Boom!

Libby scrambled to a sitting position, her heart pounding in sequence with the pulsing echo that filled the darkness.

Boom!

Shotgun blasts. From up the road.

Her foot tangled in the sheet in her haste to exit the bed. The pine plank floor was unforgiving when knee met wood, and she winced at the pain that shot up her leg. Once standing she turned on the bedside lamp and quickly shimmied into her jeans, followed by the pair of boots at the end of her bed.

Her fingers shook as she punched in 911. Waiting, she opened the closet door and removed her jacket, only hesitating a second before seizing her grandpa’s old .22.

A man answered. “Nine-one-one. State your name, location, and your emergency.”

“This is Libby Hawkins on county Road 25. I heard a couple of shotgun blasts that sounded like they came from Maddie Thompson’s place up on Mill Road. Please send someone.” She cradled the receiver and grabbed the keys from atop the dresser. Opening a drawer, she snatched a handful of rifle shells and stuffed them in her pocket.

The truck coughed in the bitter night air. She pumped the gas a couple more times, and it snarled to life. Turning on the lights, she rammed the truck into reverse, narrowly missing her mailbox as she exited the drive.

Ahead, the glow of red and green Christmas lights spilled onto Mill Road. Her foot pushed the gas as she shifted into third. Her stomach lurched and shook with the gravel beneath the tires.

Taking a hard left into the driveway, she hit her brakes. The bright yellow headlights revealed Maddie standing on the front porch of the ranch house, her skinny white legs bare under the old blue robe she had wrapped around her tiny figure. She cradled a shotgun in her arms.

Libby took a deep breath and touched her forehead to the steering wheel. Thank you, Lord. Just seeing her standing there was a wonderful sight. She switched off the truck and grabbed the rifle. Just in case.

She stopped at the bottom of the steps. “What happened? Are you all right?”

Maddie ignored her questions. “Hurry up and get on the porch! It might still be around.”

Libby’s hair prickled on the back of her neck as she stepped up. “What might still be around?”

Maddie shook her head. “I’m not sure what it is. All I know is I scared it real good.”

“Did someone try to break into your house?” A police siren keened in the distance. At least the law would be here in a minute.

“I don’t know if it intended on coming in or not. It was looking in my kitchen window right there when I saw it.”

The siren drew closer. Libby glanced at the window, then down at the floor of the porch. They were standing in pieces of the window pane. “Maddie, you’re barefooted! You’re going to cut yourself to pieces. You stand right there while I get something to sweep up this mess.”

She returned with a broom and an old pair of house shoes that had been inside the door. “Put these on,” she shouted over the sirens. A truck turned into the driveway. From its dashboard, red and blue flashed like strobe lights in disco fashion across the white siding of the house. The sirens stopped and an officer exited the truck. He aimed a flashlight at the porch.

“Is everything OK, Miss Thompson?”

Jackson? Please, please don’t let it be Jackson. “Fine. She’s fine,” Libby answered. If she’d known he was going to show up, she’d have taken time to dress. Or maybe stayed at home. What was the sheriff doing on duty at two a.m.?

There was a long pause. “Libby? Is that you?”

She took a deep breath. “Yes. I came up to check on Maddie. Are you just going to stand out there in the shadows?”

He took a few steps forward. The blinking Christmas lights decorating Maddie’s porch reflected off the handgun he carried. He holstered the pistol and stepped onto the porch.

In the faint glow he still looked much the same. His lanky frame had filled out by a few pounds, and his dark hair was just as wavy as ever, with a few strands standing up on top. He’d wasted enough money on hairspray when he was a teenager. Maybe he’d finally let his hair go its natural way.

“Did somebody try to break into your house, Miss Thompson?” His eyes were trained on the broken glass that Libby had begun to sweep into a pile.

“I shot at ’em before they had a chance, Jack. It was looking in my window when I got up to get a drink.”

“It? Did you see what he...or she looked like?”

“Sure did. You’d better get your police writing pad out and write this down. In fact, we might as well go in and sit down at the table.”

Libby followed Maddie as Jackson came close behind. She hastily ran her fingers through the back of her hair. No doubt it was smashed flat from her pillow. Suddenly, combing her hair seemed more important than it had fifteen minutes ago.

****

“He was big enough to see in my kitchen window. It couldn’t have been kids.”

Jackson smiled at the tiny eighty-nine-year-old woman. “Miss Thompson, a lot of people, even kids, could stand on your porch and see in your window.”

A deep crimson color crept into the elderly woman’s cheeks. “What kinda kids have huge eyes with glowing circles around them and two long green antennae that glow in the dark? You tell me that, Jackson Carter!”

He cleared his throat and shifted his weight in the chair. “Well…ma’am…”

Maddie narrowed her eyes. “You don’t believe me, do you? You don’t believe I really saw such a creature!” She turned to Libby. “You believe me, don’t you?”

Libby self-consciously pulled her coat closed over her flannel pajama top and turned her gaze to the broken pane of the kitchen window.

Tiny shards of sharp, shimmering splinters dusted the kitchen countertop and sparkled in the old cast iron sink. A sprinkling glittered the floor as well. A couple of red Christmas balls from the little artificial tree on the counter had also been casualties. She’d have to make sure and clean all of that up before she went home.

Libby stole a quick glance at the sheriff, and then faced her neighbor. “I know you saw something...or someone...looking in your window. It’s just that you’d been asleep and sometimes…”

“So you’re taking his side, huh?” Maddie looked at Jackson and pointed a tiny, bony finger at him. “I believe it from you, all right. Ever since you painted all your Valentine hearts white when you were ten years old, I knew you didn’t have a bone of imagination in your body.”

“Now ma’am, I didn’t say—”

“And you, Libby! I’ve known you since you were knee-high to my biggest settin’ hen. I never thought you’d turn on me!”

Libby chewed the inside of her cheek. “I didn’t say I thought you made it up. I just—”

“Well you might as well have.”

The words stung Libby’s heart. Maddie was a sweet neighbor and a good friend. The fact that she was eighty-nine and a little bit deaf and blind was factoring in to her assessment of the situation. No doubt it was influencing Jackson’s, too.

“Well, you both might as well go on home. And don’t bother with any report. I don’t want everybody down at the Sheriff’s office laughing at me. But if it shows up again, I’m gonna get him.” She picked up the shotgun she’d leaned against the wall of the house.

“I’ll have to make the report, ma’am. It’s policy.”

“Humph! Guess you’ll do what you gotta do.”

Jackson taped a piece of cardboard over the shattered pane, while Libby swept up the glass in the kitchen. Moments later Maddie locked the door behind them as they stepped on the porch. Libby winced when the door slammed extra hard.

She pulled the key from her jacket pocket, and Jackson followed her to the truck. “Do you think she’s OK?” he asked.

She laughed. “If she’s not, I dare you to do something about it. She’s probably the most independent person in the county. I know I’ve only been back from Denver a few months now, but she’s just like she always was. It’s been twenty years since she was my fourth grade teacher, but she can still put fear in my heart when she clears her throat a certain way.”

Jackson grinned, his perfect teeth flashing white in the dim light. “Yeah. And that little beady-eyed stare she has. I always wanted to crawl under my desk when she looked at me like that.” His gaze went back to the front door of the house. “Still. I can’t help but worry about her. She’s always been pretty sensible.”

Libby opened the door of the rusty Ford, feeling it was time to get out of the company of Jackson Carter. Her heart was starting to remember things she’d put behind her. Stirring up emotions she’d vowed to lock away for good after things fell apart. “I’ll check on her the first thing in the morning.” She glanced at her watch. “Which is about five hours away.”

He cleared his throat and put his hand on the truck door. “Libby, I just want to say how sorry I was to hear about your husband. I’ve been meaning to stop by and see you. To tell you….but things just keep getting in the way. And well…”

She smiled tightly as she climbed in the truck. “I could say the same, Jackson. Your office is right there in town, and I haven’t stopped by to say hello.” She swung the door closed and rolled down the window. “I saw you in the back of the church Sunday night, and I was going to talk to you after service, but you were already gone.”

This conversation was lasting way too long, she decided. Pleasant chitchat wasn’t exactly comfortable after the past.

He reached into his shirt pocket. “Yeah. I rarely make it through a whole service without some emergency coming up. If you don’t mind, would you give me a call after you see Miss Thompson tomorrow? I’d appreciate it. I’ll be in the office by two.”

“Sure.” She took the card he held out to her. Their fingers brushed, and she felt that familiar ache she hadn’t encountered since high school. She bit down hard on her lip to squelch the response. The Libby and Jackson fairytale lived only in the past, like a story read one too many times.

Jackson had slammed the cover shut. Part of her had never forgiven him for breaking her heart.

She tucked the card into her jacket pocket. “I may stay with her for a while in the morning—if she’ll let me. I’ll give you a call when I get back home.”

He nodded and waved as she backed out of the driveway.

Libby turned the lights to bright and smacked the gear shift. Pain shot through her hand, and she winced. He was nothing but a friend from the past, a little heartache long over. Puppy love. That’s what grandma had called it. So what was wrong with her? Lack of sleep? A twinge in her heart whispered something else. But she had no intention of listening.

His dark hair and smoky eyes flashed across her memory. For years, she tried to push him from her thoughts, not that it had worked until she met Ben. Turning into her driveway, she reminded herself of all the reasons to keep things the way they were now, without poking around in the past. She was finally getting back all she had lost. She was finally starting to feel like a living being again. Jackson Carter would do nothing but complicate her life, and she wasn’t going to let that happen.

****

Libby unlocked the front door of the farmhouse and stepped inside. The Christmas tree lit at the flip of a switch, instantly transforming the room with its blinking lights in red, gold, and green and its old-fashioned ornaments. She touched a button and the peaceful notes of “Away in a Manger” filled the silence. Calm seeped through the tension that had lingered after Jackson’s appearance. The scent of peppermint and pine wafted through the air and made her stomach rumble.

She sighed. Chasing after aliens and trying to forget old boyfriends seemed to be the perfect recipe for hunger. Nothing that a cup of tea and some cinnamon toast wouldn’t cure, at least temporarily.

She put the kettle on the stove and a couple of slices of bread in the oven. A slight breeze from the ceiling fan blew softly across the lace curtains hanging on the window over the sink. She pulled the shade down behind them. No little green men with antennae were going to look in her kitchen.

She took a cup from the shelf and deposited a tea bag in it. Pouring the water into the cup, her mind wandered back to the last hour. What, exactly, had Maddie seen?

****

Despite the sunshine, the morning air was cold and brisk. Perfect for a walk. Libby hugged her jacket against the breeze and quickened her step. From a distance, she could see Paula Felton’s car parked in the driveway. Paula came two days a week to help Maddie with the house and take her shopping.

Libby tapped on the door frame and waited. A moment later, a tall, middle-aged woman with graying hair opened the door. The red cotton apron she wore over her yellow shirt and blue jeans was marked with water. A smile lit her face. “Libby Johnson! Maddie told me you were back and living down at your grandparents’ place. Come in and have some coffee.”

Libby stepped inside and pulled the screen door shut behind her. “Hi Mrs. Felton. How’s Maddie this morning?”

The woman turned and motioned for her to follow. “I sent her back to bed. She’s tired after all the excitement last night. You were here after it happened, weren’t you?”

In the kitchen, Libby took a seat at the green Formica-topped table. “Yes. I heard the shots and came up to check on her.” Her eyes drifted to the window. The cardboard Jackson had taped over the top half of the window was now reinforced from the inside by a layer of duct tape.

Mrs. Felton handed a mug of dark liquid to Libby and sat across the table. “I suppose she’s no worse for the wear, poor old dear. I called her niece earlier, and I’ve already unloaded that shotgun and put it in the car where she can’t get to it anymore. We can’t take a chance of her hurting someone just because she’s starting to get a little senile. I think this incident has finally sealed the decision her niece has been struggling with. She really needs to be moved to a care facility.”

Libby scorched her throat as she swallowed the hot coffee and coughed, wiping her mouth with a napkin before she spoke. “Mrs. Felton, Maddie may be a lot of things, but she’s not senile. You spend enough time with her to know that. And excuse me for being rude, but the last place that she belongs is a nursing home.”

