The Family Next Door

By Janice Kay Johnson

COUNT ON A COP

Judith Kane leaves Boston for a small, obscure town three thousand miles away, and she does it for one reason safety. Her ex–husband is out on bail, awaiting trial on a kidnapping charge. He'd stolen their youngest child, Sophie and Judith's afraid of him.

So she moves her family to Mad River, Washington. Right next door to a cop. What could be safer?

But Chief Ben McKinsey doesn't want a family next door. He doesn't want to get involved with an attractive woman like Judith Kane or with her kids. But they seem to need him. And you have to be able to count on a cop.

"Janice Kay Johnson's heart–warming stories will make you smile and cry and laugh out loud."
Pamela Toth

• Language: English
• Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers Australia
• Release date: Jul 1, 2012
• ISBN: 9781460866382

Janice Kay Johnson

The author of more than ninety books for children and adults, Janice Kay Johnson writes about love and family – about the way generations connect and the power our earliest experiences have on us throughout life. An eight time finalist for the Romance Writers of America RITA award, she won a RITA in 2008 for her Superromance novel Snowbound. A former librarian, Janice raised two daughters in a small town north of Seattle, Washington.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

JUDITH KANE STARED at the television screen. Amid a wash of golden light and romantic music, a mother embraced her fair-haired daughter. Credits rolled down the increasingly misty picture.

With the suddenness of a blow, anguish gripped Judith, cramping her stomach, stealing her breath, momentarily paralyzing her. Oh, God, would it never get any easier?

She swallowed. Movement returned and she used the remote control to turn off the television set.

Hey, I was watching! her nine-year-old son complained.

Tough, Judith said, her tone astonishingly normal, unsympathetic, motherly. He couldn’t know how she suffered. At least she had him; she didn’t want him ever to believe that he wasn’t enough. Time for you to do your homework.

Zach turned beseeching brown eyes on her. All I have is spelling. Can’t I do it tonight?

Nope, she said firmly. Tonight we may decide we want to play a game or read for longer than usual. But we won’t be able to if you have to do homework.

Oh, okay, he agreed, disgruntled. When he thought she wasn’t looking, he scrunched his freckled nose at her.

She pretended not to see. As he got out his notebook at the kitchen table and she opened the dishwasher to unload it, Judith ran an internal check. The anguish had subsided, ebbing like a tide, leaving only a salty trace of its presence.

Would the time ever come when she could think of Sophie without that heavy, heart-wrenching pain? When she might go for days without a sudden reminder catching her unaware with the force of a blow and all but immobilizing her?

Did she want the image of Sophie’s sweet face to leave her, even for a few minutes? The idea was terrifying. Nothing, she thought fiercely, would ever make her forget her small daughter.

Drawing a deep breath, she glanced toward Zach, to see that he was watching her anxiously. Judith managed to produce a reassuring smile for his benefit. After a moment, seeming satisfied, he bent his head over his work and began laboriously copying spelling words.

The dishwasher was empty; Judith scanned the kitchen, but counters, sink and floor were spotless. She hadn’t always been such a compulsive housekeeper. Now she was constantly searching for something—anything—to keep her mind occupied.

When the telephone rang, her heart lurched. After two years, she still reacted the same every time. As if this call were the one, as if a voice would say, Mrs. Kane, we have Sophie right here.

Hello? she said.

Mrs. Kane?

She knew the caller instantly, and her pulse leaped. Hope drained her strength and she sagged against the tiled edge of the counter. Yes? she said, with both eagerness and dread.

This is Detective Edgekoski. The police officer didn’t immediately go on.

In his hesitation she read bad news, the worst, and she stood frozen with her back to her son, her fingers squeezing the hard plastic of the phone until it creaked. She couldn’t say a word. Please, God she prayed, as she had prayed countless times these last two years. Always fruitlessly. But this time her prayer was different.... Not dead. Please. Let her be alive. Healthy. Still my Sophie.

Mrs. Kane— the policeman’s voice was gentle —we’ve found your daughter and your ex-husband.

A sobbing breath escaped her. Is she...?

She’s fine. She’s in a receiving home waiting for you to come and get her. They were in Kansas City, Missouri. A mother at your daughter’s preschool recognized Sophie from a photograph on the back of a local mailer. She called the police.

Judith couldn’t think, could only feel. Oh, thank God! I need to get a flight. Her mind jumped. She’s really waiting for me? Is she...is she anxious to come home?

I’m sorry, Mrs. Kane, he replied patiently, they didn’t say. She’s undoubtedly scared. Why don’t you let me know when you have a flight reservation, and then I’ll alert the Kansas City police that you’re coming.

Yes. Fine. She scribbled his phone number down, as if she hadn’t called him weekly for years, begging, pleading, nagging, bullying. A moment later, she hung up the receiver and turned to her son.

