Summer Shadows (31 page)

42

J
ulia was released that afternoon. The doctors said she was fine, but might have headaches and dizziness for the next couple of days. They gave her a cane, some prescriptions, and cautioned her to rest.

Julia was feeling well enough to joke, “Maybe next year.”

Mrs. Ojacor offered to have them all stay at her house for a few more days, but to Ron’s relief, Julia refused. She wanted to go see the house, she said, and she simply couldn’t intrude on the Ojacors’ hospitality any longer. Amelia called Robert and let him know that Julia wouldn’t need a ride, and then they all squeezed into Mr. Ojacor’s extended cab pickup.

“I am very lucky to have this truck,” Mrs. Ojacor commented. “Joseph never lets me borrow it, but today I told him it was an emergency - anyway, he was at work and couldn’t really stop me.”

Now that Julia was back, the whole atmosphere had changed. The kids were able to appreciate Mrs. Ojacor’s good humor, and the funny way she liked to tell her stories about Africa and coming to America for the first time. She kept them entertained the whole way from Concord back to her house in Franklin, and they never thought to put on the radio or listen to their iPods.

When they got to Mrs. Ojacor’s house, she insisted that they come in and have afternoon tea.

“It is too early for supper and too late for lunch,” she pointed out. “And I think you would like to have something a little better in your stomach besides hospital food before you go and face that place again.”

“That would be very nice of you,” Julia said. She was tiring out, so it probably was a good idea. She rested in the living room with Jack curled up on her lap while Dana helped Mrs. Ojacor in the kitchen, and Ron and Amelia packed up their things from the guest room and living room.

Over lunch, Ron asked if he could go inside the house first, but Julia shook her head.

“I want us all to go together,” she explained as they sat around Caroline’s table enjoying tea and sandwiches. “I think we need to face what happened as a family unit.”

“It’s amazing to me that you want to go back at all,” Caroline volunteered.

“I’m just so mad that someone broke in and tried to ruin our hard work. It’s
my
house, and no one has a right to just walk in and frighten us.”

“Well, good for you, girl,” Caroline said.

Despite her bold stance, Julia didn’t seem to be in a hurry to get home. After they’d eaten, Caroline invited her to see the workshop where she made homemade cards and did a little pottery.

They sent the kids outside to play, but Ron didn’t enjoy himself at all. He sat on the back porch steps, watching the others and wishing he could go home and check around for intruders. Robert had told him that the police would patrol the area more often and that he would keep a personal eye on the place, but this was Ron’s responsibility, not his.

Dana came running up to him. “Come on and play tag with us, Ron,” she begged.

“Can’t.”

“Why not? You’re not doing anything.”

“I’m thinking. Did Mrs. Jurta find a home for Horatio?”

She sighed and shrugged. “I don’t know. I think so.”

“Bummer.”

“You know, if Horatio was with us, he would have warned us. He would have bitten that burglar and held on to him until the police came.”

“Maybe,” Ron muttered.

“Do you think Aunt Julia will ever let us get a dog?”

“Maybe if we could convince her that a dog would be a good guard for the house. But we can’t ask her about it just yet. She’s still got a headache.”

“And
you’re
still in trouble,” she said pointedly. “Was it cool in the haunted house?”

“No,” he said shortly. “And there weren’t any ghosts.”

“Was there…”

“I can’t say, because of the police,” he announced. “Go play with Amelia.”

Looking hurt, she trudged off. Ron felt guilty, but was glad that she was gone and not asking him questions.

Long after Ron was ready to go, Julia called them in to leave. They took their bags and thanked Caroline, who insisted that she not only drive them back over, but walk them through the house before she left.

“The last time I let you go by yourself, it was a disaster,” she said. “We won’t make that mistake again.”

Julia didn’t protest. Ron thought that she was glad for the company, but he resented the idea that they couldn’t handle an empty house on their own. Today wasn’t like the other night. Today, he was there with them.

He knew he had acted foolishly with Dylan. He deserved punishment; yet wondering if he’d be trusted again shook him right down to his toes.

At the house, Ron was about to tell Julia that he was going in when they were interrupted by barking.

“Horatio!” Dana cried.

