Yuletide Peril

Perhaps Lance sensed that she was considering his offer for he remained silent.

“I am afraid to go alone,” she admitted. “I’d like to have your company.”

“Good! And let me make a suggestion about Brooke. My sister is taking Taylor to the movies tomorrow afternoon, and Brooke can go with them. If she’s with Linda, we can go to Mountjoy and take all the time we need to look at your property. I’ll come by the motel about one o’clock to get you and Brooke.”

“That’s all right with me, but maybe you’d better check it out with Taylor and your sister.”

“Taylor has talked about Brooke most of the time since she met her. She’ll be excited to have her along.” He gave Janice his phone number, saying, “Call if you need to, but if not, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Janice replaced the phone and a warm tenderness caressed a place in her heart that had been cold for years. She was accustomed to standing on her own two feet, not relying on anyone else. She’d thought she preferred it that way, but she suddenly realized how much simpler a problem seemed when someone shared it with her.

She bounded off the bed, saying, “You’re in for a fun day tomorrow, Brooke.”

When she explained about the planned visit with the Mallorys, Brooke grinned widely. “It’s nice to have friends.”

“Sure is,” Janice said, and she picked up a brush and started combing Brooke’s long silken brown hair, a bedtime ritual they’d started when Brooke was a toddler.

Lance wasn’t coming until one o’clock, and Janice had anticipated a leisurely morning, but the telephone beside her bed rang before seven. She pushed aside the covers and swung her feet to the floor when the motel clerk answered her hello.

“Miss Reid, something terrible happened last night. I just arrived for work, and when I walked across the parking lot, I noticed that the tires are flat on your car. Looks like they’ve been slashed. Since the damage occurred on our property, I’ve called the police.”

Janice’s hand shook as she replaced the phone. Stunned for a moment, she fell backward on the bed. This had to be another deliberate effort to drive her away from Stanton. Was it worth all of this drama to move to this town? She was tempted to return to Willow Creek as soon as her tires were repaired. Rallying, she hurried out of bed.

The ringing phone hadn’t awakened Brooke, but after Janice hurried into jeans and a T-shirt and strapped on a pair of sandals, she shook Brooke’s shoulder gently. When she thought her sister was awake, Janice said, “I’m going downstairs for a while. Stay in bed until I come back. I’ll bring breakfast.”

A police cruiser was parked behind her blue car when Janice rushed through the double doors of the motel and ran across the parking lot. The tires had been new when she’d bought the vehicle, but long punctures, presumably made with a knife, had destroyed them. As she viewed the vandalism, a myriad of emotions coursed through Janice’s mind.

At first she was incredulous that such a thing had happened. Disbelief faded into fury. Fear replaced anger when she considered the ramifications of what had happened to her car. Would her enemies attempt physical attacks on Brooke or her now that she had moved to Stanton?

Janice became aware that the chief of police stood beside her and she transferred her gaze to him.

He tipped the brim of his gray felt hat. “Bill Goodman at your service, ma’am. The hotel clerk says this is your car.”

She nodded, without speaking. Her throat was numb, and she swallowed with effort.

“Who are you, ma’am?”

“Janice Reid,” she stammered.

The chief of police’s brows shot up in surprise. “Any relation to the Reids in this county?”

“John Reid was my uncle.”

“Aha!” he said, and his brown eyes brightened with sudden comprehension. “So you’re the one who inherited his estate?”

“Yes. My father is his youngest brother. Although,” Janice added in a contemptuous tone, “I don’t go around bragging about it.”

“Do you know any of your relatives in these parts?”

She shook her head. “I don’t remember ever being here until I came last week.”

“Where’s your pa?”

“In prison somewhere. I haven’t heard from him for years.”

The officer fingered his mustache as he walked around her car. A few inches shorter than Janice, Chief Goodman was probably in his late fifties, and there was a slight stoop to his shoulders. His neat brown uniform failed to provide him with an impressive appearance.

“I’ll have to inspect the car before you can have the tires replaced,” he said. “Do you need the car today?”

“No. Can you recommend a garage to repair the damage?”

“There’s a tire store in town that will give you a good price if you can wait until Monday. They’re closed on Saturday afternoons and Sunday.”

“I can wait until then, I guess. I’ll be taking my little sister to school on Monday, but we can walk there.”

“You’re planning to live in Stanton?”

