Nightwatch (3 page)

“You mean like choosing godparents?”

“Yes. Do you happen to know if they did?”

“Hmm. I don't think so. The kids were never very keen on their aunt Natalie and their uncle Thad hasn't been back in the States for very long, so I doubt they considered naming either of them as guardians.” He huffed. “Young parents expect to live long enough to see their children raised.”

“Yes, I suppose they do.” Starting to think about her husband's untimely demise, she fell silent.

Sometimes it seemed as if that part of her past was little more than a dream; at other times pain pierced her all the way to her core. Lately, those uncomfortable moments had grown further and further apart and had hurt less. She supposed that was a good sign, although it meant that she was slowly forgetting the man she'd vowed to love and cherish for the rest of her days. That seemed wrong.

A softly spoken comment from Mitch brought her out of her reverie. Too bad she had no idea what he'd just said. “I beg your pardon?”

“I said take care of yourself. Get some rest.”

“You, too,” Jill told him. “You must be exhausted. It's been a rough night.”

“I have had better. Thanks for taking over with Tim so I could go back to work. I didn't dare let go of him. He wanted to run back inside to look for his folks.”

“I understand,” Jill said, recalling memorable parts of the evening. “What do you know about Natalie Stevens?”

“Not much. Why?”

“Because, like I told you, she sure wasn't acting normal when I spoke with her.”

“People get irrational under severe stress,” Mitch said with conviction. “I've seen it happen over and over. They either deny that there's been a tragedy or try to place the blame on others. It's always tough. Especially when they show up on scene the way Natalie did.”

“I'm so sorry she took her anger out on you.”

“I have broad shoulders,” he said, but Jill could tell the woman's unfair accusations had hit him hard. That, added to the fact that Mitch tended to blame himself whenever any task wasn't accomplished to his high standards, would weigh heavily on him for a long, long time.

“God's shoulders are even broader than yours,” Jill said, trying to sound kind as well as wise. “Don't take too much on yourself.”

“I have a job to do.”

“I know. Since you keep telling me the Lord gave you that job, why can't you believe He also trusts you to do it well?”

There was nothing but silence on the line for what seemed like forever. Finally, Mitch simply said, “Night, Jill. I have to go,” and hung up, leaving her staring at the receiver in disbelief.

She paused, then made a silly face. “Okay, mister, have it your way. Beat yourself up for every little thing, whether you really made a mistake or not. Be stubborn. See if I care.”

She shook her head, disgusted mostly with herself. She
did
care. For Mitch, for the children, for the traumatized family, for the whole town. This tragedy would affect practically all of them in some way.

Yet it was Mitch's feelings that tugged the hardest at her heart. After all, he was a good friend and he faced danger often.

Picturing him as a victim instead of a rescuer, she suddenly experienced such a deep, personal sense of loss it made her literally ache.

The tears she had denied all evening returned and slid down her cheeks as she finally allowed herself to mourn for the lost—and for the survivors.

D
uring a restless night, Jill had dreamed at least once of braving danger in order to save nameless, faceless children. By morning, she awoke feeling less rested than she had before the Pearson tragedy.

Coffee hadn't helped as much as she'd hoped it would, at least not so far. Refilling an enormous mug that had belonged to her husband, she took it with her and headed for the barn to begin her morning chores. There was nearly enough new spring grass to satisfy the few cattle she pastured but she still needed to be sure they had dry, baled hay to supplement their diet or they'd make themselves sick gorging on the fresh growth.

Shaggy, brown Mugsy danced along at her heels, his eagerness making her smile the way it always did. He was soon joined by her larger, black-and-white sheep-dogs, Salt and Pepper.

Spring was clearly on the horizon. Slim buds were poking skyward from amid the thick daffodil foliage at the base of the well house and the forsythia bush was starting to look as if its drooping branches had been sprinkled with bright yellow confetti. Jill smiled
contentedly. That was one of the perks of living on the old farm. There were often surprises popping out of the ground or bursting into bloom to cheer her just when she needed a lift. Flowers even appeared in the lawn sometimes, as if God had strewn the seeds there to bring more beauty into her life and remind her she was loved.

She was just coming out of the barn, still accompanied by Mugsy as well as the ranch dogs, when the ringing of the cell phone in her pocket startled her. She fumbled and slopped coffee in her haste to answer.

“Hello?”

“Jill. It's me, Mitch.”

“You sound upset. What's wrong?”

The moment he said, “They gave those poor kids to Natalie Stevens,” Jill understood completely.

“No way. How did that happen?”

“I heard she showed up at the hospital and claimed them. I'm headed over there now to get some answers.”

“Where? The hospital or Natalie's house?”

“The hospital. Some social worker named Brenda Connors is supposed to meet me there.”

