by Joyce Lavene
But he was wrong thinking she’d stay and bring it back to life. Maybe she could hire him to manage it, as Ron had suggested someone should. It would be worth a shot asking him.
She considered telling him that she’d stay if he’d leave, as he offered to do. Once he was gone, she could sell the place. But that seemed wrong. She didn’t want to hurt him. There had to be another way.
After he left, she washed the dishes, silverware, and glasses. It had been at least five minutes. Probably more. She opened the back door and started toward the pumpkin patch.
There was a faint glow coming from it—like the last embers of a fire—or the beginning of one.
“Jack!” she yelled and started running in that direction. She got to the edge of the acres where the pumpkins were growing. He was waiting for her. “What’s going on?”
“Look. It’s something Tommy did every year when the harvest was over.”
Sarah walked out to the field. Jack had carved at least a hundred pumpkins and put candles in them. There were funny faces, scary faces, and pictures of things like bats, cows, and other things she couldn’t identify.
“You did all this?” she asked.
He nodded. “I had a few hours free today.”
“It’s beautiful. Thank you. I was here one weekend when Grampa did this. He wasn’t as good an artist as you. I think this is what you should be doing instead of hiding out from everything.”
She knew she’d hit a nerve when he turned away. She’d been right about him using the farm as a means of not facing the world. She wanted to ask if he was still getting away from his childhood or if something else had happened to him.
Sarah turned to ask him about it, but as she did, the lights in the house went dark.
“I see it,” he said. “Looks like we’ve got company.”
“Treasure hunters?” she whispered, unconsciously moving closer to him.
“Probably not. Stay here. I’ll check it out.”
“Not on your life. I don’t want you to be charged with another murder. You need a witness. And I’m not staying here alone.”
“Then stay close and be quiet.”
“You don’t have to tell me that!”
“You’re still talking.”
Jack walked slowly toward the house, staying in the shadows. Sarah was right behind him, almost too close since she bumped into him twice when he stopped.
“Sorry,” she muttered. “There’s someone on the second floor. I think that’s a flashlight going through the house.”
“Looking for something,” he guessed. “I don’t suppose you’ve got your little pistol?”
“No. Sheriff Morgan still has it. But I know where the shovel is.”
“Thanks. We’ll see if we need that.”
She followed him another few steps. “What if it’s the killer? He could take us both out. No one would know.”
“Then we better see him before he sees us.”
They moved stealthily into the house. It was too quiet and creepy knowing someone was upstairs rummaging through her things. What were they looking for? “Maybe we should call the sheriff.”
“We will—after we catch this guy.”
There were footsteps on the stairs. Sarah looked for something she could use to defend herself and picked up an iron skillet.
“Are you going to hit the bullets back at him?” Jack’s voice was slightly below a whisper and close to her ear.
“At least I have something to use against him.” She slapped the skillet against her hand and winced. “This thing is heavy.”
“I knew I should’ve locked you in the barn.”
“I’m not a kid anymore. I’d just get out.”
The footsteps on the stairs slowed and stopped. Sarah panicked as she realized the intruder had probably heard them talking. She held her breath for a moment as she lifted the skillet up to her shoulder ready to battle their attacker.
Jack reached beside him and switched on the kitchen light.
Blinking quickly, Sarah wondered why in the world he’d done such a thing, ruining their element of surprise. Her eyes focused quickly on the man who was still on the stairs.
“Mace?” she gasped, still ready to hit him with the skillet.
Even more of a surprise—Jack was on the stairs with his arm around his throat. When had he moved? He’d been right next to her.
“What are you doing here?” Jack questioned him.
There were only gurgling sounds coming from the realtor.
“Maybe you should let go of him so he can sit down and tell us about it.”
Jack grunted and released him. Mace glanced at him before he stumbled down the last few stairs and sat at the kitchen table.
“I’m so sorry,” Sarah said. “Do you want some tea?”
“What was he trying to do?” he demanded in a raspy voice. “He could’ve killed me.”
“You were trespassing.” Jack followed him to the table. “Why are you here?”
“I was just looking out for Ms. Tucker’s interests.” He cleared his throat and scooted away from Jack. “I saw the lights on in the house. I didn’t want her to have a large power bill. I knew she wasn’t staying here.”
“Now the truth,” Jack encouraged.
“I don’t know what you mean,” he denied. “I only turned the power off. I was going to lock the doors, and then you came in. I thought you were a treasure hunter.”
Sarah didn’t know if she believed him either. “Then why were you skulking around in here with a flashlight?”
Mace glanced at Jack. “I thought I heard a noise upstairs. I was checking for rats before I bring the new buyer out tomorrow.”
Jack and Sarah exchanged looks across the table.
“It’s possible,” she said.
“But doubtful,” Jack replied.
“Let me make you some hot tea for that throat,” she offered.
“I’m sorry,” Mace said to both of them. “I didn’t realize you were here. I didn’t mean to alarm you.”