He was staring at her. You’re crying.

She touched her wet cheek in vague surprise. They’ve found Sophie.

Zach’s mouth worked, but he said nothing for the longest time. At last, he swallowed. And...and Dad, too?

Yes. May he burn in hell. Yes, the police found both of them.

Are you sad? he whispered, eyes saucer wide.

No. Through her tears, a smile trembled, widened, blazed with joy and trepidation. No, I’m gloriously happy! She laughed and held out her arms. Let me hug you. Then we have to get ready to go pick up your sister.

CHAPTER ONE

JUDITH PARKED at the curb behind the real estate agent’s car and got out. The interior of her van was stifling but shadowy; now the direct heat of the sun struck her with a physical shock.

Zach had wanted to look at all the other houses, but the hundred-degree temperature had apparently enervated him, too, because this time he didn’t say anything or make any move to follow her. In her booster seat in back, Sophie sat sucking her thumb, staring vacantly ahead. She was five years old and due to start kindergarten this fall, but either she was immature or she had regressed because of the trauma of losing her father. Was she ready for school? The psychologist she’d seen since her return thought she was, that kindergarten would be good for her. Judith wasn’t so sure. Another worry to add to her list. She suppressed a sigh.

Lyle Strother, cool from his late-model air-conditioned Ford, stepped out and hoisted his pants. His belly immediately settled back over the waistband.

Nice four-bedroom ranch, the real estate agent said. Two and a half baths—something you’ll appreciate with the kids there. Walking distance to the elementary school.

She turned to face the house. The lawn was patched with brown; the leaves on twin apple trees hung limp. The house itself was well cared for, clapboards painted white, black shutters, a big picture window in front.

Air-conditioned, he added.

Longing seized her. Rylan was behind bars, after all, at least for the moment. Surely they were safe here, in such a small town. This was a good neighborhood. Zach would like being able to walk to school, to the town swimming pool, maybe to friends’ houses eventually. She could walk to work. The house was empty, the agent had said; they could move right in.

And it was air-conditioned.

But what if a judge let Rylan go? She’d been warned he would probably be released on bail. And even after he came to trial... She’d heard so many horror stories about noncustodial fathers who’d stolen their children and barely been slapped on the wrist after they were caught. A policewoman in Kansas City had privately told her that when Sophie was torn from him, Judith’s ex-husband had sworn he’d be back for her. Tell that to your mother, the bitch! he’d bellowed as they shoved him into a police car.

I don’t know, she said. I’m used to living on acreage. That was a flat lie—she’d spent her entire life in Boston and never even had a real yard, much less a pasture. Do you have anything farther out of town?

Lyle looked at her as if she were crazy. Maybe he was right. A single woman with kids, you’re better off in town.

She gritted her teeth but figured she didn’t dare alienate him. Besides, hadn’t she chosen a small community like this precisely because she knew people would stick their noses into each other’s business? Now was no time to start resenting it!

When she said nothing, he hooked his thumbs in his belt and hoisted again, just as uselessly. Why did he bother? Judith wondered.

Sounding exasperated, he offered, Now, I do have some places for sale....

She wouldn’t buy until she knew they were going to stay. Until she knew they were safe, that this could be home.

I need to rent at first.

You don’t even want to look inside? He jerked his head toward the house.

Maybe I’ll come back to this one.

He gave a noisy sigh. I do know of a little place that’s available out of town. Nothing near as nice as this. No air-conditioning. I don’t even know if it has a dishwasher.

Judith pulled her shirt away from her sticky skin. It’s almost September. Surely it won’t stay this hot much longer.

Lyle shrugged. Don’t know how good the furnace is, either.

Wonderful. Judith knew winters were cold here in Mad River, just on the east side of the Cascade Mountains in Washington State. Before she’d accepted the job here, teaching a fifth-grade class, she had gone to the library and read everything she could find about it, including temperature extremes.

She felt the sweat trickling down her back. Those temperature readings had been pretty abstract when she was sitting in the cool, dimly lit Boston Public Library.

May I see this other place? she asked, struggling to stay pleasant. If it doesn’t suit, we can come back here.

The agent gave his balding head a disgusted shake. Your decision. Just stick right behind me.

As if there were any traffic to make trailing him a challenge.

The town was so small they reached its outskirts in minutes. Judith didn’t know whether they were still in the city limits or not when he turned off the paved road onto a dirt one. In his wake, a cloud of dust enveloped her car.

Zach roused from his trance. Where are we going?

To look at another house.

But nobody lives out here.

He was right, she thought uneasily. Woods that looked awfully dry to her New England eye clambered up a rocky ridge to one side of the lane; on the other, a bare trickle in an otherwise parched streambed meandered through the scant grass of a pasture bordered by a split-rail fence.

