Shadows on the Lane Read online

  Shadows on the Lane

  By Virginia Rose Richter

  Copyright 2012 by Virginia Rose Richter

  Cover Copyright 2012 by Virginia Rose Richter and Untreed Reads Publishing

  Cover art by Susanna Richter-Helman, www.srhdesigns.com

  The author is hereby established as the sole holder of the copyright. Either the publisher (Untreed Reads) or author may enforce copyrights to the fullest extent.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold, reproduced or transmitted by any means in any form or given away to other people without specific permission from the author and/or publisher. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to the living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  Also by Virginia Rose Richter and Untreed Reads Publishing

  The Secret of Willow Lane

  Strangers in the Lane

  http://www.untreedreads.com

  Shadows on the Lane

  By Virginia Rose Richter

  Quote: “I’m not afraid of storms for I’m learning how to sail my ship.”

  Louisa May Alcott

  Dedicated to my granddaughters, Sarah, Hannah, Julia and Alex,

  Who are making their dreams come true.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Jessie Hanson positioned a silver mesh strainer over a pink china cup and poured a stream of amber tea from the matching teapot. Then, smiling a proper little smile, she said, “Will you have lemon or a sugar in your tea, Tina?”

  Tina Adams stifled a giggle, crooked her little finger and said in a high-pitched voice, “Why I believe I’ll have one lump, thank you.” She burst out laughing and eyed her father chatting quietly at the next table. Dr. Adams glanced in her direction, shook his head and frowned.

  “I guess your dad thinks we should act more grown-up since we’re almost thirteen,” whispered Jessie. She wore her blonde hair down today, liberated from its customary single braid. Her blue dress was the same color as her eyes, like the cornflowers that dotted the prairie in the spring. “How are the twins?”

  “Big and beautiful!” beamed Tina. “Mom and Dad are tired and crabby.” Tina made a face, rolled her brown eyes and shoved up the clips that held back her dark hair and matched her yellow sundress. “They’re pretty much up all night with the babies.”

  The girls were attending a tea in the converted Johnson mansion on Willow Lane. The old house was now called “The Swedish Museum” and, besides the tearoom, featured scenes of the historical migration of Scandinavians to Nebraska.

  “I’m sure glad I wasn’t a pioneer,” said Jessie. “Seeing what they went through, I think I would have stayed in Sweden.” Jessie and Tina had just toured the museum during an open house for the completed renovation.

  Someone clinked a glass for attention and everyone looked at a tall man in a dark suit and tie standing by the grand piano. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said. “Welcome to your new museum. I hope you enjoyed the tour. Now we have some musical entertainment. Bryce Peterson and Cami Falkinborg will play Beethoven’s “Spring Sonata” for piano and violin, in honor of this beautiful May afternoon. The speaker returned to his table.

  Tina leaned toward Jessie and whispered, “Who’s that?”

  Jessie tasted her tea. “Dr. Peterson, Bryce’s dad. He’s running the museum. He moved here with Bryce last month but he’s been so busy, I just met him yesterday.

  Tina rearranged her napkin over her lap. “He’s a doctor?”

  Jessie took a scone from the tray, broke it in half and covered it with raspberry jam. “Not like your dad,” she said. “You know, like Dr. Bernard at school.”

  “He’s nice looking. But he’d have to be; he’s Bryce’s dad,” said Tina with a little smile. “And we know how cute Bryce is.” She bit into a lemon tart.

  “Jessie frowned at Tina. “Your turn will come and I cannot wait.”

  Tina laughed. “Did you notice that Miss Tyler is sitting with Dr. Peterson?”

  Jessie raised her eyebrows and leaned back in her chair to get a better view of Dr. Peterson’s tea table. Sure enough. There sat Miss Tyler, the town librarian. Jessie had always thought Miss Tyler was plain and stern looking. But today she was almost pretty. Her hair was swept back and she wore crystal earrings that caught the light when she turned her head. Her dress was a nice rose color that made her look slim and even young. As Jessie studied the librarian, Dr. Peterson leaned his head toward her and listened intently to something Miss Tyler was saying. Well, well. Those two seem very friendly.