Mrs. Felton’s eyebrows arched. “Her niece believes she’s showing signs of Alzheimer’s, and I’m sure any doctor or judge who reads the police report will agree. You have to admit seeing little green men isn’t exactly the norm.”

Libby curved her lips into a smile and unclenched her jaw. It was hard to force muscles against their will, but Grandma always said you could get more butterflies with sugar water than with buttermilk. “I don’t know what happened here last night, but I know Maddie saw something. You believe that, don’t you?”

The woman shrugged. “Maybe. Or else she was dreaming. She could have killed someone shooting out the window like that.”

Libby sighed. “Mrs. Felton, Maddie’s loved by a lot of people around here. Having to leave her home will break her heart.”

“I’m sorry, but that decision is for her niece to make.” She cleared her throat. “I heard about your husband’s plane crash. I’m sorry. I was glad that it was ruled an accident.”

Libby widened her eyes in surprise. “It was never considered anything else.”

Mrs. Felton’s face flushed. “Well...of course not. But you know how people talk.”

Libby’s jaw set. “Yes. Unfortunately, I do.”

“Anyway, I’m glad you were able to come back here. And don’t pay any mind to those nasty rumors.”

Mrs. Felton went to the coffeemaker and brought the pot to the table. “More?”

Libby shook her head and stood. “I’d better be getting home. Please tell Maddie I came by.”

“Of course. And I guess that you should know Maddie’s niece has an appointment with the nursing home director this Friday.”

Libby blanched. “But that’s the day before Christmas Eve. How can she do this to her?”

“She’s just doing what’s best.”

At home, Libby stomped in the door and threw her jacket on the sofa. Zoe, her orange striped cat pounced on the wooly lining and began kneading a cozy nest for herself.

Libby sighed and sat down, coaxing the feline from the fabric folds and into her lap, where the cat snuggled and began to purr. Libby hugged the cat tighter and let go of the tears that burned her eyelids. “I’m telling you, Zoe, that niece of Maddie’s is making a terrible mistake. Poor Maddie. This will break her heart.” The ball of fur purred in agreement.

Wiping away her tears, she sat up straight and stroked the ears of the upturned orange head, smiling into its trusting golden eyes. “I’m not going to let her do it, Zoe.” Libby breathed. “I don’t know how I’m going to stop her, but I will. And I’ve got until Christmas Eve.”

****

Jackson’s modest office was lit by a bare bulb that cast shadows across the room.

The dingy gold and green wallpaper was water stained and hung in several curled strands.

Libby’s fingers itched to rip the ragged coils from the wall. But what if someone came in and caught her at it?

The only window was located behind an old desk stacked with papers, a laptop computer, several jars of pencils, and a small lighted Christmas tree. The glass panes were heavy with condensation and appeared to have last been washed before March of 1995, if one were to treat the calendar hanging over the bottom section as proof.

“Libby?”

She turned. A tall blonde woman in a county deputy uniform was standing in the doorway with two Styrofoam cups of steaming coffee.

“Dana Martin? I had no idea that you were still living here, much less working as a deputy.”

“Well, it’s Dana Lewis, now.” She laughed. “I married Doug Lewis.”

Libby wrapped her arms around Dana in a close hug, despite the cups of coffee she held. “You almost caught me committing a crime,” she admitted, taking one of the coffees and testing its contents with a sip.

Dana laughed and leaned against the desk. “What are you talking about?”

Libby nodded towards the wall. “I’ve been resisting pulling off those strands.”

Dana rolled her eyes. “That would hardly be a crime. More an act of mercy. I’m not sure how Jack stands it. Besides, aren’t you some sort of interior decorator?”

Libby nodded and took another sip. “I was a consultant for an interior design company in Denver for three years. Now, I have a website and do the same job online. It works pretty well and leaves me a lot of free time to pursue other things. Like the chance to be on the Christmas parade committee this year. Three more days before we see how well the planning went. You’re coming, aren’t you?”

“Are you kidding? Everyone is. And to the party afterwards, of course.” Dana’s smile faded. “Hey, I’m sorry about your husband. I didn’t know about it when it happened or I would have sent you a note. Are you doing OK?”

Libby shrugged and nodded. “Thank you. It took a while, but I’ve adjusted.” Her life with Ben wasn’t a subject she wanted to discuss. “So, do you have children?” Another painful subject. Ben hadn’t objected to children until after they were married.

Dana’s eyes lit up. “Two boys. They’re four and six. I have pictures on my desk. Stop by when you leave.”

Libby looked at her watch. “That meeting with the mayor must be going overtime. I guess I could just leave a message for him. Nothing too important.” It would make a perfect excuse to escape before she encountered Jackson face to face again.

Dana put her coffee on the desk. “I heard about the excitement last night.”

Libby took a blank piece of paper and a pen from the desk. “That’s really what I’m here about. I went to see Maddie this morning, but she was napping. Mrs. Felton was there and said she was OK. Jackson just wanted me to let him know how she was doing.”

A smile tugged at Dana’s face. “He does have a phone, you know. He could have called her.”

Libby’s eyes narrowed as she looked up. “Don’t start any rumors, or I’ll remember where they came from,” she warned, half-teasing, half-serious.

Dana shrugged and laughed. “My lips are sealed. But you gotta know that people are already talking, now you’re both back in town.”

Libby swallowed hard and folded the note. Was that the real reason he hadn’t been out to see her?

“I hear they’ve already been talking. And not about me and Jackson,” she said. The bitterness in her tone hinted at the pain in a way words couldn’t express.

Her friend’s smile vanished. “Nobody that knows you puts much stock in those kind of lies, Libby. It’s just an easy way for them to have someone to talk about. I’ve heard Jack cut off a conversation about that very subject.”

Libby stood straighter and put the note on a stack of folders. “Really?”

Dana nodded. “I’m sure it brings back some old feelings for him. I mean, after his dad was the main suspect in that bank robbery years ago, he knows what it’s like to live with nasty gossip.”

Libby took a last sip from her cup. “It’s such a shame that his father died with suspicion still hanging over him. I can’t believe there hasn’t been any progress in the case. Somebody has been sitting on that money for a long time.”

Dana stacked the cups and tossed them in the trash can. “Some cases never get solved. But it would be nice for Jack if this one did. He’s a good sheriff. And folks were sure glad to see him come back after all these years. You know how much everyone here thinks of him. That touchdown in the Coyote-Burrville game is still legend around here. Probably comes up at least once a week down at the Coyote Café.”

Libby smiled. “Everyone at that game will always remember that play. He really put us on the map that night.”

Dana sighed. “He and his mom left town so quickly after his dad died. Not that anyone blames them. I wouldn’t have stayed, either. Who could live with all those guarded looks from people?”

Libby took her purse from the chair and shoved back the memories. Jackson had broken her heart when he’d moved with barely a word. A couple of phone calls and three letters later, everything was over between them.

“Tell him I dropped by, and that I left Maddie’s number on the note.” Jackson was the sheriff—he could find out about Maddie easily without her.

As she moved to the doorway, she squeezed Dana’s arm affectionately. “Thank you,” Libby said. “For not listening to rumors.” She forced a pleasant smile to her face. “Now, let’s go look at those pictures before I leave.”

****

Jed’s Grocery appeared to be the last stop of the day for working moms. Libby grabbed a basket and eased her way through the throng of shoppers to reach the aisles in the back. She sidestepped a jar of strawberry jam a toddler smashed to the floor. The child’s mother grabbed the little culprit and deposited him in the cart. A stocker picked up an intercom-phone and called for clean up on aisle four.

“Well, hello there!”

Libby turned and was greeted by Maddie’s smiling face. She was wearing her best Sunday dress and had her long gray hair neatly coiled into a bun. The grocery cart she was pushing held a few canned goods and a sack of potatoes. Mrs. Felton was behind her, busy sorting through the display of onions.

“I hear you came to see me this morning. Sorry I was asleep. It took forever to settle down after all the excitement.”

Libby breathed a sigh of relief. She seemed her old self today. “I’m just glad you were able to get some rest. Those late hours can really take it out of you.”

Maddie nodded and consulted the list in her hand. She picked up a bag of carrots and deposited them in her cart. “Paula put some more tape on that window until I can get it fixed. At least nothing will be looking in at me now,” she laughed.

Libby grinned. “I’m sure you scared it away for good!”

Mrs. Felton dropped a bag of onions into the cart and nodded a hello. “Looks like we’ve got about everything, Maddie. No need to buy too much. You won’t be needing...I mean, we can get more next week. We’d better hurry before the pharmacy closes.”

Libby shifted the shopping basket to her other arm and sent a pleading look to Mrs. Felton. How could she be so heartless? “It was nice seeing both of you. I’ll probably drop by tomorrow, Maddie.” With a heavy heart, she watched them retreat towards the front. It was obvious that she had no idea about the nursing home.

****

Libby slowed as she approached Maddie’s house. On impulse, she pulled into the driveway and got out. Maddie and Mrs. Felton would be stuck in line at the pharmacy for a little while. It was a good chance for her poke around Maddie’s yard alone. The winter sun was waning, but a quick look around couldn’t hurt. A shame there hadn’t been a recent rain to reveal any footprints.

The toe of her boot caught on something, and she glanced down to see a small piece of rope, approximately a foot long, frayed at both ends. It felt stiff, but seemed clean. She stuck it in her pocket and moved around to the side of the house. She knelt in front of the bushes, which grew against the porch. The tops of the shrubs were broken and torn, scattered on the ground.

She sighed and pushed herself back up. Broken branches weren’t much of a clue. Maddie’s dog could have done the damage.

So what was she looking for? An explanation that proved Maddie wasn’t seeing things? It would take more than bits and pieces of a damaged bush to prove that.

****

Libby reached for her sack of groceries in the back of the truck when a movement caught her eye. No, not again! “Sparky! Sparky, get away from there!” she shouted. She abandoned the bag and ran towards her grandmother’s favorite rose bush.

The dark brown goat grabbed one last bite and took off down the driveway at a fast pace.

Libby fumed and stomped back to the truck. If that animal didn’t stay out of her yard, she wasn’t going to have any blossoms by spring. He’d already killed one neighbor’s butterfly bushes. Will Perry had better find a way to confine his pet.

A small basket of brown eggs, along with a note, waited for her on the front porch. Unfolding the note, she read the words in slanted handwriting.

Gone to Willmington. Please call me tomorrow. Cora Johnson. P.S. Enjoy the eggs.

Maybe her old friend and neighbor, Cora, had heard the dire predictions for Maddie’s future, too. Libby tucked the message into her grocery sack. Cora had always been levelheaded; she would have some good advice about the situation.

By seven she began rummaging around the fridge for something to eat, the makings for a quick sandwich since meals for one were uninspiring. A knock at the front door sent Zoe skittering into the kitchen and behind the pantry curtain, leaving her tail flicking behind her.

Libby shut the refrigerator door. It was unusual for her to have company after dark. Her eyes settled on the .22 she’d propped against the wall. Don’t be silly, Libby.

She turned on the porch light and looked through the peephole. Jackson?

As if on cue, he grinned and winked. Her heart did a double somersault. Closing her eyes, she pressed her forehead against the door. No. It couldn’t be. It was just some sort of old reflex. No doubt the lack of sleep last night was causing her suddenly wobbly knees. She took a deep breath and opened the door. “Hi.” She instantly hated the slightly breathy tone that invaded her voice.

“Hey there. Hungry? It’s Marko’s.” He was holding a pizza box.

The smell of pepperoni greeted her nose. “As a matter of fact, I am,” she admitted reluctantly. Although the thought of a crisp slice of pizza was more than making up for the presence of a former sweetheart on her doorstep.

“So…can I come inside?” His question was hesitant, almost boyish, making her feel guilty for leaving him standing in the cold so long.

Her cheeks burned. “Of course. Sorry.” She moved aside, letting him brush past her and into the house.