He was shaking all over like a leaf in a winter storm. Sarah could understand his fear after finding himself with Jack choking him.
“Tell us about the new buyer,” Jack said.
“G-gladly.” The realtor adjusted his glasses and started talking about Davis Hudson as Sarah made tea for him.
She offered Jack a cup too. He refused, and she made one for herself instead.
“I think this is a wonderful opportunity,” Mace continued after extolling Mr. Hudson’s financial virtues. “H-his offer is almost as good as Leland’s but he isn’t interested in the Blue Way.”
“What does he want with the property?” Jack asked.
“I believe he plans to live here as a gentleman farmer. He was talking about building a new house and raising horses. I don’t know if he’ll keep the pumpkin patch. But Ms. Tucker didn’t make that a deal-breaker.”
“No.” She sat at the table with her tea. “That sounds fine.”
“I probably should be going.” Mace eyed Jack suspiciously. “I am free to go, right?”
“Yes. But next time you plan to visit, call ahead.” Jack’s gaze was steady.
“Oh, I will.” He got to his feet on wobbly legs. “Goodnight, Ms. Tucker. Again, I’m sorry for the interruption. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Jack said he’d walk him out to his pickup. It wasn’t an invitation. Sarah tidied up nervously when they were gone. She heard the truck leave the driveway and waited for Jack to return.
When he didn’t come back right away, she found him walking around the outside of the house, apparently looking for something.
“Do you think someone else is out here?” She watched his furtive movements.
“Just being careful.”
She followed him as he checked behind all the shrubs. Now was as good a time as any to mention him staying in the house. “You should stay in the house tonight.”
He looked back at her in surprise. “I’ll check everythi
ng before you go to bed. You should be safe.”
“That’s not what I meant.” She started over. “You can’t sleep in the barn. There are three bedrooms and a sofa in here. I was surprised that you weren’t living in the house anyway. I’m sure my grandparents didn’t mean you should take care of the property and live in the barn.”
“I never considered living in the house.”
“Maybe you should consider it tonight—or until the barn isn’t a crime scene.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“You keep saying that, but you don’t do anything to make it happen. The spring house is too small and damp to sleep in. The other outbuildings are falling apart. Stay in the house tonight. If it makes you feel better, you can pretend that I’m really scared someone might come in and you’re protecting me.”
They’d reached the back porch. He looked up at the night sky. “Then I’ll sleep out here on the porch.”
“I wasn’t planning on taking advantage of you or anything,” she argued. “You don’t have to worry. You’ll be safe from me even if you sleep in the house.”
He moved closer to her and she tensed, thinking how quickly he’d grabbed poor Mace by the throat.
“What if you’re not safe with me in the house?”
Sarah considered her response. “I always sleep with a baseball bat under the bed. Something Grampa taught me. I’m not worried about you.”
He chuckled. “Goodnight, Sarah.”
“Goodnight, Jack.”
“Think about what I said about you staying here permanently.”
She opened the kitchen door. “Only if you think about what I said about getting a life.”
He muttered something she didn’t understand, but she didn’t ask him to repeat. She went in the house and closed the door, thinking he was calling her something less than pleasant under his breath.
Sarah turned off the kitchen light and went slowly through the rooms in the old house. She had pleasant memories of each spot. There were potholders she’d made with her grandmother in the kitchen and the lace doilies she’d at least attempted to make in the small living room.
Upstairs, she wandered through the three bedrooms, ending up in her grandparents’ room. Here were their lives in old photos—her, Dusty, her mother. There were pictures of her grandparents when they were young and just settling in at the farm. Sarah looked through her grandmother’s jewelry box and found dozens of personal items that she couldn’t believe her mother had left behind for so many years.
It was the same with her grandfather’s top drawer in his clothes chest. Pictures of when he was in the army as a young man were beside bits and pieces of keys, flint, and other things that he’d held dear.
Seeing those things hardened her resolve about finding her grandparents. They didn’t voluntarily leave so much of their lives behind.
She sat on the big, lumpy bed and cried. This was why no one thought her family had cared about them. What if Jack hadn’t been here and teenagers had broken in and stolen all these things—maybe burned the place down? What had her mother been thinking, leaving everything important here? When she left this time, all of this was going back with her.
Sarah lay back on the bed. Was Jack right about her wanting to stay here? She’d enjoyed the last few days, but it would be different living here all the time. Why had he really thought she would stay? The possibilities of not going back had never crossed her mind before he’d said it. Now it plagued her until she almost couldn’t think of anything else.
She closed her eyes but knew she wouldn’t sleep, not with all these things buzzing around in her head. “I hope what I said keeps you awake too.”
Chapter Twenty
The next morning, Sarah was up early. She’d finally fallen asleep on her grandparents’ bed. She hadn’t taken the pretty green shawl from her mother’s bedroom, but it was thrown across her.
Jack. He wouldn’t sleep in the house but didn’t mind creeping around after she was asleep.