Living in town had its dangers, but she didn’t want to be too isolated, either. There had to be neighbors nearby, somebody who would notice a stranger lurking around or trying to pull one of her children into a car.

The reluctant thought came: Sophie wouldn’t need pulling; she’d go willingly. That was part of what terrified Judith. Rylan could take her back so easily.

Well, if we don’t like it... she began.

Horses.

At the one single word, Judith jerked her head up. What?

Glancing in the rearview mirror, she saw that Sophie had momentarily taken her thumb from her mouth and was—miracle of miracles—focusing on something outside the car. Horses, she said again, almost eagerly.

It was true. A palomino and a brown horse stood motionless, heads hanging, in the meager shade of a dry pine tree.

That’s right, Judith said in that fake cheery voice she hated. Maybe they’ll be our neighbors.

Predictably, Zach piped up, "Can we have a horse?"

Well, probably not for now.

Why not?

The car jolted into a rut and Judith’s head struck the roof. She slowed still further and blinked grit from her eyes. I wouldn’t know how to take care of one, she admitted. And what if they had to move again? Would they haul a horse trailer with them? But she didn’t want to tell the children that living here might not be permanent.

What good would it do to flee, anyway? her logical side demanded. It wasn’t as if she were in hiding here; she’d taken a job under her own name, and her father and mother and Rylan’s parents knew where she and the children were. A private investigator could find them with no trouble. To go into hiding, she would have to steal the children from their grandparents as Rylan had with Sophie, and she couldn’t do that to either of them. And how would she make a living if she couldn’t use her teaching certificate? Waitressing wouldn’t support the three of them very well.

But if Rylan came here, he’d stand out. She was counting on getting to know people and letting their neighborly eyes help keep her children safe.

Maybe he wouldn’t even try, once he found she’d sold her town house and they had vanished. She was convinced he’d taken Sophie because he knew it was the best way to hurt her, Judith, not because he really wanted to be a single parent. He hadn’t been such a good father back when she’d asked him to spend more time with their children.

The blue Ford ahead passed a two-story white farmhouse on the right, with a red barn behind it. Somebody did live here. They wouldn’t be entirely alone. The lane narrowed further, and a few hundred yards beyond, it ended in the yard of a ramshackle house not old enough to have character but too old for air-conditioning.

It wasn’t as bad as she’d imagined, Judith thought optimistically. Maybe it would do. It felt...safe here, so far off the main road. And the only way in and out required going by the other house first.

She put the van in park and turned off the engine. In the silence, she said, You guys want to get out and look at this one?

She braced herself for sullenness from Zach. To her surprise, he said, Yeah, okay, and unbuckled his seat belt.

Cheeks flushed, Sophie stuck out her lower lip. Can I go look at the horses?

Feeling helpless, Judith said in that same false tone, I’m afraid not, kiddo. What if they bite or kick or something? But if we rent this house, maybe their owner will let you pet them some time.

The five-year-old’s mouth trembled. I want to pet them now.

Oh, God. To make Sophie happy, wasn’t it worth traipsing over to that split-rail fence to have a look at those poor hot horses, which were unlikely in this heat to do more than twitch an ear?

Well...maybe after we’ve looked at the house, she said weakly.

Sophie gave her a measuring stare from gray eyes rather like Judith’s own. Okay, she said, and didn’t protest when Judith climbed into the back and unfastened her seat belt.

Lyle was running a finger over the dusty hood of his formerly shiny blue car. The toothy smile that had greeted her at each of the previous houses was markedly absent. His gaze went past her to the drab, singlestory house. Not much to look at.

Beige paint was starting to peel, and the varying colors of roof shingles showed where patching had been done. The windows looked blank, covered only by cheap blinds, but the frames appeared solid and were made of wood.

Well...it could use some work.

Hasn’t been anyone in it for eight months or so.

Which undoubtedly meant that gritty dirt had penetrated cupboards and closets, and spiderwebs would adorn corners. Well, she could clean, and school didn’t start for two weeks.

Is it owned by the people who live back in that farmhouse? she asked, starting up the steps. The house did have an old-fashioned porch, at least, which she liked. And two big old lilac bushes, one on either side of the steps.

Nah. Lyle was searching his heavy ring of keys for the right one. Police chief lives there. Ben McKinsey. Not real sociable. He’d probably let this place fall to ruin if it was his.

The police chief? Judith turned to gaze consideringly back at the farmhouse. Sophie and Zach, sitting on the porch steps, did the same.

Folks who own this place live over t’other side of the mountains. Issaquah. Bought this figuring they could keep it rented. His tone suggested they were fools. There was talk about a ski area up here. Came to nothing.

She didn’t care about ski areas or her future landlord, only her new neighbor. A policeman. How lucky could they get?