The puppy, who seemed bigger since they’d last seen him, raced across the lawn. The girl opened her arms to receive him, and he nearly knocked her down in his excitement. His whole body trembled as he barked and wagged his tail and licked Dana’s face. Then he bounded toward Julia and licked her hand, jumped up to Ron, ran around Amelia three times, and then leaped back on Dana.

“Oh, Horatio, I’ve missed you!” she squealed, and Horatio barked his reply. She giggled and wrapped her arms around him.

“Tigger!” Amelia shouted, delighted. Tigger was crossing the street, straining at the leash that Mrs. Jurta held as Amelia ran to him. The small dog covered Amelia’s face with kisses, seeming as happy as Horatio.

Mrs. Jurta surrendered the leash to Amelia and turned to Julia.

“How are you feeling today?” she asked.

Julia smiled, nodded, then winced, and touched her head. “Better,” she said. “Thank you. But aren’t you supposed to be on your way to Florida?”

Mrs. Jurta shook her head and lifted her hands in disbelief at what she was saying. “Stupid burglar,” she said. “He almost kills you, and then - because I do the right thing and try to shoot him - I’m probably going to be sued because I accidentally hit a neighbor’s car instead. Nice, huh?”

“Oh, no!”

Mrs. Ojacor interrupted: “My dear, are you being charged?”

“I could be,” Mrs. Jurta said. “I’ve called the lawyers and everything, but since I had a pistol permit and because the man was actually trying to rob a house and attacked you, Julia, the lawyers say that the cops probably won’t push it.”

“Well, that’s good,” Julia said.

“Except that I can’t leave town until they say so,” Mrs. Jurta continued. “I tried to explain to them that I had a mortally ill dog, but our beloved police chief wouldn’t budge on the matter. He says I can’t leave the state.”

As the women chattered, Ron saw an opportunity. The three kids were playing with the dogs, so no one noticed him when he slipped past the van in the driveway to put his key in the side door.

He would get through the house, survey the damage, and make sure everything was safe before Aunt Julia noticed he was gone. He’d even put the water on for coffee, that way he’d be brave, responsible, and considerate, all in one swoop. Maybe, he thought, it would make amends.

But the door was already unlocked. He froze, unsure what to do.

Then the handle moved.

Ron jumped back, fists up, and tripped over some of Jack’s outdoor toys. He sprawled onto his back, scraping his elbow against the old pavement. But that wasn’t the worst of it.

The figure in the doorway who was offering him a hand was Officer Wilde.

“Are you all right, Ron?” Robert said, pulling him into a sitting position.

Ron was too embarrassed and confused to answer.

“Oh goodness, are you all right, Ron?” Julia rushed over, her movements unsteady.

“I startled him,” Robert said apologetically.

“You weren’t trying to go in by yourself, were you?” asked Mrs. Ojacor.

“He was just trying to help,” Julia said. “Honey, how’s your head?”

They were clustering around him like a bunch of concerned hens. In a matter of seconds, Ron had gone from reliable, a pillar of strength, to a clumsy victim of poor judgment.

Waves of frustration washed over him, and it was only with huge effort that he was able to keep himself under control.

Julia saw the struggle and thought he was in physical pain. With a wave of her hand, she indicated that the others, except Robert, should give him some space.

Ron might have held it together had Julia not looked up at Robert.

“You were inside?” she asked.

Robert nodded sheepishly. “Amelia said that you were coming back tonight, so I wanted to look things over before you arrived. Hope it doesn’t bother you.”

He looked anxious, but Julia’s expression turned soft. “Oh,” she said. “That’s really nice of you.”

They gazed at each other while Ron shifted uncomfortably.

“Almost like having a man around the house, isn’t it?” Mrs. Jurta suggested.

If she had slapped him across the face, Ron would not have felt more stung. He turned to glare at Mrs. Jurta, but she wasn’t paying attention.

Almost like having a man around the house?

Bitterness rose up inside him, and suddenly, he had to get out of there. He rolled over and up onto his feet.

I’ve got to get out.

Julia pulled herself out of her reverie enough to say, “Ron? Honey, where are you going?”

He began to run. His head throbbed, his ankle hurt, but he didn’t pay any attention. The pity in his aunt’s voice made him want to get as far away from the house and those people as fast as he could. He heard Amelia shout, “Wait!” but he ignored her, too.

Almost like having a man around the house…

He ran on and on, the phrase chased itself around in his head, like a manic dog after its own tail.

