by Marta Perry
“I appreciate it.” She tried for a smile. “Tell you what, why don’t we compromise? I’ll stay through the story hour, and then if you really wouldn’t mind coming in afterward, you can work until closing. Okay?”
Since Allie lived right down the street from the library, it shouldn’t be a problem for her to go back and forth.
“Sounds good.” Allie’s gray-streaked brown ponytail bobbed as she nodded. She pulled her flannel shirt tighter around her. “I’ll get my things from the back room and head home. But you call me if you need to leave sooner, all right? It’s no problem.”
“I will.” She wouldn’t, actually. She didn’t want people thinking she couldn’t do her job. Allie had retrieved her jacket and the oversized bag she always carried and was headed to the door when she stopped. “Good grief, I almost forgot. There was a man here looking for you earlier. I told him I didn’t know if you’d be in today.”
Her heart gave a funny little flutter. Maybe Micah had gotten away soon after he called.
“That’s okay, Allie. I know who it was. He’ll probably give me a call.”
Allie nodded, waving, and went out, closing the door against the outside chill with a firm hand. Jade followed her to the front and looked out the two big windows, watching as Allie strode off down the sidewalk. Main Street looked fairly deserted at this hour, with only a few cars parked in front of the café. Not that it was ever all that busy. The children’s story hour probably would bring out the most people who’d be on the street all day.
Had Micah hung around White Rock after his visit to the library, or was he on his way back to Billings? Or headed for her house or Ellen and Herb’s, looking for her?
They should have passed on the road, in that event, but she hadn’t seen him. Well, as she’d told Allie, he’d call. In the meantime, it looked as if she’d have a little quiet to get ready for the influx of parents and preschoolers. Story time had grown from two or three kids once a week to fifteen or more three times a week. She loved the response, but it was a challenge to keep that many children occupied. She headed for the back room, where she kept the supplies she’d been collecting to use with the children. Someone had donated a monkey puppet in response to a plea she’d put in the paper, as she recalled, that would be perfect to use with one of the stories she planned to read today.
As she organized the books and supplies, the tension that had been riding her began to ebb. She was doing what she was meant to do, and that was the important thing. What she was meant to do. That was always how she thought of her occupation.
Sister Sally would have said that she was fulfilling the purpose for which God had created her. Jade had always found that a comforting thought—that no matter what chaos disrupted her life, God had a plan for her. She’d been drifting away from that sureness, and she longed to have it again. Micah had said that when he felt distant from God, it was because he had moved, not God. Maybe he’d been…
Something sounded in the silent library, and her senses jumped to alert. A thud? A footstep?
Probably the front door. The library was open, after all. Gathering up an armload of materials, she walked back through into the main library, prepared to greet whoever had come in.
No one was there. She walked across the width of the main room, peering down each row of shelves, her footsteps echoing emptily on the wide wooden floorboards. Nothing. No one was there.
Moving to the children’s section, she put everything down on one of the small tables, frowning a little at her reaction. Or overreaction. She was letting her nerves get the better of her. That had to stop. She was a sensible, rational person. She didn’t give way like this. Now, all she needed was the story rug. She usually rolled it up after each session and stowed it in the back hall cupboard. Glancing at her watch, she saw that she had plenty of time. She adjusted a few of the paper cutouts on the children’s area bulletin board and arranged the books in the order in which she intended to read them. Then she headed back to get the rug.
She was pulling it out of the closet, her arms full, when the noise came again. Nearer this time. Sounding more like a footstep.
Her throat tightened, and the rug slid from her grasp. She forced herself to take a breath. She couldn’t huddle back here like a frightened mouse. It was probably someone with a legitimate reason for being here.
“Hello? Is someone there?”
No answer. No answer, but a sound again, like a soft, stealthy footstep. Inside the library, not outside.
“Who’s there?” She made her voice sharp, authoritative. Again there was no answer. But something brushed against the wall that separated her from the main section of the library, like a hand, groping along the wall. Close, too close.
Her mind sought for a logical explanation, but some primitive sense overrode it. Run. Get out. Shoving the folds of the rug out of her way, she bolted toward the back door, fumbled with the lock and tumbled outside into the alley. Slamming the door behind her, she raced along the side of the building, breath coming in cold gasps.
Get to the street. There’d be someone there, someone to help. Was that the sound of the door behind her? Fear lent wings to her feet. She bolted toward the street, rounded the corner and barreled into a solid male figure, knocking the breath out of her.
EIGHT
Micah grabbed Jade’s arms, all of his protective instincts kicking in. He swung her around so that her back was against the wall, his body forming a shield to protect her.
“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” He snapped the questions as he scanned the area, looking for any hint of danger.
“N-no.” She gasped the word, shivering. She’d run outside in fifteen-degree weather without a coat. Something had frightened her badly to make her do that. He tightened his grip, willing her to talk.
“Think, Jade. What happened?”
“I heard someone in the library.” She shook her head. Curls tumbled around her face, and she pushed them back with a hand that wasn’t steady.
“Someone who shouldn’t be there?” The library was open, wasn’t it?
