Protector. Part 27

"Maybe I should have been," Emily said quietly.

"Oh, G.o.d, Emily," Jane said very seriously. "Don't do this to yourself."

"Do what?"

"Don't allow fear to rule the rest of your life. Take my word for it, kid. It takes a lot of energy to be scared all the time. It wears you out. One day it's a water tower, the next day you don't want to leave your house."

"You were scared back at my house. You didn't want me to go outside."

"Hey, there's a big difference between being aware of bona fide trouble that's right in front of you and being afraid of what you can't see."

Emily stared at Jane. "I think you're afraid of what you can't see."

"Really? I think it's the other way around. I think I'm not lucky enough to be blind." Jane looked up at the tower. "You're just nine and a half. You could nip this fear in the bud before it gets out of hand. Think about it." Jane started up the ladder while Emily cautiously watched. "You see?" Jane said, turning her head back to Emily. "Just one step at a time." When Jane reached the top, she stood up and took in the view. "Oh, Emily, I'm telling you. You're missing a h.e.l.luva view!"

"I can hear your voice echoing," Emily yelled up to Jane, feeling slightly queasy.

Jane hooked her two fingers in her mouth and let out an ear-piercing whistle. The sound reverberated from across the mesa. The wind carried the sweet scent of the early summer. There was a moment of peacefulness until Jane happened to look down on the metal surface of the tower. Sunlight bounced hard off the exterior, blinding Jane with its piercing reflection. Suddenly, staccato images flashed in front of Jane. First, there was an explosion of blinding light quickly followed by an outstretched Glock. The wolf's face flashed next before the odd appearance of the palm print with the backwards date, 10-24-99. Jane shook off the disturbing and seemingly unprovoked vision, holding her forehead in her hand.

"Jane?" Emily said with an uneasy tone. "Are you okay?"

Jane centered herself. "I'm fine." She lit a cigarette and descended the tower.

Emily stared at the ground in deep thought as Jane planted her feet on terra firma. "I'm starting to remember more," Emily said, out of the blue.

Jane took a drag on the cigarette. "Like what?"

"I can't explain it. It's like I see or hear things that are no big deal and then I feel things and then my head wants to make a picture out of it, but my eyes don't want to see it. Stuff like that happens almost every day."

Jane did her best to act nonchalant, the whole time trying to reconcile her own startling visions. "That's normal. I imagine you'll continue to get little memory jolts like that until the pieces come together."

Emily thought for a moment. "What am I going to see?" she said apprehensively.

Jane turned away. She knew the answer to that question all too well. To see the thing you fear the most . . . to go there the first time drives a knife through your heart that infects your soul. And if Emily ever remembered the brutal, b.l.o.o.d.y scene of her butchered parents . . . well, Jane couldn't let herself go there. Standing in the lush meadow with the warm summer wind blowing through the gra.s.s, Jane decided to lie. "I don't know what you'll see."

Emily looked deep into Jane's eyes. "Yes, you do." The child scuffed her shoe against the wet dirt. "It's okay if you don't want to tell me." The two retraced their steps around the lake and across the soggy meadow. "Maybe you can tell me this," Emily carefully said.

"Is the person who hurt Mommy and Daddy the same person who was on my roof that night when I fell?"

"I would a.s.sume there's a pretty good chance of that."

"And we're hiding out here so he doesn't come and get me?"

"No, that's not it-"

Emily stopped in her tracks. "It is the truth!"

Jane turned back to her. "I genuinely do not know if that a.s.shole has the energy and desire to find you."

"Yes, Jane. He does!" Emily's voice raised several octaves in fear. "And you know it!"

Jane gently took hold of Emily's shoulders. "Emily, I honestly don't know!" She paused, considering how to best approach the subject. "Look, we're masquerading as mother and daughter to hide your ident.i.ty. That tells me that the Department senses a need for caution. So, I keep my eyes open, just like you should."

"But I don't know what he looks like! It could be anybody!"

Jane couldn't disagree with the kid. "That's why you stick close to me."

They headed home, locked up the house and drove the five short blocks down Main Street to the Mountain Melon Market. As they got out of the car, a voice sounding like coa.r.s.e gravel rattled across the street.

"I like your b.u.mper stickers!"

