A Love for Safekeeping (13 page)

“I can’t tell you what to do, Kyle. But I know how they feel.”

He heard his parents’ voices in the kitchen and, fearing they’d return, he hurried his thoughts. “I love my
parents…and you know, I love you with all my heart, Jane. But we’re talking about my career. My life. Please tell me you love me.”

What he was expecting, Kyle had no idea. He needed to know for sure. If he had life-changing decisions to make, he needed her assurance.

Jane’s eyes filled with tears. “Yes, Kyle…yes, I love you. But I need time. I have a lot of thinking to do. I can’t imagine losing you.”

His belly tightened with her confession, but sadness weighted his chest, seeing the tears in her eyes.

“I’ve been frightened with all the goings-on, and the thought of facing this awful situation without you is unbearable. I’m praying it’s over. Then, maybe, I can think about us.”

“You’re worth waiting for,” he said.

He viewed her strained face and lifted his hand, smoothing away the furrows of stress and sadness. With his index finger, he traced the line of her lips.

A faint smile touched her face, the tension fading. She lifted her hand and pressed the palm against his roving fingers.

“You have great lips, Jane. Meant for my kisses.”

Jane’s pulse surged, and she raised her mouth to meet his eager mouth, molding together a perfect fit. His tender touch roused her, tugged out her inner strength and drew her into reality. How could Kyle hurt her? How could he disappoint her? How could he ever deceive her?

She relaxed, her gaze drawn to his full, promising lips and his adoring eyes. Where was her faith in God? Where was her trust in Kyle? He’d proved himself over and over. So had God. But she lived with her
fears…the black demons of uncertainty that tore away her judgment and shredded her common sense.

Like a child fearing the monster beneath her bed, Jane had lived with her feet hidden beneath the covers of warped memories, never touching the floor of truth.

She’d accepted the dark without searching for the light. The Lord was her light, and Kyle was God’s star, an earthly light to lead her away from the darkness. The meaning rolled through her.

Her prayer rose from the depth of her soul, a prayer for Kyle and for herself.

F
ollowing Thanksgiving, the Christmas spirit hit the shopping centers first, and then Jane. The next two weeks danced by in a flurry of Christmas programs, shopping, decorating and one heavy snowfall. Jane thanked God each morning for the busy, yet uneventful days. Once again it seemed her tormentor had stepped from the face of the earth.

When the spirit hit her, one of the first things she did was hunt in the attic for the nostalgic Christmas ornaments that had belonged to her parents: the hand-carved crèche, the porcelain angels. So many childhood memories. She located them, and with a few nostalgic tears she carried them down the stairs.

Though uncertainty lay in her future with Kyle, Jane refused to let her fears dampen the moment. She looked forward to Christmas with him and his family, and she’d enlisted Kyle to help her select a gift his parents would enjoy.

Dressing in a comfortable pair of skidproof shoes, soft sweater and warm slacks, she waited for him to
arrive. The thought of shopping with Kyle wrapped her in a cozy mood.

When the bell sounded, Jane hurried to answer. When she snapped on the porch light, the fanlight over the door remained dark. Apparently the bulb had burned out, and she grinned, knowing Kyle could replace the light without using a step stool. She flung the door open.

No one.

Apprehension slithered up her spine. Through the storm door glass, she scanned the empty porch.

Then she saw the box.

With her heart pounding, Jane clutched the door frame, a roar rising in her ears. Gathering her wits, she slammed the door, leaning against it as fear gripped her. Why? Why when she’d just begun to relax and think it was over?

Headlights flickered across the living room wall. Then footsteps sounded on the porch, and when the bell jangled, although anticipated, Jane flinched.

“Kyle?” she gasped, waiting for a response.

“Jane, open up.”

When she recognized his voice, she flung open the door.

A deep frown furrowed his face. “What’s wrong?” He held the box in his hand.

Her repressed tears broke loose and streamed down her cheeks.

Kyle grabbed the storm door, wrenching it open. In a heartbeat, he stood at her side, and she clung to his powerful chest, letting her tears flow.

“What happened?” he asked.