“Wow.” He stood in the center of the room. “It’s like stepping back in time. Everything is the same. Right down to the prints on the wall.”

She laughed. “I know. I haven’t had the heart to change anything since I’ve moved back. It’s nice to have a familiar place to come home to.”

He put the box on the coffee table and walked to the tree. “I remember when your grandma made these little star ornaments.” He fingered one of them, sending it spinning on its ribbon. “She sent a couple home to my mom. Still puts them on her tree every year.”

She blinked back a sudden threat of tears. “I’m glad. It’s nice to know that there’s someone other than me that remembers her. I heard your mom moved to Florida. How does she like living there?”

“She loves the weather, but sometimes I think she’d rather be here. Maybe I can talk her into moving back.” Drifting to the fireplace, he lifted a framed photograph from the mantel. “A lot of people remember your grandparents. I heard your grandpa’s name mentioned in a conversation at the café last week.”

Zoe, sensing no danger, decided to put in an appearance, and meowed.

Jackson glanced towards the sound, amusement tugging at his lips. “Don’t tell me that’s the same cat.” He walked over and scooped her up. “It looks just like old Beau.”

“She does, doesn’t she? I found her on the road. People are bad about dumping animals out here.”

He scowled. “I know. The county works hard to get as many to no-kill shelters as we can, but it’s not always possible.” He scratched behind the cat’s ears, and then lowered her gently to the floor.

Libby moved to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. “Tea or soda?”

He leaned against the doorway. “Tea sounds good to me.”

She poured the cold liquid into two tall glasses. “Plates?” she asked, opening a cabinet door.

He grinned, turning on the faucet to wash his hands. “Let’s just be tacky and eat out of the box. I’m not in the mood to help with dishes.” Picking up the glasses, he carried them to the coffee table.

“No problem,” she shrugged. “We’ll use cloth napkins. That will add a touch of refinement to the meal.”

She considered sitting in a chair, but it would look ridiculous, as if she were avoiding him deliberately. Plopping down on the sofa next to him, she felt the heat from his arm when he reached in front of her for pizza. Instinctively, she leaned back.

“I won’t spill any on you,” he teased.

She glanced toward the Christmas tree as her cheeks flamed. “No…I just…”

“How have you been, Libby?” His tone was serious, his gaze intense when she looked at him, forcing her to look away again.

“OK,” she answered. “Fine, really. It was hard after Ben died, but it’s been over a year now.”

There was silence for a moment, but she didn’t feel like saying anything else. Hoping he would get the hint, she lifted a slice from the box and took a bite.

He cleared his throat, taking a sip of tea before speaking again. “I’ve thought about you a lot.”

Her heart hit her stomach with a thud. She forced a smile to her lips despite the awkward thoughts crowding her head. Thoughts of the past that grew more vivid each time she revisited them.

“I’ve thought about you, too,” she said, struggling to keep her voice casual. “Wondered how you were. I was surprised to see you’d come back home.”

He hesitated. “I thought it was the right thing for me to do. After Dad died, I blamed a lot of people here. It was hard for him to live with the suspicion. The way he would catch people looking at him, watching him. It got to be too much.” His eyes locked with hers. “He didn’t take that money, Libby.”

“I never thought he did,” she answered, softly. “Neither did grandma or grandpa. We knew he was innocent.” The pain in his face brought hot tears to her eyes. “I just wish there was some way that it could have been proved. I’m sorry that he died with the crime still unsolved.”

He reached for another slice. “Someday the truth will come out. Somebody in this town is guilty.”

She nodded. “It’s been thirteen years. It’s strange the money has never surfaced.”

Jackson shrugged. “Dad was vice-president of the bank. I know he was an obvious suspect. Whoever took it hasn’t spent it. It’s still out there somewhere.” He met her eyes, a smile appearing on his face again. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up the past. So what did you find out at Maddie’s this morning?”

She took another bite and swallowed. “Nothing good. Her niece is going to try to use this incident as an excuse to put her in a nursing home.”

A look of shock crossed Jackson’s face. He dropped his second slice of pizza back in the box, wiping his fingers on a napkin. “Why would she do that?” he asked. “I mean, Maddie may have dreamed up a little green man, but she’s not crazy.”

Libby shrugged. “Mrs. Felton was there this morning, and she said that Maddie’s niece has been thinking about it for a while, but didn’t have a good enough reason to do it. She’s going to take the police report to a doctor and then a judge.” Anger rose in her voice as she spoke. “The woman even has an appointment with the nursing home on Friday. I guess she’ll give Maddie the news on Christmas Eve.”

He leaned back against the sofa, hands locked behind his neck as he stared at the fire. His expression told her he was thinking, something she remembered from long moments studying his face in the past.

Twelve years had only improved the boy she’d loved back then. The crinkles around his sapphire eyes added character as did the new lines around his mouth. Even a sprinkling of gray on his sideburns managed to enhance his good looks.

He seemed calm and assured of himself. Maybe he had finally made peace with the past. Even his own mistakes.

A flurry of memories were swept aside by a fleeting image of Ben in her mind. She glanced away, arguing against the sensation of guilt. How could this be wrong? It wasn’t wrong. Ben had never loved her. A fact that had taken her a few years to figure out.

Jackson stirred after a moment. “I don’t know what it was that she saw, but we’ll find out. I’ll help you, because there’s no way Maddie Thompson is going to spend Christmas in a nursing home.” He smiled and touched Libby’s hand. “Promise.”

****

“Come on in out of the wind, sweetheart.” Cora Johnson shut the frigid breeze on the other side of the door as Libby took off her jacket and followed her.

The kitchen was warm, and spicy scents filled the air. Sunshine poured through the windows behind the table, giving a lemon glow to the walls.

“I’ve got cinnamon rolls coming out of the oven in ten minutes or so. You just sit down, and I’ll get you some coffee.

“I’ll get it,” Libby offered. “You sit until your rolls are ready.” Cora reminded her so much of her grandmother, from the dress apron to the way she wore her hair in a gray, braided bun. Coming to Cora’s was a little like stepping back in time and visiting with her grandmother again.

“Thank you for the eggs,” Libby said, pouring more coffee.

Cora gave her a sweet smile. “You know I always have plenty. I can coax those girls to lay all year.”

Libby sat down across from her. “I guess you heard about Maddie?”

The older woman nodded and stared into her cup. “I have.” She was silent for a moment. “And you should know that I’ve seen it, too, Libby.”

Libby’s eyes widened, and her heart quickened. “You’ve seen the….what Maddie saw?”

Cora stood and walked to the sink, her eyes staring through the window. “I saw it last week. Like Maddie, I’d gotten out of bed to get a drink. I was just standin’ here, in front of the window, enjoying the view of the stars...and then, there it was.” She pointed. “Out on the road. It turned and looked at me, and all I could see was its big round, green eyes, and two green things sticking off of its head.”

Libby rose and slipped beside her friend, her hand resting on Cora’s arm. “Did it come up any closer?”

Cora turned her eyes to Libby. “No. But I heard it. Or something that has to do with it.”

“A noise?” Maddie hadn’t mentioned any sounds.

The timer sounded, and Cora grabbed her oven mitt. Libby watched her take the rolls from the oven, her mouth watering at the scent.

“We’ll let these cool a minute before I take them out of the pan.” Cora sat and reached for her cup of coffee, a slight tremor in her wrinkled hand.

Libby leaned back in her chair, her mind buzzing with questions. Cora had seen it, too. That meant Maddie definitely wasn’t crazy. Surely her niece would have to cancel those appointments once she heard about this.

Cora turned away, as if she was embarrassed to be talking about the subject. “After I saw it, I went outside.”

Libby raised her eyebrows, not expecting this development. “What did you see?” she asked.

Cora shrugged. “It was gone, but I heard the noise that its...its ship...or something made.”

Libby’s eyes widened. This story was getting more bizarre by the minute.

Cora pointed a finger at her. “Your expression is exactly why I didn’t call the sheriff.”

Libby shook her head. “No, Cora, it’s not what you think. Really, I believe you. I just need to know all the details.”

Cora rose and began sliding the rolls onto a cooling rack. “Well, it was loud,” she said. “The sound it made. A kind of rumbling. Not right out in the yard or pasture, but somewhere close. And I saw some bright lights, over to the west, too.

She put two cinnamon rolls onto a matching pair of flowered plates. “The lights kinda flashed, but the noise kept up. I just didn’t know what to think.”

Placing the plates on the table between them, she folded her hands and looked at Libby, as if expecting some kind of scolding. “So what do you think?” she asked, finally.

Libby shook her head. “I don’t know.” It sounded like a hoax, a prank. But the lights, the sounds...something odd was going on in their little community.

****

Libby put the covered plate of warm cinnamon rolls on her truck seat and drove towards Maddie’s. Cora’s famous rolls guaranteed Maddie would be talking little green men in no time.

“Come right in. I’m kinda lonely today. Paula Felton had to go down to Tulsa on some business.” She glanced at Libby’s hands. “I see you have some of Cora’s baked goods. That woman missed her calling. She could have been a professional baker.”

In the kitchen, Libby put the plate of buns on the table.

Maddie grabbed a cinnamon roll and took a generous bite. “She won’t give me the recipe, no matter how hard I beg.”

Libby carried the coffee pot to the table and filled two cups. “I know. Grandma always wanted it, too. I’ve never asked. I think it would hurt my feelings too much if she refused.” She sat across from Maddie and resisted eating another roll.

Maddie smiled. “She might give it to you. She talks about you a lot.”

“Maybe I’ll ask someday.” Libby laughed.

The elderly woman set her cup in its saucer with a clink. “I guess you’re here to talk about the other night. Did Cora tell you she saw it, too?” Her gaze was level with Libby’s, a square look of defiance.

Libby nodded. “I want you to know that I believe you,” she answered.

Maddie bit her lip. “It’s not the first time I’ve seen it,” she said. “It was last week when I heard all the noise, like Cora did. It was about three o’clock in the morning.”

Libby glued her gaze to Maddie’s face. “Did you go outside when you saw it?”

“I was already there. Scruffy tends to get sort of restless at night. The little brown mixed breed, hearing his name, perked up his ears from his bed beside the warm stove.

“It was in your yard?” Libby’s voice was a whisper.

Maddie shook her head. “Scruffy likes to wander around in the dark, and he took off towards the woods in back. I followed after him and finally caught up with him on that little hill behind the house.” She took another bite from her roll and chewed slowly.

Libby waited, impatient to hear the rest. How many elderly women were out walking in the dark around here, seeing things in the night sky?

“I glimpsed it right after I picked up Scruffy. It was farther back on that trail that runs in the forest. It stopped for a minute, just staring at me with those glowing eyes. Then it turned and walked away, towards the mountain in back. That’s when I heard a roaring noise and some lights came on way back there in the woods.”

Libby leaned across the table. “Did you see anything else?”

“I didn’t hang around.” Maddie laughed nervously. “Scruffy was getting pretty scared, and so was I. I’d left my shotgun inside.” She crumpled her napkin and threw it on the table. “Speaking of my shotgun, did you know that no-good niece of mine had Paula take it to her?”

Libby nodded, lowering her eyes to her coffee cup. “She mentioned it when I came to check on you.”

“I told her if she didn’t bring it back, I’m going to call the sheriff and report it stolen.”

****

Jackson chewed on the end of the pencil, spitting the eraser into the trash. The sheriff’s department investigated all sorts of calls, but UFO reports weren’t common. At least not since the 1970s, according to the records he’d found. And even then, they were mostly UFO sightings in the air, not on the ground.

He sighed and picked up the file that held Maddie Thompson’s account, his eyes lingering over the papers Libby had filled out and signed. He had read so many notes written by that same hand.

He still had them. But they weren’t much good without the girl.

Slamming the folder shut, he tried to imagine Libby as only a part of his past. After all, she wanted no part of his future. He had seen it in her eyes last night, the way she had drawn away whenever he was close to her. He would never be able to make her understand how much it had cost him to leave her behind.

At least he could spend a little time with her. As friends. They could be that, if nothing more.

The intercom buzzed. “Yeah,” he answered.

