Yuletide Peril

by Irene Brand

  “Yes. I’ll bring it.”

  “Why don’t you take the dog and put him outside? He’s a problem right now.”

  Hungry balked and pulled back when Janice tried to get him downstairs. She eventually persuaded him to the front door and out on the porch with some food, where she fastened a chain to his collar. She got a flashlight from the kitchen and peered into the living room. Taylor and Brooke were engrossed in a game of checkers.

  Lance stood at the top of the narrow stairs when she returned with the flashlight. Dale was looking over Lance’s shoulder. The light revealed a heavy metal door imbedded in the attic wall—a wall reinforced with steel rods.

  “Looks like visitors aren’t welcome,” Dale said.

  “What does it mean?” Janice asked Lance.

  “I’d say this is where all the noises have originated, and why someone knew exactly when you were alone and what you were doing. They’ve come into the house through the door in that cabinet.”

  Janice shuddered to think of this invasion of her privacy and how vulnerable she’d been at Mountjoy.

  “Shall we break in?” Dale said.

  Lance shook his head. “We shouldn’t touch a thing. Maybe you’d better notify the police, Janice, and I mean the state police, not the local chief. Try to get hold of Sergeant Baxter and tell him what we’ve found.”

  “What if Chief Goodman intercepts the call and gets here first?”

  “He probably doesn’t have access to private calls to the state police.”

  Her face must have reflected the stress Janice experienced because Lance took her hand.

  “I’m scared, Lance.”

  “I know, but perhaps what we find behind that door will solve all of your problems. The sooner we find out the better.”

  She nodded, dialed the number and asked for Sergeant Baxter. It seemed a long time before he answered.

  “This is Janice Reid. My dog has led us to a steel door that goes into the attic here at Mountjoy. I think you’d better come and investigate.”

  “Right away. Be careful.”

  “I’ll go downstairs and tell Brooke and Taylor that the police are coming,” Janice said when she put her phone away.

  “I’ll come along,” Dale said, “and ask Taylor not to call her mother. Linda would demand that I bring Taylor home and I need to stay here. We don’t know what we’ll find behind that door.”

  “I don’t have a house phone anyway,” Janice said. “The cell phone is in my pocket, so she can’t call out.”

  As they’d worked together, Janice had noted that Lance and Dale seemed as close as brothers. Although she’d always felt sorry for Linda about the divorce, she wondered if Dale might be the innocent party.

  The police arrived in an unmarked car. The county sheriff accompanied Sergeant Baxter, who said, “We wanted to investigate what you’ve found as quietly as possible.”

  “Miss Reid,” the sheriff said, “please stay downstairs with the children until we find out what’s behind this door.”

  Frustrated at this restriction, yet knowing the wisdom of it, Janice prepared sandwiches and colas for Taylor and Brooke and encouraged them to watch a movie on television. She made brownies from a mix and put on a pot of coffee.

  Dale came downstairs and paused in the kitchen door. “I’m going home for some equipment to disable the lock on that door. Lance is calling Linda to tell her that we’re going to stay here for lunch.”

  “Which is the truth,” she said with a wan smile. “The girls are eating sandwiches right now.”

  “And I smell brownies,” he said, a smile touching his brown eyes. “I’ll be back soon.”

  Upon his return, Dale worked more than an hour before he cut through the lock on the steel door. Not a sound had been heard behind the door, but the policemen held their pistols in hand as he worked.

  Regardless of what the police had said, Janice thought she had the right to know what was going on, and when she knew that Dale had broken the lock, she ran upstairs.

  “All of you out of the stairway,” Sergeant Baxter said. “We may stir up all kinds of trouble when we open this door.”

  Janice stood close to Lance, and he put his arm around her. She didn’t realize she was holding her breath until she heard the officer laugh.

  “Come on up, folks. We’ve struck a bonanza.”

  “Ladies first,” the sheriff said.

  Janice ran up the stairs with Lance right behind her. They stepped out into a low-ceilinged attic. A safe stood in one corner of the room. Several shelves held a variety of items that Janice didn’t recognize.