  “Lean back any farther in that chair and I’ll be picking you up off the floor,” said Tina.

  Just then a young girl, about seven or eight years old, walked from the side door and sat on a brocade chair next to the piano bench. Jessie and Tina paused and blinked.

  Wearing a simple white dress with lace at the collar, everything about the child shone. With rosy skin, bright green eyes and a mass of blonde curls that bounced when she moved, the girl looked as if she’d stepped out of a picture book.

  “Wow,” said Tina. “That’s about as cute a kid as I’ve ever seen.” She put the strainer on her cup and picked up the teapot.

  Before Jessie could comment, Cami Falkinborg, in a soft green dress, appeared, gave a little bow and sat down on the piano bench. Bryce Peterson was right behind her, his violin in his left hand. He bowed and walked to the piano.

  Jessie could barely breathe at the sight of Bryce, dressed in tan flannel slacks and a snowy white shirt, open at the neck. His brown hair was combed perfectly with a part at the side. She watched as his eyes scanned the room and lighted on her. He smiled. Her heart was thudding as he tucked the violin under his chin and nodded at Cami.

  The room became quiet as music filled the air. Jessie was trying to get her breathing back to normal. A few people, including her father, had looked her way when Bryce gave her “The Smile.” But soon the audience had forgotten about everything else but the wonderful playing of Cami and Bryce. Each time Cami nodded at the young girl with the blonde curls, the child would stand and turn a page of the music. At the finish, the guests rose and clapped with enthusiasm.

  Jessie watched Bryce leave the room. “I’m starting piano lessons this week,” she announced. She popped the last of the scone into her mouth and with both hands pushed her hair back over her shoulders.

  Tina choked and started to cough. She glanced at her dad who was busy talking to Jessie’s parents. “You’ve got to be kidding. You can’t sit still for more than five minutes at a stretch.”

  “Well, I’m going to sit still for this.” Jessie brushed crumbs from her lap and stood. “Let’s go out on one of those balconies.” She pointed to the tall French doors that opened onto tiny terraces with a view of Willow Lane.

  “I’ll be there in a minute. My dad wants me for something.” Tina hurried to her father’s table.

  Outside, Jessie leaned on the ornate rail of the balcony and looked around. She’d stood in this very spot last summer. Only that day it was pouring rain and she was running for her life. Well, detective stuff would have to wait. She was going to learn how to play the piano.

  Directly across the street was her house. Phillip, her little brother, was there today with Mrs. Winter the babysitter. Jessie’s parents had decided Phillip was too young for tea.

  From this height, she could see beyond Fairfield and out to the wheat fie
lds rippling in the breeze like waves on a golden sea. Church steeples dotted the landscape and here and there grain elevators stood tall like country castles.

  Below on the museum grounds, Jessie saw the child, who turned pages for Cami, tossing a red and white beach ball back and forth with a young boy.

  The little girl missed and chased the ball into the street. At the sound of an engine, Jessie turned her head to see a blue car racing up Willow Lane. She waved her arms and shouted, “STOP!” When she turned back, Jessie saw the little girl look up and raise her hand as if she were waving at the driver. “NO!” screamed Jessie. She watched with horror as the car swerved and knocked down the girl. The driver slowed, and then sped away.

  Frozen, Jessie looked at the small form with the mop of yellow curls lying still by the curb. Then she ran screaming back into the tea room. “Call an ambulance! Where’s Dr. Adams? A car hit a little girl!”

  The quiet gathering erupted. Some people ran to the balconies. Dr. Adams raced down the staircase to the street with Dr. Peterson and Bryce right behind him.

  By the time Jessie got to the front porch of the museum, she saw Bryce on his knees in the street holding the girl’s hand. His face was as white as his shirt. Dr. Adams applied mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Dr. Peterson hovered nearby.