Jane quickly turned. It was the town sheriff, a large, meaty fellow with thinning hair and a sallow complexion. "Excuse me?" Jane said, catching herself.

"You brake for b.u.t.terflies, eh? I've never seen that particular one!" the sheriff said in a throaty tone, observing Jane's car.

Jane remembered the annoying "I Brake for b.u.t.terflies" b.u.mper sticker. "Well, I brake unless they smash into my windshield when I'm driving. Then it's just tough luck, you know?" Jane turned to Emily, "Come on!"

The ting-ting of the front door bell rang out a cheerful greeting when Jane opened the door. She quickly surveyed the store. It was your typical small, mountain town grocery store: eight aisles surrounded by purring frozen food units. Jane grabbed a cart and started down the far left aisle near one of the banks of frozen food that was next to an old refrigerator with the sign "BAIT" taped across the front. The sheriff entered the store and stole a glance at Emily, who looked back at him and smiled.

"Patty," Jane said abruptly, "come on."

The sheriff observed Jane's interaction with Emily before turning to the guy behind the counter. "How's it goin'?" said the sheriff with a jolly ring in his voice.

"Hey, Sheriff George!" replied the guy, putting down his newspaper.

"Startin' to feel like summer, isn't it?" the sheriff said, making conversation.

"Yup. I think the cherries are gonna be early this year."

The store was small enough that Jane could hear every word. The ba.n.a.l back-and-forth began to grind on her nerves as she plucked one frozen entree after another out of the case and tossed it into her cart.

Emily stared at the growing pile of frozen food. "We need vegetables."

"Okay," Jane replied. "Go pick what you want."

Emily trotted down the aisle and out of Jane's sight. Within seconds, Jane heard a saccharin voice coming from the produce department.

"Well, looky here! Patty Calver! We meet again!" Jane closed the freezer door and m.u.f.fled a frustrated "s.h.i.t" under her voice. "Are you down here all by your lonesome or is your mom with you?"

"She's over getting frozen food for us," Emily said.

"Frozen?" Kathy said, sounding a bit guarded.

Jane swung her cart around the produce aisle. "Patty!" Jane said abruptly. "Did you get what you need?"

Kathy stiffened slightly in response to Jane's crusty words. "Well, there's your mom!" Kathy said, false friendliness dripping from her cement smile. "How's it goin'?"

"Just great," Jane replied, grabbing a bag of chips and a large container of salsa from the shelf.

"My goodness!" Kathy said, looking into Jane's cart. "That's a lot of frozen food."

"Well, that house you got us has a big freezer!" Jane said, intoning her own version of false friendliness as she deposited two six-packs of cola in the cart along with a dozen eggs.

"Mom!" a child's voice rang out from another aisle.

"What is it, Heather?" Kathy asked.

"Come here!" Heather commanded. "I want you to see this nail polish!"

"Why don't you come over here and show it to me, darling?" Kathy replied.

An overexaggerated sound of exasperation came from the child as she pounded her little feet down the aisle and around the corner. Heather was one of those kids that adults refer to as "precocious" when they don't want to use the word "bratty." She was dressed in a trendy outfit with a country western flair. Her long blond hair was tied into a braid and secured with a red barrette that matched her shirt. She stuck her left hand out into the air, fingertips pointed down. Each fingernail was painted with a different color of fresh polish. "Which one of these is the prettiest?" Heather asked her mother in a b.i.t.c.hy tone.

"Heather," Kathy said, glossing over her daughter's behavior.

"I'd like you to meet Mrs. Calver and her daughter, Patty. They're living in the old Cooper house."

"h.e.l.lo," Heather said with no enthusiasm. Turning to her mother, she jabbed her hand back into her face. "Mom! Which color do you like?"

"I think they are all very pretty colors."

"Don't be stupid! Which one will look best with my new line dancing outfit?"

Kathy turned to Jane. "Heather took up country line dancing three years ago. It's such a fun activity for kids! Do you line dance, Patty?"

"No," Emily said quietly, placing several bags of vegetables into Jane's cart.

"You really should give it a try. I'm sure Heather and her friends would love to teach you-"

"Mom!" Heather exclaimed, obviously not happy with her mother's invitation.