  “What is all of this?”

  Picking up a small plastic bag that had a dried green substance in it, Baxter said, “Marijuana. No doubt grown on your farm, miss.” Lifting other packets containing pills, capsules and chunks of a pinkish substance, he said, “This is methamphetamine, commonly known as meth. There’s probably a meth lab close by.”

  “Could someone be making meth in the attic?”

  “I hope not!” Lance said. “It’s extremely dangerous.”

  “There have been bad odors in the house since I’ve moved here. I thought it was cleaning supplies I used.”

  “There’s no meth lab in the attic,” Baxter said. “Sheriff, we need to call in some reinforcements before anyone knows we’ve found this cache. I’ll stay here and guard our discovery, if you’ll go back to the county seat and bring some more officers with you. Try to get an armored car to haul this stuff away. If the drug dealers learn what we’re doing, we may have to fight our way out of here. I figure the safe is full of cash, and the street value of this pot and meth is thousands of dollars. The people who own this won’t give it up without a fight.”

  “Shouldn’t I call for help on the car radio and stay with you?”

  “That call could be intercepted. Since you’re driving your personal car, hopefully no one will know we’re here. Try to hurry, though. I’m uneasy.”

  Dale had been looking around the rest of the attic, and after the sheriff left, he called, “Here’s the way they’ve been going in and out.” He pointed to an extension ladder leaning against the wall. “If they brought another ladder with them, they could crawl in through the window.”

  “They didn’t bring the safe in that way,” Lance said.

  “They’ve probably started using the ladder after Janice came,” Dale said. “Up until then, they came in and out of the house when they wanted to.”

  “But they couldn’t have used the driveway,” Baxter said, “so they’ve entered from the vacant land behind the property.”

  “Sergeant, I’m worried about my daughter,” Dale said. “I’d like to take her home.”

  Baxter shook his head. “If she goes home, she’s bound to say something and the news would be all over town at once. I particularly don’t want the city police meddling in this. Chief Goodman doesn’t have the training to deal with drug trafficking.”

  “Janice,” Lance suggested, “maybe you should take the children into the bedroom and stay with them.” When she nodded assent, he said to Baxter, “Can she tell them what we’ve found?”

  “Yes. That probably won’t scare them any more than if they keep wondering what’s going on.”

  Lance walked downstairs with Janice.

  “Be careful,” she said, and her voice trembled.

  He drew her close and whispered into her hair. “This may be the end of your troubles, honey. Hang in there a little longer.”

  Brooke and Taylor sat at the kitchen table, their eyes wide with fright.

  “What’s wrong, Janice?” Brooke said. She was visibly shaking. Taylor’s lips trembled and tears glinted in her eyes. “Why are the police here?”

  “The police have found a large amount of drugs in our attic. Actually, Hungry found them. They’re going to remove it from the house, and they’re afraid the people who own the drugs might try to stop them. They want us to stay out of the way until everything is safe. Bring s
ome snacks and games. We’ll wait in the bedroom.”

  Dale entered the kitchen and put his arms around Taylor. “Be a brave girl, honey. I can’t take you home because the police need our help, but I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

  Taylor hugged his neck. “I won’t be afraid if you’re with me. I love you, Daddy.”

  A helpless look in his eyes, Dale exchanged glances with Lance and Janice.

  During the remainder of the morning, Janice exercised all of her will power to remain serene and pretend that she wasn’t worried so the children wouldn’t be alarmed. She took a book into the bedroom and kept her eyes on the pages that she turned occasionally, although she didn’t read a word. She encouraged Brooke and Taylor to play several board games, which kept them occupied.

  An hour passed before she heard heavy treads in the hallway. Someone had arrived, and she prayed it was the police, rather than the drug dealers.

  Another hour passed. All she could do was sit, wait and pray that trouble would be averted. She was proud of Brooke and Taylor, who were calmer than she was. After they tired of the games, they propped themselves up on the beds with pillows, put on their headphones and listened to some music.

