'Well, if they didn’t get in, then nothing’s lost,' she said, and lifted her suitcase to take it toward the bedroom.
Jake ignored the hint. 'I saw them.'
'Yes,' she said noncommittally.
'Really saw them,' he said. 'Saw them so clearly it was like a flash picture. There were four of them, and not kids, either. Grown men. When I turned on the light, one of them started to pull out a gun. He couldn’t see me, because the switch is inside by the front door.'
'Did you describe them to the police?'
'Sure, but they’re not from around here. The Deganawida police aren’t going to pick them up and put them in a lineup for me.'
'I don’t think they could do a lineup for you, Jake. They have to put in extra people to fool you, and you know everybody,' she said. 'But if they were just passing through, at least they won’t break into somebody else’s house tomorrow.'
'Jane ...'
'What?'
'You know the chief, Dave Dormont, he’s a good friend of mine. I pulled him out of Ellicott Crick one time when we were kids. The Rowland boys had tossed him in and I was ten years older, and ... Anyway, he’s a really good cop. Maybe it’s because he got picked on when he was little, so he doesn’t put up with the strong hurting the weak. He was an F.B.I, agent for years.'
'I heard that,' she said.
'That wasn’t just gossip. I was saying he might be able to help.'
'Oh,' she said. 'I don’t think I need anything special. Look around. Unless they wanted some women’s clothes ...'
'They weren’t after your stuff,' he said quietly. 'And you know it.'
'I do?'
'I said your house was burglarized, and you didn’t get scared or run around looking to see what they’d taken. I said ’they,’ instead of ’he,’ and you didn’t say, ’How many?’ When I said I saw them, you didn’t ask what they looked like. You knew what they looked like because you’ve seen them too.'
'Jake,' she said carefully. 'You know I love you and I value your friendship and I don’t forget the things you did for all of us kids when we were little. It didn’t matter whose kids were whose, we all piled into the car and fought for the window seats and lined up for Popsicles. But I don’t need any help.'
'You mean I’m wrong?'
'I mean this is a conversation we’re not going to have all the way through.'
He stared at the floor for a moment. 'All right. I just want you to know that it won’t matter if it turns out to be your own fault. I saw those four, and I know men like that don’t just come out of the blue after a young woman in Deganawida. You have to go where they are to attract their attention. How it happened doesn’t matter to me. I’m on your side.' He started for the door, then stopped. 'And thanks for not lying to me about it. You know I’d hate that.'
'Yes, I do,' said Jane.
Jake went out and closed the door, and she hurried to lock it behind him and activate the alarm system. She blew out a sigh of exhaustion, frustration, and despair. She decided she would face her life better after a bath and some sleep. As she walked into the bedroom upstairs, she saw that the light on her answering machine was blinking. Her heart stopped, and she actually heard herself gasp. Did he know her number? Why not? He’d been in here alone for days, and it was on the dial. Maybe something was wrong. She carefully pressed the button, superstitiously afraid that somehow she could press the wrong one and erase it.
'Jane?' It was a woman’s voice. 'You know who this is.' There was a pause. 'I wanted to let you know I made it. I’ll never forget what you did for me. Never.' There was some complicated clicking, and she heard two seconds of dial tone before the machine disconnected. It was Rhonda Eckerly, and the message was at least a week old. Jane released the breath she had been holding. She could hear the happiness in Rhonda’s voice, her throat so tight she was almost choking on it. Jane tried to feel the happiness, but she couldn’t. She had wanted it to be Felker. Even though it would have been a stupid thing for him to do, she wanted to hear his voice. She wanted him to be as stupid as she was.
Jane lay in the bathtub for nearly an hour, until the water was cold and her fingertips and toes were wrinkled and every molecule of dust from the road had been soaked off. Then she put on sweats and lay down to think. She awoke on top of the covers at four in the afternoon, already thinking about the police.
She sat up and dialed information to get the number they used for normal business. 'Deganawida police,' said the deep, resonant voice.
'Hello,' she said. 'This is Jane Whitefield. I just got back from out of town and I understand I had a burglary?'
There was a short pause. 'Are you reporting it, or did you already?'
'The police were here already.'
There was another short delay, and the voice came back sounding cheerful, so he must have found what he was looking for. 'Yes, ma’am.'
'I just wanted to know if there was anything I had to do. I was gone when they were here.'
'Well, no,' he said. 'If you find anything missing, you should come fill out a report. Your insurance company will need a copy of that.'
'Nothing’s missing. They never got inside.'
'Okay,' he said. 'I’ll just make a note.'
'Good,' she said. 'Thank you.'
'Oh, and one more thing.' Where did they all learn to say that? 'If you see any suspicious activity, be sure to call and we’ll check it out. Sometimes they come back.'
'I sure will,' she said, and hung up quickly. She sat cross-legged on the bed and considered. The fact that the four men had come here at all was an immense relief. It meant that they had completely lost the trail in Olcott, only a few miles from here. If they hadn’t even gotten inside the house, they hadn’t learned anything about her that would have helped. Whatever they learned from now on was useless. There was no logical way for them to piece together the trail from Olcott to John Young of 4350 Islington, Apartment B, Medford, Oregon.
She walked down the stairs and took his picture out of her purse. The best course of action would be to take it into the kitchen and burn it. Then it occurred to her that the picture didn’t lead anywhere, either. If they had been following him, they didn’t need a picture. And if they had seen him come put of this house, they already knew she knew him. She stopped in the dining room and looked at the boarded window. It was special glass put in by the alarm people, and in order to get to it, the men had ripped the special conductive screen over it.
Jane picked up the telephone in the living room and dialed the alarm company’s number. She had perfected the nervous-young-woman-who -lives-alone voice, so the man on the other end was eager to send a technician to replace the window in the morning.
Then she called Cliff.
'Janie, Janie,' he said. 'You do the weirdest things to my cars.'
'Is it broken?'
'No.'
'I didn’t paint it, did I?'
'No.'
'I didn’t keep it too long.'
'No, you just parked it out in the boonies.'
'Cliff, I’ll make you a deal.'
'You’ll wash and wax it, and I won’t charge the wear-and-tear fee and the pickup fee and the reshelving fee? Gee, I don’t know ...'
'No,' she said. 'You’ll forget your fees, and I’ll forget my refund.'
There was a shocked silence. 'Jane, you okay?'
'Why?'
'You don’t seem ... normal.'