“Libby Hawkins is here to see you, Sheriff.”

Great timing. “Send her in.”

The door burst open and in her hurry, she tripped over the stack of books he’d left on the floor. She stopped her fall by grabbing the chair in front of his desk. She stared at the pile scattered around her feet. “What do you think that bookcase is for, Jackson?”

“Sorry about that,” he said, taking her hand to help her steady herself as his foot shoved a path through the volumes. “Sit down.”

“Shut the door, please,” she instructed.

“Sure.” His hand pushed it closed before he dropped into the seat behind his desk.

She drew her chair close and leaned across the desk to him. Her voice was tense, excited. “I talked to Cora Johnson. She’s seen it, too!”

His eyebrows shot up. “The...alien?”

Libby grabbed his arm, sending a bolt of electricity up to his shoulder. “Exactly. And what’s more, they both saw lights and heard a loud noise.”

With his free arm, he flipped open the file, hoping her warm touch would stay against his skin if he moved as little as possible. “She didn’t mention that in this report.”

“That’s because she heard the noise and saw the lights last week! Right about the same time that Cora did. Both times it was after two a.m.”

Her hand moved, and the spell was broken. He shook his head, confusion clouding his mind–whether from her touch or the crazy story, was hard to know. It was getting difficult to keep all of this straight. There weren’t any aliens. That much he was sure about.

“OK,” he said. “But I don’t have a report from the Johnsons about this incident, so I can’t exactly investigate it.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, of course you don’t. Cora knew people would believe her about like they do Maddie.” She paused. “I’ve got a plan. If it works, I’ll tell you what I find out. Then maybe you can look into it a little more, OK?”

His eyes narrowed. “What kind of plan?”

She sat back in her chair and folded her arms in front of her. “I’m going to stay up for a few nights and keep watch. See if I see or hear anything. Especially the lights and noise.”

He shot her a sardonic smile. “You don’t want to see the alien? Maybe you should camp out in the woods with a welcome package for him.”

She made a face. “Make fun, if you want. Those ladies saw and heard something.”

He chewed the inside of his cheek before answering. “Well, just open a window or something if you hear noises. There’s no need to go outside and get hurt if—well, if this is a prank gone wrong or something. You live right between Cora and Maddie, so you ought to be in a good spot.”

For cellular reception, he wanted to add. So you can call me the moment you hear even a twig snap near your house.

She frowned. “I’m not going to stay inside.” Pushing her chair back, she stood. “I’m not a stupid kid. I can take care of myself.”

Where did that come from? She was as stubborn as ever. “Hey, I didn’t call you stupid. I just don’t want to have to worry about you, is all.” He rose and moved around his desk, mere inches separating them as he faced her.

“Worry about me?” Skepticism flooded her dark brown eyes.

Jackson winced inwardly. She probably thought he was about a dozen years too late for that.

“I’m not asking you to worry about me. I’m trying to help, since you don’t seem to be too concerned about this case.”

“Don’t tell me how to do my job, Libby,” he answered, lowering his voice.

“I doubt anyone can tell you how to do anything,” she snapped, opening the door to his office. “I’m sorry I bothered you.”

“Don’t slam the doo—”

He winced at the sound of wood splintering as the door hit the frame, bouncing the old farm insurance calendar on the back. For a woman who resented personal rumors, she’d just fed the fire that everyone was already stoking.

****

Libby made a quick drive through the Dairy Queen and bought a large chocolate-peppermint shake. The real thing—no diet drinks for this mood. The cool liquid was soothing to her dry mouth and throat, calming her frazzled disposition and the hot temper that had fueled many a fight between the two of them in the past.

She would have to apologize to Jackson. Accusing him of not doing his job? It wasn’t true. He was probably the best sheriff this county had ever had. I’ve always had a big mouth, Lord. Forgive me for not doing better at controlling it. I know I have to stop letting the past influence how I feel right now. I really will apologize to him. I just hope he forgives me.

At home, she glanced at the phone’s answering machine, half-hoping she’d heard from him, but no lights blinked. No messages on her cell phone, either.

How humiliated would he feel leaving the office later? She cringed, imagining the whispers of the office staff. She could phone him now, but apologies always meant more in person. Tomorrow she would go ask his forgiveness for her words and her attitude.

Past or no past, his friendship was one she didn’t want to lose again.

****

By eleven o’clock, Libby was wide awake from a restless few hours’ sleep. Her spiteful words to Jackson kept floating through her dreams, waking her only to send her drifting off to another. In one, he had forgiven her. In another, he had told her he didn’t ever want to see her again. But in that last dream, it was a confrontation from their youthful past.

It was the first time in months that she’d woken up crying.

After washing her face, she pulled on a pair of old jeans and a flannel shirt over her thermals. It was going to be in the twenties out there, according to the radio. Digging through her dresser, she found a pair of wool gloves.

In the kitchen, her grandmother’s old picnic basket waited on the counter. She slid a thermos of freshly-made coffee inside, along with some sandwiches.

“That’s about it, Zoe,” she whispered to the fluffy creature winding around her ankles. “How about a tuna treat before I go?”

Outside, Libby checked the lock and her pockets for her keys before turning to descend to the yard below. Instead of finding the steps, she crashed into a tall figure, indistinguishable in the dark. Fingers closed around her arm. With a scream, she struck out with her heavy flashlight.

“Hey, it’s me, Libby.”

“Jackson? You almost scared me to death!” Her heart raced faster than the last time he’d held her.

“I meant to come to the front door, but you turned out the lights as I drove up, so I just came around here.” His voice adopted a scolding tone. “Shouldn’t you have a dog? You would at least know when someone comes up.”

She switched on the flashlight and shone it in his face, taking too much satisfaction in his grimacing squint. “I’m planning on getting one sometime. And you could have spoken up sooner, you know.” Her bad attitude was already resurrecting. It didn’t do much good to confess her sins if she intended to keep committing them.

He pushed the light away from his face. “I’m sorry.” He hesitated. “Especially about this afternoon. I didn’t mean to make you mad.”

His tone melted her anger like snow on a hot stove. “It was all my fault,” she answered. “I just got carried away and didn’t think before I spoke. I didn’t mean it, Jackson. Any of it.” She held out her hand. “Friends?”

He wrapped his fingers around hers. “Yeah. Sure.”

She laughed. “You don’t sound too sure. And by the way, what exactly are you doing here?” As if she didn’t know.

He scratched his head, avoiding her eyes with a side glance, even in the dim light of her flashlight. “I just got to thinking about your plan and decided it might be worth trying.” His tone was nonchalant. “If you don’t want me here, I’ll go down the road and sit.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she snorted. “You might as well come with me. I thought the barn loft might be a good place to watch. It has a perfect view of Maddie’s house.”

****

Libby blinked at the sheer darkness when Jackson pointed the flashlight away. The two horses snuffled in their hay and nickered quietly as two pairs of work boots scuffed against the hard dirt floor. “It’s OK, girls, it’s just me,” she spoke softly, knowing they would recognize her scent in a moment’s time.

Jackson spotlighted the mule. “Is that Scout?”

She reached over and patted the soft nose. “One and the same. She’ll be twenty this spring. I’m going to ride her in the Christmas parade. “

He laughed and came to stand beside her, scratching the side of Scout’s face. “The biggest event of the year around here. I heard Mark Wilder’s wagon club is going to be in it this year.”

Libby nodded. “And the Ladies Quilting Circle has a float, too. They’re raffling off a quilt that Maddie made. They’ll draw the name at the party afterwards.”

Scout pushed on Jackson’s hand, demanding attention. “Your grandpa sure did love this mule.”

“I know. He was always trying to convince me to give up barrel racing and hang around the farm and ride Scout. It made him nervous to watch me in the arena.” With one last pat on Scout’s nose, she made her way towards the loft ladder.

“He may have worried, but he was always the one cheering the loudest when you were out there.” Jackson drew the basket from her arm. A gentlemanly gesture she’d missed in the past years.

“That seems like a long time ago,” she answered softly.

“Yeah. A lot of things do.”

He climbed up first, and then directed the beam down for her. “Whew, I’m more out of shape than I thought,” he said. “Was the ladder always this tall?”

She grinned, taking hold of the hand he offered as she reached the top.

“You’re probably just tired because it’s your bedtime,” she teased, easing her way past the square bales of hay towards the loft window.

“We’ll be able to see a little better once we’re adjusted to this light.” He crouched beside her, staring out into the darkness.

“It’s kind of like waiting for a movie that’s not going to start,” she whispered.

“You never know. It might get more interesting than we want it to.”

She snickered. “Only if the ship lands in the pasture,” she answered. “Which seems pretty unlikely to me.”

“I think Maddie called it the mothership,” he corrected.

Libby rolled her eyes. “Right. I’m not as up on my alien jargon as I ought to be.”

They sat in companionable silence for...she looked at her watch. Forty minutes. At this rate, the night would just fly by. And when morning came, they would have nothing to show. Except maybe a closer friendship. Appealing as that was, it would hardly save Maddie.

She shivered in the frosty air and pushed her back tighter against the hay bale. “How about a sandwich?” she suggested.

“Sure. What do you have?”

She flicked on the flashlight and dug through the basket, taking out the coffee first. She handed an insulated cup to him. “I’m afraid they’re both pimento cheese. If I’d known you were coming I would have made a peanut butter and peach jam sandwich for you.”

He laughed and poured the coffee. “How did you remember that?”

“I don’t know. I guess I remember a lot. It was a...a good time in my life.” She handed a sandwich to him.

Unwrapping her own, she took a bite. Silence settled on them again.

“What are you thinking about?”

She jerked at the sudden question. “Just something...something I want to ask you. But you might think it’s too personal.”

He sighed. “You want to know why I never married.”

“No...I mean, maybe I would be interested in hearing that, but I don’t think it’s any of my business.”

“OK, now I’m curious. Ask.”

She settled back against the hay and took a sip of coffee from the thermos. “Did you come back to Coyote County so you can prove your dad innocent?”

He shrugged. “Maybe. Mostly I came back to find out who was responsible for his death.”

She gasped and slopped the coffee on her jacket, daubing at it with a paper napkin from the basket. “What are you talking about? Your dad fell down the steps behind your house. It was an accident.”

He shook his head. “That’s what somebody wanted us to think. But I knew right from the start that it was murder...or something close to it.”

“Do you really believe Sheriff Jones covered up evidence of a murder?”

Jackson rose and moved towards the window, leaning against the sill with his back turned towards her. “I’ll say that I think he was incompetent at handling the job. I showed him several things that indicated Dad’s fall might not have been an accident. There was an obvious scuffle of some kind at the top of the staircase—the railing was loose and had gouges in it.”

He sighed. “He wouldn’t have anything to do with what I showed him. But I know there was someone else at our house that afternoon and that might explain how my dad ended up at the bottom of that staircase.”

She concentrated on his words. He had been so withdrawn those last months before he and his mother left; she had assumed it was grief that made him push everyone, including her, away.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She leaned back against a bale of hay and hugged her knees to her chest.

“I wanted to. But I didn’t know who was involved. Dad told me he’d been threatened, had some odd phone calls late at night. He warned me to be careful. After what happened, I didn’t want you or your grandparents to be in any kind of danger.”

Sharp tears stung her eyes. All this time she had pictured him as self-centered, calling off their relationship and leaving her heartbroken.

She hesitated before she spoke. “Is that why things turned out the way they did?”

He angled his face away from her. “Partly. I didn’t feel comfortable being here, and my mom needed to get away.” He cleared his throat. “I should have been more honest with you, Lib. To tell you the truth, I was scared. I just…”

“Jackson. What—” Her voice trembled.

“Shhhh! Come here.” His silhouette froze, as he uttered a fierce whisper that cut off her words.

She slid from her place to join him, now crouched by the outside edge. As her eyes adjusted to the dark outdoors, she saw it. A green glow showed on the road below, moving at a steady pace.

His hand touched her shoulder, and he whispered, “You stay here.”

“Just try to make me,” she murmured back.

“Well, I don’t have time to argue. Stay behind me. And don’t turn on the flashlight.”