She looked out on the back porch but didn’t see any sign of him. He was probably busy doing whatever he did around the farm. She went back upstairs to shower and dress, putting on her blue suit that didn’t look so bad after all.
By the time she was dressed, she smelled bacon, coffee, and either biscuits or pancakes cooking. The mother cat and her kittens were sleeping on the stairs. She almost tripped over them, but they didn’t move them out of the way.
Jack put breakfast on the table as she walked into the kitchen. He was freshly showered—there was a shower in the barn. He’d also shaved again and changed into another clean shirt and jeans.
“Good morning,” he said. “I thought you’d need something to eat with everything going on today.”
There were pancakes on the table beside the bacon and orange juice.
“I didn’t buy any bacon when I shopped.” She sat at the table.
“Nope. But Gray had plenty. I got it from him. Everyone needs protein.”
“I see. Well, thanks. And don’t think I didn’t notice that you were in here last night.”
“I never said I thought you were stupid.” He sat opposite her. “I’d like to go into town with you today.”
“You need something?”
“I’m more worried that you might need someone.”
She poured thick maple syrup on her pancakes. “And you’re going to choke anyone who gets in my way? Not a good idea with you being out on bail.”
“I already talked to Ben’s brother. He knows I might have to knock a few heads together. He’s okay with it.”
Sarah glanced across at him with one brow raised. “Really?”
“Just kidding.” He poured coffee. “Did you think about staying here last night?”
“Not at all.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
“And you make good pancakes.” She met his inquisitive gaze. “Did you think about moving on with your life?”
“Probably not as much as you thought about my suggestion.”
“I guess neither of us is going to pay any attention to the other.”
“I don’t know about that,” he replied smoothly. “I think you’ll come to your senses.”
She laughed. “I feel the same way about you.”
He ate a strip of bacon. “What are your plans before you meet the new buyer?”
“I’m planning to visit the county historic museum, and go to the courthouse to get a copy of the deed. My mother can’t find her copy, if she ever had one.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I thought lawyers were better organized.”
“Not the ones in my family. Except my father, who had nothing to do with this property, or I’m sure it would’ve been sold sixteen years ago.”
Her phone rang. It was Clare. “Are you ever coming back? What’s going on out there?”
Sarah excused herself from the table to talk to her boss. “Right now, I’m not sure when I’ll be back. I’ve been handling most of the work on my laptop. If anything comes up, you can send people to me online. Almost everyone sends information or requests through email now. I shouldn’t miss much.”
“If you need me to, I can still come down there and strong arm people with my senatorial charm and might,” Clare offered with a laugh. “Although you’re more likely to wield my charm and might better than I can. If you need to get things moving, don’t hesitate to use my name. I’m going to miss playing tennis with you this week. Get everything wrapped up. I need you back here.”
“Thanks for being so understanding and supportive. You’re the best boss in the world.”
“Yes, I am. Let me know if anything shakes loose today. Talk to you later.”
Sarah ended the call and put the phone in her handbag. “I’ll help you clean up,” she said to Jack.
“You barely ate anything.”
“I’m completely fortified,” she assured him. “That’s more than I usually eat in a day.”
“That explains it.
” He set the dishes in the sink.
“Explains what?” She bristled.
“Lack of organization. I’ll bet your mother doesn’t eat breakfast either.”
“I doubt it. She eats less than I do.”
“Organization comes from a good breakfast. Ask any general. An army marches on its stomach.”
“I’ll bear that in mind,” she promised. “Leave the dishes. I’ll wash them when we get back.”
Jack let the mother cat and kittens out of the house before he closed the door.
“Does she have a name?” Sarah asked, taking out her car keys.
“Not that I know of. I found her one night during a storm. She was out in the rain with her babies. I brought her in the barn, and she’s hung around ever since.”
“You should give her a name. She obviously likes you.”
“I can’t. Not with my future plans so uncertain. It would be cruel to lead her on that way.”
“You’re witty today,” she remarked as she got behind the wheel. “I guess breakfast is good for organization, but not for common sense, huh?”
Jack didn’t comment as she started the car and left the farm.
Score one for me! I left him speechless. She smiled.
“Why are you going to the historic museum?” he asked when they were on the highway.
“Because I’m curious about the gold hunting,” she admitted. “I’d like to know if there really is gold hidden on the property. Wouldn’t you?”
“And you think they’ll know at the museum?”
“I think they’ll know if it’s historically accurate.”
“What then?”
“I don’t know. I’ll have an interesting party story to tell, I guess.”
“You think finding out the truth about the gold could help you find your grandparents.”
“Maybe. It’s possible something happened to them because of the gold, like Ron said, but not that I think you killed them to find it.”
“It would be counterproductive, wouldn’t it? If I thought they knew where the gold was and I killed them, I’d never find it.”
“Anyway, since we’re hiring new private detectives to look for them, I thought this could be a lead.”