  Janice figured Linda was probably beside herself, wondering why Taylor hadn’t come home. But surely knowing Lance was with Dale, she wouldn’t worry about Taylor’s welfare. When she could no longer sit still, she paced the floor until Brooke said, “Janice, you’re making me nervous.”

  She took a deep breath and tried to relax as she sat down again, but there was a heavy feeling in her stomach. Would her misery never end? When she thought she’d scream if she had to stay cooped up in the room another minute, a soft knock sounded at the door and Janice jumped as if she’d been shot.

  “It’s Lance,” he said, opening the door. “Everything is over now.”

  Janice hurried toward him. “No problems?”

  “No. The money and drugs are in an armored car on the way to the county seat. They didn’t count the money, but clearly there were thousands of dollars in that safe, mostly in twenty- and fifty-dollar bills.” He ran his hand over her hair. “You’ve been living in Fort Knox and didn’t know it.”

  “Any clues to who’s responsible?”

  “Not a thing, but Baxter is going to post two guards upstairs for a few days until they can check out the whole attic.”

  “That sounds good to me. I’ve been wondering if I could ever spend another night in this house.” She started trembling and, oblivious to the startled children, Lance drew her to him in a close hug.

  “I wouldn’t have let you stay here by yourself tonight,” he said. “But it might still be a good idea for you to go to Henrietta’s for a few nights.”

  “Are you going to marry Janice, Uncle Lance?” Taylor said hopefully.

  Dale, coming down the stairs, heard her remark.

  “Mind your own business, girl,” he said. “Whether Lance is married or not won’t make one bit of difference in bringing your mother and me back together.”

  She started crying. “But I want to be a family again.”

  “Well, I’d like that, too,” Dale said, with pain marking his eyes, “but your mother and I will have to make that decision. Get your things. It’s time for us to leave.”

  Baxter came downstairs, and Janice moved out of Lance’s arms.

  “Miss Reid, I’m sorry to impose on you, but I must keep some of my men here for a few days to be sure we haven’t overlooked any evidence.”

  She nodded assent. “What can I do to make them comfortable?”

  “Not a thing. They can bring sleeping bags, and we’ll provide food for them. One of the troopers will stay in the room, and another will guard the stairway. We’ll change men every day.”

  Dale was helping Taylor into her coat and boots, and Lance and Janice walked to the porch with Sergeant Baxter. A car sped up the driveway scattering snow behind it.

  “We made it in the nick of time,” Baxter muttered as Chief Goodman and his brother jumped out of the car.

  “What’s going on here?” the chief of police said.

  “What makes you think anything’s going on?” Baxter asked.

  “Winston saw a whole squad of police cruisers and an armored vehicle in the driveway.”

  “We uncovered some illegal drugs in the attic. We’ve taken possession of them,” Baxter said.

  “Why wasn’t I notified?”

  “It’s a state and county matter.”

  The chief turned to Janice. “Why’d you call them instead of me?” he said. “I thought you and me were friends.”

  “I hope we still are,” Janice said. “But I thought the situation warranted more help than you could give.”

  “I told Janice to call the state police,” Lance said. “We didn’t know what we’d find in that room until they broke down the door.”

  “I want to see what you found,” Goodman said belligerently, attempting to push his way into the house.

  “I guess you have the right to know what’s happened,” the sergeant said. “Come with me.”

  Dale and Taylor stepped aside to let the three cops into the hallway.

  “The chief’s car is blocking your vehicle,” Lance said to Dale.

  “If Janice doesn’t mind, we’ll turn around in the yard. With the heavy snow, it won’t make any ruts. I’ll be in the doghouse for exposing Taylor to this danger, so I need to get her home to her mother.”

  “I’ll go with them and get my car,” Lance said. “With all the traffic in here this afternoon, the road is clear enough for me to drive my car up the driveway.”

  Janice waved goodbye to them and turned into the hallway. Her phone was ringing and she took it out of her pocket.