How dare he go into my house? How dare he take my place?

He was halfway down the street, nearing the old Lang place. When he reached the stop sign at the end of the road, he stopped for a moment to wipe his eyes.

You’re the man of the house now, Ron.

I tried, Dad. They won’t let me.

He was having difficulty breathing. The pounding in his chest and ears made it difficult to hear. He bent over and took a few deep, steadying breaths, but it didn’t help. He was shaking all over and it was growing worse by the second. He wasn’t far enough away from the house; they could still see him from there, and he didn’t want them to see him that way.

Almost like having a man around the house…

Ron ran into the street.

A horn blared, and he saw the truck. It was too close to stop and too big to turn.

A car was approaching from the other direction. If Ron moved back, the car would hit him.

He couldn’t move. His mind suddenly cleared of all thoughts but one:

I’ll see Mom and Dad.

Something smashed into him, knocking the breath from his chest and throwing him through the air to the pavement.

The ground met him with a bone-shaking impact. The truck horn sounded a long blast as it passed him and the car’s tires squealed.

Something was on top of him, pinning him to the ground. Ron realized he hadn’t been hit by an automobile at all. A person had hit him. Someone had saved him. He wasn’t going to die, not today.

“Ron, are you all right?”

It was Robert.

Ron lashed out. His first strike landed on Robert’s face, but the man caught the next one in a strong grip.

“What the…?”

Ron began to fight with his whole body, squirming and kicking, wanting to hurt Robert in the same way he was hurting. But his strikes were ineffective, and he decided that he would settle for just getting away. He didn’t want to be helped. He didn’t want to explain, or apologize, or listen to reason. He wanted the whole world to know that he was furious.

The most frustrating thing was, he couldn’t break free of Robert’s grip.

His desperation grew, but no matter how hard he fought, Robert was bigger and stronger and pinned him down. Ron was beginning to get dizzy from the effort.

“Ron,
calm down
,” Robert yelled.

“No!” Ron shouted. “I
won’t! Let me go!
”

“Ron, you almost killed yourself! Didn’t you see that truck?”

“Leave me alone!”

“Let me help you.”

“I
hate
you!” Ron tried to hold back the sobs. “Go away!”

“Ron…”

“
Shut up
!” he yelled, and Robert snapped his mouth closed, staring at Ron with alarm.

“You’re all stupid,” Ron shouted. “All of you! My Dad told
me
to be the head of the house, not
you
! I hate you! I
hate
you!”

Then he was sobbing, crying too hard to talk. He forgot who he was mad at and why. He forgot that he was supposed to be the quiet one. All he could think was that Mom and Dad were dead, that they were never coming back.

Dad would never tell him that he was doing a good job again. Mom would never tell him how handsome he looked. They’d never be there for anything. He would be alone forever.

He stopped fighting. Jagged sobs threatened to rip through his chest. He felt himself falling apart, and he gripped at the closest thing he could find.

Robert.

After a moment, Robert hugged him back.

When Julia finally made it to the end of the road, she found Robert cradling Ron, who couldn’t see for the crying.

42

T
he next few days passed quietly. Between Julia’s physical injuries and Ron’s emotional collapse, everyone needed time to recover.

Amelia insisted on coming over during the day to help and, to Julia’s surprise, she and Dana took over the running of the household. They made the meals, walked the dogs, watered the garden, and kept Jack happy so that Julia and Ron could rest.

Julia was glad for the respite, even though it was punctuated by calls and visits from various well-wishers. Julia’s parents called, frantic; then they told the Budds, even though Julia begged them not to. She managed to get Miriam off the phone in a record-breaking six minutes and thirty-five seconds.

Mrs. Jurta was over almost every day, bringing pots of soup and neighborhood stories. Mrs. Ojacor brought baskets of supplies. Mrs. Mone came by, as did others, and Derval showed up on Wednesday and weeded the garden with Dana. And everyone commented on the enormous bouquets from John Irwin, one of flowers and the other of fruit, both with kindly notes.

“I just can’t believe how nice everyone is being,” Julia told Mrs. Ojacor when they were alone. “I feel overwhelmed and a little embarrassed.”

“No reason to feel that. You give when you can, and when you can’t, the best you can do is accept graciously.”

