on the phone. Dana was enjoying her new adventure in the Ojacor household, and Amelia said that Joseph and Caroline were taking them to the park for lunch. Jack told Julia that Yellow Teddy had survived, but that he had sustained a tear in his arm for her to fix. All of them wanted to know when she was coming home.
Julia promised to fix the teddy bear, left a message for Ron, thanked Caroline, and then hung up the phone. She thought about calling her parents, but she was still drowsy from the medication, and she sank into a light sleep.
A few hours and a couple of tests later, Robert came for his promised visit.
When he arrived, one of the nurses was fussing over Julia’s charts and hookups and adjusting her I. V., all the while making comments and observations that had Julia convinced that she was this particular nurse’s worst patient in a long career.
They were starting to wean her off some of the more potent medications, so her mind was clearer and her limbs felt lighter and stronger. A snack restored some of her energy, and the notepad that someone had thoughtfully left on her nightstand already had some pages filled with ideas and questions that she hoped to have answered by Robert when he arrived.
The nurse interrupted her own tirade to note that there was someone waiting out in the hallway to see her.
Julia’s heart skipped a beat. “Who is it?”
“He’s a cop. Probably wants to ask you about last night. That’s all anyone’s been talking about.”
Julia wished that the nurse would quit adjusting her tubes and let Robert come in. There were so many questions that needed answering.
After what seemed liked forever, the nurse left, and Robert was there.
Julia felt like she’d been waiting all day to see him, but all she could think about when he walked in was how awful she must look, with her silly hospital nightgown and the bandages.
He came in his uniform, pulling out his notepad and looking very official. Julia felt somewhat letdown.
Official business, she thought, as she settled back against the pillows. Oh, well. What did you expect? Flowers?
He smiled then, and that lightened the moment.
“How are you feeling, Julia? You got quite a nasty bump on the head.”
“I’m feeling much, much better. Robert, I am so sorry about everything.”
“Everything?” He pulled up a chair.
Julia was so busy talking that she didn’t notice how the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes like it usually did.
“About Amelia and all. One day in my care and she’s in the middle of a shootout – oh my gosh, I’d forgotten - someone was shooting. Was anyone hurt? That man had a gun? Someone could have been killed! One of the kids, or Mrs. Jurta or…”
“Or you?” he asked pointedly.
His tone made her break off. Now he looked angry. Julia was astonished: she’d never seen him angry before.
He was saying, “You didn’t think of that before you went charging in? That maybe he might have a weapon and that you might have been killed? What possessed you, Julia?”
“Well, I…”
“Why didn’t you call me? Why didn’t you wait for me? What if something happened to you? Lord, Julia, didn’t you have better sense than to stick your neck out for some stupid burglar ripping off cheap stuff to front his habit?”
He was up now, pacing, his voice growing in intensity. He slapped the pad of paper into his palm, his other hand curling into a fist that crumbled the sheets. Julia hadn’t felt so cowed since she had been a teenager, getting lectured by her father over some minor violation of family rules.
“I’m sorry,” she found herself saying. “I guess I just didn’t think anyone was really in there. I thought I’d check before I called and bothered you.”
“It would have been too late. If he had wanted to kill you, no one would have gotten there in time to save you. It was a stupid, stupid move. You should have waited. You should have gone to Mrs. Jurta’s house, called 911 - called me - and waited. We can handle things like this. We’re supposed to take the risk, not you. Geez, Julia!” His voice broke. He stopped in front of the window, his back towards her.
After a moment, she said again, “I’m sorry, Robert.”
Robert looked out over the crowded parking lot and took a few deep breaths.
“No, I’m sorry,” he said after a moment. “I’m acting like an idiot. It’s just that you were hurt. You could have been killed.” He paused. “And I wasn’t there to stop him.”
“You couldn’t have known. I didn’t call.”
He faced her then. “That should help, but it doesn’t.”
There was a moment of silence while Julia mentally regrouped. Then gently, she asked, “Was anyone else hurt?”
He shook his head. “No. Everyone’s fine, just a little shaken up.”
“Then he didn’t hit anyone when he was shooting?”
“He didn’t shoot. Mrs. Jurta remembered that she was carrying and tried to stop him with a nine millimeter. Fortunately for him, she’s a lousy shot. The only thing that got hit was the neighbor’s car. I think Mrs. Jurta will be hearing from their lawyers any day now.”
She sighed in relief and fell back against the pillows. Everyone was safe. She was the only one wounded, and that had been her own fault, the result of poor decision making. Hadn’t Miriam been accusing her of that ever since she’d been made guardian?
A few minutes of uncomfortable silence went by, with Julia wondering how to break it and Robert obviously unwilling to. Then he sighed, and ran a hand through his hair, smiling faintly.
