Strangers in the Lane (3 page)

Weeping, Jessie dropped flat on her stomach and peered through the stalks. Wind and sleet tore at her hair and neck. Her hat was gone, her scarf blown away.

Jessie willed herself to be still. Then she saw it—a red boot. Half crouching, she ran toward it. She started to breathe and her stomach relaxed. But when she grabbed the boot, it was empty.

Sobbing now, Jessie threw herself on the ground again, waited and looked. She saw a tiny flash. Don’t lose your boot, Phillip. Please, please. She crammed the empty boot into her jacket and ran toward the twinkle.

He was on the ground, his little foot bare to the cold. Jessie fell down by him and pulled him into her lap. While she rubbed his foot, she eased on the boot from her jacket. He was quiet. Too quiet.

“Oh, please be all right, Phillip.” His hat was missing. She yanked off her jacket and wool sweater and wrapped the sweater around his head, leaving a space for him to breathe, and tied the sleeves at the back of his neck. His mittens were gone. Jessie slipped her gloves over his cold hands. Then, she pulled on her jacket, picked him up and ran toward lights at the edge of the field.

Her mom was standing there—the car’s high beams trained on the cornfield.

Jessie stumbled from the field.

Her mother ran to them and took Phillip from Jessie. “Oh, thank God! Quick—get in the car. It’s warm.”

Jessie didn’t remember ever crying like this. Phillip sat snuggled in Jessie’s lap, hiccupping against her shoulder. She looked at her mother. She was crying too. Sobs were the only sound in the car except the engine running and wiper blades moving back and forth.

“Mama. I saw a puppy. My boot falled off.”

“Oh, Mom—those boots. They saved him. I couldn’t see him, but I saw the boots.”

“Thank God for those boots,” sobbed her mother. She put the car in gear. “Let’s go home.”

CHAPTER FIVE

No one blamed Jessie for what had happened that day in the cornfield. Grownups in Fairfield were familiar with just such a storm coming on them. People learned to dress warmly and stay on the sidewalks on cold winter days.

For a child, being lost in a cornfield during a swirling snowstorm was like becoming disoriented in a forest.

Dr. Adams came to the Hanson home and checked on Phillip’s foot. He said it looked nice and pink. Phillip relived the bad moments over and over.

“Let him talk,” Dr. Adams cautioned. “Be sympathetic—even if he repeats it a hundred times. It’s the best therapy.”

Jessie was worn out. She lay in bed with the covers up to her chin.

Her father sat in a chair by her side. He said he just wanted to keep her company. They didn’t talk much. She would doze off while he read by her lamp. At times, she would wake with a start and be glad he was there.

The next morning, she heard Phillip. “Puppy—Mama. Run—run.” He was banging with his little hammer. The noise stopped. “Teddy—need—a—hug?”

He sounded like himself. Cheerful. She turned her face into her pillow and wept tears of relief.

Her dad roused in the chair next to her. He moved to the bed and put his arms around her. “What happened was a terrible thing, Jess. But you made things turn out fine. Mom and I are proud of you.”

“I shouldn’t have gone out in it,” she said. “I should have called Mom or let Mrs. Adams drive us home.”

“Every day, I hear my clients doing just what you’re doing—going over and over what they should have done,” said her dad. He was talking about his law practice. He pulled up her pillows and gently turned her face to him. “But, you know what?”

Jessie looked into his face—at his kind blue eyes and easy smile. “No. What?”

He dried her eyes. “Once you’ve figured out where you went wrong, you don’t have to keep going over it. Once you know…”

“Once I know?”

“Yes, once you know that you should get a ride or stay where you are when a storm’s coming, that’s what you learned from this.”

“What if people say, ‘You should have done this or why didn’t you do that’”? asked Jessie.

“Doesn’t matter. You already know those things. Just be polite and say ‘thanks’. Don’t explain or defend yourself. You don’t need to do that.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a kiss. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. I smell breakfast. Put on your robe and let’s eat. You missed dinner last night.”

The day after the storm, Jessie’s mother decided Jessie should stay home from school and rest. In the afternoon, she sat in her window seat and read. The sun was warm and she felt drowsy. The doorbell rang. She heard her mother talking to someone downstairs. A few minutes later, her mom appeared at her bedroom door. She wore her down parka. In one hand she held a plate of cookies and in the other, the baby monitor. She set the cookies by Jessie. “Carol Marshall brought these. She’s so glad you and Phillip are okay.”