Ah. The real estate agent had found the right key and inserted it into the lock.

The door gave way, and Judith, holding her breath, stepped across the threshold. Unless the interior was really, really terrible, this would be their new home.

The moment she saw the large living room and the neat brick fireplace, she let out a sigh of relief. Yes!

Zach was already thundering down the hall toward the bedrooms. Sophie, as usual, hung back. When Judith held out a hand, she shrank away. Though Judith knew she should be used to it, she still hurt every time her daughter rejected her.

She looked up to meet the agent’s eyes. She’d seen him watching her with Sophie before, and by now puzzlement bordered closely on suspicion.

She’s tired, Judith said, forcing a smile. We drove across the country in just five days, you know.

Only after a pointed pause did he nod and say expressionlessly, Hadn’t you better take a look at the kitchen?

She bit her lip. Yes. Of course.

Was there hardwood under the worn brown carpet? Judith was already making plans, mentally scrubbing the narrow sash windows until they shone, putting up new blinds, setting out her furniture once it arrived. If the rent was as low as she hoped, she wouldn’t have to dip into the money she would use to buy a house once they were permanently settled.

Maybe here in Mad River; she didn’t know. The name of the town reflected its oddity, or maybe her state of mind. This was an alien land, nothing like their old home, but for now it felt safe. Shielding her children from their father was all that counted.

THE POLICE RADIO crackled. Frowning, Ben McKinsey ignored it. Ahead of him, a kid who couldn’t have been more than five or six years old was walking alongside the highway. The dirt shoulder wasn’t very wide, and he flinched when a car whizzed by. Ben put on his flashers, slowed his squad car and eased to a stop behind him.

The boy gave a frightened look over his shoulder but stopped walking when he saw the police officer get out of the car.

Ben didn’t much like kids, but he’d look damned. silly calling in backup to deal with this one. He headed toward the boy, hearing how forced his bantering tone sounded. Hi, young man. You going somewhere special?

Well, hell. A kid wouldn’t recognize insincerity.

A short haircut didn’t keep a cowlick from standing straight up on the crown of the boy’s head. Skinny legs stuck out of blue soccer shorts. Dirty toes poked out of leather sandals.

Ben wondered if he had underestimated the kid. His eyes narrowed and he thought long and hard about whether he should answer any questions, but finally he said with dignity, My mom’s waiting for me. She works at the AM-PM.

The convenience store-gas station was another half mile away and across a busy intersecting road. What in tarnation was the kid doing out here alone?

Frowning, Ben asked, Don’t you have a baby-sitter who could have driven you or at least walked with you?

Lisa and her boyfriend were smooching. The boy made a horrible face. "I told her I wanted my mom, but she didn’t listen. So I just left."

Ah. If his mom didn’t take care of the baby-sitter, Ben would. Hoping to be persuasive, he went with the favorite-uncle tone again. Well, you just hop on in my car, and I’ll take you to find your mom.

A semi thundered by, and the kid almost stumbled into the ditch. But still he hesitated, scuffing the dirt with one foot. I’m not supposed to get in cars unless it’s Mom’s friend Janet or maybe my uncle John. I don’t know you.

Why maybe Uncle John? Ben wondered. Okay, forget uncles, favorite or otherwise. Has your mom ever talked to you about what to do if you get in trouble or you’re lost? Who you should go to for help?

His forehead puckered. Yes. She said I should look for a policeman. His face cleared. That’s what you are, isn’t it?

That’s me. Ben raised an eyebrow. I’d say you’re in trouble right now. A highway is no place for a boy your age to be walking.

A pickup pulling a horse trailer passed next, the trailer swaying. The boy darted a scared look after it, then directed one at Ben. The frying pan and the fire. Smart kid.

Okay, he finally decided. When Ben held open the passenger-side door, he scrambled in, looking curiously miniature inside the police car.

Once behind the wheel, Ben said, I’m Chief McKinsey. What’s-your name?

I’m a muk, too.

In the act of pulling out onto the highway, he shot the kid a glance. A muk?

My name, the little boy said precisely, "is. Jonathan McDaniel. You know. Mc."

Ben might not like kids, but he had to smile. Gotcha.

He parked out front of the store, and he and Jonathan went in. Ben prayed that Mom really did work here and this was her shift. He didn’t know what in hell he’d do with this kid if he couldn’t find his mother. He sure wasn’t going to leave him with the baby-sitter, but taking him to a receiving home seemed a little extreme. He was decently dressed and looked healthy enough. Dirty, but Ben seemed to remember that boys his age were always dirty.

The heavy gray-haired woman behind the cash register couldn’t be the kid’s mother. Jonathan glanced dismissively at her and rotated in place, scanning the store.

Mommy! he cried suddenly, and a young woman coming out of a back room hurried toward them.

"Jon! What are you