She balked a little at the thought of going down the ladder in the dark, but she’d come this far with her plan. Now was no time to back out.

Closing her eyes, she descended the ladder as quickly as possible. Her foot slipped on the third rung from the bottom, and Jackson caught her, his arms going around her waist as he swung her down.

“Are you OK?” he whispered.

Her stomach quivered at his nearness. His face so close she could feel the warmth from his breath. “Yes. Yes I’m fine.”

He released his grip and turned, his hand finding hers. “Let’s go.”

They traveled swiftly around the side of the barn and to the gate that connected to the road. He jiggled the handle, rusted shut. Following his cue, she climbed over it and crept up the road.

Jackson halted suddenly. “Look at that.”

It had stopped forty feet ahead of them. Two large hollow eyes, surrounded by an eerie lime glow stared at them. Green antennae-like protrusions showed above the eyes. In a blink, it’s two stick green legs moved the creature to the left, then back again.

Libby’s hair prickled on her head. “What is...?”

The figure turned and disappeared as a white glow shone above the treetops to the west. A moment later, the brightness faded into the darkness.

After a brief silence, Jackson spoke. “Let’s get my truck. Maybe we can find what we were chasing.”

****

As they pulled onto the road, Jackson cut the headlights. He drove slowly in the dark, following the road by the sound of rocks crunching beneath the tires.

Libby stared ahead, intent to find the creature they had seen. But the closest green they saw was Christmas lights on porches of the homes along the way, left plugged in all night by their owners.

She broke the silence first. “Any idea what it was?”

“No, we never got close enough. But the lights we saw in the west were coming from the ground, shining up, not the other way around.”

She grinned. “So you’re ruling out the mothership?”

He chuckled. “I guess for now. Unless it’s on the ground waiting for our luminous monster.”

****

At four o’clock in the afternoon the phone rang. Halfway from the barn to the house, Libby broke into a run.

“Hello?” she gasped.

“Why are you out of breath?”

Her heart produced a double-thud at the sound of Jackson’s voice. “I was outside.” She forced herself to breathe calmly. “Is everything OK?”

“I was just checking to make sure we’re still on for tonight.”

She smiled. He almost made it sound like a date, this UFO-hunting expedition they’d cooked up. “Sure. I got out a county map and made a ten-mile diameter circle. I figure the lights have to be coming from somewhere in there.”

“Probably more like five. I’m going to drive over that way in a few minutes. Want to come?”

“Yes. Definitely.”

“I’ll pick you up in about fifteen minutes.”

****

Libby stared at the rapidly-shrinking zone for a UFO invasion on her map. They’d been down three different forestry roads, and now they were headed to Burning Bridge Road.

“I didn’t realize how many little dead end roads there were back here,” she commented, amazed at how “big” her little rural community actually was.

“More than I like,” he answered. “We don’t have the man power to keep all of them checked regularly.”

Unlike the forestry roads, Burning Bridge Road was home to the back side of several ranches. The land stretched flat and brown into the distance, most of it neatly fenced, with cattle roaming the perimeters.

Two miles passed before Jackson slowed at the sight of an old gate collapsed by the road. The fencing on either side was rusted and lying in coiled strands along the ground. Trees had sprouted and grown throughout the pasture, lanky saplings overtaking the field.

“This is the old Felton ranch,” said Jackson. “The place has been pretty much deserted for years. Guess Rob couldn’t make a go of it.”

Libby nodded. “I think Mrs. Felton lives in an apartment in town, now. I remember Mr. Felton. He worked at the bank with your dad, didn’t he? And she was my piano teacher for a few years—I guess she gave up teaching music for home health care.”

Jackson nodded. “He was a clerk until he bought the funeral home. My dad always liked him—said Rob was one of the few who stuck by him when the money went missing. The Feltons sold the funeral home and moved to Tulsa about eight years ago. Mrs. Felton moved back here after he died. About the same time I decided to come home.”

Past the deserted ranch, they crossed over Burning Creek and pulled into the parking lot of Burning Bridge Cemetery. He stopped the truck under the huge oak tree that shaded the gate.

He opened the door and spoke before climbing out. “I think we’re about opposite of where we were last night. This is the most likely spot left in your search parameters.” He opened the passenger door of the truck for her.

Libby followed him through the squeaky iron gate and into the deserted graveyard. Their boots crunched over brown leaves that covered the cold December ground.

A wintry breeze whispered through a set of wind chimes someone had hung on a leafless tree, sending a soft metal tinkling through the stillness. A shiver darted down Libby’s spine, and she hugged her arms to her chest. A movement just to the right sent her heart spinning.

A brown flash showed itself for a moment, before disappearing in the brush. She rolled her eyes and suppressed a giggle. Sparky. If that silly goat didn’t learn to stay home, someone was going to mistake him for a deer one hunting season.

Jackson stopped and squatted down. “Look at this.”

Libby studied the ground. “Probably backhoe tracks. They bring it in to dig graves.”

Jackson stood and narrowed his eyes. “These look fairly fresh. I don’t remember there being a funeral over this way recently.”

She chewed her lip. “I don’t know. This clay soil holds tracks for a long time. With the creek over there, it tends to stay wetter in this area.”

They followed the trail over a rise and down to a newer area of the cemetery. The signs of the machinery gradually faded as the ground became grassier closer to the creek.

His eyes scanned the area. “Doesn’t look like they dug up anything.”

Libby shrugged. “Maybe they just used it to do some repair work on the grounds.”

They walked among the tombstones and gazed across the shallow water that separated the old Felton ranch from the burial grounds. The remains of a narrow bridge spanned the stream.

Jackson pointed ahead. “The backhoe crossed the creek.” He pressed the toe of his cowboy boot into a soft depression in the ground and gave a soft whistle. “I wonder what they’re up to over there.”

She knew his curiosity wouldn’t let him rest. When they climbed back in the truck, he pulled out of the cemetery and turned into the driveway of the abandoned Felton property. Jackson braked and got out of the truck. Libby waited until he climbed the gate to join him. Apparently, he was serious about his intention to check out the place.

“Somebody’s driven through here, too.” He pointed to the drive beyond the gate. “Tracks in the path.”

She gazed through the metal bars at the flattened brown grass, tire tracks leading up the wooded drive.

He jumped off the gate and wiped his hands on his jeans. “Let’s go.”

“Hold it, there!”

They both turned to see a large, bearded man stepping out of the forest’s edge by the driveway, just inside the gate. He was clad in boots, jeans, and a leather jacket with a shotgun braced to the side of his protruding belly. “What are you folks doing hanging around my gate?”

He spit a stream of brown tobacco that splattered on the ground, a temporary pause in his string of statements delivered in a rough, angry tone.

Fear churned in Libby’s chest, her fingers gripping Jackson’s hand. His arm slid around her shoulders as he gave the man a friendly wave. “Sorry, we were just turning around and decided to get out and stretch our legs a little.”

Libby could feel the tension running up his arm. Clearly, he didn’t want the man to guess that he was the law.

The stranger observed them for a few seconds, silently. “Well, you better get on out of here.”

“We’re on our way,” Jackson answered. He opened the passenger side door and steered her inside the cab.

She watched as the man began walking back up the driveway, and her breathing returned to normal. Her heart rate slowed once they pulled from the entrance to the main road again.

She gave a shaky laugh. “He wasn’t very friendly.”

“I figure he thought we were going to trespass, and he’s got something up there he doesn’t want anyone to see,” Jackson answered.

“Drugs?” she suggested.

“Possibly.” He reached over and switched on the radio. Strains of “Deck the Halls” filled the cab.

She stared at his profile, amazed that he remained so calm after their encounter. “I thought you handled it pretty well. I almost panicked,” she said.

“Just trying not to appear suspicious,” he told her, his eyes on his rearview mirror. “I think I’ll check out that place a little better. Find out who’s staying there. I figure Mrs. Felton ought to know the answer to that.”

****

The walkway to the front door was littered with bits of paper and soft drink cans. Libby sidestepped a gaping hole in the cement. Next to her, Jackson pressed the doorbell, which seemed to be broken. He raised a fist and rapped against the door.

“I’m coming,” a frazzled voice called from the other side. The door flung open, and Mrs. Felton’s surprised stare greeted them.

“Mrs. Felton, I’m Sheriff Carter. I’d like to talk to you a minute.”

The older woman’s face softened at the sight of Libby. “Oh, sorry. I was on the phone. Come on in, please.”

The living room was dark and smelled of dusting spray and old newspapers. Libby sat beside Jackson on the sofa, and Mrs. Felton took a seat across from them.

“What can I help you with, Sheriff?”

Jackson gave her a friendly smile. “I was driving out on Burning Bridge road and pulled into the driveway of your place out there. I had assumed it was still deserted, but a fellow with a shotgun met me down at the gate. I just wanted to make sure you knew he was there.”

Mrs. Felton gave a nervous laugh. “Oh, that’s just Larry Allen. He’s sort of a caretaker out there. He’s been doing some work around the place. Nothing for you to worry about, Sheriff.”

Libby cut her gaze in Jackson’s direction, trying to read his expression. Did he think Mrs. Felton was telling the truth? Not that there was really any reason to doubt her. Minus the somewhat anxious behavior.

“Do you know if Mr. Allen’s work involves some heavy machinery?” Jackson asked, his tone casual. “I’m just curious because we noticed some strange tracks cutting through the old cemetery.”

Mrs. Felton shook her head, a confused look seeping into her expression. “He hasn’t mentioned it, but then we don’t speak very often. You see, the ranch was really Rob’s dream, not mine. So I told Mr. Allen he could manage it any way he likes.”

“Right.” Jackson smiled and glanced at Libby. “Well, we better get going. Thanks for your time, Mrs. Felton.”

The woman saw them to the door, a tight smile stretched across her features. Maybe they came at a bad time, Libby thought as they turned out of the driveway. Or maybe the ranch brought some kind of bad memories back. Because something about Mrs. Felton’s behavior seemed odd—exactly what, Libby couldn’t put her finger on.

****

Libby hurriedly poured coffee into a thermos and packed sandwiches in a small ice chest, along with some water and apples. Jackson had said to be ready by eleven that night, and she was cutting it close.

Turning back towards the living room, her breath caught in her throat. Beneath the sofa glowed a bright, almost lime green line. She turned the lights back on and stared at the spot. Nothing. Turned them off. Green.

On her knees, she stuck her hand under furniture. Her fingers grasped a piece of something prickly and long. The rope she’d found in Maddie’s yard. She had teased Zoe with it last evening, letting the cat bat it around the room.

With the lights off again, the twine glowed green in her palm.

She grinned as realization dawned. Maddie’s alien had been painted with glow-in-the-dark paint.

An engine and the sound of crunching gravel caught her ear. Jackson’s truck pulled into the driveway.

****

Jackson grimaced at the rope in his hand. “I knew it was a joke. Probably a couple of kids taking advantage of their Christmas vacation. Out of school for a few days and they’re already bored.” He tossed it onto the counter.

Libby shook her head. “It’s been going on longer than the school break,” she argued. “But I agree; it doesn’t seem the sort of thing an adult would do. A kid would see it as fun, but it’s a dangerous prank. Maddie could have shot someone.”

He nodded, shrugging off the heavy denim jacket he was wearing and draping it on the back of a kitchen chair. “Maybe it’s a dog. It could have stood on its hind legs and looked in her window. Probably just curious. That line of green is probably just its collar.”

She picked up the rope and fingered the shredded ends. “Maybe. Whatever it was, the creature looked odd the way it jumped back and forth like that.”

His forehead crinkled. “Well, it’s not an alien. We can definitely rule that out.”

She thought for a moment. “The Clarks live at the end of the road. They have three burros; maybe someone painted one of the young ones with glow paint. And I saw Amy Clark in the grocery store with her grandson last week. He looks to be about twelve. She said he and his brother were staying with them until their dad gets back from Afghanistan.”

He nodded. “I’ll check into it.”