“I know her. She's the one I gave the kids to last night at the fire scene. I can't believe she'd allow someone to just take them away like that.”

“Neither can I.”

Clasping the little phone tightly, Jill didn't stop to censor her response. “Swing by here and pick me up on your way. I'm going with you.”

“I was hoping you'd say that. I'll be there in ten minutes.”

“Wait! That's too…” She was listening to dead air.
Making a face at the phone she began to jog toward the house.
Ten minutes?

She wasn't prissy the way some women were but even
she
needed longer than that to get ready for a foray into the legal system surrounding the placement of homeless children.

“I can do this,” Jill told herself firmly. “To help a nice guy like Mitch, I can do practically anything, including make myself presentable in less than ten minutes.”

That statement made her smile. She wasn't preparing to help someone
like
Mitch, she was going to help
him
.

A part of her wanted to keep denying how special he had become to her while another part of her argued about how much his friendship and kindnesses had meant since Eric's accident.

She knew Mitch well enough to surmise that it was his sense of personal responsibility that had led him to pay so much attention to her. She didn't care what his motives had been. Not really. She just knew that she thanked the Lord daily that she'd met him, the same way she gave thanks for her Ozark home and the loving folks who had embraced her as part of their family and community when she'd been left all alone in a strange town.

Without a husband, Jill had wondered if she could make it in such rural surroundings. Yet whenever she'd had a need, there had always been someone ready to offer help.
Usually Mitch Andrews,
she added, although many other members of Serenity Chapel had also pitched in.

As she paused in front of her closet and reached for
a favorite, jacketed blue dress, she closed her eyes for a moment and whispered, “Thank You, Jesus,” meaning every word from the deepest reaches of her heart. Her life might be nothing like she had imagined, but it was good.

 

Mitch's hands tightly gripped his truck's steering wheel as he drove. It wasn't Natalie's everyday reputation that worried him most, it was her erratic behavior at the fire scene. The woman had acted as if she could barely take care of herself, let alone look after three small children. The boys might be all right if she let them fend for themselves, but little Megan was far from self-sufficient.

He skidded to a dusty stop in front of Jill's white-painted farmhouse. She ran off the porch and climbed in the passenger side of his pickup before he had a chance to get out and open the door for her. Her blue eyes sparkled, her hair shimmered like gold and her face glowed as if she were embarking on an exciting adventure instead of preparing to enter a figurative lion's den.

“Thanks for coming with me,” he said.

“Thanks for letting me. I worried about those kids all night.”

“Yeah, me, too.” Mitch drove off, staring at the road ahead as he delivered the bad news. “It's official. They found Rob and Ellen in the office.”

“I'm so, so sorry.”

When Jill reached across and briefly laid her hand over his, he tried not to flinch. “Thanks. They were special people.”

“I never got to know them very well but I'm sure
they were.” She smoothed the skirt of her dress, then folded her hands in her lap atop her clutch purse. “Is Brother Logan going to preach at their funeral?”

“Probably. It may be weeks before the crime scene techs and the coroner are finished and the bodies are released. That's another reason I was upset about Natalie getting the kids. There's no telling what an unstable person like her will do or say when she first hears the bad news, not to mention when we finally lay Rob and Ellen to rest.”

“I totally agree. We need a judge's ruling about custody and we need it fast.”

“How do we get that?”

“Probably through Ms. Connors. She'll request an immediate hearing and hopefully the court will also appoint a CASA volunteer to oversee the case.”

“A what?”

“CASA. It stands for Court Appointed Special Advocate. Those people are trained to investigate everything and then speak for children who have been abused or neglected or who may be in danger. It can't be anybody like you or me who knows the family. It can't be a lawyer either. Or the police. This person has to be completely impartial. That's the beauty of the system.”

Mitch doubted anyone could remain that unbiased, particularly when innocent children were involved. He knew he sure couldn't. “If you say so. Have you had experience with CASA before?”

“Yes,” Jill said. “There aren't many volunteers out here in the boondocks but I do know of at least one. Samantha Rochard. She's a nurse at the county hospital.”

“You trust her?”

“Completely.”

Once again, Jill patted the back of his hand. Mitch managed a smile for her benefit. “Okay. If you vouch for her, that's good enough for me.” His smile waned. “Hold it. What if she was one of the nurses who helped treat the kids last night?”

“I doubt that small connection would disqualify her,” Jill said. “As a matter of fact, she's required to check with doctors and anyone else who may have had contact with the children before and after the fire, then make a written report to the judge.”

“Meaning she'll realize how nuts Natalie is?”

“Let's pray that's the case.”

“I think I'd better leave the praying to you,” Mitch said. “Judging by what happened last night, the Lord isn't listening to me.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” Jill replied, surprising him with her candor. “After Eric died, it was a long time before I could really pray again. I just kept asking
why
.”

