Kristin Hannah's Family Matters 4-Book Bundle: Angel Falls, Between Sisters, The Things We Do for Love, Magic Hour (120 page)

The sound of footsteps stopped her.

Someone was
running
toward their office.

Ellie got to her feet just as the door swung open, hitting the wall with a
crack.

Lori Forman skidded into the room. She was soaking wet and obviously cold; her whole body was shaking. Her kids—Bailey, Felicia, and Jeremy—were clustered around her.

“You gotta come,” Lori said to Ellie.

“Take a breath, Lori. Tell me what’s happened.”

“You won’t believe me. Heck, I’ve seen it and I don’t believe me. Come on. There’s something on Magnolia Street.”

“Yee-
ha,
” Peanut said. “Something’s actually happening in town.” She reached for her coat on the coatrack beside her desk. “Hurry up, Cal. Forward the emergency calls to your cell phone. We don’t want to miss all the excitement.”

Ellie was the first one out the door.

TWO

Ellie pulled her cruiser into an empty parking slot on the corner of Magnolia and Woodland and killed the engine. It sputtered a few times, coughing like an old man, then fell silent.

The rain stopped at the same time, and sunlight peered through the clouds.

Even Ellie, who’d lived here all of her life, was awed by the sudden change of weather. It was Magic Hour, the moment in time when every leaf and blade of grass seemed separate, when sunlight, burnished by the rain and softened by the coming night, gave the world an impossibly beautiful glow.

In the passenger seat, Peanut leaned forward. The vinyl seat squeaked at the movement. “I don’t see nothin’.”

“Me, either.” This from Cal, who sat perfectly erect in the backseat, his tall, lanky body folded into neat thirds. His long, bony fingers formed a steeple.

Ellie studied the town square. Clouds the color of old nails moved across the sky, trying to diffuse the fading light, but now that the sun was here, it wouldn’t be pushed aside. Rain Valley—all five blocks of it—seemed to glow with an otherworldly light. Brick storefronts, built one after another in the halcyon salmon-and-timber days of the seventies, shone like hammered copper.

There was a crowd outside of Swain’s drugstore, and another one across the street in front of Lulu’s hair salon. No doubt the patrons of The Pour House would come stumbling out any second, demanding to know what everyone was looking at.

“You there, Chief?” came a voice over the radio.

Ellie flicked the button and answered, “I’m here, Earl.”

“Come on down to the tree in Sealth Park.” There was a bunch of static, then: “Move slow. I ain’t kiddin’.”

“You stay here, Peanut. You, too, Cal,” Ellie said as she got out of the car. Her heart was beating quickly. This was the most exciting call she’d ever had. Mostly, her job consisted of driving home folks who’d drunk too much or talking to kids at the local school about the dangers of drugs. But she’d prepared herself for anything. That was a lesson she’d learned from her Uncle Joe, who’d been the town’s police chief for three decades.
Don’t take peace for granted,
he’d said to her often.
It can shatter like glass.

She’d believed him, and so, even though she’d become a cop in a kind of lackadaisical way, she’d grown into the job. Now she read up on all the newest information, kept her skills honed at the shooting range, and watched over her town with a sharp eye. It was really the only thing she’d ever been good at, besides looking good, which she took just as seriously.

She moved down the street, noticing how quiet the town was.

She could have heard a pin drop. It was unnatural for a town chock full of gossips.

She unclasped her holster and reached for her weapon. It was the first time she’d ever drawn it in the field.

With each step, she heard her heels click on the pavement. On either side of the street the ditches were rivers of boiling silver water. As she neared the four-way stop, she could hear whispering and see people pointing toward Chief Sealth City Park.

“There she is,” someone said.

“Chief Barton will know what to do.”

At the corner, she paused. Earl came running at her, his cowboy boot heels sounding like gunfire on the slick pavement. He moved like a marionette on slack strings, kind of akimbo and disjointed. Rain streaked his uniform.

“Shhh,” she hissed.

Earl Huff’s face scrunched into a ruddy fist. At sixty-four, he’d been a cop before Ellie was born, but he never failed to show her the utmost respect. “Sorry, boss.”

“What’s going on?” Ellie asked. “I don’t see a damn thing.”

“She showed up about ten minutes ago. Right after that big thunder crack. Y’all hear it?”

“We heard it,” Peanut said, her voice wheezy from moving so fast. Cal was beside Peanut.

Ellie spun around. “I told you both to stay in the cruiser.”

“You
meant
it?” Peanut said incredulously. “I thought that was one of them ‘for legal reasons’ orders. Hell, Ellie, we’re not gonna miss the first real call in years.”

