Shadows on the Lane Read online

  “What happened next?”

  “When the ball rolled over the curb, Sunny ran after it and stepped into the street. But not very far.” She covered her eyes, as if to blot out the image. “I shouted something and she must have heard the car too, because she looked toward it.”

  “And then?”

  “That was the awful part,” said Jessie. “It seemed like the driver steered the car a little bit in her direction.”

  Detective Garner stared at her. “You mean as if he were aiming for her?”

  “Well, just a little bit. I know I thought that when I saw it.” She gripped the edge of the table. “Then the car kind of brushed her and she fell onto the pavement.”

  “What happened next?” he asked. His face was red and he looked angry.

  “The driver looked at her for a second and then the car raced off down Willow Lane. He saw her! He knew he hit her, but he didn’t stop!” Jessie felt the tears coming again but fought them back. “I ran into the tearoom and called for help.”

  Detective Garner wrote in his notebook, and then looked up. “Anything else you can think of?”

  Jessie squinted, thinking. “Only that I think Sunny knew the person who ran her down.”

  “What?” The detective frowned and glanced at her father.

  “But, Jessie,” said her dad. “Sunny probably doesn’t know many people here. She’s only been in Fairfield a few days.”

  Detective Garner leaned toward her from across the table. “Why do you think this, Jessie?”

  “Because just before the car hit her, Sunny smiled and waved at the driver.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  By the time Jessie and her dad were back in the car, the sun had set and bands of pink and gold clouds drifted across the horizon. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. She had never felt so tired.

  “Can you last long enough for one more stop?” asked her dad.

  “Oh, Daddy. I’m so tired. And I’m starving.” Jessie slumped farther into her seat. “Afternoon tea isn’t really a meal.”

  He opened the glove compartment, pulled out two candy bars and handed one to Jessie. “It’ll only take a few minutes. I need to stop by the hospital and speak to Sunny’s father.”

  Suddenly Jessie was wide awake. She straightened up, ripped open the candy wrapper and took a bite. “Oh, the hospital. Sure.” Bryce would be there.

  At Fairfield Hospital’s reception desk, her father spoke quietly to the attendant and then steered Jessie to the elevators. On the fourth floor, she followed him to a small waiting room across from the nurses’ desk. Worn-out magazines and sections of newspapers were scattered on tables and chairs. In the far corner by a big window, Jessie spied Bryce, his dad and Miss Tyler.

  Jessie and her dad pulled up chairs and sat down with the little group. Leaning forward, her father asked in a low voice, “How’s Sunny?”

  Bryce’s dad cleared his throat. “She has a concussion and a broken leg. They’re setting the leg now. Dr. Adams says she’ll be all right.”

  Jessie’s father straightened and smiled. “That’s great news!”

  Dr. Peterson nodded and smiled at Jessie. “It’s a good thing you were on that balcony, Jessie. We owe you a big thanks.”

  “Yes, Jessica,” said Miss Tyler. “And thank you for staying with me while I calmed down. You were a great comfort.”

  Jessie felt her face get warm. “You’re welcome.” She sneaked a glance at Bryce.

  He was watching her with a little smile. Jessie felt her knees go weak. It’s a good thing I’m sitting down. I’d sure hate to faint away in front of everyone.

  When her father, Sunny’s dad and Miss Tyler began to talk about the legal details of the hit-and-run, Bryce came and sat beside Jessie. “You helped us today. Thank you.”

  She nodded and said, “I didn’t even know you had a sister. Was she a secret?”

  “No.” He shook his head and frowned. “It’s just that we were so busy trying to solve the baby-monitor mystery, we never got a chance to talk about anything else.”

  “Sunny is so pretty, Bryce,” Jessie said. “I hope she’s okay.”

  “Thanks. It looks like she’ll be…”

  Dr. Adams appeared at the doorway with a big smile on his face. “We set her leg and put on a brace.” He pulled off his green hospital cap, releasing a mop of black curls. “She’ll have to be in a wheel chair or on crutches for about six weeks.”

  “It could have been a lot worse!” Sunny’s father said.

  “What about the concussion?” asked Jessie’s dad.