“The box,” she said between gasps. “I prayed it was over.”

His brows knitted. “The box?” He glanced at the small cardboard container in his hand.

“Someone rang the bell, and when I opened the door, no one was there. Only the box.”

“But you haven’t looked inside,” he said. “Maybe a neighbor dropped off some Christmas cookies or…”

“Kyle,” Jane said, “my neighbors don’t leave packages and run away.”

He shrugged and put the carton to his ear. “Well, it’s not ticking.”

“I know you’re trying to make me relax, but it’s not working. Please open it. I can’t look.” She closed her eyes and waited, her heart pounding in her throat.

“Photographs” was all he said.

Her eyes opened. “Photographs?” She faltered, seeing the distress in his face.

“Handle them by the edges,” he said, dropping the photos in her palm.

When she saw them, her heart plummeted. “They’re all me.”

Carefully she shuffled through them, fear rising to a hum in her ears. “Look,” she said, indicating the snapshot, “I’m in the school parking lot and coming out of the house.” Her voice caught in her throat. “And, Kyle, here we are on Thanksgiving…going into church.” Her heart hammered against her chest.

Trancelike, Kyle stared at the photos.

“And here,” she moaned, poking at the photograph, “I’m in my classroom. It’s through the window. How could someone do this without me seeing him?”

“With a telephoto lens. He could be on the street in his car.” Kyle’s disheartened voice faded.

Kyle stared at the photos again. “Let me take this
to the station. They’ll look for fingerprints. The emulsion makes a great print.”

“Really?”

“And the box. The lab can do wonders.” Holding the picture by the edges, he dropped them back into the box.

Irritated with himself, Kyle harnessed his anger. He was letting this affect him too much. He wasn’t thinking clearly. He looked at Jane’s pale face. “Do you want to forget shopping?” he asked, seeing the stress in her eyes.

“No, we need to eat…and I have to get over this. Can you wait a few minutes so I can get myself back together?”

Kyle gazed at her tear-streaked face, and he ached. “Take all the time you need, and while you’re getting ready, I’ll go out and check around the house.”

When Jane left the room, Kyle pulled the small slip of paper from his pocket, feeling guilty that he’d hid it from her when he saw it inside the box. Anger rose in him like bile. He didn’t have to read the note to know the pattern. He unfolded it, and his stomach knotted.

See Jane. See Jane live?

He stared at the question mark, relieved that he’d found the note, instead of Jane. The department had to take the situation seriously now. He fought the tremor that shot to his hand, folded the note and dropped it beneath the photographs, then closed the box lid.

He loved Jane, and now he understood how violence could surface in a usually calm, rational person. He wanted to hurt this sick man for the pain he caused her.

He tucked the box under his arm and stepped outside. Slipping the carton into the back seat of his car,
Kyle grabbed a flashlight and followed the heavy-booted footprints through the shrubs. He crouched and studied the waffle pattern of the sole imprinted in the melting snow. The prints led to the street.

His anger dissipated in the cold air. Instead, he remembered his father’s lessons, and he knew what God expected. Though his work dealt with man’s law, he was led by God’s. Punishment was not his business, but finding the stalker was.

When he returned inside, Jane had reappeared looking lovely again. Only slight tension around her eyes offered a telltale sign of her distress. He described the boot print as they left to drop the evidence off at the police department before going for dinner and Christmas shopping.

The subject of the situation arose again after they returned home.

“Sit in the living room, and I’ll put on some coffee.” Jane gestured to the recliner chair, but Kyle stepped along with her as she headed to the kitchen.

“I’ll stick with you. How’s that?” His eyes shifted from side to side scrutinizing every nook and corner. “Before I leave, I’ll check outside again. No doubt the guy was long gone before you opened the door, but I’ll rest easier if I make certain.”

A shiver ran up Jane’s arms, and looking at his face, she knew he had his own fears. “Thanks.” A heavy sigh escaped her as her mind shuffled through the things that had happened. She glanced at him over her shoulder as she filled the pot with water. “I keep asking myself the same question. What have I done to someone?”

