Protector (45 page)
Authors: Laurel Dewey
Tags: #Police Procedural, #Denver (Colo.), #Mystery & Detective, #Psychic ability, #Women detectives, #Crime, #Suspense, #Women Sleuths, #Children of murder victims, #Fiction, #Occult & Supernatural, #Espionage
“Patty, I don’t want to bother Dan—”
“Aw, it ain’t no bother a’tall!” Dan said. “Like your daughter said, the fish ain’t bitin’ so I might as well come on over and get to fixin’ that leak. Be over in two shakes!”
Emily snatched her fishing pole and took off through the tall grass toward the house. Jane grabbed her pole and the creel and followed the kid, cussing a blue streak under her breath the whole way home. The second she entered the house, Jane did a quick search to make sure everything appeared normal. The only room that held suspicious items was her bedroom and those items were safely tucked away in Jane’s leather satchel. Dan called out as he approached the house. Emily raced to the front door and opened it with a flourish.
Jane led Dan to the kitchen, where he set his toolbox on the counter and surveyed the ceiling. He noticed Emily’s Starlight Starbright projector on the kitchen table. “You a fan of the stars, Patty?”
“Yes. I can point out the Big Dipper, the Little Dipper and Orion’s belt.”
“Well, I’m a real star enthusiast myself,” Dan said, smiling down at Emily.
“Really?” Emily said, ecstatically.
“Yes, ma’am,” Dan replied, turning back to his investigation of the ceiling. Jane observed Dan with her cop radar, desperately trying to detect a sign of deception.
Emily pulled the star chart out of her projection case. “You oughta see this, Dan—”
The familial banter was getting to Jane. “Patty, how about if you take that in the backyard and let Dan do his job.” Emily looked a bit dejected but did as Jane asked. “Stay in the backyard like we talked about,” Jane quietly cautioned.
Dan waited until Emily was outside. “You’ve got a beautiful daughter.”
“Thank you,” Jane said, keeping a close eye on Emily.
“She’s not going to wander off. And even if she did, it’s a small town. She’s safe.”
“Yeah, right,” Jane said tensely, still watching Emily.
“You okay?” Dan said warily.
Jane spun around. “Yes, of course. I’ll show you how to get up in the attic and then I’ve got to attend to some paperwork.” Dan followed Jane to the retractable stairway that led to the attic, pointed out the pipe and retired to her bedroom, closing and locking the door behind her.
Jane leaned down to collect the satchel next to her bed and felt the Glock pistol against her belly. She unlatched the fanny pack and set it on the bedside table. Hoisting the leather satchel onto her lap, she proceeded to organize the paperwork, removing several manila folders and stacking them on a nearby chair. Jane withdrew the legal-sized notepad and flipped through the pages until she reached the odd drawings of the wolf face and upturned left handprint with the backward numbers, 10-24-99. Out of curiosity, she placed her left hand upright over the drawing and found it to be a tight match. A cold shudder pricked her skin as she quickly lifted her hand from the page and wedged the notepad back into her satchel. The dust from the files irritated her nose, causing her to sneeze. Searching for a tissue, Jane unzipped the fanny pack and dug around, removing the Glock and setting it on top of the folders.
Upstairs in the attic, Dan found the leaking pipe. Scanning the adjacent pipes with only the light of his flashlight, he took a step to the right and nearly tripped over one of the several air vents scattered across the floor. Continuing on, Dan found several more fragile pipe connections. Pulling a pen from his pocket, it slipped from his hand and landed between two vents just as he heard Jane sneeze. He peered down and realized that one of the floor vents offered a direct view of Jane’s bedroom. He reached down for the pen just as Jane got up from the bed to retrieve a tissue.
That’s when he saw it. He quietly knelt down on his haunches and looked down. The Glock pistol was clearly displayed atop the manila folders. Looking more closely at the folder he saw the words “POLICE REPORT” in bold letters, followed by the case number and JANE PERRY. The butt of the pistol obscured the word “Detective.” Dan watched as Jane returned to the bed and sat down, blowing her nose. She let out a long sigh as she pulled out one of the newspaper clippings that featured Chris and her on the cover. From Dan’s point of view, he could not see what she was looking at initially but he did note her reaction. As she reread the front page story on the Stover case, she shook her head in disgust. The paper dipped enough to reveal just the front page photograph of Chris. Dan caught a quick glimpse of Chris’ mug. Jane smacked the page with her hand and said, “You pompous son-of-a-bitch!” before folding the paper into her leather satchel and replacing the Glock into her fanny pack.
“Hey, Dan!” Emily said quietly, standing midway on the stairs that led to the attic with her Starlight Starbright vinyl case in tow.
Dan turned around and carefully moved away from the air vent so Jane couldn’t hear him. “Whatcha doin’ there, honey?” Dan lifted Emily into the attic.
“I don’t want Mom to know I’m up here,” Emily said confidentially. “But since you like stars, I brought my Starlight Starbright for you to see. It’s dark enough up here for it to work.”
Dan continued to mark the sections of pipe as Emily opened the case. The pack of photographs of her parents fell out and onto the floor. “Dan?” Emily whispered. “Could you shine the flashlight over here?” Dan obliged and Emily retrieved the packet. “Thanks. I can’t lose these.”
“What is it?” Dan asked, returning to his work.
“Pictures . . .” Emily said, her voice trailing off, “of happy days.” She flicked on the projector and the entire attic area was illuminated with a million pinpoint stars.
Dan looked around at the impressive spectacle. “Ain’t that cool!”
Emily opened the packet of photographs and flipped through the pictures. Dan stole a glance back at Emily. “Happy days, huh?” Dan said sadly.
“You wanna see a picture of my best friend?”
“Sure.”