It was good advice, but Julia had to swallow a bit of pride with it.

Robert phoned twice a day, as much to check on Julia as to check on Amelia, and joined them each night for supper. The police department was investigating the break-ins. Robert was convinced, as Julia was, that there was a connection between the break-in and the Lang Murder, and Robert had taken it upon himself to pull out the old files and start reinvestigating the evidence. Although it wasn’t normal procedure to talk shop around the dinner table, Julia and the others were too curious about his progress to allow him to keep mum.

At first Ron was shy and quiet around Robert; then, as he grew more comfortable, he began asking about the investigation. There wasn’t much to tell.

Robert told them that the sketches had been positively identified as Stephanie’s, and now her family was demanding that they be turned over to the Lang trust. They had even flown in their big-shot lawyer from New York to talk to the police chief, but the works were evidence in a robbery, and they could not be turned over until the D. A. said so.

“The lawyer must have been mad,” Amelia commented.

“He was a cool customer,” Robert said. “Great poker face, but we all got the impression that he wasn’t used to taking no for an answer. By the way, we made copies of the pictures, and I thought maybe you guys would like to see them.”

He handed the pictures around, and everyone thought that they were very nice, if a little boring.

“They’re just staring,” Dana said.

“They’re called character studies,” Julia said. “Artists do them to decide how to draw someone’s portrait.”

“Lot of detail in these for just character studies,” Wilde commented.

“Hey! It’s J. C.!” Ron exclaimed, holding up a picture. Then he frowned. “But, wait a minute – he wasn’t born then, right?”

“No, he wasn’t,” Julia said. “Let me see.”

He passed it to Amelia, who commented before handing it off to Julia, “Besides, J. C. doesn’t have a mustache.”

“Maybe Stephanie painted one on as a joke,” Dana suggested.

“This isn’t J. C.” Julia studied it carefully. “It does look a lot like him, though. It must be his father, John.”

“Let me see,” Wilde said, and she handed it across the little table with the comment, “I imagine the family must have been thrilled that these were found at all.”

“You more got the impression that they should have been found long ago,” he said dryly. He examined the picture closely, frowning. “This does look like John. Funny – I don’t remember him ever mentioning that he sat for Stephanie.”

“Well, he wasn’t the only one,” Julia said. “I gather half the town sat for her.”

“Yeah, or…” He looked up, remembered that there were children in the room, and actually blushed when Julia laughed.

The next night, with the kids playing in the living room, Robert and Julia sat on the front porch steps and talked. At first, they simply sat side-by-side, talking about commonplace things, then Julia shivered in the rapidly cooling air.

Robert slipped an arm around her shoulders and drew her close. He smelled of soap and aftershave, and she liked it.

She was starting to daydream when Robert said, “I was waiting to get you alone. I’ve got something to tell you, and I didn’t want the kids to know yet.”

Her heart quickened, but she wasn’t expecting what he said next. “There’s been a development in the Lang case.”

She lifted her head and frowned up at him in the dark. “In the
Lang
case?”

He nodded. “We took samples of the blood you discovered on your wall and sent it in for testing.”

“Why?”

“The chief and I were looking over the old photos with a blood-spatter expert today, and he confirmed what we already thought. There doesn’t seem to be enough blood for the wound discovered on her head. We can’t prove it yet, but there’s room for doubt that the studio was the scene of the crime.”

She felt a cold chill wash over her. “You think that she was killed in
my
house?” she whispered. “But why would she have been here?”

“I don’t know, Jules.” He reached up and brushed a lock of hair out of her face. “The stain is the right age, and there’s the evidence under the floorboards. I have no explanation for why she would have been there. The town information says that the house was owned at the time by a Henrietta Purcell, but there aren’t any Purcells mentioned in the original investigation. I suppose Stephanie could have known Henrietta, but there is nothing to connect the two, not even a painting or sketch in the known Lang collection of any Henrietta or Purcell.”

“And there weren’t any women in the sketches we found under the floorboards,” Julia mused. “Just one of the little Jurta girl.” She stopped and looked at him sharply. “Then do you think that the person who broke into my house was…”

He interrupted before she could finish. “He’s already desperate enough to hurt you, Julia. He’s dangerous, whether or not he was actually Stephanie’s murderer, too.” He looked away suddenly and swallowed hard.