“Mom, how’d you know we were in the cornfield? How’d you know to shine the car lights right there?”

“It was so strange, Jessie. I saw this thing waving in the wind—stuck on a tree branch. As I drove closer, I could see it was your red scarf. I was getting out to look at it when you ran out of the field with Phillip.”

“My scarf! I lost it. It blew away.” Jessie started to cry. “We’re lucky, Mom.”

Her mother hugged her. “We
are
lucky!” She picked up a blanket, tucked it around Jessie and dried her tears with a tissue.

Jessie managed a smile. “Going somewhere?”

“I have to do some errands. Will you keep the monitor with you? Phillip’s still asleep.”

“Sure. Ymm—frosted cookies.”

Her mother left. Jessie leaned on the window seat pillows and looked out on Willow Lane. Fluffy white clouds floated across a bright blue sky. What a difference a day makes, she thought. I wonder what Bryce Peterson is doing. She drifted off in a half-sleep.

From the baby monitor, she heard Phillip shift in his crib.

“Okay. Thursday for sure.” A man’s voice. Almost a whisper.

Jessie jerked awake and jumped to her feet. The cookies slipped from the plate and fell on the floor. Her heart was pounding.

“Is a safe time?” said a woman’s voice. There was that accent again.

“Yeah. Three o’clock. Business is slow then. I’ve been watching. She’s alone on Thursdays. It looks like good stuff.”

“Not to hurt her?” said the woman. Her voice sounded shaky.

“I’m not promising anything.”

“But…” her voice faded.

“Ted—dy! Wake—up!” Phillip was awake and the strange voices were gone.

CHAPTER SIX

Jessie tried to think. She pulled a sheet of paper from her desk drawer. Her hand shook as she wrote down what she’d heard. Don’t lose your nerve now, she told herself.

“I’m back.”

Jessie jumped.

Her mom stood in the doorway. “What do you think about going shopping? It’s beautiful outside. We can walk around the Square and maybe get that outfit you like at Bennet’s. Dad’s at the office. We can meet him and eat at the café.”

It sounded good to Jessie. This would be the time to tell her parents what she’d heard over the baby monitor. The whole thing was getting too serious for kid detectives.

In the car, with Phillip strapped in his car seat eating raisins, Jessie told her mom about the voices on the monitor and the plan for an apparent robbery.

Her mother listened intently. After she parked the car, she said, “I’m glad you told me what’s going on. You realize we have to talk to the police.”

They helped Phillip out of his seat and each took one of his hands. His feet twinkled as he walked. People smiled and waved. By now, everyone in Fairfield seemed to know the story of the flashing red boots and the cornfield.

They came to a building across from the courthouse. A glass globe above the door read “POLICE.”

“Is Detective Benson in?” her mother asked the sergeant at the front desk.

“Sure enough.” He pointed to a little room by the entrance. “Have a seat.”

Jessie and her mom sat on folding chairs at a dented metal table littered with half-filled coffee mugs. Phillip ran to the window and on tiptoes peeked over the sill.

The Hanson family knew Detective Benson from his investigation of a case the previous year. He hurried into the room and greeted them with a big smile. He was short and burly with a gray crew cut and blue eyes. He wore jeans and a tweed jacket.

“Well, Lars,” said Jessie’s mom. “We seem to have a problem. I’ll let Jessie explain.” She lifted Phillip onto her lap. “She just told me about it a few minutes ago. We decided to come directly to you.”

Jessie leaned forward. “I think I’ve overheard two people planning a robbery. Their voices came over Phillip’s baby monitor.”

Detective Benson looked puzzled.

“Did you know that baby monitors can transmit conversations from outside your house?” asked her mom.

His expression cleared. “Oh, sure! I’ve
heard
of that.”

“Well, these people are planning to rob a business here in Fairfield at three o’clock Thursday afternoon,” Jessie said.

“Men? Women?”

“A man and a woman. She has some kind of an accent. Maybe German,” said Jessie. “Tina Adams and I have gone to a bunch of children’s activities this week—trying to spot them. You know, a baby monitor means there’s a baby somewhere in the picture.”

“How do you figure that?” he asked.