Emily got up and handed Dan a photo of Emily and A.J. sitting cheek to cheek on a picnic blanket. “That’s a good picture of you! You oughta put that one in a frame and keep it where you can see it every day.”
“No. That would make me sad.”
“How come?”
“I don’t get to see A.J. anymore. She moved away and then we had to move away.” The projected stars inched slowly around the room, covering Dan and Emily’s bodies. The hypnotic strains of “Nessun Dorma” played softly in the semi-darkness. Emily turned to the next photograph. It was a picture of her father, looking glum and clutching a beer. The projector cast a pinpoint beam of light onto the photograph that instantly transfixed Emily.
Dan looked over and saw the photograph. “Who’s that?”
“My dad,” Emily said quietly, almost trancelike.
“He doesn’t look too happy in that picture.”
“He’s not. He’s angry. He’s always angry.” Emily slipped further into a daze.
“Why is he angry?” Dan said in a whisper.
“He drinks too much. He makes bad decisions. That’s what Mom always says. That’s why we went on that camping trip to Moab. And then they fight and it gets so loud that I hide in my closet and close the door and ask God to make them stop yelling.” Emily fell deeper into the memory. “I hide in my closet with the big pillows . . . and it gets louder and louder . . . And then . . .” Emily looked up from the photo, her eyes far away. “There’s a loud scream.” Emily’s eyes widened as the sound of a blood-curdling scream wailed through her head. The photo packet hit the floor. Dan gently touched Emily’s shoulder. She jumped in fear, letting out a slight yelp. “Oh, no,” she said, realizing she’d spaced out.
“Patty?” Jane said, climbing the ladder.
Emily turned to the sound of Jane’s voice with a panicked look on her face. “Oh, gosh. She didn’t want me to say anything—” She quickly collected the photo packet.
“Patty?” Jane poked her head through the square opening and saw the projector’s illumined display of constellations. “What’s going on up here?”
Dan thought fast. “Patty was showin’ me her projection toy.”
“Okay,” she said tentatively, squinting through the filtered darkness, “why don’t you turn off the projector and let Dan finish his job.” Emily quickly repacked the projector and, with her back turned to Jane, tossed the photo packet back into the case.
Ninety minutes later, Dan emerged from the attic and walked into the kitchen. Jane stood at the sink, washing dishes. “You all done?” she asked.
“Yes, Mrs. Calver,” he answered, his tone almost solemn.
“Please, call me Anne.”
Dan moved pensively to the sliding glass door that led out into the backyard. Outside, Emily lay on her back in the grass, obviously in deep thought. Dan stared at Emily, keeping his back to Jane as he spoke. “She’s a real special little girl, Anne.”
Jane turned to face Dan. Something felt out of place. “Excuse me?”
“Patty,” Dan said, still with his back to Jane. “She’s real special.” Jane automatically drew her hand to her fanny pack and then realized she’d left it in the bedroom. Her body stiffened as she visually searched the kitchen for a weapon. Spying a large knife on the kitchen counter, she quietly moved toward it. “It must be very difficult for her to live a lie.”
Jane cupped her palm around the knife handle. “What are you talking about?”
“I know your secret.” Dan never turned away from the glass door.
Jane slipped the knife off the counter and held it close to her side. “What makes you think I have a secret?”
“It’s several things. You’re real nervous about Patty being out of your sight. And then, Patty basically spilled the beans about her dad and the drinking and the fighting and how she had to hide in her closet. She told me how she had to leave her house and her friends. But the thing that puts it all together is the fact that you’ve got a gun in your fanny pack and you’re carrying around police reports . . .” Jane’s head was spinning. Her first thought was Emily’s safety. Her second thought was figuring out how she could duck and take cover when Dan turned on her. She would knife him in the belly and grab Emily. If this was the showdown, she was going to prove her mettle. “You’ve got air vents up in that attic and one of them is right above your bedroom,” Dan continued. “I wasn’t spying on you. I dropped my pen and looked down and that’s when I saw the police report and your pistol. After what Patty told me, all the puzzle pieces fit.” Dan turned to face Jane. The kitchen counter obscured his view of the knife. “There’s no dead rodeo cowboy. Isn’t that right?” Jane stood motionless, saying nothing as she stared at Dan. He took a step forward toward Jane. “Isn’t that right?”
Jane felt her blood boil but she maintained composure. “What do you want?” she said in a staccato manner.
“I want to make sure that you and your daughter are safe.”
Jane had to replay his words several times in her head. “My daughter?”
“She’s obviously traumatized by what’s happened. Who can blame her? You gotta be going through a lot yourself. Being on the run from an abusive husband has gotta turn you inside out. I know it was hard for you to leave like you did with whatever you could throw in a suitcase. But trust me, you did the right thing.”
Jane loosened up a bit. She nonchalantly slid the knife onto a lower shelf. “Well, thank you, Dan. I appreciate your kind words and concern—”
“I’m not just spoutin’ words. I mean it when I say I want to help you.”
“Look, Dan, that’s very kind of you, but we don’t need your help—”
“What’s gonna happen if your husband shows up? Maybe he’ll be drunk or ragin’ out of his mind. What are you gonna do then? Have you ever fired a gun? I don’t mean to be disrespectful, ma’am, but your daughter has some real painful memories that she can hardly get out. She’s holdin’ a lot of fear inside. Whatever she witnessed between you and your husband has affected her deeply. I can only imagine what that SOB did to you. I didn’t exactly miss the fact that the two of you showed up in town wearin’ bandages. So don’t try to tell me he didn’t hurt you.”
Jane shifted gears. “Okay, you’re right. Patty and I have been through a bad time. We came to Peachville to decompress. But my husband is not going to find us—”
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