Cal nodded, grinning. It made her want to smack him. She wondered if the captain of the LAPD had similar problems with his friends. With a sigh, she turned back to Earl. “Talk to me.”

“After the thunder crack, the rain stopped. Just like that. One minute it was pourin’, and then it wasn’t. Then that amazin’ sun came out. That’s when old Doc Fischer heard a wolf howl.”

Peanut shivered. “It’s like that time on
Buffy
when she—”

“Keep going, Earl,” Ellie said sharply.

“It was Mrs. Grimm who noticed the girl. I was getting my hair cut—and don’t say ‘What hair?’ ” He turned slowly and pointed. “When she climbed up that there tree, we called you.”

Ellie stared at the tree. She’d seen it every day of her life, had played in it as a kid, stood beside it to smoke bummed menthol cigarettes as a teenager, and gotten her first kiss—from Cal, no less—beneath its green canopy. She didn’t see a damn thing out of the ordinary now. “Is this some kind of joke, Earl?”

“Holy Mother o’ God. Put your glasses on, El.”

Ellie reached into her breast pocket and retrieved the over-the-counter glasses she still didn’t admit to needing. They felt alien and heavy on her face. Squinting through the oval lenses, she stepped forward. “Is that …?”

“Yes,” Peanut said.

There was a child hidden high in the autumn-colored leaves of the maple tree. How could anyone climb that high on rain-slicked branches?

“How do you know it’s a girl?” Cal whispered to Earl.

“All’s I know is it’s wearing a dress and has long hair. I’m makin’ one of them education guesses.”

Ellie took a step forward to see better.

The child was little, probably no more than five or six. Even from this distance, Ellie could see how spindly and thin she was. Her long dark hair was a filthy mat, filled with leaves and debris. Tucked in her arms was a snarling puppy.

Ellie reholstered her gun. “Stay here.” She started forward then stopped and glanced back at Peanut and Cal. “I mean it, you two. Don’t make me shoot you.”

“I’m glue,” Peanut said.

“Superglue,” Cal agreed.

Ellie could hear a flurry of whispering as she strode through the four-way stop. As she neared her destination, she took her glasses off. She hadn’t come to the point where she trusted the world as seen through a lens.

About five feet from the tree she looked up. The child was still there, curled on an impossibly high branch. Definitely a girl. She appeared completely at ease on her perch, with the pup in her arms, but her eyes were wide. She was watching every move. The poor kid was terrified.

And damn if that wasn’t a
wolf
pup in her arms.

“Hey, little one,” Ellie said in a soothing voice. It was one of the many times she wished she’d had children. A mother’s voice would be good right about now. “What are you doing up there?”

The wolf snarled and bared its teeth.

Ellie’s gaze locked on the child’s. “I won’t hurt you. Honestly.”

There was no response; not the flinch of an eyelash or the movement of a finger.

“Let’s start over. I’m Ellen Barton. Who are you?”

Again, nothing.

“I’m guessing you’re running away from something. Or maybe playing some game. When I was a girl, my sister and I used to play pirates in the woods. And Cinderella. That was my favorite because Julia had to clean the room while I put on pretty dresses for the ball. It’s always best to be the older kid.”

It was like talking to a photograph.

“Why don’t you come on down from there before you fall? I’ll make sure you’re safe.”

Ellie talked for another fifteen minutes or so, saying everything she could think of, then she just ran out of words. Not once had the girl responded or moved. Frankly, it didn’t even appear that she was breathing.

Ellie walked back to Earl and Peanut and Cal.

“How we gonna get her down, Chief?” Earl asked, looking worried. His pale, sweaty forehead pleated into folds. He nervously smoothed his almost bald head, reemphasizing the red comb-over that had been his look for more years than anyone could count.

Ellie had no idea what to do. She had all kinds of manuals and reference books at the station, and she’d memorized most of them for her captain’s test. There were chapters on murder, mayhem, robberies, and kidnapping, but there wasn’t a damn paragraph devoted to getting a silent child and her snarling wolf pup out of a tree on Main Street. “Anyone see her climb up?”

“Mrs. Grimm. She said the kid was up to no good—maybe lookin’ to steal apples from the barrels out front at the market. When Doc Fischer yelled at her, the girl ran across the street and jumped into the tree.”

“Jumped?” Ellie said. “She’s twenty feet in the air, for God’s sake.”

“I didn’t believe it either, Chief, but several witnesses agreed. They say she ran like the wind, too. Mrs. Grimm crossed herself when she was tellin’ me.”

Ellie felt the start of a headache. By suppertime the whole town would have heard the story of a girl who ran like the wind and jumped into the uppermost limbs of a maple tree. No doubt by then they’d say she could shoot fire from her fingertips and fly from branch to branch.

“We need a plan,” Ellie said, more to herself than anyone else.

