Protector - Laurel Dewey [135]
“I didn’t hear a pop.”
“Yeah, well . . .” Jane felt as though someone hit her square in the jaw. She turned around and looked at Emily sitting in the car. Suddenly, a boiling rage curled along her spine. “Goddamn, you fuckers!” Jane said under her breath.
“Jane? What is it?”
“Hey, I know!” Jane said sarcastically. “Maybe it’s that elusive Texas mob we keep talking about. Maybe I’ve got the fucking mob on my ass!”
“Jane, you’re not making sense.”
“Really? Well, shit, I’m sorry. I’ve got people trying to break into my house and I can’t do anything about it! How am I supposed to feel?”
“Look, I don’t know that it’s anything to worry about,” Weyler said gently. “I just felt I should touch base and tell you what happened.”
“Yeah. Thanks,” Jane said brusquely.
“Jane, are you okay?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jane said, wondering how many people were waiting for her answer on the other end.
“It means what it means. You’re not . . . I hope to God you’re not drinking.”
Jane was blown away by Weyler’s comment. “Fuck! I should be so lucky!” Her words poured forth with venom. “I’m not getting drunk and I’m not stupid, either!”
“I never said—”
“Listen to me.” Jane turned away from Emily and spoke quietly but directly into the phone. “You’ve got an innocent little girl involved in this mess. A little girl. If that doesn’t mean shit to you, then so be it. But it means something to me!”
“Jane! My God! I’m well aware of your situation! I don’t want anything to happen to that child! We’re doing everything we can on this end.”
The voice automated operator broke in on the call. “You have twenty seconds left. Please insert one dollar for another five minutes.”
“How’s it going with the kid?” Weyler said, ignoring the automated voice.
“It’s going,” Jane said succinctly, not willing to throw any more information in Weyler’s direction. “I’m out of quarters,” Jane added, knowing full well she had a pocketful of change. She quickly said good-bye and hung up the phone with a hard slam. Back in the car, she lit a cigarette and rolled down the window.
“Is everything okay?” Emily asked.
“I don’t know,” Jane replied uneasily.
Emily stared into the distance. She was still silently beating herself up for zoning out in front of Dan. And the photos. She knew Jane would go ballistic if she knew Dan saw the photos. “Was that phone call ’cause of me?”
“No.” Jane took a drag on her cigarette. “What made you think that?”
“I don’t know. Just wondering, that’s all.”
Over the next few days, Dan kept his promise, driving by their house every morning, afternoon and evening. A few times, he stopped in to make minor improvements on the house. One day he improved the reception of their television by installing a used antenna on the roof. This addition brought in PBS and NBC when the sky was clear and the wind was not blowing.
As the days progressed, Jane sensed the gradual tightening of a noose around her neck. The more she tried to figure it out, the tighter and more mysterious that noose became. There were moments when she wondered if the feeling had to do with the attempted break-in at her house. Other times, she questioned if it was just the daily tedium in Peachville. No matter the source, the unidentifiable stress built exponentially. If the past was any indicator, this anomalous sensation typically heralded a monumental event in Jane’s life.
June 16 rolled around—the day of Kathy’s “Cherry Jubilee.” Jane hoped Emily would forget the invitation, but no such luck. By four o’clock, Emily was begging Jane to take her to Kathy’s house. As much as Jane hated the thought of being part of the insipid soirée, she realized that not showing up would generate further gossip and derision by the town hens. Finally, she agreed to bring Emily with her on the condition that they would be out of there in two hours or less.
Kathy and Kent’s house was