“Well, I’ll tell you one thing.” He leaned against
the kitchen counter beside her. “Whoever this is wants to be caught.”

She spun around. “Wants to be caught? Why?”

“He wants to be stopped. He’s taking chances. If you’d answered the door fast enough, you might have recognized him.”

“Even if I knew him, it was dark. The porch light’s burned out.”

Burned out? The man was smart. “And how did he know the light wouldn’t come on, Jane?”

She scowled. “I don’t know. How?”

“I’m guessing he unscrewed the bulb. I’ll check when I leave.” He shifted from the counter and sat at the table. “If not, I’ll put a new one in for you. How’s that?”

“Thanks,” she said, lifting the cups from the cabinet, questions spinning in her mind. Why would someone want to get caught? Was the man afraid of what he would ultimately do? Could that be it? Fear gripped her, and she clung to the edge of the counter.
Please, God, help me.

With her back to Kyle, she slid a few chocolate-chip cookies on a plate, taking time to control herself. She didn’t need to upset him any more than he already was.

When she turned around with the treats, Wilcox wrapped around her ankles.

“Old Will wants his dinner, I see,” Kyle said, reaching down and capturing the cat’s face in his fingers. “Eat your own food, pal. I’m not sharing.”

Jane grinned and set the plate on the table, then filled Wilcox’s dish. When the coffee was done, she poured the hot brew into two mugs and slid one to Kyle, then sat beside him.

He lay his hand on hers. “I hate to ask, but have
you gone through those two locked diaries? For some reason, I feel the key to this thing is there.”

“No. And speaking of keys, I found the two keys for the diaries when I was getting down some Christmas decorations, but what good is ‘I washed my hair’? That’s about as newsy as the other diaries have been.”

Kyle sipped the coffee, then lowered the cup and pushed it by the handle in concentric circles on the table. “How about in your senior year, Jane? Why were two diaries locked? Maybe they’ll tell something.” He raised his eyes to hers. “Think back.”

She shook her head. “Please, not tonight, Kyle. I’ll read them, I promise.”

He nodded and they sat in silence for a while until the conversation drifted to her staff Christmas party the next evening. Sooner than she wanted, Kyle rose.

“I’d better let you get to bed,” he said. “Big party tomorrow.”

She nodded, rising from her chair. He slipped his arm around her shoulder, and she walked with him to the door.

Before he stepped outside, Kyle placed a hand on each of her shoulders. “Now, lock the door as soon as I leave. Don’t answer it for anyone unless you know for sure who it is. Do you understand?”

“I will,” she said.

When he pulled his hands away and opened the door, a sense of impending loneliness riffled through her.

He kissed her cheek gently. “You’ll be fine. Please, don’t worry.”

“Okay,” she said, her voice a whisper.

“I’ll be by to pick you up around seven tomorrow for your Christmas party, okay?”

“Seven’s good.”

He grinned. “Nothing can happen at a party.”

She gave him a feeble smile.

Outside, he fumbled with the porch light. “It’ll work now,” he said. Jane nodded and closed the door, then turned the lock. She leaned her back against the jamb. Was Kyle right about nothing happening at the party? She wasn’t sure she’d be safe anywhere.

S
tudents arrived in the morning, excited, and bearing holiday gifts: scarfs, handkerchiefs, bath powder, ornaments and candy. When Lena came through the door, her face glowed as she handed Jane a telltale box. Jane didn’t have to open it to know it was chocolates.

“How sweet. Thank you.” She patted the girl’s thin shoulder. “Tell your mom I said thanks, okay?”

Lena glanced at her with a timid grin. “And my daddy.”

A knot twisted in Jane’s stomach. “Sure, and your daddy.”

Jane glanced at the box, wondering if the gift could possibly have Sam Malik’s approval. She placed the package in her locked closet for safekeeping, and the day began.

The staff bustled with excitement, looking forward to the evening’s Christmas party. This year, Celia had procured her condo’s clubhouse, and to Jane’s surprise, the usual dour Skylar agreed to provide all the catered food.

