Whispers
Romance Books

You Call This Love?
by Deborah Milton

Excerpt: CHAPTER ONE

"Of all the idiotic things to do," I muttered, gritting my teeth and yanking the steering wheel sharply to the right. I brought my new station wagon to a screeching halt.

"Shoot. I can't believe you did this, Delaney Roberts." Continuing my tirade at myself, I shook the steering wheel in frustration. How could I have been so forgetful? I checked the back seat, just to make sure. My bag wasn't there. I had definitely left it at the school.

Drat.

I sat there in the dark beside the road for a few minutes longer, trying to convince myself that I really didn't need my all-purpose, diaper/etc. bag, with my wallet, with my spare keys, with today's mail,... with that letter Charley was waiting for from some new clients.

"Dag it all." I did have to go get that blasted bag.

With a long sigh, I slammed on the left blinker and jammed the car into drive. The road was basically deserted, so I had no trouble at all maneuvering the vehicle into a wide U-turn to head back in the direction of the Pepperton Elementary School where I had so recently left a PTOP(Parent/ Teacher Organization of Pepperton) meeting, still in progress. Maybe, if I hurried, I could get back to the school before it was locked up for the night. I pressed a little harder on the accelerator, glancing into the rearview mirror as I did so. "Shoot, and double-shoot," I spat out loud from between my still-clenched teeth, barely allowing myself the luxury of thinking much, much worse. The flashing lights of the patrol car closed in from behind. My hopes that the policeman was after some other scofflaw were dashed as I pulled over to allow him to pass. The black and white car zoomed in directly behind my station wagon.

This was definitely not my evening. "Come on," I mumbled. "Let's get this over with, so I can go get my...oh, no, my wallet."

My head sank forward, coming to rest roughly on the steering wheel. I didn't have my license. I sighed deeply again. As if in response to my distress, I felt the not-so-gentle thump of my baby's foot against the right side of my rib cage.

"That's okay, baby," I said softly, rubbing the protruding mound of my belly with both hands. "Mommy's all right."

I jumped at the policeman's sharp rap on my window. Fixing what I hoped was an innocent look on my face, I quickly pushed the window button. The window eased silently down. I squinted into the flashlight beam directed toward my face. "Is there a problem, sir?"

"You bet there's a prob-- oh, for Pete's sake.

The beam abruptly left my face.

"Aunt Laney? What are you doing here?"

"Benny? Is that you?" I peered into the darkness to find the exasperated face of my husband's nephew, Benjamin H. Porter, newest member of Pepperton's tiny police force.

"Yes, it's me. And you're darned lucky it is. What possessed you to pull a 'U-ey' back there? I have half a mind to write you up."

"Oh, thank goodness it's you, Benny. Listen, I'm in a tremendous rush right now. I've left my bag at Isaac's school, and it's got my wallet and some important papers for Charley in it, and--."

"That's no excuse to be driving recklessly, is it?" Benny interrupted.

"No, you're absolutely right, Benny, but I wasn't really being reckless, now was I? Take a look at this road. There's not a soul on it."

A glance up the road told him that I was right. "Okay, okay. But I'm warning you, Aunt Laney, just 'cause you're family doesn't give you the right to be breakin' traffic laws now that I'm on the force. We've got two other officers on traffic patrol, you know, so next time you might not be so lucky."

"Yeah, I'll be more careful. Thanks a million, Benny," I promised, restarting my car. "I'll be a traffic saint from now on. Scout's honor." I waved as I started to pull slowly away, effectively forcing Benny to back away from the car so that I could go get that blasted bag before it was too late. Charley was going to absolutely kill me if I didn't get that letter to him by tonight. I glanced at the clock on the dash. Oh, no. Already well after nine o'clock.

"Bye, Benny, thanks, again," I called out my closing window. "Yeah, thanks for holding me up," I added from behind a tightly forced smile, as the window snicked shut.

Benny returned my smile and stepped away from my rolling vehicle. I could see him shake his head as he removed his hat and climbed back into his car. I wondered briefly how he was going to explain this particular little gap in his patrol log. Oh, well, that was his problem. Still, I did feel a little badly at the possibility of him getting into trouble over something I had done. I worried the idea around my head a while longer as I followed the winding road back to the elementary school.

It was close to 9:30 before I finally turned into the school's circular driveway. My heart sank. The building was swathed in complete darkness. The meeting was obviously over. One lone car remained in the parking lot. Perhaps it belonged to the janitor, and he was just cleaning toward the back of the school, and that's why I could see no lights from the front. Ever the optimist, I drove slowly forward. My hopes immediately fell as I approached the car. By the light of my high beams I could see that the other car was a Volvo. I stopped my car with yet another sigh. Most janitors did not drive Volvo's.

Rats.

Most likely it belonged to one of the PTOP members and just hadn't started up at the close of the meeting.

Double drat.

I shifted my car into reverse. Slowly, I started to back up. Suddenly, I mashed my foot down on the brake pedal. My headlights had picked up something in the front seat of the other car. I eased my car forward until my lights shone directly through the front window of the Volvo. Someone was sitting there. It was Patty Danvers, president of the PTOP. I almost laughed with relief. Oh, this was great. Finally, my luck was changing tonight. Certainly, Patty would have a key to get in the school, or, at the very least, she would know how to get one.

I quickly parked my car, and jumped, well, lumbered out of my seat. "Patty," I called loudly. "Oh, I'm so glad you're still here. I did the dumbest thing," I continued, chuckling in a self-deprecating manner. "I went and left my diaper bag, with my wallet and every...Hey, Patty, can you hear me in there?"

That was odd. She hadn't looked up since I had pulled up beside her. Come to think of it. She hadn't even moved since I'd been there. Not a muscle. Not an eyelash.

"Hey, Patty," I yelled louder, knocking on the window. "Hey. Are you all right?"

She did not look all right. In fact, she looked downright awful. And, still, she hadn't moved. I pressed my face to her window to get a better look. Patty's head was back against the headrest. Her eyes were closed. I wondered briefly if she could have possibly fallen asleep. I rapped sharply on the window again. Still no response. Something was definitely not right. Scrambling, crab-like, on my hands and rear end, I pushed Patty off my legs where she lay stiffly. Once free, I crawled, as quickly as my ponderous belly would allow, to her side and dragged her onto her back. Still no response whatsoever.

I took her by the shoulders and screamed her name again, shaking her with all my might. Her head lolled back and forth limply, like a rag doll's. Numbly, I lowered her head carefully to the pavement. I felt with two fingers just under her jawline. Even as I probed and prodded in an attempt to find a pulse, however faint, I recognized it as a futile gesture.

Patricia Danvers, president of the Parent/ Teacher Organization of Pepperton Elementary school was definitely, unequivocally, and irreversibly dead.

Copyright Deborah Milton