They sat in silence for a moment or two, looking out into the street, his hand gently rubbing her back. Julia wished he would hold her again. When he didn’t take the initiative, she did, leaning in close until her head was on his shoulder. His arm came around her waist, and Julia was struck by how natural it felt.

“What happens now?” she asked quietly.

She could feel his heart pounding in his chest. “Unless we can bring something more concrete to light, the D. A. isn’t going to re-open the case. Officially, we’re just working on the break-in as an unrelated matter.”

“And unofficially?”

“The chief told me that I can study the Lang case files as much as I’d like. He’s not convinced that we know everything.”

“Oh, Lord,” she whispered. “That’s so frightening. I would have preferred a real ghost to this.”

His armed tightened around her. “Me, too.”

Later that night, when they were at the door saying good bye, Robert suddenly asked her, “Are you all right staying here alone?”

Julia nodded. “Oh, yes. We’ve got the window alarms and the dog. We’ll be fine.”

His grip tightened on her hands as he explained, “These past two nights, the chief has ordered an extra patrol around this area, but he’s shorthanded tonight and had to cancel it. If you’re nervous, though, I can stay…”

“No.” Julia pulled back, her cheeks flushed. “No, that’s all right. We’ll be fine, Robert, really. I’m not worried.”

“Well, I am. This is serious, Julia. This man is still at large and dangerous. He may come back to finish what he started.”

She kept her voice steady. “We’ll be fine. I’m not taking your warning lightly. Besides, you’re right next door. I’m not worried.”

He nodded, but he didn’t leave.

“Julia…” he sighed, “there’s something I didn’t tell you.”

“Oh?”

“Brad Lang’s out of prison and hasn’t reported to his parole officer in over a week. We think he might be in the area.”

Julia froze. Brad Lang was out of prison. She thought it odd, that even under these circumstances, she couldn’t think of him as the murderer.

“Do you think he was the one in my house?” she asked.

“We don’t know,” he said. “He may have been the one in the Lang house with Ron or he may be in South America somewhere. All that we know is he’s loose, and he’s dangerous. Either he killed his wife or he has a grudge against this town. In any case, he might just decide to take it out on you and the kids…”

“But…”

“Julia.” He took her hands again and his eyes held hers. “I’m right next door, but that can be awfully far away.”

His eyes were so dark, so penetrating, and she so wanted to be able to tell him, “Yes, please stay.” She thought about how she felt when he was holding her on the porch, and about the children, about how Ron’s eyes shone whenever they were talking, and she thought about the long, lonely days ahead of her. Even without the threat of a break-in, the invitation was very tempting.

But it was too soon, too complicated by circumstances, for her to agree. And she was too bound by her beliefs to allow herself to give way now.

Julia shook her head regretfully. “We’ll be fine, Robert. I know where you are. He probably does, too.”

They were quiet for a while. He was holding her hands, gently massaging them with his thumbs. The darkness outside the door framing Robert’s figure was as soft as velvet, and just as warm. If she looked over his shoulder, she could see a circle of light: porch light at Amelia’s house, a reminder that he had other responsibilities, a person with a prior call on his time and attention. Just as she had.

She looked down at their entwined hands and tightened her grip just a little.

When he spoke, his voice was gentle. “You’ll call if you need me? No more heroics?”

She smiled in spite of herself. “I don’t think I can afford any more. I’ll call.”

“Be safe.” He smiled, pained. “Don’t open the door for anyone you don’t know.”

She laughed. “Now you’re sounding like my dad. I’ve lived alone before, Robert. I know the rules.”

“All right. Just… be careful.”

For a long moment, they stood looking into each other’s eyes. Then he leaned in and brushed her cheek with his.

“Be careful,” he breathed in her ear.

When the screen door shut behind him, she stood for a second or two longer, then eased the door closed and stood quietly beside it, her heart pounding.

When she raised her head, she spotted Ron and Dana peering through the upstairs banister. They raced back to bed when they realized that she saw them. Julia shook her head, drew the bolt on the door, set the alarm, and went into the kitchen to make some tea. She curled up on the couch with it, and just when she started to feel lonely, Horatio wandered over and snuggled next to her with his head on her lap.

She smiled and stroked his head.

“Okay, but you aren’t Robert.”

He just whimpered and looked up at her with a hurt expression.