  “Miss Reid, this is Loren Santrock. Are you all right? I’ve just heard that there are a lot of police cruisers at your home. I’m snowbound like everyone else, but if you’re in trouble, I’ll find some way to come help you.”

  Janice was warmed by his concern. “Oh, thank you for calling, but everything is all right now. It’s been a terrible day. We discovered that people have been using Mountjoy as a headquarters for drug trafficking.” She went on to explain how the cache of drugs and money had been discovered. “But the money and drugs are in police custody now, and there will be a constant guard in the house for a few days, while they check for clues in the attic and the grounds. I suppose this is the reason people have been scared away from Mountjoy.”

  Santrock had always seemed a mild-mannered man, and the venom in his voice surprised her. “This is an outrage!”

  “It’s good of you to be concerned, but it’s all over now.”

  “You took a chance notifying the state troopers instead of the local police force, who could have gotten there much sooner, but I guess it turned out well for you.”

  “Yes. This should clear up the cloud that’s been hanging over Mountjoy for years,” Janice said, and Santrock agreed.

  After the trauma of the past few months, Janice found it difficult to be optimistic. But was her trouble over at last?

  Chapter Sixteen

  The next week was the most peaceful time Janice had experienced since she’d come to Stanton. The temperature warmed, the snow melted quickly, and feeling secure because of the police guard in her home, she went to sleep easily and slept through the night. Detectives spent two days checking the attic, and they found a CD player with the discs that had caused people to think Mountjoy was haunted. Hidden miniature speakers were discovered in the kitchen, the downstairs hallway and on the front porch. After the snow melted, they checked the grounds of Mountjoy and canvassed the rest of her woodland property. She didn’t know what evidence they’d found.

  The day the police guard was removed, schools reopened, and Janice went back to work. She was the center of attention at work as co-workers and customers quizzed her about what had happened at Mountjoy. Acting on instructions from Sergeant Baxter she said, “It’s police business and confidentia
l. I can’t tell you anything.”

  Since the drug dealers hadn’t been apprehended, Sergeant Baxter warned Janice to be alert for anything unusual. She and Brooke had just finished supper a few evenings later when there was a knock at the front door. She wasn’t expecting anyone, and Janice hesitated before she went to the door and turned on the porch light. When she saw her visitors, she gasped and looked down quickly to be sure that the storm door was still latched.

  Two women and a man stood on the porch, two suitcases on the floor beside them. One woman was a stranger. Janice recognized the other two people and realized her troubles hadn’t ended. She remained silent and the stranger stepped forward.

  “May we come in?”

  “No,” Janice answered, her anger rising, a bitter taste in her mouth.

  “But these are your parents,” the woman persisted.

  “I know who they are.”

  “But I don’t understand,” the woman faltered.

  “And I don’t understand who you are and why you’re here.”

  “It would be warmer if we talked inside.”

  Janice shook her head. “Answer my question.”

  “Your parents have been released from prison on the condition that they would live with you. I’m their parole officer.”

  “Whose condition? I didn’t agree to be responsible for them.”

  “Well, after all, you’re a daughter—”

  “A daughter they haven’t contacted for eight years.”

  Janice slanted a glance at her parents, who had their heads down. She sensed that Brooke was standing beside her.

  “Who is it?” Brooke asked.

  Her parents looked up when Brooke spoke, and Brooke leaned against Janice.

  “Don’t you remember me, Brooke?” Florence Reid asked in a querulous voice.

  “Janice, is it Mom and Dad?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why are they here?”

  “Miss Reid,” the parole officer said, “this is ridiculous. Open the door and let us in—it’s freezing out here. What kind of a daughter are you?”

  “The kind of daughter who’s had to fend for herself as long as she can remember. The kind of daughter who had to beg and steal to keep herself and her little sister alive while her parents spent all of their money on drugs and booze. The kind of daughter who was separated from her sister, who was put in a foster home. The kind of daughter who spent four years at an institution for at-risk children. The kind of daughter who’s finally gotten to the place where she has a home of her own, and who is not going to let her parents spoil her life. Does that answer your question?”