“If it is the boys, you will go easy on them, won’t you?” she pleaded. “Give them a good talking to, but don’t let everyone make a big deal about this.” A smile tugged her mouth. “After all, I remember a certain boy I used to know who spray-painted a couple of names on an old metal bridge.”

He stepped closer and pulled the rope from her fingers. “I won’t do more than give them a good talking to. Promise. And maybe they could pay for Maddie’s window.”

“I’m sure she would appreciate that,” said Libby. “A punishment to fit the crime.”

Reaching down, he tickled her nose with the frayed rope. “You did good on this alien case,” he answered. “I may just have to deputize you.”

Spider legs of electricity shot through her face, his hand brushing against her hair. She edged away, as warmth flooded her cheeks.

Strong fingers encircled her elbows and pulled her back to him. “Libby, do you remember all of what I was going to spray paint on that bridge?”

A classical tune filled the air and he released her, fumbling with the cell phone in his pocket. “I’d better get this,” he said, popping it open. “Sheriff here...”

Libby turned away, bracing herself against the sink for a moment as her body tingled. Turning on the faucet, she reached for a water glass, giving herself an excuse for keeping her face turned from his for so long.

Maybe a cool drink would drown the hurricane of emotions roaring in her stomach.

****

Jackson braked the truck at the top of Rose Hill, shifting into park. “We ought to be able to notice any lights in the sky from here.”

Libby reached for the thermos. “Coffee?” she asked, holding it up.

“Let’s wait awhile.”

Libby squinted at the small white pellets that occasionally struck the windshield. Sleet. The cold the weathermen mentioned must be sweeping in early. She hoped anything major would wait until after the parade tomorrow.

A coyote howled in the distance, and she shivered. The loneliness in his cry was too close to her own solitary existence.

Jackson had never been much of a conversationalist, but this was ridiculous. The night would seem an eternity at this pace. Staring out the window wasn’t much entertainment for either of them with no sign of flying objects in the sky other than sleet.

She imagined his one-syllable answers must be the community newspaper journalist’s nightmare. Maybe he was more animated with that pretty blonde television reporter from the local station—she pondered this as a splinter of jealousy pierced her. What did it matter if he was? Jackson had every right to flirt with whomever he wanted.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

She jumped at the sound of his voice.

“No wait,” he continued, digging a coin from his pocket. “Quarter.” He flipped the coin onto the dash and flashed a grin in the sliver of moonlight that shone from behind the clouds.

She listened to it spin and finally settle into place, pausing before she answered. “I guess I was just thinking about our conversation last night. You know...about why you’ve never married.”

“Oh. That.”

“And?”

“And what? There’s not much to tell.”

“I’ll take a wild guess that some woman broke your heart.”

“I guess I probably broke hers first. So we finished even.” His voice was soft, gravelly.

She sighed. “You know, you’re good at that. Breaking hearts, I mean.” She cast a meaningful glance his direction, one eyebrow raised.

He snorted. “It’s always nice to be told you’ve got some sort of talent.”

She cringed at the raw ache in his voice. Her fingers touched his arm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories for you.”

His hand covered hers for a moment. “They’re not bad, Libby. In fact, they’re the best ones I’ve got.” He swallowed hard. “I’m just sorry things didn’t turn out different. Sometimes you don’t realize how much one decision can affect your whole life.”

“I understand that,” she answered, with a soft laugh. She understood more than he probably guessed. “Does she know how you feel?”

His palm was warm and callused; his thumb gently massaged her fingers. Warm pulsing waves floated through her hand.

His answer was barely a whisper. “I don’t think so.”

Tears prickled in her eyes. She blinked, resisting the impulse to pull her hand away. Love was too hard. At least for now.

Forcing cheer into her voice, she spoke again. “Your life is good, Jackson. You’ve got a great job, good friends—”

“True.” He let go of her hand. “But sometimes a man wants more than just friends.”

“I know,” she whispered, not trusting herself to speak any louder.

“What about you, Libby. Did you love him?”

Her tongue went numb for a second. It wasn’t a question she expected from him. “When I married him I did,” she answered, slowly.

“And later?”

Libby scooted in her seat. This conversation was leading down trails she wasn’t sure she wanted to travel. But maybe he should know the truth.

“Ben was a lawyer, and the firm he worked for expected certain things from him. Like an appropriate spouse.” Her tone grew slightly bitter. “I guess I fit the bill. I thought he loved me, and maybe he did. It was hard to tell by the time he died. He spent most of his time working.”

He touched her face softly. “I’m sorry,” he answered.

She cleared her throat, turning towards the basket as an excuse to change the subject. “How about some coffee?”

He laughed. “You’re gonna make sure I drink it, aren’t you?”

She poured the dark liquid and handed the cup to him. “A woman likes to know her efforts are appreciated.”

He broke into a smile in response to the teasing tone of her voice. Taking a sip, he nodded. “Best coffee I’ve ever tasted.”

“If you weren’t the sheriff, I’d slug you,” she answered, suppressing a laugh.

Did he mean for her to be curious? Maybe she was the woman from his past. Would it matter to him if he realized that she still loved him after all these years? She swallowed hard. Maybe it was best not to know.

A flicker of moonlight lit the cab as she observed his face. She had thought of him as perfect, the most handsome man she had ever known.

Until he left her, that is, with no real explanation or answer about his feelings at the time. He loved her once, she was sure of it. But somewhere in the years between then and now, he may have given his heart to someone else.

And so had she, for that matter. A mistake she would never make again.

****

At one a. m. exactly, the western sky lit up. Jackson rolled down his window and Libby did the same, zipping her jacket as high as possible and tightening the knitted scarf around her neck. A cold blast from the rising wind whipped around her as she tucked her hands in her furry pockets. Why hadn’t she remembered her gloves?

After five minutes, a deep, heavy rumble was audible in the distance. The sound floated on the damp night air. She sucked in her breath at the noise. So this was Maddie and Cora’s spaceship. Libby glanced across the cab.

Jackson’s eyes met hers, and he smiled. “I think it’s a backhoe. Probably the same one that made the tracks in the cemetery.” He turned the ignition. “Roll up your window, and we’ll take another drive over there.”

He slowed as they passed her driveway en route to Burning Bridge Road. “Is that horse trail still behind Martin’s place? The one that leads behind the cemetery?”

She shrugged. “As far as I know. I haven’t ridden much since I’ve moved home.”

He turned right, then pulled into her driveway. “How about we saddle up the horses and take ride in the dark?”

The air in the barn was mellow with the odor of horses and hay. Her fingers searched along the wall and found a switch. The bare bulb hanging above offered faint light for saddling the horses.

Scout stomped around her stall, shaking her head. Libby laughed. “Poor thing, she feels left out.” She patted the mule’s face. “Not tonight, old girl. You get to stay in here where it’s warm. Tomorrow’s your big day in the parade.”

As she saddled Hattie, Jackson threw the saddle blanket over the horse named Bet. She nickered and shook her silky black head, as if ready to go. “If we can go in on the riding path, they may not notice us. I figure if they’ve got a guard out by the road, they don’t want people to know what it is they’re up to.”

“What do you think they’re doing?” she asked, pulling on the leather gloves she kept hooked on a post.

He pushed his cowboy hat back on his head. “I don’t know. It’s sure not illegal to dig on your own property...but it’s just an odd time to do it.”

“You don’t think it’s...dangerous for us to go over there, do you?”

He smiled as he adjusted the saddle. “We won’t get too close. I’ve got my cell phone in case we need to call in some backup. Bill and Jim are on duty tonight, so we’ll have plenty of help if we need it.”

She tugged the reins and led the horse towards the barn door. “Maybe it won’t come to that.”

“I just hope we can tell what’s going on. By the way, you’d better wear this.” He snagged her grandpa’s old hat that hung just inside the barn. “Come on, we need to get going.”

****

The wind picked up as they rode silently down Honeycomb Road, covering the rumble of machinery in the distance. The one house they passed was long deserted, its old screen door hanging by its hinges, the gingerbread trim dangling in the breeze. Nothing but deserted pastures lined the road.

Her face stung in the bitter breeze as she wound the scarf around her neck and chin a little tighter. “It’s frigid out here.”

“Yeah. The sky has cleared, so it’s gonna be colder tonight than they predicted. Look at the stars.”

She leaned back a little to stare at the bright mass above them, its twinkling clusters a little like the bulbs on a Christmas tree.

The dirt road dead-ended as the woods surrounded them. “It’s kinda creepy back here,” she whispered. “I think I heard a sound in those trees.”

Jackson pulled Bet to a halt and turned in his saddle. “I don’t see anything. Probably just the wind knocking something around.”

“Probably.”

A barn owl hooted in the trees to their left and swooped in front of them. Hattie nickered at the white flash and danced a step to the side. Libby pulled on the reins and patted the horse’s neck. “There girl. It’s OK. Just a big bird.”

There it was again. A tiny rustling behind them, almost like they were being followed. “Did you hear that?”

He laughed. “There aren’t any ghosts...or aliens out here, Libby.”

Smart-aleck. “I know,” she snapped. Although the hair on her neck rose at the crackling in the brush.

He sidled up beside her, their legs brushing. She wanted to pull away, but it was impossible to move. “I was just kidding,” he whispered, his voice soft and warm.

Her resolution to ignore him began to thaw. “That’s OK. I just don’t like being patronized.”

A scuffling sounded in the wooded area to their left. He pulled the revolver from his holster as he turned. The half-moon gave just enough light to add shadows to the landscape.

Libby’s pulse throbbed against her throat, her fingers gripping the reins tighter as Hattie tensed, ready to bolt in an instant.

After a moment, he spoke. “I don’t see anything.”

Staring at the pistol he kept drawn, her voice trembled. “I keep thinking something is following us.”

He looked at her. “Could have been anything. A squirrel, even.” He shrugged and holstered the gun.

Libby pulled a flashlight from her pocket and flicked the beam along the sides of the road. Illuminating a worn-looking trail flanked by two enormous oaks. “I think that must be it. The cemetery isn’t far.”

Sweet gum, walnut, and oaks towered overhead, their naked branches casting eerie shadows across the frozen ground. Shivering against the night’s chill, Libby took a last glance behind them before she followed. In the past, their trail rides had been romantic moments in the winter moonlight. But this one was more like a ride through Sleepy Hollow.

****

The rumbling ceased as they crossed a low-flowing branch of the creek and reached the cemetery. “About right,” Jackson whispered, sliding off Bet.

They tied the horses to the posts of a nearby iron fence that followed the cemetery’s boundaries. Jackson unlatched the gate, and they slipped inside. He pointed the flashlight to the ground.

On the other side of the cemetery, light glowed through the bare-branched trees.

Her feet slid through the damp leaves that carpeted the graveyard floor, creeping towards the small rise between the cemetery and the farm.

Libby glanced at him as the machine started again, glimpsing lines of tension around his jaw even in the weak glow of the flashlight beam.

“Come on,” he whispered. Slipping below, he tested the frail bridge between the cemetery and ranch, offering his hand to guide her across.

Great. Old bridges in the middle of the night were not the sort of thing she had in mind. She followed slowly, holding his fingers. Please, Lord, keep this bridge up and get us across here safely.

They scrambled over the rocky ground through the tangled saplings in the overgrown field. Jackson’s hand touched her arm, stopping her as he pointed to the scene ahead, just beyond the forest of young trees.

An old red barn leaned to one side, huge lights mounted high on its sides and on trees throughout the area. The yellow-gold color of the equipment was visible as it dug the brown earth, building a large pile of dirt beside it.

He took her elbow as they moved closer, the sound of the dozer covering any noise they made. Crouched behind a large double cedar, Libby shivered. They were only about thirty feet from the digging.

“Look over to the left,” Jackson whispered.

Her eyes widened. There were two other holes, soil piled high between them.

“They’re looking for something,” she said, as much to herself as him.

The sound cut at once, and a man jumped down from the machine, causing them both to duck behind the bramble. Another man spoke, his form barely visible in the shadows. The wind carried the sound of his gruff tones into the night air. “Something’s wrong,” he snapped. “This area hasn’t been dug up in a hundred years. We’re just wasting our time.”