“Well, they’re probably in a room where a baby is sleeping when they’re talking about the robbery. That’s how it comes through our monitor.”

“Can they hear you talking?”

Her mom thought about this and then laughed. “We don’t talk in Phillip’s room while he’s asleep. We’re just happy he’s sleeping.”

He nodded. “Without more information, all we can do is put extra officers around the Square on Thursday afternoon.” He handed business cards to Jessie and her mother. “Call me if you hear the voices again or if you find out more about them. Be careful. This could be dangerous.”

As they walked back to the car, Jessie said, “
That
wasn’t much help. Let’s just go home, Mom. Maybe we’ll hear more.”

Back at the house, Jessie’s mother said, “You probably should take the plate back to Carol Marshall and thank her for the cookies.”

“But I want to stay here and listen to the monitor,” Jessie said.

“I’ll set the monitor on the counter and listen while I give Phillip a snack,” said her mom.

Jessie washed the flowered dish and set off for the Marshalls’. It was probably a good idea to be alone because what she really needed was time to think. The sun had melted most of the snow and ice on the streets and sidewalk. But it was almost four o’clock and some of the remaining puddles were starting to freeze again. She hurried two blocks to the Marshalls’ big house—hopping over the slick spots and taking care not to drop the plate. She reviewed the details of the mystery in her head. What had she missed? Where were these people living? What was the accent?

In moments she was on the Marshalls’ front porch, ringing the doorbell. A woman answered the door. She was very tall with brown hair pulled into a tight bun at the back of her head. A white apron with straps that hung straight from her shoulders covered her long, green print dress. The hand that clasped the doorknob was large and red. She was answering the Marshalls’ door, but she wasn’t Carol Marshall.

“Ya? I can help you?”

Jessie froze. She couldn’t speak. It was the woman with the accent. The one on the baby monitor.

CHAPTER SEVEN

“I… I…” Jessie stuttered.

“Ya, little von?” The tall woman stepped toward Jessie. “Mrs. Marshall not here. I nanny. You bring back plate?”

“Yes,” Jessie whispered. “Thank you.” She handed the plate to the woman, turned and raced down the steps to the front walk. She could hear the nanny laugh and say, “Bye-bye. You are velcome.”

Get a grip, Jessie told herself. At least until you’re out of her sight. She walked at a dignified pace until she came to a tall hedge that shielded her from the woman. Behind her, she heard the Marshalls’ front door close. Then she took off running.

Why didn’t
I
think of a nanny? Jessie raced full speed along the sidewalk. She had to get to Tina’s. When her foot touched a patch of ice, she slid, flailing her arms to keep her balance. It didn’t work. Her feet flew into the air. She landed on her back in a snow bank. She closed her eyes and was quiet for a moment, winded.

“Jessie?”

Someone bent over her and blocked out the light. She opened her eyes. Bryce Peterson. Wouldn’t you know?

“Hi, Bryce.” Jessie tried to sound casual. “Don’t worry. I’m okay.” He must think I’m an idiot.

Bryce took her hand and helped her to her feet. “I saw you go down. You were
airborne
for a second.”

She brushed off her ski pants and jacket. “Thanks.”

“Where’re you going so fast?”

“I have to get to Tina’s and home before dark,” Jessie said.

He studied her upturned face for a moment. “You’re scared. What happened? Can you tell me?”

She shook her head. “I can’t.”

“Come on. Get on my bike. I’ll take you to Tina’s. Where’s her house?”

I could hug him, Jessie thought. “Oh, thanks, Bryce,” she whispered.

She sat on the bar in front of him, her feet out to avoid his pedaling. She could feel his chin brush against her hair and his hands touch hers on the handlebars. The chill breeze rushed at her face.

He rode the bike fast, but Jessie could tell he had it under control and she felt safe. She didn’t want the ride to end, but in moments they were at Tina’s.

Jessie hopped down from the bike. “Thanks. This helps a lot.”

“I’ll wait and give you a ride home.” Bryce put down his kickstand. “Will you be long?”

“No. I just have to talk to Tina for a minute.” Jessie opened the Adams’ gate. “Come in where it’s warm.”

“Okay,” he said.

Tina answered the door wearing a blue running suit. Her short dark hair was held back on each side with little blue clips. She looked surprised to see them. “Hi, you guys. What’s up?” She held open the storm door. Jessie and Bryce stepped inside.