Protector - Laurel Dewey [140]
Jane gently held her hand against Emily’s trembling head, knowing that every prying eye was pinned on her. It was the epitome of a rock and a hard place and she knew it. Jane looked over at Kathy, who was obviously disturbed by Emily’s reaction.
“It’s okay, honey,” Kathy said, calling over to Emily. “It’s just a silly bowl.”
Emily kept her head buried against Jane. “Can I help clean it up?” Jane offered.
“No!” Kathy asserted. “It’s not a big deal, Anne. These kind of things happen all the time! Kids can’t help themselves!” Kathy’s voice was bordering on desperate.
“I know, Kathy,” Jane said, trying her best to not look upset. She patted Emily’s head and bent forward. “Let’s go.”
Emily kept a tight hold on Jane as the two walked outside and got into their car. The child was still confused and embarrassed as Jane buckled her into the seat belt and stuck the key in the ignition. Jane looked up at the front living room window and found Kathy staring back at her. “Shit,” Jane whispered. She put the car in gear and drove onto the county road. Once she was out of sight of the house, she pulled the car over, leaving the motor running. “You okay?” she said quietly.
Emily leaned her head against the passenger window. “I don’t know.”
“Did you . . .” Jane stopped, hating every second of this. “Did you remember anything back there?”
“Almost.” Emily turned to Jane, hoping for an answer. “It was just a bowl of cherries and some juice!”
Jane stared out the front window. She knew exactly why the cherries triggered Emily’s memory of the crime scene. But the devil himself could not force her to reveal the blood-soaked connection. Jane felt helpless. Then she glanced into her rear vision mirror. Kathy was standing on the county road, several feet from her circle driveway. Jane realized that she was waiting for Jane to make a move toward Emily so she could report it to Sheriff George. Jane wanted to bolt from the car and rip her a new one. But, instead, she clenched her jaw, put the car in gear and drove toward home.
Twilight fell over Strong’s Mesa as Jane wound the Subaru around the dirt road that eventually emptied into Peachville’s Main Street. Not a word was spoken between Jane and Emily as they slowly crept down the main drag. The stores were closed for the day, leaving a seeming ghost town to occupy the darkness. Jane rolled the Subaru to a four-way stop sign and didn’t move. That uneasy, choking sensation she’d felt for the last few days was replaced with a disturbing dull ache in her gut.
She looked at Emily. Her head was propped against the window as she half dozed. The child’s palm lay flat against the glass, slightly twitching. Jane could see Emily’s eyeballs erratically moving side to side, engaged in an obvious dream. “Don’t,” Emily murmured, under her breath. Jane waited and watched. Emily’s hand twitched again before reaching out into the air as if she were trying to grasp at something. “Don’t let go,” she whispered. Jane looked on helplessly, not sure what to do. Seconds passed and Emily’s body relaxed, falling deeper into sleep.
Don’t let go, Jane thought. Probably a nightmare from when Emily hung off her bedroom roof, Jane determined. But then again, Jane mused, Emily told her she remained silent so the perp wouldn’t know she was there. So, whom was Emily talking to? Jane finally shook off the cop suspicion, chalking it up to the destructive power of nightmares.
She turned her attention to the street and rolled down the window. The crickets issued back and forth inflections to each other. In the distance, the coal train stood in place as the chug-chug-chug reverberated throughout the valley. A summer breeze, slightly cool and wet, swept through the car bringing