Jane could not stand another second. "It's okay, Heather!" Jane said, with a hefty dose of att.i.tude. "We don't want to put you out!"

Heather glared at Jane, then turned to Emily. "What happened to your head?"

"Heather," Kathy said, her smile grinding into her facial muscles.

Emily looked the girl straight in the eye. "I fell off my bike. My tall bike."

"It's gonna leave a scar!" Heather said with a tenor of righteous contempt.

"Now, sweetheart," Kathy said, gently touching her daughter on her shoulder.

"It's true! She's gonna have a big ol' scar on the side of her head!"

Emily pulled closer to Jane, who quickly moved her cart forward. "We've gotta get going!" Jane stated with agitation.

"Oh, wait!" Kathy said, pulling a business card from the side pocket of her purse. "Here's the number of our family doctor. Dr. Armstrong. He's a prince. When it comes time for Emily to have her st.i.tches out, you call him."

Jane looked at the card. "Right. We better get this frozen food back to the house." Jane and Emily started down the aisle when Sheriff George rounded the corner. Jane quickly pulled her leather jacket around her chest to make sure her holster and Glock were covered.

"Well, we meet again!" Sheriff George exclaimed.

"Anne, this is our sheriff!" Kathy said, getting between the two of them. "Sheriff, this is Anne Calver and her daughter, Patty. They just took residence today in the old Cooper house."

Sheriff George shook Jane's hand with gusto. "Glad to have you two in town!" He bent down to shake Emily's hand. "And h.e.l.lo to you, Patty. My goodness, are you as smart as you are pretty?"

Emily looked at Jane for a.s.sistance, then turned back to the sheriff. "Yes?" she said, not sure of her answer.

The sheriff let out a hearty belly laugh. "I never had anyone answer that question before! Where are you two from?"

"The Denver area," Jane answered, playing it cool.

"Denver! Well, I guess you're in for a bit of a change livin' here in Peachville! Is there a Mr. Calver?" asked the sheriff.

Kathy looked eagerly at Jane. It was painfully obvious she wanted to ask the same question. Jane was just about to speak when Emily spoke up.

"He died in the Calgary Stampede in Canada and he's buried in Denver," Emily said, sounding overly rehea.r.s.ed. No one said a word. The silence was so thick, you could cut it with a chainsaw. Emily decided to add information. "He wasn't a rodeo clown. He was a rodeo cowboy. Mom didn't want to marry the rodeo clown even though he made her laugh."

For once in her life, Jane was speechless.

"Well, Mrs. Calver," Sheriff George said, slightly stunned by Emily's information, "we're glad you chose Peachville to start your new life."

Jane nodded and pressed on. Emily tried to slide around the sheriff but his girth forced her to b.u.mp against a shelf holding pencil boxes. Her elbow dislodged several of the boxes, bringing them crashing down and spreading colored pencils across the linoleum. Emily turned to the falling pencils and fixated on them. Her pupils enlarged in fear as she stood paralyzed.

The child's awkward reaction didn't escape either Kathy or the sheriff. Jane noted their reaction and gently placed her hand on Emily's shoulder. She jumped and pulled away from Jane in a fearful posture.

"You alright there, sweetheart?" asked the sheriff.

It took Emily several seconds to get her bearings. She realized she'd zoned out and didn't know what to do. "Yes. I'm fine. Sorry about the pencils."

"Well, darlin', there's nothing to pickin' 'em up," the sheriff said rea.s.suringly as he knelt down and collected the pencils.

Kathy stared at Jane, her smile slightly fading. Her look was one of concern mixed with apprehension. Jane caught Kathy's penetrating eye and felt her gut tighten. Jane somberly purchased the grocery items and quickly left the store with Emily.

"I'm sorry," Emily said quietly, upset with herself as she got in the car.

"It's okay," Jane replied in a gentle voice, putting the last of the food in the car.

Jane got in the Subaru, shoved the key in the ignition and quickly backed out of the parking s.p.a.ce.

"I can't believe that happened in front of them," Emily said, deeply concerned.

"It's okay, Emily. You can't help it."

"They must think I'm weird."

"Oh, believe me kid, I have a strong feeling that at least one of them is more concerned about me right now."