“Yes,” and motioning to her car, she added, “but it seems I’m being warned to leave.”

The cop’s eyes twinkled with admiration. “You’re a sharp lady!”

“What else can I think? I’ve looked around and no other cars in the lot have been touched. I don’t think it’s a random act of violence. This was deliberate and planned.”

“I’m sorry it happened to you.”

The chief got in the cruiser and drove away. Janice walked slowly into the motel and picked up some rolls and juice in the lobby. Unwilling to ruin Brooke’s pleasure in the day, she didn’t mention the vandalism.

Lance Gordon lived in a two-story stone house in a subdivision located on a plateau north of Stanton, about five miles from the center of town. Driving from the motel to his home, he explained, “I’d just built this house five years ago when Linda got her divorce and she moved in with me. I turned over the running of the house to her. I wanted Linda and Brooke to be free to entertain their friends, but I like my privacy. I reserved two rooms for my bedroom and office, and except for meals, that’s where I spend my time.”

Linda Mallory was a quiet, blond, sad-faced woman, but she was obviously pleased to look after Brooke for a few hours. Janice had no qualms about trusting Brooke to Linda’s care for the afternoon.

“One of my major worries about moving to Stanton has lessened now that Brooke has found a friend,” Janice said as Lance drove away from his house. “She’s always made friends quicker than I have.”

“Kids do seem to make friends easier than adults. For the most part, people in Stanton are easy to know. I believe both of you will find friends here.”

He wanted to assure her that she’d already found one in him, but Lance was puzzled by the air of defeat Janice exhibited today. Her shoulders slumped, and her slender hands unconsciously twisted together in her lap as if her composure was hanging by a single thread.

To avoid thinking about the new crisis, Janice focused on Lance. The other times she had seen him, he’d been dressed in a suit, dress shirt and tie. Today, he wore heavy leather boots, jeans and a casual long-sleeved shirt. A ball cap covered his light hair.

Janice had dressed in jeans, too, and she wore a sweatshirt and lightweight boots with thick soles.

After he parked by the entrance to Mountjoy, Lance took a machete and a large flashlight from the back of his van. He passed the flashlight to Janice.

At the gate, he paused with his hand on the latch. “I’ve hesitated to tell you,” he said, “but yesterday, I decided to check out your property. I got in sight of the house, and if I was superstitious, I’d say your property is haunted.”

Conscious of the sudden gray pallor that spread across her face and the apprehension in her eyes, he quickly explained what he’d heard the day before.

“Judging from similar experiences others have had when they’ve trespassed on the property,” he concluded, “this must be an effort to scare intruders away. I don’t know if it’s safe for you to go any farther.”

Lance’s words coming on the heels of the slashed tires alarmed Janice as nothing had ever done. She staggered against the gate, and Lance reached out a hand to steady her. She shook her head.

“I’m all right,” she struggled to say. Through tight lips, she told him about the written message she’d received warning her to stay away from Stanton.

“Maybe I should have heeded the warning. I don’t mind risking my own life to claim what belongs to me, but if anything happened to me, Brooke would be all alone!” Swallowing with difficulty, she continued, “And last night, the tires on my car were slashed. Chief Goodman is investigating.”

Lance frowned and his blue eyes darkened with anger.

“Every time I decide I can make a home in Stanton,” Janice continued, “something else happens. I don’t know what to do.”

“What do you want to do?” Lance asked.

“Forget I’ve ever heard of this place, take Brooke and move so far away that no one has ever heard of my family.”

A gleam of interest in his eyes, Lance persisted, “But what are you going to do?”

Janice forced herself to remember the biblical promise, “God has not given us the spirit of fear, but of power.” If anything happened to her, surely God would take care of Brooke.

“Stay here, claim my property and find out who’s trying to drive me out of town.”

Smiling, Lance opened the gate and stepped aside for her to enter. “Then be my guest,” he said. Swiftly, he stepped in front of her. “On second thought, perhaps I’ll not be a gentleman today. I’ll walk in front—you stay behind me.” He handed his car keys to Janice. “If anything happens to me, run as fast as you can and bring the chief of police.”

Janice laid her hand on his arm. “This is my problem. I should take the risk, not you. Why are you going to all this trouble for me?”

A look of bewilderment in his eyes, Lance shook his head slowly. “I really don’t know.”

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