Anna Denning Mystery Series Box Set: Books 1–3 Page 25

  Anna willed herself to stand motionless, her eyes meeting Darlene’s. She increased her grip on the walking stick. Keep her talking, she thought. She couldn’t turn her back to Darlene now. She was too close.

  “I was near the front door when Tom walked in.” Darlene let the sword sway at her side and pulled her face into a distorted mask, mimicking his voice. “Susan, for crying out loud, the door’s open.”

  Anna realized that although Darlene knew it was over for her, she hadn’t tried to run and, in fact, was telling her everything. That meant the woman had nothing to lose and she was doubly dangerous. “But I closed the front door when I came in.”

  “I opened it after you went inside. I thought a neighbor would see it and call the police, with you in Susan’s bedroom. Tom showing up was a bonus.” Darlene grinned. “You’d think someone in a rich neighborhood like that would’ve noticed an open door. Guess they were all out Christmas shopping.”

  If Darlene stepped any closer, Anna decided, she’d hit her with everything she had, fast and hard, before she could raise the sword again.

  Darlene pointed at Jackson and the dog gave a deep growl. “Rowan should have killed that dog. He promised me he would. Monica was supposed to make up for his negligence.”

  Anna thought she heard something brushing the ponderosa branches behind her. Deer or elk? Maybe the wind. The snow acted as a damper, making sounds hard to recognize. She didn’t dare turn from Darlene to look. It couldn’t be the police—they would have driven in, lights flashing. But something or someone was creeping toward them.

  Jackson noticed, too. Anna saw his ears go erect and his head lean toward the trees. Darlene hadn’t noticed. Her whole being was focused on Anna.

  “Maybe Rowan’s more decent than you gave him credit for,” Anna said.

  “He’s a child. Druids prancing about in the woods. Wiccans, fairy dust.”

  Anna heard brushing sounds from the ponderosas again. Don’t turn, she told herself. It had to be help. Help me. Help me trust you, Lord. She had to keep Darlene talking. “I thought you and Rowan had so much in common.”

  “That child?”

  “His parents—”

  “Let me tell you about parents, Anna dear. Mine abandoned me.” She laid her hand on her chest. “Even my mother. She betrayed everyone, everything. She could’ve been one of the best, she could’ve learned from Evelyn Hargrave. Now I can’t even say her name. I can’t be the daughter of Marianne Weston, the woman who tried to kill Julian Brandon.”

  “Tried to kill him?”

  “She set fire to his apartment. He was supposed to be sleeping in it at the time. But she repented of her sins.” Darlene paused to snicker. “She asked God to forgive her for trying to burn him to a crisp. She demanded my dad move with her to California, five thousand miles away, and she started going to church. She even got my dad to go before he died. She dragged me to church when I was a kid, refused to let me see Evelyn. I lost everything. I lost my heritage.”

  “Everyone’s lost something, Darlene. Don’t you know that yet?”

  “Not like this. Not like I’ve lost.”

  Anna felt rage rising like a wave to her throat. “My God, Darlene, you murdered someone. You self-absorbed monster.”

  Darlene winced. “I’m not self-absorbed. I’m—”

  “Look where you are!” Anna flung her arms open, almost dropping the walking stick. “A cemetery. It’s a monument to loss and suffering. You think you’re the only one who’s lost or feels like an outsider?”

  “I’ll be damned if I’ll let you lecture me.” The expression on Darlene’s face made it clear she was offended by what she saw as Anna’s ignorance. “You know nothing of the suffering of two thousand years.”

  “Shut up.”

  “What?”

  “Just shut up. You’ve suffered some and you’ve been blessed some, like everyone else. And look what you’ve done with your blessings. You took the light and love God poured into your life and turned it to evil. You relish evil. You feel entitled to it.”

  “You’re a fool.”

  “Poor Darlene, if only she could believe in God, but she’s too intelligent. She’s suffered way too much to fall for that.” Anna paused and listened for sounds coming from the trees, but all she could hear was the wind. “You love the darkness.”