Libby glanced at Jackson, their eyes meeting with the same reaction. The voice belonged to Larry Allen, the man that greeted them at the gate yesterday.

The ringing of a phone sounded from inside the barn. The man who had warned them away earlier disappeared into the doorway. A moment later, the lights went out.

Libby blinked at the sudden blackness. “What do you think’s going on?”

“Shh...listen.”

She closed her eyes for a moment and concentrated. A motor sounded in the night air. A car or truck out on the road. A glimmer of headlights shone across the area below, and a truck pulled in beside the big machine. The bright lights flickered back to life.

A woman stepped out of the vehicle, her figure shadowed by the machinery parked nearby; the men, including the driver of the backhoe, approached her.

“The idiot you hired to figure this thing out is nothing but a troublemaker,” snapped the driver. “A lazy, no-good skunk. How do expect—”

“Hey you shut up,” snapped the second man. “It’s not like I have a lot of information to work with. Just let—”

“Be quiet!” The woman shouted over both of them.

Libby gasped. It was Paula Felton.

The men ceased talking and stared as Mrs. Felton spoke again. “You two quit arguing,” she said. “I finally found the missing information. And I guarantee you we’ll find what we’ve been digging for tonight.” She walked towards the barn, the two men following her inside.

Libby and Jackson turned and slid to the cold ground, their backs against the trees behind them. Libby shivered. Paula Felton reminded her of a villain in a late-night movie. She was definitely the boss.

Jackson sighed and spoke in a hushed tone. “If only she’d mentioned what they’re going to find, it would’ve been a big help,” he said. “But I’m beginning to suspect it’s not something the law allows you to keep. And it seems an odd time for her to come out here to check on things.”

Libby answered in a low voice. “Yesterday Maddie mentioned that Mrs. Felton had gone to Tulsa. Maybe that’s where she got the information she was talking about. Besides, she said they’re going to find it tonight, so it shouldn’t be long.”

“We’ll see,” he whispered. “We’re going to sit here and keep an eye on things until we figure out what they’re up to. Then I’m gonna call for reinforcements, if I have to.” He settled himself low behind the brush, peering through the dried branches at the scene ahead.

There was a long pause before Libby spoke again. “Jackson?”

“Yeah?”

She cleared her throat. “About what we were talking about earlier. You and that woman that...that broke your heart.”

“What about her?”

She hesitated. Now didn’t seem like the right moment, on the verge of finding an answer for the strange happenings in the community. But the question had been gnawing at her since he first mentioned it. And if something should happen here tonight—

“It’s just that...if you really still love her, I think you should tell her. I mean, it’s something too important not to...to take a chance on. You don’t want to spend the rest of your life wondering what she might have said.”

Jackson said nothing for a moment.

“You think so?” he whispered. “I don’t know if I mentioned that it’s been a long time.”

A seed of hope sprouted in her heart. How long? Could it be possible he was talking about the two of them? “I think you owe it to yourself. And her, too.”

In the dim light drifting through the trees, she saw the steely gaze in his eyes soften. “I’ll think about it,” he answered.

With a nod, she forced her tears aside. If Jackson loved someone else, this moment would sting in her memory forever.

She had loved Ben once. She really had. But now it was Jackson her heart wanted. And not just for a crazy UFO-hunting week or so.

“They don’t have much time left tonight,” she whispered, shifting her weight impatiently on the cold ground. “Morning will be here soon.”

Jackson glanced at the glowing numbers on his watch. “It’s only three. They’ve still got three, almost four hours. They have plenty of time.”

An argument from below carried through the night air. They scrambled to their feet and watched the backhoe driver emerge from the barn. “That’s crazy. I’m not goin’ over there. It’s against the law!”

Laughter rang out from the woman and the other man as they followed close behind him. A third man stepped out of the barn.

Mrs. Felton spoke up. “What are you so afraid of? We’ve come this far. It would be stupid to stop now! A few more hours and we’ll have it.”

“Look, we’ve been on private property up until now. But I don’t hold to desecrating graves,” the driver argued. “My momma’s probably turning over in hers just hearing me consider it!”

“Quit your moaning. It’s not like you’re digging up the dead.”

The other man seemed anxious. “It’s the principle of the thing.”

Mrs. Felton whirled to face him. “My husband knew what he was doing. If you two will just do your jobs, we’ll be done with this tonight, and we can all go our separate ways. Now start that machine,” she snapped.

Libby’s heart plunged to her stomach. “They’re coming over here!”

Jackson pulled his phone from his pocket, his face registering shock when he flipped it open. “Dead,” he hissed and slapped it shut. “I’ve been meaning to replace it. Did you bring yours?”

She shook her head. The dozer roared to life, and her throat began to close.

“We’d better get out of here!” Jackson grabbed the arm of her jacket and pulled her with him down the rocky slope.

The sprint across the rickety bridge was a blur as she forced her feet to run, feeling one of the rotten boards snap beneath the heel of her boot. Both of them tripped on fallen limbs and rocks sticking out of the ground as they stumbled into the cemetery.

At the gate, he pulled his gun from his holster and shoved it in Libby’s hands. “Take this and both the horses back to your house. Call 911. Explain everything to the dispatcher—have him send out Jim and Bill. Tell him no sirens at all.” He swallowed and took a breath. “The deputies can ride the horses back here and help me surprise our trio of would-be grave robbers. They both used to ride with us, so they know the way.”

She pushed the pistol away. “You’ll need that if you’re staying here.”

“No, Libby,” he answered, determination fierce on his face. “Take it. When the deputies come for the horses, they can bring it back to me. I’ll lay low until they get here.”

“I’m not leaving you,” she began. The sound of the dozer grew closer, headlights flashed across the tombstones on the other side of the cemetery.

“They’re coming across the creek,” he said. “Now go! And I’d better not see you back here. Do you understand me?” His tone was forceful, no glimmer of amusement anywhere in his eyes as she met his gaze one more time in the dull flash of moonlight.

“Libby! Answer me!” he hissed.

Saying nothing, Libby pulled away and stuck the pistol in her belt. It was impossible to say yes to a promise that might cost him his life. She was on Hattie’s saddle in a second, her hands clutching the reins of both horses.

She gave Hattie’s sides a quick kick, leaving the cemetery behind. If she hurried, there would be time to make the call and come back better armed and better prepared to face off with these criminals.

The blackness was deep and cold. Her heart pounded like a bass drum in her ears, blocking out night sounds of the forest. Keep me focused on the goal, Lord. Please, please protect us—keep Jackson safe on his own. As the opening loomed ahead, she pushed Hattie harder, glad they were now on the main road.

****

Libby tied the horses to her front porch railing and fumbled frantically with her keys. Her voice trembled as she explained to the dispatcher.

“Thirty minutes! And then it will take them fifteen to get out there.” She gasped. “But Jackson’s out there by himself!”

“There’s no way they can get there any faster, Libby.” The tension in the dispatcher’s voice was thick.

“I’ll leave the horses tied to my front porch. Jim and Bill know the way.”

She slammed down the receiver and grabbed the .22 that leaned against the kitchen wall. The back door swung shut behind her a moment later.

There was no way she was leaving Jackson to face this alone. If she didn’t go, no help would be there for almost an hour. Scout had wanted in on the adventure. Now was her chance. And Scout would get her back there safely.

****

Jackson eased around a large oak. The bright lights of the backhoe bounced off the old gray stones, creating an eerie fog in the damp air. His heart hammered in his chest as he crouched low behind the tree. No need letting them catch him. When Jim and Bill arrived, they could take them easily.

His thoughts drifted to Libby and her mission. She was an expert rider, but the darkness was heavy in the woods, and it hurt to force her to leave alone. His heart quickened. She wasn’t really alone. Keep her safe, Lord. I know You love her and care about her even more than me. Please give her Your protection on this ride.

He swallowed back the worry that choked in his throat. Why had God put her back in his life? Being with her had revived an old ache he thought was cured for good. Could he live with it on a day-to-day basis? He didn’t think so. He was going to have to tell her. Get it over and done and live with, whatever answer she gave him.

You led me back here, Lord. I’ve been wondering why for a while. Whatever it is, I don’t think I can stay unless she’s part of my life. Not without a lot of help from You.

The backhoe came to a halt at the top of the hill, and the driver killed the motor. Jackson swallowed hard and stood. The rough bark scratched his face as he pressed it hard against the tree and eased his head to a position where he could see.

Paula Felton’s voice carried across the night air. “This is the one—it’s marked as Sophia Brown.”

The machine operator jumped down from his position. “Are you sure? This looks pretty real to me.”

Her voice was loud and angry as she waved something in the air. “I’ve got the papers to prove it right here in my hand. Now quit arguing and start digging!”

“OK. But you’d better not be wrong,” the man shouted as he pulled himself back up on the machine. “If this turns out to be a real grave then—”

“When you see the money stashed in that coffin, you’ll be sorry you didn’t get to digging faster. Now get started, or I may have to deduct a portion from your cut.” She threatened. “It’s been buried in there for over twelve years. It’s time someone enjoyed it.”

His heart plummeted. Money! Was it possible? Rob Felton had been a friend to his father. He had sat in their house, their living room, assuring his dad that he knew he would never take the money from the bank.

Hurt and anger started a slow burn up Jackson’s throat. The man had been nothing but a backstabber. His dad had trusted him as a friend, and all the time he had been the one who was the criminal.

Well, Rob Felton might be dead, but the rest of these thieves were going to pay.

He glanced at his watch. Libby had been gone almost thirty minutes. Bill and Jim would be on their way. He could wait. No doubt, it would take them a while to dig everything up. Moving quietly to the last row of tombstones, he ducked behind the shrubby bushes scattered throughout the area. No one would notice him there.

****

The blackness in the woods enveloped Libby like a smothering blanket. Nothing to do but keep her eyes straight ahead and ignore that rustle from the leaves.

Lord, give me courage to get through this. Jackson is out here unarmed. He needs me, at least for tonight.

The snapping sounds in the forest sent a prickle up her spine. Faster, faster. Scout had to go faster. Something crashed in the leaves to her left, but she didn’t look. She needed to stay focused on the goal—more than one friend depended on her nerve tonight.

The clatter from the cemetery seemed closer as she rounded the curve. The rumbling of machinery covered the woodland noise. Another few minutes and she saw a glimmer of light ahead. She switched off her flashlight and pulled the mule to a halt. No need to ride in too close. She slid from the saddle and threw the reins over a low branch.

She gave a whispered instruction. “Now you stay here, girl.” Scout snorted and stomped. Libby gave her a pat and prayed the animal would stay put.

Flashlights with bright beams were shining in front of a backhoe when its engine suddenly stopped.

The operator jumped from the machine, his voice echoing through the graveyard. “I don’t think I should dig anymore. We ought to be about deep enough, and I don’t want to damage anything. We’ll have to shovel it from here.”

Libby dropped to her knees and crawled through the gate, one hand holding the rifle, Jackson’s pistol digging into her stomach. Her heart throbbed in her throat and ears. Twigs and rocks stabbed her palms and knees as she crept behind a cement bench and peered around the side.

Strong fingers wrapped around her wrist, and a hand covered her mouth. She started to struggle.

“What are you doing here?” Jackson’s angry voice spoke low in her ear. He eased his hand from her mouth.

She swallowed and willed her heart to slow as she pulled the pistol from her belt. “They won’t be here for another thirty minutes or so. I knew you needed—”

He took the gun from her. “I told you not to come back!” Fury rushed through his whispered voice.

She blinked back tears. This was no time for blubbering. “I wasn’t going to leave you out here unarmed.”

“This is serious business, Libby. I don’t want to have to worry about you. Now you get out of here!” he growled. “I’m going to head closer towards the digging. You’ll meet Jim and Bill on the way out—tell them where I am. Now go!”

She set her jaw and began to crawl away. As she neared the gate, Libby heard the crunch of his footsteps fading away from her. She looked at her watch: five thirty. Not long until daylight. Could she really leave him now?

A rustling caught her ear and she turned, the hair on her neck rising at the sight of a shape just ahead. She pressed herself against the back of a tombstone and stared.