  “She has a large bruise over her left ear. Sunny was unconscious for a couple of minutes after the accident. She may have some short-term amnesia. We’ll keep her overnight and watch her. You can see her now.”

  Amnesia? How can we find out who hit her if she can’t remember anything? Jessie stood up and started to follow Bryce and his father.

  Jessie’s dad took her hand. “We’ll talk to you later, Lawrence. Come on, Jess. Now you can go home and eat.”

  “But…” Jessie began to protest.

  “Time to go, Jess,” said her dad. “Remember how tired you are?”

  “Bye, everybody,” Jessie said. She followed her dad slowly to the elevator.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The next morning, Jessie lay in bed and thought about the details of the accident. What did I miss? If I use my detecting skills, can I figure out who was driving the hit-and-run car? I need to concentrate.

  “Ha, ha, ha.” Phillip was peering at her through the metalwork scrolls at the foot of her brass bed.

  “What’s so funny?” Jessie asked.

  He ducked out of sight and reappeared. “Boo! Ha, ha. Scared you.”

  Jessie threw back the covers and jumped out of bed. “No you didn’t. I can hear you coming a mile away.”

  He winked, stuck out his tongue and ran from the room.

  Two-year-olds. What a pain, thought Jessie.

  “Jessie,” her mother called from downstairs. “Telephone.”

  She went to the phone in her parents’ bedroom. “Hello?” A baby howled in the background.

  “Boy, Jessie,” Tina said. “How is it you always end up in the middle of some police case?”

  Jessie laughed. “Lucky, I guess. It even amazes me, being on that balcony at just the right time.”

  Tina’s voice rose over the background crying. “Let’s go somewhere. The babies are crying nonstop.”

  Phillip tore into the room and crawled into Jessie’s lap. She kissed his cheek and silently thanked him for being two years old instead of two months old like the twins. “What’s wrong with them?”

  “Who knows? Mom and Dad are working on it. How’s the little girl?”

  Jessie shifted Phillip in her lap. “Her name is Sunny and she’s Bryce Peterson’s sister.”

  “You are kidding me! No wonder she’s so cute.”

  “So true. Anyway she has a broken leg and a concussion. I heard your dad say she might have amnesia. Didn’t he tell you about it?”

  “My dad and I haven’t had a conversation since the twins were born. Kind of a blessing, actually.”

  “Remember that the next time you’re complaining about the babies.”

  “Good point. So let’s do something. Anything to get out of here.” Tina sounded desperate.

  “I have my first piano lesson today. I’ll check with mom and call you back.”

  “Make it soon!” Tina said.

  Jessie set Phillip on his feet and took his hand. Together they went down the wide staircase to the kitchen. Her mother scooped oatmeal into three blue bowls and placed them on yellow placemats at the round table. While her mom made a small stack of toast, Jessie took napkins from the holder and spoons from the drawer. She lifted Phillip into his booster seat and set the table.

  “Oatmeal?” Phillip said.

  “Yes, Phillip.” Jessie tied his bib. “It’ll give you energy so you can run, run, run all morning.�
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  “I’m tired already,” muttered her mother.

  They sat down at the table. “Any news about the accident?” asked Jessie.

  “From what I hear, it might not be an accident.” Her mother handed Phillip a piece of toast.

  Jessie poured milk into her oatmeal. “It could have been an accident. We don’t know yet.”

  “You’re right, Jessie.” Her mother smoothed back Phillip’s hair. “It’s just…well happening on Willow Lane right in front of our house. It could have been you or Phillip.”

  Phillip banged his spoon on the table.

  “Stop, Phillip,” said his mom. “Your piano lesson is at two o’clock today, so be here by one-thirty. I’ll have to drive you there.”

  Jessie finished her cereal. “What about a piano?”

  “We’ll rent one for awhile, to see if you like playing.”

  Jessie carried her bowl and spoon to the sink. “Don’t worry, Mom. I’m going to play whether I like it or not.”

  Her mother smiled. “Bryce Peterson has an amazing effect on you, Jessie.”