  “Yes!” Darlene elongated the word, stretching it into a squeal, then threw back her head and tossed her hair in sheer delight, her earrings taking flight, springing from jaw to cheek. “You’re right for once! I love what I love, I do what I will.” She ran her fingers over the broad side of the sword, taunting. “The question is, what are you going to do now?”

  Anna crossed her arms. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could stand there, neither fighting nor running. But she was afraid to run. It would mean turning her back on Darlene, who could close the distance between them in seconds, or leaving Jackson to face Darlene alone. She’d have to do a little mau-mauing herself.

  “Do you know what you do when you run into a rattlesnake?” Anna said. “You back away from it. But if you can’t back away, you kill it.” As she spoke, she slowly, deliberately slid her right hand into her jacket pocket and made a fist inside the pocket. Darlene’s eyes locked onto Anna’s hand as she tried to interpret the shape. “You don’t injure it, you kill it. If you injure it and it lives, it goes back to its den and lives to bite you another day.”

  Darlene was rooted in place, her body stiff, her eyes fastened on Anna’s pocket. When Jackson growled again, Darlene looked over at him. She seemed to be pondering her options.

  “You can’t prove a thing,” she said at last. Tearing her eyes from Anna’s pocket, she looked up. “Just give me the camera.” She held out her left hand, palm up, and slowly raised the sword with her right hand.

  “Anna, run!” At the sound of the voice, Darlene lurched sideways, lost her balance, and dropped to the ground.

  Anna turned and ran half a dozen steps before spinning back. As Darlene began to struggle to her feet, Jackson lunged for her, teeth bared, feet on her chest, forcing her back into the snow. She cried out as his jaws neared her neck. An instant later Gene Westfall was standing directly over her, fists clenched. “Don’t move, you miserable witch.”

  “Gene. Thank God.” Anna slumped, clutching her abdomen. “I knew I heard something.” She felt weak, as if her muscles had loosened their grip on her bones. “Jackson, come.” The dog reluctantly left his station and trotted to Anna’s side.

  “I didn’t want you to turn around while she had that sword,” Gene said. “I kept hoping she’d drop it.” His neck bent sharply as he turned back to Darlene. “Don’t even think about moving. The police are on the way.” He kicked away Darlene’s sword then looked at Anna. “Are you okay?”

  Anna nodded and took several deep breaths, the cold air sharp in her throat, before speaking again. “How much did you hear her say?”

  “Plenty. She’s got a set of lungs on her.” Gene looked down at Darlene. Except for her shallow, jagged breathing, she was silent.

  A siren sounded in the distance and grew louder as it neared the cemetery. “They’re here,” Gene said. He relaxed but remained standing over Darlene. “They’ll have to walk in,” he said to Anna. “The snow’s too deep. I got stuck just ahead of your car.”

  “How did you find me?” Anna said.

  “Liz tracked me down at the hospital and I drove downtown. I saw the ribbon.” He grinned at her. “Waving in the wind like Rahab’s scarlet cord.”

  Anna smiled. She felt strength returning to her muscles, and she wanted to run up to Gene and hug him. How about that, Lord? she thought. The ribbon.

  A minute later two officers arrived on foot and spoke to Gene. One helped Darlene up and handcuffed her. The other asked Anna and Gene to follow them to the Municipal Building so they could fill out their report.

  “It won’t take long,” he said.

  Gene told them he’d leave his SUV in the ceme
tery and travel with Anna in hers. The officers agreed to wait until he was sure he could drive the Jimmy out of the snowdrifts.

  As they made their way to the cars, Gene looked at Anna, smiling, his gaze holding hers longer than she expected.

  26

  Gene rocked the Jimmy back and forth—reverse, forward, reverse again—finally breaking free of the snow clutching at the wheels, and drove for the cemetery gate, where the Elk Park Police SUV waited for them. Anna saw the back of Darlene’s head through the vehicle’s rear window as the officers drove forward and took a left onto Elk River Road. The tops of her shoulders were visible, hunched forward, the handcuffs preventing her from leaning back in the seat.