The creature stood at the cemetery gate, watching her. Green glowing eyes trained on her, beneath small antennae curling away like thick strands from a grasshopper’s head. The antennae swayed as it turned its head towards the activity of the lighted area.

Her eyes followed the plodding movement until the green glow faded behind a row of tombstones. Cold sweat coated her palms. What on earth is that doing here? Was it connected to the thieves? No wonder Mrs. Felton had been anxious to see poor Maddie go off to the nursing home.

Intrigued, Libby turned and focused her attention on the digging area. The lights from the backhoe were off, and only one flashlight appeared to be in play. The two men, almost shoulder depth in the hole, were grunting as they shoveled out the heavy spades of dirt. “This ground is hard as a rock,” one complained.

A flash of light blinded Libby; cold metal touched her cheek. Her heart took a fast dive as every muscle in her body went taut.

“Well, what have I got here?”

A shiver of dread coursed through her. It was the man they’d met at the gate yesterday.

“Stand up, girl, and put your hands behind your back.” She didn’t hesitate. Dropping her rifle, she caught a glimpse of his hand pulling a piece of cord from a utility belt around his waist.

The rope he tied dug into her wrists. Her fingers tingled when she wiggled them. The more she moved her hands, the tighter it became.

“Let’s go,” he said, pushing her forward.

Libby trudged in front, the blunt end of the barrel in her back. She stumbled over a rock, almost losing her balance. The man behind her laughed.

Where was Jackson? A part of her desperately wanted to see him leap out from behind the trees and rescue her, while the other part dreaded seeing him in any kind of danger. Please give him a clear mind, Lord. They might not hurt her, but Jackson—she didn’t want to think about it.

“Get going!” The man prodded her shoulder with the shotgun barrel. “We got trouble, Mrs. Felton,” he called.

A bright beam shone in her face, and Libby squinted, refusing to close her eyes from the brilliant glare.

“What are you doing here?”

Libby set her jaw at the arrogant tone from Mrs. Felton. “I think the question is what are you doing here? Last I heard, grave robbing was illegal.”

“What are we going to do with her, Mrs. Felton?”

The woman laughed. “We’ll stick her in this hole when we’re through. Just keep your shotgun on her, Larry.”

Libby gagged on bile that rose to her mouth. “You’ll never get away with that,” she snapped. “I don’t know what you’re looking for, but I doubt these men are willing go along with murder.”

“Keep her quiet!” Mrs. Felton turned the light from Libby’s face and directed it back to the man in the hole. “You two hurry it up.”

“We’re doing the best we can,” one of them replied. “If you want it done faster, you can just come down and do it yourself.” The backhoe driver tossed aside his shovel and placed his hands on the edge of the hole.

“I’m taking a break,” he declared.

Mrs. Felton leaned down, mere inches from his face as she glared. “Oh no, you’re not,” she hissed. “And if you decide to pull anything, I’ll start this machine up and take care of the two of you, first,” she threatened. “Now dig!”

A flash of green glinted behind Mrs. Felton, the darkness hiding its shape. A second later, the woman screamed as she plummeted into the hole. The form vanished into the darkness again; the sound of cursing was audible from the pit below.

Knife-like pain shot up Libby’s arms as Larry grabbed hold of the rope that bound her wrists. “That one of your friends? Well, they won’t think that was such a smart decision in a minute,” her captor said. She heard the sound of the hammer cocking; her eyes squeezed shut with fear.

A sudden light from the graveyard illuminated them.

“This is the sheriff!” a voice boomed. “Everyone freeze where you are!”

Libby jerked forward, and the large fingers clamped harder. She stomped his foot with her boot and swung her leg back, scraping her heel down his shin.

He grunted and clung to her tightly, shielding himself from the deputies. She felt the barrel of his shotgun beside her.

No! She flung herself backwards, throwing her weight into his flabby form. Stumbling backwards, he fired into the air before landing on his back, Libby’s weight squarely deposited on his belly.

Her ears throbbed from the blast as she struggled to get up. She scrambled to her feet and began to move before he had time to grab her again.

A light bobbed from the darkness, and another pistol cocked.

“Don’t touch that trigger,” a deputy’s voice warned. Libby tripped on a rock and fell, sliding down an incline.

“Libby? Libby?” Jackson’s voice.

“Over here!” she shouted, as she struggled to her knees, her wrists tugging harder. “Thank you, Lord,” she whispered. Jackson was safe. That was all that mattered at the moment.

A shiver raced up her spine as something soft touched her hand. Warm, wet breath puffed across her palms; she turned in the dark to see glowing eyes beside her, thick antenna bobbing as the creature examined her fingers.

She felt the soft movement of fur as the head went down and nibbled along her palms. Teeth seized the rope that held her prisoner, tugging free the knot tied in the cord. A flash of light from Jackson illuminated her liberator.

Unable to stop herself, she laughed out loud and sank into a cross-legged sitting position, her trembling hands brushing the frozen leaves and sticks from her hair.

“Libby! Are you OK? Are you hurt?” he gasped. “Hey—get away from her!” He swatted at the animal with his hand.

Sparky bleated in response, content to chew the rope he gnawed from Libby’s hands, his upright ears bobbing with his head. Green glow-in-the-dark paint—that outlined his horns and fuzzy face—vanished to normal shades in the flashlight’s bright beam.

****

Scout kept a slow, steady pace with the other mules in the Search and Rescue squad as Libby waved and tossed Christmas candy to the children along the sides of Main Street. Their excitement was catching, and she laughed aloud as they scrambled for the sweet treats.

She had done the same when she was their age. Grandpa had always made sure to throw an extra handful of candy her way. The first time she’d ridden in the parade beside him had been one of her most treasured memories.

The Search and Rescue group rode behind The Coyote Times. The Times’s float featured a cardboard replica of an old printing press, slowly flapping and coming apart in the breeze, a large Christmas tree and a wooden bench where Charles Smith, editor of the paper, sat beside Maddie Thompson and Sparky the goat.

She was bundled in a heavy coat, with a red blanket over her lap. A furry red Santa hat covered her gray bun and kept her ears warm. Sparky, tied close beside her, was more interested in chewing on the leather strap than accepting the admiring cheers from the crowd. Libby was sure he’d escape before the parade was over.

The two of them had made quite a sensation in the morning edition of the paper. Especially Sparky. A special paragraph was devoted to his role in capturing Paula Felton. They had even managed to use special lighting to photograph him, revealing the glow-in-the-dark paint Will Perry’s grandsons had painted on his horns, face, and front legs.

“We’re the top news story of the year!” Maddie had crowed when she phoned Libby earlier. “The editor says everybody wants to see me and Sparky. It’s a shame you can’t see his green paint in the daylight.”

Libby shared her sentiments as she waved to Maddie from behind the float. Still, the crowd seemed excited about the mischievous goat, previously only known for ripping up gardens and devouring rose bushes.

Jackson, astride his own horse, rode up beside her, his glance taking in the float just ahead. “You think being a celebrity will go to her head?”

Libby laughed. “I hope so. She’s having a lot of fun. The editor has asked her to write her own story about everything that she saw.”

“Without her report, we probably wouldn’t have recovered that money.” He grinned and tossed a handful of candy to a group of boys. “She’ll be signing autographs, next.”

“It’s the best thing that could happen to her,” Libby agreed, switching her reins to the other hand.

“Hey, Sheriff Carter!” A voice called. Jackson turned and waved to the next float in line.

“Guess I’ll go see what they want,” he said, but he didn’t turn back. Did she detect a tone of reluctance in his voice? “By the way, I thought you ought to know, I’ve decided to take your advice.”

Libby turned, flashing her parade smile. “Advice?”

He nodded. “You know. What we talked about last night in the cemetery.”

Her heart trembled in her chest as he moved his horse nearer Scout. “You said it was the right thing for me to do,” he reminded her, softly. “I did some praying on it, and I think you’re right.”

Her voice faltered. “Oh.”

“You do still think it’s what I ought to do, don’t you?”

Her throat closed, and she nodded. Hot tears flooded her eyes. Was she ready for the possibility his heart belonged to someone else?

“Wait for me after the parade.” And then he was gone.

****

The community Christmas party was in high gear when Libby made her way into the area set aside for judging crafts and baked goods during the county fair. A huge Christmas tree blinked red and gold on the stage at the end of the room. A local band was situated in front of it, playing a western swing version of “I’ll Be Home for Christmas.” In the corner, logs in the large wood stove blazed merrily, encouraging the crowd to shed their coats and jackets.

Libby waved across the room to Dana Lewis, steering her two little cowboys towards Santa, who was busy handing out candy, apples, and oranges from his overloaded bag. A line of happy children playfully teased and shoved each other as they waited for their special moment with the man in red.

She spotted Jackson, a cup of punch in his hand, talking to the mayor. He looked up and sent a wink her way. Her heart cart-wheeled into her stomach. For a moment, the years between them melted away, and they were the same teenage couple they’d been over a decade ago. Her heart was his...if he still wanted it.

He left the mayor and walked towards her. “I’ve been looking for you.” His eyes searched her face as he took her hand. “You look a little pale. Are you OK?”

Heat rose to her cheeks as she met his smoky gaze. She nodded. “I’m fine.” The rest of the words stuck in her throat.

He glanced around the room. “How about taking a short ride with me?”

Libby glanced around the room. “Now?”

“Yeah. Just a short one.”

Outside, her breath caught as the cold breeze struck her face, cooling her heated cheeks. Another frigid night was setting in. The clouds had cleared, and stars shone bright above them. The band started up “The Twelve Days of Christmas” just as the door swung shut behind them.

Jackson let out a whistle. “Look at that ring around the moon. Maybe it means we’ll have a white Christmas this year.”

Surely, he didn’t ask her out here to talk about snow. “Jackson—”

“C’mon, let’s go.” He grabbed her hand, and she willingly followed him to the truck.

****

She reached across the cab and turned up the heat. Jackson rolled down his window. “I remember this scenario,” she laughed.

“You know what they say about opposites,” he teased, taking a right on Clayton Road. A half mile later, he pulled over, just short of the old metal bridge, turning the truck at an angle.

The headlights shone brightly on the structure, and Libby stared at the mass of graffiti covering the rusty panels. Much had been added since their teenage years. After a moment, she picked out Jackson Loves Libby. He’d hurriedly painted it one night when he was seventeen. A truck had sounded in the distance before he’d had time to paint the date beside his act of vandalism.

“I never did get that finished,” he said, reaching in front of her and opening the glove compartment. He took out a can of spray paint.

Libby gasped. “Jackson! You’re the sheriff. What are you doing?”

He grinned and opened the truck door. “You’ll see.”

She was out in an instant and hurried after him. “It’s just the date. Forget it.”

He put the toe of his boot on an old rung and pulled himself up level with the letters and began to spray. Libby stepped back and hugged herself against the breeze. The road was empty and quiet behind them, but what would someone say if they caught the sheriff? She gave an involuntary jump when a horn honked somewhere in the distance.

“Hurry...” she gazed upward and stared. There was no date sprayed beside their names. Instead, it read Jackson Loves Libby Forever.

He jumped down from his perch on the railing and observed his artwork. He turned to her. “What do you think?”

Words scrambled and jammed in her throat. It was true. He loved her. He really did still love her.

He dropped the paint can and pulled her towards him, drawing her close, his arms warm around her. “You know, I’ve spent a couple of years wondering just why God wanted me back here.” His eyes drifted to the words and then back to her. “And then you showed up.”

Her heart thudded against her chest as he drew his finger along her cheek and under her chin. He kissed her forehead...and her nose...and finally her lips. His mouth was sweet and gentle, teasing her stampeding heart.

When he drew away, his lips curved into a soft smile as his fingertips caressed her cheek. “I’ve spent too many years without you, Libby. If you’ll give me another chance, I’ll prove how much I love you.”

Hot tears splashed down her cheeks. She wrapped her arms around his neck in a moment. “I think we both need that second chance.”

“Merry Christmas, Libby.” He pressed his lips to hers once again.