  Jessie hurried from the kitchen to hide her blushing face. Honestly. What is Mom—a mind reader? She called Tina from the hall phone. “Okay, we have to be back by one-thirty. I’ll be right over.”

  When Jessie got to Tina’s, her friend was walking her bike through the front gate. “Thank goodness,” said Tina. “Let’s go.”

  They headed down the street on their bicycles. “Is it really that bad at your house?”

  Tina rolled her eyes and drooped her shoulders. “You have no idea. Multiply Phillip by two. I am never having kids.”

  Jessie navigated her bike around a hole in the brick paving. “Sounds awful. Where should we go?”

  Tina threw back her head in a gesture of freedom. “Let’s ride out to the old grain mill.”

  Once they turned onto the graveled country road, the girls stopped talking and paid close attention to their steering. One false move and they could be skidding right into the ditch. They’d both learned that the hard way when they were little kids.

  At the grain mill, they leaned their bikes against a big oak tree and walked around the mill. Tina shrugged off her sweater, tied the sleeves around her waist and said, “What are you thinking about the accident yesterday?”

  Jessie yanked a blade of grass from the ground and ran it through her fingers. “I think I can figure this out. I saw the car and I have a feeling Sunny recognized the driver. I’m going to get to know Sunny when she comes home from the hospital.”

  “Hmmm,” Tina said. “Would you be so eager to know her if she wasn’t Bryce’s sister?”

  Jessie laughed and tossed the blade of grass into the breeze. “Probably not.”

  Giggling, the girls ran through the field of blue and yellow wildflowers until exhaustion forced them to the ground. Sitting cross-legged, they caught their breath and turned their faces to the sun. “I’m so glad school’s out,” said Jessie. She looked at her watch. “We’d better go.”

  A car was racing down the gravel road. Jessie shaded her eyes and stood up. As it came closer, it skidded from side to side on the loose stones. “Tina! Look! It’s the hit-and-run car!”

  Tina leaped to her feet. “Get the license number!”

  The car roared past them in a whirl of thick dust.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Jessie rubbed her eyes. “Could you see the license?”

  “No way. It’s like a dust storm.” Tina wiped her mouth with her arm. “All I saw was something red on the antenna.

  Jessie positioned her bike and got on. “I don’t get it. Why don’t we know that car? I thought I knew everyone’s car in Fairfield.” She took the lead back onto the gravel and held her breath.

  Back on the paved street, Tina said, “Maybe it’s a barn car. My uncle Bob almost never uses his car. He saves it for special occasions. It’s really old but it looks like new. It just sits in the barn with a tarp over it. He uses his pickup truck instead.”

  Jessie grinned. “So you’re saying there are all these cars in barns that no one sees except at weddings and funerals? This is beginning to make sense.”

  Jessie waved goodbye to Tina at the Adams’ house and headed for home. A van with a long ramp slanted against the open back doors stood in her driveway. Hooray! My piano!

  Inside the house, two men carried a small piano into the living room. Her mom spotted Jessie. “Where shall we put it?”

  Jessie already knew. “On the back wall by the window. Then I can see the trees and hear the birds.”

  While her mom signed the paperwork, Jessie sat on the polished bench that matched the spinet piano and softly struck each key from the bottom to the top of the keyboard. I promise I will practice every day.

  “Jessie,” said her mom. “It’s time to go to your lesson.”

  Great! We’re finally getting started. She ran out the door.

  With Phillip strapped in his child seat in back and her mother at the wheel, Jessie studied the countryside. She’d always wondered how the farmers plowed the fields in perfect rows ready for spring planting. But there they were, set to go. Giant trees edged the road to give the coming crops shelter from the winds. It looked beautiful to her and the sweet aroma of freshly turned soil filled the air and drifted through the open windows of the car.

  They pulled into a farmyard. Weeds grew around a clearing and in the gravel of the driveway. Rusty farm equipment, long unused, lay in haphazard piles near the broken-down barn. Boards on the corral fence were splintered and warped. Here, no crops would be planted. Only wild grass filled the surrounding land. Jessie’s heart sunk.

  “Are you sure we’re in the right place?” Jessie eyed the farmhouse. It didn’t look much better. Paint peeled on the sagging porch and some of the windows had torn or missing screens. “This place is scary!”