When the school day ended, Jane rushed home and dressed in her green silk pants and tunic. She was determined to have a good time despite the latest problem. For fun, she draped red, green and silver beads around her neck and fastened on a pair of Christmas ornament earrings.

Completing her makeup, Jane reminisced how she and Kyle had become a couple in a wonderful sort of silent understanding. Though the word
love
had been spoken,
marriage
had not, and Jane wondered if it were possible. But instead of worrying, she was learning to enjoy each moment. She’d had enough things to worry about to last a lifetime.

While waiting for Kyle, she opened Lena’s box of candy and studied the chocolates. One appeared to be her favorite: mint. She nibbled the edge, frowning when she tasted coconut. She eyed another, and this time she grinned as she bit into a tangy peppermint bonbon.

Outside, an automobile sounded on the driveway, and she put the lid back on the guilt-infested box and slid it out of sight. How could Lena know she absolutely loved chocolate? The rich brown confection was her nemesis.

Kyle came to the door in his dark slacks and bright red sweater. They chuckled, looking like Christmas elves in their red and green garb.

“Piece of candy,” she asked, lifting the lid from the box.

He glanced inside, then shook his head. “I’ll save myself for the party. You told me it was catered.”

“It is,” she said, putting the candy aside and slipping on her coat. She grabbed her purse and they were out the door.

Within minutes, they arrived at the clubhouse. The sound of Christmas music wove through the background chatter, and a piano in the corner suggested possible carols later in the evening.

As Jane slipped off her coat in the open foyer, Celia came through the archway. “There’s a coatrack through the door there,” she said, pointing to Jane’s left.

Kyle took their coats, and Jane followed Celia into the large room. Pausing to survey the crowd, she eyed the caterers carrying in trays of cold appetizers and filling chafing dishes with hot hors d’oeuvres. The aroma of meatballs and chicken mingled with cranberry-scented holiday candles.

“Where’s Len?” Jane asked, surveying the room.

Celia arched an eyebrow. “Pouting somewhere.”

“Pouting?”

She shrugged, and Jane let it drop.

When Kyle stepped to her side, he slipped his arm around Jane’s shoulder. “Food smells good, and I skipped dinner.” He gave her a wink.

“There’s plenty,” Celia said. “Look at it all.”

Kyle glanced at the holiday table, then scanned the guests. “Len’s busy?”

Jane nuzzled his arm. “Pouting.”

Kyle eyed her. “Pouting? Are you serious?”

Celia shook her head and took a backward step. “I think this is where I came in. Kyle, hunt him up, will you?”

“Sure,” he said as Celia retreated. “Something must be wrong.”

Jane shrugged, thinking the same thing. “Why don’t you scout around and try to smooth his ruffled feathers?”

Kyle slipped away, and Jane ambled around the room, stopping periodically to chat. Finally Kyle returned with Len who, in spite of Celia’s comment, looked cheery.

“The lost is found,” Kyle said. “Had his head in a case of champagne.”

Len chuckled. “I was putting it on ice.” He glanced at their empty hands. “No drinks yet? The bar’s set up over there.” He gestured toward the far wall where a table was spread with wines and soft drinks.

“Thanks,” Jane said. “I might like a soda.”

“Same here,” Kyle agreed.

A wry smile rose on Len’s lips. “Soda?” He shrugged. “Help yourselves.”

Kyle steered her to the table, and while he poured the soft drinks, Jane scanned the guests, noticing Larry Fox across the room with Dale Keys at his side. She poked Kyle. “See the two guys by the piano?”

Replacing the bottle cap, Kyle glanced up and nodded, then handed Jane a glass.

She lowered her voice. “The one with the fisherman knit sweater is the art teacher. The other is Dale Keys. I wonder why he’s here.”

Kyle’s cop persona took over, scrutinizing Keys. “Seems normal to me. They both worked with these people, Jane.”

“I suppose.”

“Retired officers and part-timers drop by the station and show up at parties all the time.”

Kyle’s stomach rumbled, and he took Jane’s arm and followed the hoards who descended on the table like vultures, snatching up the holiday plates and loading them with ham, meatballs and shrimp.