Mitch was about to apologize for not being able to save her injured husband's life when Jill added, “I imagine God was pretty sick of hearing me whimpering. It took me ages to realize I probably already had all the answers I was going to get.”

He didn't know what to say. He shared her Christian faith, yet his own prayer life was nowhere near that satisfying. If he'd had more time to mull over her conclusion he might have commented. However, since they were pulling into the hospital's parking lot, he took that as a strong sign to keep his mouth shut.

He huffed quietly at that conclusion. Maybe—just maybe—he was getting more answers to his prayers than he'd thought, too.

 

Jill greeted middle-aged, graying Brenda Connors with a handshake and a smile, then introduced her to Mitch, purposely positioning herself to act as their go-between. It wasn't a comfortable place to be. Mitch was fighting to control his temper, which was totally understandable considering how close he was to the Pearson family. Jill simply wanted to keep the social worker on their side, at least until a trusted, sensible CASA member could be appointed.

“How soon before we can get a judge involved?” Jill asked Ms. Connors.

“I've already requested an emergency hearing. I'm picking up the children this afternoon. I've informed Ms. Stevens she had no right to take them the way she did.”

“Why did the hospital staff let her?”

“Basically, she bullied them. A few of them knew she was the aunt so they assumed she had permission. Believe me, that kind of thing will
not
happen again.”

She turned to Mitch, her eyes narrowing behind bifocals trimmed in silver. “Is there definitive proof that the parents are both deceased?”

“Yes.”

“Anything else you can tell me that might help?”

Jill interrupted. “Mr. Andrews was very close to the children and their parents. This is hard for him.”

“I'm sorry,” the social worker said. “But I need to know everything.”

“Ask me whatever you like,” he said flatly. “Those kids come first.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone. “Hang on a sec. I'll check with my
chief and see if the investigation has turned up anything new.”

As Jill watched and listened, she saw his hazel eyes widen, then darken as he began to frown. Her gaze darted to Ms. Connors and she noticed that the other woman was also paying close attention.

“I see,” Mitch said. “Is that public knowledge yet?”

Jill found she was holding her breath.

“How about telling the kids' social worker? Can I do that without jeopardizing the case?” Mitch asked.

He apparently got the okay because he quickly bid the chief goodbye and faced Ms. Connors. Jill saw the muscles in his jaw clenching, twitching. Whatever he'd just learned, it was not good.

“The arson team from Little Rock found some chemical residue at the scene,” he announced.

Jill assumed he meant plastic bits left over from the manufacture of the popular kitchen gadgets Pearson Products handled until he explained further.

“They're positive the office was bombed. That's what started the fire.” Mitch's fists clenched at his sides. “This was no accident. Rob and Ellen were murdered.”

Jill gasped. “Murdered? In Serenity? Things like that don't happen here. They just don't.”

The social worker shook her head and nervously adjusted the position of her wire-rimmed glasses by pressing a finger to the bridge of her nose. “Apparently, it did this time. This changes everything. I'm not waiting. I'm going to pick up the children immediately.”

“We'll come with you.”

“That won't be necessary, Mr. Andrews. If I have problems I'll ask the sheriff for assistance.”

“I wasn't talking about what Natalie may do,” Mitch explained. “I was offering to help you calm the boys. They know me so well they even refer to me as their uncle most of the time. They've only seen you once and that was under terrible circumstances. You're about to take them from their aunt and she's liable to resist. Who do you think they'll listen to if things get rough, you or me?”

“All right.” Brenda eyed Jill. “Are you free to accompany us? I carry the necessary infant seats and restraints for older children in my car but I may need help with the baby. She was really upset when I picked her up last night and I wasn't able to comfort her properly because I was driving.”

“Of course. If you want, we can all go to my place to wait until you can get a temporary legal ruling.”

“I wouldn't want to put you out.”

“Nonsense. You know I'm already a foster parent so there should be no reason why my home wouldn't be okay, at least as long as you're there, too.”

“And me,” Mitch said firmly. “I'm not letting those kids out of my sight until I'm sure they're safe and well cared for. Rob would want it that way.”

Although Jill nodded, she was still uneasy regarding what they were about to do. “Have you heard how hysterical Natalie Stevens was last night?” she asked Ms. Connors. “I worry about how she may react when you try to take the kids.”

“I can handle her.”

“Okay, if you say so. I really don't think they should spend time alone with her, at least not until she's seen a doctor.”

“I agree. I've interviewed some of the hospital staff.
Their description of Ms. Stevens's behavior this morning was not comforting. If she hadn't sounded so calm and lucid when I phoned to tell her I was coming over later, I'd have called the police then and there.”

“All right,” Mitch said. “Let's stop standing around wasting time and get this show on the road. Jill and I'll follow you in my truck. Do you know how to get to Natalie's from here?”