  She started down the steps and felt a firm hand on her shoulder.

  “Stay here, Jess,” said her dad. “They have enough people down there.”

  She heard a siren grow louder and louder. Next to her someone cried softly. Jessie looked up to see Miss Tyler. Tears streamed down her cheeks. When she slipped her hand into the librarian’s, the woman squeezed it hard.

  “Who is that little girl, Miss Tyler?”

  “Oh, Jessica dear,” sobbed Miss Tyler. “That’s Sunny, Bryce Peterson’s little sister.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  The ambulance idled in the middle of the street, its roof light whirling. Police were there now, directing traffic around the scene. Jessie hung onto Miss Tyler’s hand and fought back tears as they watched the little girl, Sunny, turn her head toward Bryce. He patted her arm then stood back to let the medics take over. Two uniformed men attached a splint to the child’s leg, placed her on a stretcher, covered her with a blue blanket and lifted her into the ambulance. Bryce and his father climbed in after her. A moment later, one of the attendants jumped back out, closed the double doors and hurried to the driver’s side.

  “It looks like she’s awake, Miss Tyler. Maybe she just got a bump on her head and hurt her leg.”

  Miss Tyler nodded. Her hand was icy cold.

  “Let’s go sit down for a minute,” said Jessie. She led the woman back to the museum entryway and to a red cushioned bench by the door.

  “She just arrived here two days ago.” Miss Tyler’s eyes filled with tears. “Sunny, I mean.” She dabbed at her cheek with a lacy handkerchief. “She’s been staying with her grandmother in New York while Lawrence—Dr. Peterson—made the move here and got the museum ready to open.”

  “I didn’t know Bryce even had a sister,” Jessie said. “But I’ve only known him a few weeks. We just never talked about our families.”

  “Oh, yes. Bryce tries to look out for her since their mother died. That was four years ago. Sunny was four and Bryce would have been about ten.”

  “Did you know his mother?” asked Jessie.

  “Yes. I’ve known his father since we were in high school together here in Fairfield. When he married, I came to know his wife and the children.”

  Carl Hanson, Jessie’s father, stepped into the entrance and hurried toward her. He had shed his suit coat, loosened his tie, and unbuttoned his shirt collar. Recently appointed County Attorney, he had a law office downtown across from Courthouse Square. Even now, when he looked pale and worried, Jessie thought he was the most handsome dad in town. His short brown hair had a little curl, and his eyes were blue like hers.

  He nodded politely toward the librarian. “‘Afternoon, Polly. This is a bad day for the Petersons.” He looked at Jessie. “You’d better go home with your mother now, Jess.”

  “But…”

  “Don’t argue with me.” He reached for Jessie’s hand. This is serious trouble—a hit-and-run driver in Fairfield.” He drew Jessie to her feet. “I need to get downtown to the police station.”

  “But…can’t I go with you?”

  “No, Jess. I have to make sure the accident is written up correctly and that the best people are put on the case.”

  Miss Tyler rose, smoothed her dress, and checked her hair. “I think I’ll drive to the hospital and see if I can help Lawrence and Bryce.” She gave Jessie a little hug. “Thank you for your kindness, Jessica.” She started toward the door.

  “‘Bye, Miss Tyler. I’d be glad to go…” Jessie saw her father shake his head at her.

  “Jess. Go home. You are not going to the hospital and you are not going with me.” His voice was rising with exasperation. He walked firmly out the museum door and onto the porch.

  She ran after him. “Please,” she called as he descended the steps. “I should go with you because I saw the whole thing.”

  Her dad stopped and turned slowly to face her. “In that case, you’d better come along.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  The car moved swiftly over the brick paving. Jessie stared out the window seeing over and over the image of the little girl falling onto the pavement.

  “I didn’t realize you saw the car actually hit the girl, Jess.” Her dad steered with one hand and with the other adjusted the rear view mirror.