When he and Jane settled on a small sofa, Celia hur
ried up and squeezed in beside. Len sat on the arm, balancing his plate on his knee. The conversation lulled as they concentrated on the food.

“I’m going back for seconds,” Len said, taking a big swig from a plastic champagne glass. “Anyone else?” He surveyed them, then picked up an empty glass. “Jane, how about another soda?”

“Thanks. I could use something cold. Ice, too, please.”

“You got it,” he said, swaggering away.

Celia glanced at them, her face unsmiling. “Len drinks too much.”

Jane nodded. “Tonight’s the first time I noticed. Maybe it’s just the holiday.” She handed Kyle her empty plate, and he set it on the floor.

Celia shrugged. “I’ll tell you one thing. He doesn’t like to hear about it.”

“Men don’t like to be told anything, Celia,” Kyle said, hoping to offer a bit of humor, but her face remained etched with irritation.

“Is that why he was upset?” Jane asked.

She rolled her eyes. “I had the audacity to ask him to watch how much he drank.”

Kyle listened halfheartedly, wondering if Len really had a problem. Watching Len cross the floor, Kyle was distracted by a flash of light, and he turned in that direction. The art teacher focused a camera on a group of posed teachers, adjusting the settings. While Kyle watched him, Len returned.

Larry Fox and his camera traveled from one group to another around the room, snapping people in various party modes. Dale Keys followed, nibbling from a holiday plate.

As the twosome neared, Len rose from the sofa arm.
“Look who’s here.” He sauntered to Dale’s side, and they shook hands.

As they chatted, Kyle kept his eyes focused. The men laughed and slapped each other on the back unaware that Kyle studied them like suspects until the situation seemed ludicrous. None of them looked dangerous.

Keys peered at the pile of sweets on his plate. “I really overdid this. Anyone?” He held the plate out to the group. No one accepted his offer. “If I don’t see you again, Jane, have a merry Christmas.”

He grabbed a small pecan tart from his plate and dropped it into her hand. “And don’t say I never gave you anything.” He chuckled, shoving the plate toward the others.

Everyone declined again, and Jane murmured a weak thanks, flashing Kyle a helpless grin and cradling the tart in her hand. Sometimes Dale did seem odd.

Kyle studied the man, wondering what made someone that obnoxious. Jane said it. Keys liked attention.

Finally, Larry focused the camera and had them squeeze together while he snapped their photograph. When the light flashed, Len leaped from the sofa arm, snatched the camera and staggered backward, flailing his arms for the two men to pose with the group. Len focused and refocused. Finally the camera flashed again.

His thoughts flying to the box of photographs on Jane’s porch, Kyle studied the men. They both looked comfortable using the lens.

Wishing he could push the surveillance from his mind, he covered a yawn. He had had enough for one night and longed to make a quick getaway. But it was Jane’s Christmas party. He pressed his tense back mus
cles against the sofa and watched Skylar cruise the room, flaunting a pleasant expression on his usual unsmiling face. Kyle swallowed a chuckle, thinking of the Grinch that stole Christmas.

When a crowd formed around the piano, Jane rose and beckoned him to follow her toward the music. Kyle stood behind her. As she leaned her weight against him, he wrapped his arms around her waist and nestled against her. He enjoyed the closeness and loved the sense of wholeness he felt.

Soon, Jane joined the singing while Kyle listened, admiring her full, clear voice. But when she became quiet, Kyle sensed something wrong. He’d noticed her body tense earlier, and when she fidgeted again, he whispered in her ear. “Tired of standing?”

She looked at him over her shoulder. “I’m not feeling well.” Perspiration covered her forehead.

“Something didn’t agree with you.”

She offered a feeble grin. “Or I ate too much. I feel strange. Woozy.”

He chuckled remembering her near-empty plate compared to his own piled high with food. “I’ll get you some club soda. It might settle your stomach.”

She nodded, and Kyle slid through the crowd, heading for the drink table.

