Hannah Alexander - Death Benefits

The children’s days would be filled with swimming, hiking, exploring. Graham and Willow didn’t want to spend the whole time separated from the girls, so they planned to have dinner most evenings with Lucy and Brittany.

It looked as if Larry Bager would now be helping Ginger, Preston and the Courtneys babysit.

Ginger had taken a second sip of milk when she thought she heard a tap-rattle somewhere at the other end of the house. Probably the wind.

Still…

She pushed away from the table and crept through the dark, quiet house. Before leaving for the medical mission field in Belarus, Ginger had been afraid of things that went bump in the night. Ten years dealing with every situation imaginable in a foreign country had toughened her. Now, it took more than an unidentified noise in the darkness to frighten her; it took recent notification that a convicted murderer had broken out of prison.

She passed her bedroom door and skirted the bentwood coatrack in the hall when a tiny figure in white suddenly appeared, startling her.

“Brittany?” she whispered. “Honey, what are you doing out of bed?”

The child rubbed her eyes and squeezed poor Chuckles so tightly Ginger feared for his head. “Lucy woke me up and now I can’t sleep.”

Ginger took Brittany’s free hand and led her back along the hallway. “How about sharing some warm milk with me?”

“With honey?”

“Sure.” Ginger brushed long strands of Brittany’s blond hair behind her shoulders, and looked down into the child’s green eyes. This little darling looked so much like her late mother that it sometimes chilled Ginger.

The sisters looked nothing alike. Lucy had dark, soulfully deep eyes that seemed to see beneath the surface of things. Her hair was almost as dark as her eyes, her face solemn in repose, whereas Brittany always had a quick smile. Lucy remained aloof from strangers, and it often seemed to concern her when her little sister made friends easily.

The bond of love between the sisters was strong. Lucy took her role as older sister seriously. For the first few months of the girls’ life here in Hideaway, Lucy had refused to let Brittany out of her sight.

Keeping watch over the active five-year-old was quite a responsibility, and, after much pleading, Ginger had convinced Lucy that Brittany would come to no harm here in the tiny village of kind, common people.

“How did Lucy wake you up?” Ginger asked.

“She had another bad dream, and then I got into bed with her so she’d feel safe, but she left me there.”

Ginger stopped. “She left you?”

“Uh-huh. She went out to the hallway when you and Daddy were arguing.”

Ginger winced. “We weren’t arguing.” What if Lucy had overheard her talking to Graham about Rick Fenrow? “Where is she now?”

Before Brittany could answer, a scream rent the air, followed quickly by another, raising the hairs along the back of Ginger’s neck and causing her to stumble and stub her toe on the hall coatrack.

That was Lucy’s voice, raised in terror.

Another nightmare?

Ginger turned and ran back down the hallway. Graham’s door flew open and he scrambled out, nearly colliding with Ginger. The screams continued.

They reached Lucy’s room to find her standing between the beds, staring out the window. Graham grabbed her up into his arms while Ginger turned on the light. Lucy’s face was as pale as her nightgown, her dark brown eyes wide with terror, mouth open, long hair falling over her face.

“The man, Graham!” she cried, pointing toward the window. “There was a man! He was out there watching me when I opened my eyes. I saw him. He was watching me! Right in that window!”

Graham put Lucy down and grabbed the flashlight the girls kept on the stand between the beds for when the electricity went off. He rushed to the window and shone the bright beam over the yard around the side of the house, then turned and ran from the room. Within seconds, the outdoor lights flooded the yard and garden, outlining two of the horses in the corral behind the house.

Ginger heard Brittany’s cries from the kitchen. Grabbing Lucy’s hand, she hurried back to find Graham holding Brittany in his arms as he punched a number on the telephone keypad.

“Shhh, it’s okay, honey,” he whispered to Brittany. “It’s going to be okay. Lucy’s been having some bad dreams lately, you know—” His attention switched to the phone. “Greg? This is Graham Vaughn. Could you come out here? We’ve had some excitement.” He explained the situation to the sheriff in two succinct sentences, thanked him and hung up, stooping to place Brittany on her feet.

“There’ll be some men here in a couple of minutes. I’m going to go outside and check—”

“No!” Lucy cried. “What if it’s that man?” She stared, wide-eyed, at Brittany, pressing her lips together. The terror in her eyes told Ginger what she’d feared.

Indeed, Lucy had heard them earlier tonight. She obviously knew about Rick Fenrow.

“Graham,” Ginger said, “why don’t you stay inside?” More than likely, Lucy had awakened from another nightmare, and convinced herself it was real because of what she’d overheard. More than likely.

But Ginger didn’t want to take chances. And so the four of them stayed together in the kitchen, staring out the windows, the children wide-eyed and trembling, until they heard the sound of a motor a few minutes later.

As they’d expected, the sheriff and his deputy, as well as Taylor Jackson, forest ranger, arrived in three different vehicles—Taylor’s vehicle being a boat.

This sprawling log home provided them with the best of both worlds. They lived in the country, with all the privacy they could want. They were only a quarter of a mile from downtown Hideaway by way of the shoreline, and one mile by road. Many Hideaway residents used water transportation.

The men searched the entire property. By the time they were finished, Dane Gideon, mayor of Hideaway and director of the boys’ ranch across the lake, had come over. With him were his household help, Richard Cook, and college student, Blaze Farmer, who, Ginger knew, Lucy adored. If anyone could put Lucy at ease about tonight, it would be Blaze.

All the men went over the property once again for good measure, then rejoined the family in the great room, accepting the cups of hot chocolate the girls had helped Ginger prepare.

No one was found, but Ginger couldn’t help feeling that perhaps someone just didn’t want to be found.

Ray Clyde sat reading the Springfield Daily News with his back to the window that looked out over the parking lot of the Springfield-Branson Airport. He’d received an early morning summons to Columbia Regional Hospital for one of his young patients. After finishing there, he’d decided just to drive on down to Springfield rather than go back to bed. He’d have had to get up early to make the three-hour drive, anyway.

It was never easy to get back to sleep after dealing with a child in pain, though after twenty years, he should be impervious to the cries of mother and child, the fear and panic. He wasn’t. He had decided when he first began his career that if he ever ceased to have compassion for his patients, he would retire.

He’d be working well into his seventies at this rate.

He glanced over the top of his paper as two familiar figures entered the concourse and walked toward the Delta self-check-in terminals. He smiled at the sight of Willow Traynor and her brother, Preston Black.

Willow glowed with the radiance of a woman in love. Tall and slender, with short, dark hair, she emanated self-sufficiency. This was something about which her fiancé, Graham Vaughn, occasionally complained—though always with good grace.