“Wait, it was you, wasn’t it?” The fear ebbed from her face, replaced by a spark of irritation. “What were you doing, creeping around the building like that?”
“I haven’t been inside the library.” Obviously she’d heard, or thought she’d heard, someone when she should have been alone.
“But you—”
Ignoring her words, he put his arm around her and marched her to his vehicle, half shoving her into the passenger seat. He reached across to turn the ignition and switch the heater to full blast.
“Lock the door,” he ordered, stepping back. “Don’t open it until I come back.” Before she could argue, he slammed the door and stood frowning at her until she pushed the lock.
He turned to the library, assessing the building quickly. One-story brick, probably an attic and a basement, as well. Too bad he wasn’t familiar with the layout. He opened the glass-paneled door and moved cautiously inside, easing his weapon from its holster. He could call for backup from the locals, but he wasn’t eager to involve them if this proved to be nothing, both for Jade’s sake and for the department’s. There’d been too much buzz about this case already.
Moving methodically, he began to work his way through the building. He was in the main library room, difficult to search because of the alcoves created by the rows of shelves. He moved through, nerves tightening as he rounded each blind corner.
Nothing. He reached the rear without finding a thing out of place, other than a couple of books lying on the floor. He eased open another door, finding what was obviously the library’s workroom and break room. One corner was given over to a small fridge and a microwave, with a box of tea sitting on top. The door to the single restroom stood open. Empty.
He reached for the door that must lead to the back hallway, nerves crawling. If anyone was in the building, this was the only place left.
A rug lay half in and half out of a storage closet. There
were two other doors, probably one to the attic and one to the cellar, but they were both locked on this side, eliminating them as a place to hide. The back door was unlocked—where Jade had exited, obviously. He walked back through the building, frowning a little. No one was here now. An intruder couldn’t have come out the front. He’d have seen them. But anyone could have followed Jade out the back and quietly walked away.
He stepped outside. Jade slid from his vehicle the moment she saw him. Her face was pale but composed as she came toward him.
“There wasn’t anyone inside.” She made it a statement, not a question.
“No. An open closet in the back hallway looked disordered.”
“That was me,” she said quickly. “I was getting the story rug out when I thought I heard someone. Just my imagination working overtime, I guess.”
The wind whipped her hair across her face as she looked down the street, probably hoping no one had noticed anything amiss.
“Let’s get inside.” He guided her in, noting that she hesitated for a fraction of a second before stepping through the doorway.
She rubbed her arms briskly, moving toward the desk.
“I’m sorry I panicked. I guess I’m still more upset than I thought from yesterday. This old building makes noises all the time, especially when it’s windy.”
“Which it always is this time of the year.”
If Jade wanted to dismiss it, he had no evidence to support any other explanation. Just like yesterday and the gas leak.
“Yes. That must be it.” Her face flushed with embarrassment, as if she thought making a fuss without justification was a crime. “My assistant told me you’d come by earlier. I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”
He blinked. “I wasn’t here earlier. What made her think it was me?”
“She didn’t. I mean, she said a man had come by, asking for me, and I just assumed it was you because you’d said you were coming today.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to assess the situation as if he looked at it cold, without knowing Jade or the circumstances of Ruby’s death. “Did she describe the man?”
“I didn’t ask.” She raised her hands, palms up. “I’m sure it’s nothing. It could have been anyone. I’ve been advertising for new volunteers, so maybe it was someone wanting to talk about that.”
He’d reserve an opinion for the moment. “Can we go someplace where we can talk? Maybe the café?”
She was shaking her head before he’d finished. “I can’t.”
“I guess we’ll have to talk here, then.” He’d rather get her away from the site of her scare. And she could probably use some hot coffee or soup after being outside.
“I can’t do that, either.” She glanced at the round schoolhouse clock mounted over the desk. “I have story hour starting at two, and a bunch of preschoolers will be swarming in here any minute now.”
“Can’t someone else do it?”
Her lips tightened. “I don’t want anyone else to do it. I can’t afford to have people saying I’m not doing my job. They’re probably talking enough already.” She waved him toward the door. “Go, get some coffee. Come back at three, and we’ll talk then.”
He didn’t like it, but a mother with a couple of kids in tow came in, looking at him curiously, so he went. Jade sorted through the books she’d picked out, mentally rehearsing her presentation. It should be a comforting act, but the peace she’d felt earlier eluded her. Maybe that was gone for good. Maybe her life would never return to what she thought was normal. No. She wouldn’t let that happen. If she lived in fear, even if the bad guys never harmed her, they’d have won. The sound of the door opening set her nerves jumping, but she rose and smiled, welcoming a tide of small children and parents as they flowed into the room. The children’s chatter quickly set the library echoing happily, and a colorful mountain of jackets, hats and mittens rose on one of the tables.
The distraction was working. She felt herself relaxing, heard her responses to the children become more and more natural. Once they were gathered on the story rug, with parents browsing through the stacks or seated on the small chairs behind the children, she’d regained her usual composure.