  Anna relaxed and slipped her hands into her pockets, content to let Gene drive. Walking through snowdrifts to her Jimmy had drained her. She had no more energy to fight the snow and ice. She glanced behind her at Jackson, his chin resting on his blanket, then reached for the dashboard and turned up the heat.

  “Cold?” Gene said.

  “I’m getting warmer. I’m sorry we had to leave your car.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Does your sister know you left the hospital?”

  “Liz was going to tell her.”

  “How did she find you?”

  “She was walking out of Jazmin’s room as I was walking in. She’d just called the police.” Gene kept his eyes on the road, carefully maneuvering the Jimmy down the icy street, staying well back from the police SUV. “I wanted to see how Jazmin was doing. And you.”

  “Oh.” Anna hadn’t realized until he’d appeared in the cemetery just how glad she was to see him, and that it was more than relief she felt. She liked this man. She had liked him from the first day she met him. She’d felt an affection and respect for him at church, watching him sing, and again later, when he strode up the alley to What Ye Will’s parking lot to find her.

  She had tried to ignore her feelings, and when they surfaced again in spite of her best efforts, she told herself they weren’t right—or fair. Sean was gone. How could she allow joy back into her life?

  But it wasn’t as if Sean was alone, companionless in some dark, malignant corner of the universe. She knew he was with the One who had made him and loved him most, experiencing joy beyond imagining.

  And who was she to turn her back on God’s good gift—if she even dared hope that this night, this moment, was a gift? Hadn’t He placed Sean in her life? Would Sean have wanted her to open her heart to what seemed to be happening between her and Gene? She’d once known, but almost forgotten, that the Giver of all good things had designed her, numbered her days, engraved her name on the palms of His hands.

  Ahead, the police SUV slid to the right then back again, its brake lights glowing red as the officer slowed. Twenty seconds later the Jimmy skidded over the same stretch but quickly regained traction. Thirty seconds later both vehicles repeated the dance.

  “Slippery,” she said. She watched Gene from the corner of her eye, noting that his expression never changed between skid and traction. He was calm and confident, his hands moving the wheel just as it had to be moved, no more or less. “I hope they don’t call Detective Schaeffer in. He needs a break from all the Darlene Richelle craziness.”

  “I’m sure they have enough people on hand.”

  “So how was Jazmin doing?”

  “She was worried about you.”

  “Really?”

  “She felt bad about Jackson, too. When Liz said they’d taken him, she was pretty shook up. It looked like it was dawning on her that she needed new friends.”

  It seemed to Anna like a good time to ask Gene about hiring Jazmin. She wanted to call the girl in the morning and tell her she had a new life to look forward to. “Do you still need help at Buckhorn’s?”

  “I do. Why?”

  “I was thinking Jazmin would be a great salesclerk.”

  “Yeah?”

  “She needs to get away from Rowan.” In the end Rowan had stood up for Jazmin, and run rather than hurt anyone, but he’d also tormented Jackson to please Darlene. He was an angry, unstable young man.

  “True.”

  “I was worried about her going back to What Ye Will, but with Darlene gone, it’ll probably close.”

  “It probably will.”

  “Jazmin’s an artist with chalk. She could make drawings of Summit Avenue for the tourists.”

  “That could work.”

  Gene’s terse replies worried her. She was pushing him too hard, sticking her nose where it didn’t belong. “I don’t want to put you on the spot.”

  “You’re not.” Gene was smiling. “It’s a good idea. There’s no harm in giving it a try. I need help, and you’re right, she needs to get away from Rowan. Do you know how to get in touch with her after she leaves the hospital?”

  “Yeah, I do.” He didn’t sound pressured, Anna thought, or even reluctant, but it was hard to tell. He wasn’t the sort of man to let it show. He was acting exactly as she had come to expect in the short time she’d known him—as if she’d just done him a favor.