  “Scary? Scary? Scary?” It was Phillip.

  Her mother turned off the ignition. “Now you’ve got him going.” She unsnapped her seat belt and turned to release the catch on Phillip’s carrier.

  “Polly Tyler recommended this teacher. Her name is Mrs. Livingston. I’ve met her a few times at church. She taught piano to Bryce Peterson’s dad when he was in high school.”

  “No kidding.” Jessie couldn’t imagine Dr. Peterson anywhere near this mess. “It’s almost two o’clock. We’d better go in.”

  A tiny, delicate-looking woman answered their knock. She must have been eighty years old, but stood straight with upswept white hair and eyes of sparkling blue. She wore a simple long-sleeved black dress with a cameo broach at the neck. “Come in! Come in! So this is Jessica. And you wish to learn to play the piano? Wonderful!” Her voice was soft and musical. Jessie loved her on the spot.

  They followed Mrs. Livingston down a drab narrow hallway and into a bright and sunny studio. On a wine-colored Oriental carpet in the center of the room stood a shiny black grand piano. Three sides of the room were lined with polished wood shelves piled high with sheet music and piano books. The fourth side was a floor to ceiling window framing a field of grass rippling in the breeze. In one corner stood a glass case displaying a violin. Next to it was a music stand.

  Violin? I wonder if she teaches violin too. Maybe she’s Bryce’s teacher.

  “See the big piano, Phillip?’ said Jessie.

  But Phillip wasn’t talking and kept a tight grip on his mother’s hand.

  “Well,” said Jessie’s mom. “I guess we’ll leave you two. Or should we stay?”

  “No, no. You run along,” said Mrs. Livingston. “Jessie and I have much to discuss. Come back in an hour. At three o’clock.”

  Her mother and Phillip closed the door behind them and clattered down the hallway. “Scary. Scary. Scary.” Phillip’s voice trailed off as they left the house.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Mrs. Livingston walked to the piano and gestured for Jessie to join her. “Make yourself comfortable on the bench and we will get to know each other.” The teach
er sat on a chair next to Jessie.

  “Have you always wanted to play?” asked Mrs. Livingston. “I ask because usually there is one reason, one actual reason, that inspires a person to go through the work of learning a musical instrument.” She smiled reassuringly. “Do you think you could share that secret with me? I promise never to divulge it to anyone.”

  Jessie considered the question. “I have a friend who plays the violin.” She could feel her face get hot. “I’ve been listening to him.” Now she was getting nervous. Could she trust this woman to not repeat what she said? “Anyway, it made me think maybe I could play music too. Not like him—he’s so good—but at lease try.” She flipped her braid over her shoulder and looked at the keyboard.

  “But not the violin?” asked the teacher. “I also teach that instrument.”

  “Oh no. I really love the sound of the piano,” Jessie said. All of a sudden, she realized that she really did love the sound of the piano, and always had.

  “I think you have answered my question,” said Mrs. Livingston. “Very often a pupil becomes committed to playing because she loves the sound of a certain instrument and wants to create that for herself.” She rose smiling, retrieved a book from the shelf and returned to her chair. “So your friend’s playing put the idea into your head and now you are here! Let us begin.”

  Whew, I don’t think she knows I was talking about Bryce. Jessie could hardly believe it when the hour was up. By then she had learned the names of the keys and how the octaves repeated themselves up the keyboard. Mrs. Livingston supplied her with workbooks and asked her to practice what they had studied for a half-hour each day.

  As they walked down the dark hallway, the teacher said, “Now, Jessica, you must practice every day. Not all at once before your lesson.” She switched on a light. “Practicing each day conditions your hands, as well as your brain, to the material. Do you understand?”

  “I will. I’ll practice every day.” The determination in her voice even surprised Jessie. Just before they came to the front door, Jessie glanced into the living room on her right. It was a dismal space with shabby furniture and faded wallpaper. A woman sat on a straight-backed chair near a window. Her hair was gray and pulled into a bun at the back of her head. She wore old jeans and a black sweater. She didn’t seem to be doing anything except sitting and staring.