When he stepped away, Jane’s knees buckled. She braced herself against the edge of the piano. Her stomach had been churning for the past fifteen minutes, but she’d thought the feeling would disappear. Now a deep wave of pain rolled through her. As the pressure bore down, a wave of nausea overwhelmed her until it subsided again.

Kyle returned with the drink, and she sipped it, but the cramp knifed with greater speed, and the cold sweat
ran from her forehead. She didn’t want to ruin the evening, but the sensation frightened her.

Kyle studied her, and his face echoed the concern in his voice. “Jane, you’re sick. We’d better leave.”

Weakness overtook her, and she could only nod. Kyle supported her under the elbow, and they moved through the crowd with as much speed as Jane could muster. The acute pain racked through her body, and fear jackknifed in her mind. She wondered if she might lose consciousness.

Kyle grabbed their coats, and as they reached the exit, Kyle motioned to Celia. Following his rapid, but limited explanation, he and Jane stepped outside into the brisk night air.

“I’ll get the car,” Kyle said while Jane leaned against the building.

“Too much to drink?” a voice asked from the darkness after Kyle had left.

Jane gasped, her stomach rising to her throat. Dale stepped into the dim alcove, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

The smoke made her more nauseated. “No, I’m not feeling well.”

“That’s too bad.” When Kyle rolled to the entrance, Dale tossed the butt and grasped the door handle. “Have a nice holiday,” he said.

As Dale sauntered into the building, Kyle hurried to her side. “Who was that?”

“Dale.” The sharp knifing pain returned, and she clenched her teeth to control the wave of nausea.

He edged her toward the car, but hesitated. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He bolstered her elbow, easing her into the car.

Before he closed the door, she grabbed his arm. “And, Kyle, please, just take me home.” If she could only lie down and rest, she’d be okay. Anything to make the surging cramps go away.

Kyle slid into the driver’s seat and pulled out of the parking lot. Jane’s head dropped against the seatback, and when he turned toward the hospital, she felt too weak to argue. Jane wrestled with her questions. What was wrong with her? The flu? Food poisoning? She feared she would die, then wished she would as the next throbbing pain rolled through her.

When Kyle reached the hospital, the sign blurred, and a moan escaped her lips. She squeezed her eyes together to keep her tears at bay.

Gripping the steering wheel, Kyle stared ahead and pulled up to the emergency entrance. As he jumped from the car, a security guard had already opened Jane’s door and pulled a wheelchair forward. With Jane settled in the chair, Kyle gave her shoulder a squeeze and left her in the guard’s hands while he parked.

Kyle stared at his shaking hands. Emergencies were his job, but tonight, fear gripped him despite his experience with crisis. This was Jane, not some stranger. He loved her. That made the difference, and at the moment he fretted. He sorted the possibilities. Appendix? Flu? Food poisoning?

After parking, Kyle darted through the emergency doors and scanned the area. Jane sat in an alcove, wearing a blood pressure cuff. Approaching, he faltered, noting her blood pressure: 180 over 120. Too high. Way too high. Heart rate: 130. Bad.

He listened while the admissions nurse read off the list of questions. As Jane faded into throes of pain,
Kyle responded for her. “We’re coming from a Christmas party.”

“When did the pain begin?” the nurse asked.

“About a half hour or forty-five minutes ago, I think. I’m not exactly sure. We came directly here.”

She jotted the information onto the clipboard form. “She ingested food?”

“Yes, but not much. We ate just about the same foods.” Except he’d eaten much more.

Hearing a quiet moan, Kyle’s jaw tightened as he saw the pain rolling through Jane again.

The nurse asked for details, and Kyle listed the food and drink she’d consumed. He ran his hand across Jane’s shoulders and felt tension build each time the pain charged through her.

“No one else at the party appeared ill?” the woman asked.

“No one that I saw.”

“All right. That’s all I need for now. I’ll get her into an examining room, Mr. Conroy.”

“Kyle Manning. I’m a friend.”

She nodded, then gestured toward an adjacent corridor. “Follow this hall to the waiting room. Someone will let you know when you can see her.” She stepped behind the wheelchair. “If there’s family you need to call, a telephone is inside the waiting room.”