  As they drove past What Ye Will, Anna saw her red ribbon, still tied to the store’s door handle, lift in the wind, a testament to God’s love and protection. And to there being no coincidences, for Rahab or for her.

  She was proud of her ability to put together the puzzle pieces of family trees, but somehow she hadn’t seen God’s grace in all the strange coincidences of the past few days. Arriving at Susan Muncy’s door as Darlene left from the back. Finding Jackson before Monica or Darlene could harm him. Gene finding Liz at the hospital.

  “Look at the lights on Summit,” Gene said, glancing at her. “All white except for the green and red stoplights. When I was a kid I thought they made stoplights green and red so they’d look good with the Christmas lights.”

  Anna’s thoughts tumbled. One coincidence after another paraded through her mind. Gene taking over his father’s store—and taking down her poster at the very moment she walked by. Gene knowing Sean. Gene giving her the red ribbon. Little miracles, really. Miracle upon miracle.

  “They’re beautiful,” she said. “The stoplights too. I used to think the same thing.”

  Gene at church, reaching for the fallen bulletin the same moment she did. Twice in her life she’d accidently run into a man in church . . .

  Tears came to her eyes.

  “Anna?” He touched her shoulder, and his hand lingered briefly.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize. It’s been a hard night.”

  She wiped a tear from her cheek and looked at the dashboard clock. “It’s officially Christmas.”

  “It sure is. Merry Christmas.”

  “Merry Christmas.” Ahead, a star of Bethlehem atop the Western Peaks Bank building cast its white light on the snowy street below. The whole street was bathed in white light, as though God were wiping away the darkness, saying, Start again, My mercies are new. “God is good.”

  “All the time.”

  “It’s just hard to see it sometimes,” she said softly.

  Gene smiled, his eyes still on the road. “Most of the time we can only see it in retrospect. Our Lord can be maddeningly subtle.”

  The Christmas lights on Summit reflected in the windshield as they drove slowly down the street. The lights passed overhead, an ever-moving white arch. “Sometimes He’s not subtle at all, He’s a bull in a china shop.”

  Gene laughed softly. “Well, look at it from His point of view. When subtlety doesn’t work, occasionally He has to knock heads together to get us to see things the way He does.”

  Knock heads together. She looked at Gene, her eyes examining his profile before she turned her attention back to the road. The Lord had brought them together, and if He meant something to happen between them, it would. Or it wouldn’t. All she knew was she wouldn’t fight Him anymore. And she’d honor Sean. Not with her gradual surrender to a desolate world without him, but with a leap of faith
.

  Copyright 2011 Karin Kaufman

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the author.

  ISBN 978-1-4524-0498-1

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Sparrow House

  Anna Denning Mysteries Book 2

  1

  “I want you to write it,” said the man. “It must be in your hand.” He put a piece of blue paper and a fountain pen on her bed.

  The woman sat on the bed. After a moment, she took the pen and paper in hand. “What do you want me to write?”

  “Write, ‘Come to me tonight.’”

  The woman stared at him.

  “Write it, please.”

  “I won’t write such a thing. It’s crazy.”

  “Don’t you want to see what happens?”

  “No.”

  “Do it.” He pretended to look at her with love. “Do it for me.”

  The woman wrote quickly and handed him the paper. “This is ridiculous,” she said.

  The man got angry. “It may be many things, but it’s not ridiculous.”

  He walked out and closed the bedroom door behind him. The woman heard his footsteps on the wood floor and his first few steps on the stairs.

  A minute later the man returned to the woman’s bedroom and sat beside her on the bed. He looked sad and anxious but full of anticipation.

  “Now what?” the woman asked.

  “Now we wait,” said the man.

  The story the letter told, if it was a story, wasn’t familiar, but something about it—aside from its anonymity—set the skin on Anna Denning’s arms prickling. Prelude. That’s the word that came to her mind. Whoever had sent this had more to say and would be saying it. Stories have endings. But who was telling this story—and why?