She launched into the first story. The lively, dramatic form that she could never have used with adults came naturally when she told stories to children. This was her element. This was where she belonged, seeing their eyes widen and their small faces light up as they responded to the magic of story.
By the time the hour neared its end, she was back to her usual self, but far more exhausted than telling a few stories would account for. Apparently passing out from gas had taken more out of her than she’d been willing to admit. She turned a page in the final book. Once this was over, she’d be glad to accept Allie’s offer to relieve her for the rest of the day.
The front door opened, letting in a drift of cold air before it shut again. She sent a quick glance that direction. It was a man, bundled up to his eyes against the cold. Probably a father, come to pick up his child. She finished the tale of Curious George’s adventures, the children clapping when the little monkey triumphed as always.
“That’s all for today, boys and girls. Thank you for being such a great audience. Don’t forget to check out some books for Mom and Dad to read to you at home, okay?”
They surrounded her, eager to comment on the story or share something new that had happened at home. The man who’d entered late came toward them. She expected him to pluck a child from the group, but instead he stared at her. Her heart sank. He wasn’t going to mention her problems in front of the kids, was he?
“Eloise!” He barked the name, startling her.
“I’m sorry?” She made it a question. Surely he wouldn’t call a small child with that tone.
“You are Eloise, aren’t you?” He moved closer, nearly stepping on one of the children who’d sat down to pull on boots. His hazel eyes were as cold as ice, as if he didn’t even notice. “I saw you react.”
“My name is Jade. I don’t know any Eloise.” Except the one in the children’s books, and he didn’t look like anyone who read children’s stories.
Apprehension shivered down her spine. She pushed children toward their parents. Get the children out of here, her mind screamed. Nothing must happen to them.
“That’s right,” he said, smiling thinly. “Get the kiddies out of the way. Then you and I will go someplace quiet and have a little talk.”
She took an instinctive step back, putting her palms out as if to fend him off. Like a snake striking, he grabbed her arm.
Please, Lord. She took a breath, trying to think. The children—that was what was important now.
“Mary Louise, will you take the children out the back door, please?” She made her voice clear and calm as she spoke to the mother she knew best. She met the man’s eyes. “I’ll talk to you. Just let them go.”
Mary Louise hesitated for just a moment, her face white as she took in the situation. Then she began shepherding mothers and children toward the back door. Finally they were out. She could breathe again.
“Let’s go, Eloise.” His grip tightened painfully on her arm, compelling her to move with him toward the front of the library.
“My name is not Eloise,” she repeated. “Who is she?
What do you want with her?”
He ignored her protest. “You have a debt to pay.” He shoved her toward the door.
She banged into it, making her head swim. The man caught the release bar and shoved it open. She stumbled as he propelled her out into the cold.
“That’s right,” he said. “No fuss. We don’t want anyone else getting hurt, do we? We’ll just go for a drive so we can talk in private.”
He steered her toward the alley. His car must be there—she could hear the motor running. Advice from a long-ago self-defense class echoed in her mind. Never get in a car with an assailant. Scream, kick, bite, do anything you can, but don’t get in the car, or you’ll be at his mercy.
&nb
sp; “No!” She screamed the word at the top of her lungs, swinging her free arm at him. “Help!”
He struck her, hard, cutting off the cry, making her head spin. He grabbed both arms before she could react, nearly lifting her off her feet. He’d carry her to the car, she couldn’t get away—
She struggled, kicked, tried to scream again, but he got his hand over her mouth, the leather of his glove cutting off her breath. No one would hear, by the time the women got help, it would be too late—
A shout from down the street, the sound of pounding feet, sending a fresh burst of adrenaline through her. She fought, kicked, struggled—anything to make it harder for him, to give help time to reach them.
He let go with one hand, reaching toward his pocket, maybe for a gun, but the footsteps were closer now, and the voice that rang out was Micah’s.
“U.S. Marshals. Let her go. Put your hands where I can see them.”
Cursing, the man threw her toward the building. She hit hard, dropping to the ground, bracing herself for a shot. It didn’t come. She caught a blurred impression of the man disappearing around the corner, heard the slam of a door and the roar of a powerful motor.
Then Micah was there, lifting her gently, his hands strong on her arms, his breath fast. “Stay here.” He propped her against the wall and ran around the corner, his gun out.
He’d be too late, she thought with what was left of her mind. The man had too much of a head start. Micah was back in a moment, his arm circling her, supporting her. “Easy,” he said. “Take it easy.”
She took a breath, trying not to give way in front of him. And said the thing she’d never wanted to stay.
“You were right. I can’t stay here. It’s too dangerous for other people.” She sucked in another breath on a sob she couldn’t stop. “I’ll have to go away.”
When they reached Jade’s house, Micah left her in the truck while he did a quick check. It was unlikely the attacker had come here, since any vehicle would be clearly visible from the lane, but the man had already staged an attempt in front of a library full of kids. No use depending on him to act rationally. The house was empty and looked undisturbed. He returned to his vehicle to lead her inside. She looked numb. As if she was past feeling anything. She hadn’t spoken a word since those moments in front of the library.