“The volunteer fire department got Scamper outta that Doug fir on Peninsula Road.”

“Scamper’s a
cat,
Earl,” Peanut said, crossing her arms.

“I think I know that, Penelope. It ain’t like we got a protocol for kids stuck in trees. With
wolves,
” he added for good measure.

Ellie touched the officer’s arm. “It’s a good idea, Earl, but she’s terrified. If she sees that big red ladder coming at her, she might fall.”

Peanut tapped her long, star-spangled purple fingernail against her teeth. A sure sign of deep thought. Finally, she said, “I’ll bet she’s hungry.”

“You think everyone’s hungry,” Cal said.

“I do not.”

“Do, too. How ’bout if I try talking to her, El?” Cal said. “My Sarah is about her age.”

“No. Let
me
talk to her,” Peanut said. “I’m a mom, after all.”

“I’m a dad.”

“Shut up, you two,” Ellie snapped. “Earl, go to the diner and order me a nice hot meal. Some milk, too. Maybe a slice of Barbara’s apple pie.”

“You’re a genius, Ellie. Mrs. Grimm thought the girl was tryin’ to steal food
,
” Earl said, grinning broadly. “I seen something like this on one of them cop shows. I think it was—”

“
I
was the one who mentioned it,” Peanut said, puffing up.

“You always mention food,” Cal said. “It’s hardly noteworthy.”

“And clear the streets,” Ellie cut in before they started up again. “I want everyone gone for a two-block radius.”

Earl’s smile faded. “They won’t wanna go.”

“We’re the law
,
Earl. Make them go home.”

He looked at her sideways. They both knew he didn’t have much experience with being the law. Although he’d patrolled these streets for decades, he’d spent most of that time going for coffee and handing out parking tickets. “Maybe I should call Myra. Everyone listens to her.”

“You don’t need your wife to clear the streets, Earl. If you have to, start writing tickets. You know how to do that.”

Earl slumped in a hangdog way and headed for the hair salon. When he reached the drugstore, a crowd immediately formed around him. After a moment they groaned loudly.

Peanut crossed her arms and made a clucking sound. “This is the biggest thing to hit town since Raymond Weller drove his car into Thelma’s R.V. You aren’t going to be Miss Popular for making them miss it.”

Ellie looked at her best friend. “Them?”

Peanut’s eyes rounded in disbelief. “Surely you don’t mean
me,
too?”

“We’ve got a terrified girl up there, Pea, and by the looks of it, something isn’t right with her. Entertaining the folks of Rain Valley—you included—is hardly my first priority. Now you and Cal go back to the station and get me some kind of net. I don’t imagine its going to be easy to catch that poor thing. Call Nick in Mystic. And Ted over on the res. See if a kid got lost in the park today. Cal, you call Mel. He’s probably out by the park entrance, trying to ticket tourists. Tell him to start canvassing the town. She’s not a local kid, but maybe she’s staying with someone.”

“I, for one, can follow orders,” Cal said, heading for the cruiser.

Peanut didn’t move.

“Go,”
Ellie said again.

Peanut sighed dramatically. “I’m going.”

An hour and a half later the streets of downtown Rain Valley were quiet. The shops had all been locked up, and the parking slots were empty. Just out of sight there were two police barricades set up. No doubt Peanut and Cal were having the time of their lives as the official voices of Police Chief Ellen Barton.

“I guess you’re thinking it’s sorta weird that a woman is the chief of police,” Ellie said, sitting as still as she could on the uncomfortable iron and wooden bench beneath the maple tree. She’d been here for almost an hour and it was becoming obvious that she wouldn’t be able to talk the kid down. It wasn’t entirely surprising. Ellie could drive safely at one hundred miles per hour, shoot a bird from five hundred feet away, and make a grown man confess to burglary, but what she knew about children wouldn’t fill a thimble.

But Peanut and Cal—who did know kids—both thought talking was the ticket. It was the “A” plan. They all agreed it would be best if the girl came down on her own. So Ellie talked.

She glanced down at the platter at the base of the tree. Two perfectly roasted chickens were surrounded by apple and orange slices. A freshly baked apple pie rested on a separate plate. There were several paper plates and forks set in a neat stack. The glass of milk had long since warmed.

It should have been kid food—cheeseburgers and fries and pizza. Why hadn’t she thought of that before?

Still, it smelled heavenly. Ellie’s stomach grumbled, reminding her that it was past dinnertime, and she wasn’t accustomed to missing meals. If it weren’t for daily aerobics classes at the local dance studio, she would certainly have packed on the pounds since high school. And Lord knew a woman of her petite stature couldn’t afford to gain weight. Not when she was unmarried and looking for love.