  “Sunny,” Jessie said.

  He looked at her. “Sunny?”

  “Sunny is the girl’s name. She’s Bryce Peterson’s sister.” Jessie pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “I didn’t know he had a sister.”

  Her father was quiet for a moment. “Well, they just moved here a few weeks ago.” He pulled into a parking space at the Courthouse Square. A glass globe over the door was painted with the word POLICE. He switched off the ignition and turned to Jessie. “The detectives will want to know every detail of what you saw. He put his hand under her chin. “Seeing what you did was a shock. Can you do this?”

  Jessie nodded stiffly. She could feel the tears building. When her dad put his arm around her shoulders, she leaned against him and wept.

  He pulled a tissue from a box on the dashboard and tucked it into her hand.

  “Thanks.” She wiped her cheeks, blew her nose, and took a deep shuddering breath. She definitely felt better. Opening the car door, she said, “Let’s get it over with.”

  At the main desk, a blue uniformed sergeant said, “Hi, Mr. Hanson, Jessie. I suppose you’re here about the hit-and-run.” He stood. “Lars Garner’s on the case. He said you’d be coming in. Follow me.”

  The sergeant led them to a small room behind the desk. It contained a plain wooden table and four chairs. “Have a seat.” He brushed crumbs off the table with his hand. “Would you like something to drink? We have bad coffee or cold soda.”

  “Nothing for me, Bob. Jessie?”

  Jessie shook her head. She couldn’t drink anything now because she had to clinch her teeth to keep her lips from quivering. When she smoothed back her hair, her hand trembled.

  Her father was watching her closely. He leaned toward her and said, “This might not be a good idea. Should we come back when you’re not so shaky?”

  For a minute, she felt the tears well up again. “No. I can do it now.” She looked him in the eyes. “You always say the first few hours are the most important after a crime takes place.”

  “Ah yes, my little detective. You listen too well sometimes.” He hugged her. “Okay, we’ll tough it out. But, remember, we don’t know yet if it’s a crime or an accident.”

  An unsmiling man entered the room. He was shorter than her dad and slightly overweight. His navy blue jacket stretched tightly across his chest. His blond hair was cropped short and his eyes were blue. “This is bad, Carl,�
� Detective Garner said to her dad. “A hit-and-run in Fairfield and a kid to boot.” He looked at Jessie. “Are you here to help with the case?” Everyone in town knew about Jessie’s interest in police work.

  “I’m here because I saw the whole thing,” Jessie said.

  The detective slipped a pen and notebook from his jacket pocket, scooted his chair close to the table and asked, “How’d you happen to see it?”

  “I was on a balcony at Mr. Johnson’s, I mean the Swedish Museum.” Jessie’s mouth was so dry she could barely speak. She cleared her throat.

  Detective Garner stood, went to the door and called out to the sergeant to bring some water. In a moment, he returned with a tall green plastic glass and handed it to Jessie.

  She took a long drink and said, “I was watching her toss a ball back and forth to a little boy.”

  The officer wrote in his notebook. “Sunny Peterson?”

  “Yes. I think I heard the car before I saw it. When I looked up the street, it was coming fast—for Willow Lane.”

  He raised his eyes from his notes. “What color was the car?”

  “Light blue.”

  “Did you notice anything else about the car besides the color?”

  “Let me think.” Jessie gazed at the ceiling. “It wasn’t new, and it had four doors and a license plate like ours. And there was only one person in the car.”

  “Male or female?”

  “I don’t know. It seems like the person had on a cap or hat. It had a bill like a baseball cap. I think it was brown.

  “Any dents or damage?”

  Jessie put her face in her hands. “Oh, I don’t know.”

  “Take your time.”

  She looked up suddenly. “There was one of those flowers or something on the antenna.”

  “Oh, right. People put them on their cars so they can find them in crowded parking lots.” He made a note.

  “Yeah!” she said. “I think it was red—a red flower.”