Protector - Laurel Dewey [149]
Jane turned. “Morning!” she said, feeling a twist of tension in her gut.
Chapter 22
After a breakfast of burnt English Muffins and overcooked eggs, Emily sat on the living room floor reading the weekly newspaper. Jane wanted to duck into the bedroom and continue her analysis of the photos and the case folder, but she couldn’t risk Emily’s prying eyes. With nothing else to do, Jane decided to wash the Subaru.
She was hosing down the wagon when Sheriff George pulled his patrol car along the curb. He rolled down his car window and leaned out. “Hello, Mrs. Calver!”
“Hello, Sheriff,” Jane replied, not knowing what to expect.
“How’s your beautiful daughter feelin’ this mornin’?”
“Much better!” Jane replied. The sheriff said nothing, preferring to just stare at her. She was beginning to feel as if she had a scarlet “A” on her shirt that stood for “Abuser” and she was sick of it. “Please pass the information on to Kathy!”
The sheriff, missing Jane’s sarcasm, smiled. “I’ll do that, Mrs. Calver! You have yourself a good day. Tell Patty ‘hello’ for me!”
“I will,” Jane said, waving at the sheriff as he drove toward the highway. Then quietly, under her breath, she mumbled, “Once I untie her from the bedpost and cover up her bruises with long sleeves and makeup, you son-of-a-bitch!”
Emily sauntered down the front path toward the Subaru as the sound of laughter erupted from across the street in the park. Jane turned to see Heather and a few of her friends setting up their boom box. After selecting a country tune, they practiced their line dancing steps with Heather clearly in charge.
“Can I go over to the park and see Heather?” Emily asked.
“Why do you like that girl?”
“It’s just something to do. I’ll be across the street. You can see me from here.”
“Go ahead,” Jane agreed, dragging the bucket of soap and water toward the car.
Jane watched as Emily approached Heather and tried to make conversation. She no sooner turned back to the car than Emily came back across the street with a discouraged, hangdog look. Jane plopped the soapy sponge in the bucket. “Fuck ’em.”
“That’s easy for you to say.”
Jane lit a cigarette. “Not only is she an A-1 class brat, she’s one of the worst country line dancers I have ever seen!”
“You’re just trying to make me feel better.”
“Lift up your depressed little head and look! They’re like robots! Look how stiff her back is. Sure, her feet are in rhythm with the beat and she knows the steps, but she’s not breathing any personality into the moves. It’s like somebody shoved a key up her ass, wound her up and said, ‘Dance!’ ”
“How would you know anything about country line dancing? You’re a cop!”
“Yeah, well maybe I spent every Wednesday and Saturday night country dancing before you were a twinkle in your daddy’s eye!”
Emily was astonished. “Really?”
“Shit, yes!” Jane took another drag and glanced back across the street. “Idiots!”
“Are you any good?” Emily said, truly impressed by this news.
“Let’s just say I stopped counting the awards a few years ago!”
“Awards?” Jane nodded. The wheels started turning in Emily’s head. “So, you still remember how it’s done?”
“Every single step,” Jane said, returning her attention to the car.
“You know, I saw this old CD boom box up in the attic. And The Apple Cart has a bunch of country CDs at the checkout counter. And being that you’re an award-winning country line dancer and the fact that we’ve got nothing better to do here . . . Well, I was just thinking . . .”
Emily looked longingly at Jane. Jane glanced her way and then across the street to Heather. “Oh, what the hell—”
Within minutes, Jane and Emily were standing in line at The Apple Cart with a stack of brand-new country CDs in tow. After dusting off the boom box from the attic and putting in fresh batteries, Jane plopped in the first CD and cranked up the volume. Standing with her back to Emily to demonstrate the various steps, Jane took Emily through the paces in a kind of “Line Dancing 101” intensive. With cigarette bobbing between her lips, Jane