“Look, Jules,” he said. “I know I shouldn’t have come in here yelling at you like that. I apologize. My reaction was way out of line.”
She shook her head. “No, it wasn’t. I put your daughter in harm’s way and I’m sorry.”
“It’s not just her…” He stopped, seeming ambivalent. “Look, promise me that if something happens, you’ll call me first, okay? I can’t be everywhere, but let me do my job, all right? Please?”
Once again, she felt like she was losing herself in his dark eyes.
“All right,” she whispered.
He took her hand. “Thanks,” he said.
Somehow, Julia broke away from his gaze and sat up straighter in her bed. “Can you tell me what’s been happening since I’ve been out of commission?”
He looked grim again. “All right. I need to get some facts from you and tell you a few before you give an official statement. Why don’t you tell me exactly what happened from the time you left the party until you can’t remember any more.”
There wasn’t much to tell. She told him everything, answered the few questions he had, and waited as he finished jotting down his notes. She had time to think about his reaction earlier. It was kind of flat
tering, really.
“Do you have any suspects?” she asked.
Robert shook his head. “We think he was wearing gloves because we didn’t find any fingerprints on the tools he left behind.”
She frowned. “But why was he prying up the floorboards? Was there anything under there?”
He put his notepad back into his shirt pocket. “Okay,” he said. “This is where I report to you.”
He had arrived just ahead of the other squad car and in time to see Mrs. Jurta still toting her automatic. Mrs. Jurta said that a man came running out of the house, too fast for her to identify him. The intruder had shoved her aside and jumped into a pick-up truck, and Mrs. Jurta recovered herself enough to pull out her gun and fired several shots at him - but only hit the neighbor’s car.
When they investigated the back room, several of the floorboards had been pried up, and they found something wrapped in old painting rags. And when they unwrapped these, they found…
“The missing Stephanie Langs?” Julia guessed.
“The sketches, yes,” he said. “How did you know?”
“It was just a guess. The Lang murder seems to be coming up an awful lot lately. In fact, I found a signed picture of her in an old lamp-table, and I was going to ask you to take a look at it.” She stared wide-eyed at him. “This is getting creepy. How did those get into my house?”
“That’s what we’ve been wondering, too,” he said. “You’re right, the sketches were all there, including several that had not been listed as missing. They’re unfinished, our resident expert tells us, and it’s possible that the cataloguers weren’t aware of their existence when they made the list.”
“But that doesn’t make sense,” Julia insisted. “Brad Lang made the list with the museum expert, according to Bernard’s research. Why would he steal them only to omit them from the list, when the robbery was his cover story? And how did he have access to my house? I don’t remember seeing his name on the list of previous owners.”
Robert shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe he had an understanding with the owner at the time, a girlfriend, maybe.”
“There’s no mention of that in any of the stories.”
“That only means he was more discreet than his wife. We have no reason to suppose that she was the only one cheating.”
“No. Only I got the impression that he was far too busy with his career to spend time with his wife, let alone a girlfriend. Will the discovery of these sketches reopen the case?”
“They have to be authenticated first,” he replied. “After that, who knows? To be honest, if I wasn’t so concerned with catching the man who broke into your place, I’d be cracking into the old case files myself. Don’t throw away that picture you found, whatever you do. It may be important.”
She leaned back against the headboard. “We’ve felt drawn to that old house ever since we moved in, the kids and I. It’s so weird to think that there might actually be a connection.”
Robert cleared his throat. He was rubbing his hands together, seeming uncomfortable.
“That’s not the only connection to that old house,” he said, and Julia gave him a sharp look. She suspected this had to do with Ron.
“Last night, at about the same time as you were getting hit over the head, a couple of the neighborhood boys discovered a squatter in the old Lang house. After they chased him out, they – broke in themselves. Dylan O’Reilly was one of the boys… And I’m afraid Ron was with him.”
She gaped at him. “That can’t be. I left them at the Ojacors’ house.”
“Apparently, they left early and were hoping to catch a ghost on film. Dylan has been staking the house out and thought he saw paranormal activity. What he actually saw was a squatter. We’ve impounded the tapes and cameras and are going over them now for clues as to who the person was who was living there.”
Julia stared in disbelief.
“From what the boys told me, they were outside looking in when they startled a man. He ran outside, Ron tried to stop him, and the suspect kicked him.” Catching her expression, he quickly added, “He’s all right. The paramedics looked him over and gave him a clean bill of health. He has a fat lip but other than that, he’s fine.”
Her hands were shaking. She pressed them against her eyes, trying to steady herself.
Robert said, “We found out about it when the boys accidentally tripped the alarm system by opening the front door. What’s confusing is whoever was living in the house knew enough to dismantle the alarm on the back door while leaving the rest of the system intact. The other strange thing is what the boys found in the living room, where the squatter was camping out – clippings referring to the Lang murder. An incident room, if you will. He grabbed some of the evidence when he ran. Mostly, it was copies from library film, but some of it was from newspapers at the time of the murder. Stuff that even the Mones had a hard time locating.”
Julia moved her hands from her eyes to her mouth, then spoke through them. “But – why would he have that?”
“We don’t know. Maybe he’s obsessed with the case. He probably selected that particular house because it was the scene of the murder.”
“If he’s obsessed, he’s dangerous.”
Robert nodded. “The lawyers in charge of the house are installing a new alarm system as soon as our boys are done there. They’re going to get in contact with Brian Lang, who, I hear, is out on parole right now, somewhere down south. In the meantime, the chief is putting extra patrols in the neighborhood until this squatter is caught. We’re hoping that he left some identifiable fingerprints, but the going is slow because the boys messed up some of the evidence. It’s been a busy night.”
“Do you think that the squatter and the burglar are the same person?”
“They can’t be. At the time Mrs. Jurta was shooting at your burglar, their intruder was escaping out the back door. In fact, the boys remembered hearing the shots and actually thought that he had fired them. It’s a miracle that none of them were hurt.”
“Oh my God,” she said and meant it as a prayer. “Oh my God. I can’t even…” She began to tremble, and he leaned forward to put a hand over hers.
She squeezed it gratefully.
“I don’t know what I would have done,” she confessed, and drew a shuddering sigh. “We rely on him so heavily. I don’t think I could have handled it. Those poor kids…”
“No need to go there. Nothing happened to him.”
“What now? A breaking and entering charge? What will that mean?”
“The chief is sorting that out. The fact that Ron left me a message on my phone to report the illegal activity will play in his favor. I don’t think he’ll get much more than a slap on the wrist, maybe some community time if the judge is in a bad mood. The media have already gotten a hold of the story, by the way. They’re calling it ‘a modern twist on the Hardy Boys.’”
“Oh, poor Ron,” she whispered. “He’s going to be so humiliated.”
“It’ll be good for him,” he grinned. “A good way to remember not to go along with everything your friends tell you to do. I’ll be around, whatever the outcome, to make sure that things go smoothly.” He looked at his watch. “I’ve got to get going. I’ve got a bunch of reports to fill out. I’ll keep you informed. When are you getting out?”
“Maybe this afternoon, if the tests come back all right.”
“Just send me a text and I’ll come and pick you up.”
She flushed a little. “Oh, no, really - that’s okay.”
“Do it. Besides, I’ll probably have more to tell you by then.” He stood over her and his smile faded. “Are you all right?”
She nodded and looked at her hands. “I’m fine,” she said.
“Really?”
“I… I don’t think I’ve really had time to process everything. It’ll probably hit me a week from now, an
d one of the kids will find me in a puddle on the kitchen floor, stuffing myself with ice cream. But really, everyone’s been so kind – I don’t know how I’ll be able to pay them all back.”
He gave her hand a squeeze. “Everyone is just pleased to be able to help.”
Julia let her head, which was growing increasingly heavy, fall back against the pillows. A wave of exhaustion washed over her.
“Thank you so much for coming, Robert. Thank you for everything.”
“Get better, Jules.” There was an odd, low tone to his voice as he spoke.
Then he was gone, and the nurse took his place.
“Ready for the next round of tests?” he asked.
41
Ron trailed slowly after Mrs. Ojacor, rubbing his sore jaw. The hospital was not very busy, and few nurses and staff were visible in the hallways. It was very quiet and smelled of antiseptic and plastic - familiar, but not comforting.
The last time he’d been in a hospital was back when he was seven or eight. They’d gone to visit his dad’s aunt, who was dying of cancer. She was a wizened little old lady in flowered pajamas, an oxygen tube up her nose, and great dark patches on her skin. She couldn’t sit up or move very much, but she had been excited to see them and wanted to touch Ron’s face. Ron tried to avoid her, but his grandmother kept pushing him back within reach, oblivious to his discomfort.
“Your aunt is going to be tired,” Mrs. Ojacor reminded them gently. “So we’ll have to be very quiet and calm.”
She was holding Dana’s hand and Amelia was on the other side of her. Both girls were wearing the same dress, but in different colors, with their hair pulled up in the same high, tight ponytail. Amelia had explained to Ron that they were twins today. Each held a sad bunch of flowers that they had cut from the Ojacor’s little garden.
Jack’s warm, moist hand was tight in Ron’s. The little boy slept badly the night before, sharing a makeshift bed with Ron on the Ojacor’s living room floor. He kept asking Ron if they could go home. When told no, he would start crying, asking if Aunt Julia was dead. No matter how many times Ron assured him that she was fine, and that they had to stay away from the house until she was well, the boy wouldn’t understand.
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