Yuletide Peril. Irene Brand

Brooke to Linda’s care for the afternoon.

      “One of my major worries about moving to Stanton has lessened now that Brooke has found a friend,” Janice said as Lance drove away from his house. “She’s always made friends quicker than I have.”

      “Kids do seem to make friends easier than adults. For the most part, people in Stanton are easy to know. I believe both of you will find friends here.”

      He wanted to assure her that she’d already found one in him, but Lance was puzzled by the air of defeat Janice exhibited today. Her shoulders slumped, and her slender hands unconsciously twisted together in her lap as if her composure was hanging by a single thread.

      To avoid thinking about the new crisis, Janice focused on Lance. The other times she had seen him, he’d been dressed in a suit, dress shirt and tie. Today, he wore heavy leather boots, jeans and a casual long-sleeved shirt. A ball cap covered his light hair.

      Janice had dressed in jeans, too, and she wore a sweatshirt and lightweight boots with thick soles.

      After he parked by the entrance to Mountjoy, Lance took a machete and a large flashlight from the back of his van. He passed the flashlight to Janice.

      At the gate, he paused with his hand on the latch. “I’ve hesitated to tell you,” he said, “but yesterday, I decided to check out your property. I got in sight of the house, and if I was superstitious, I’d say your property is haunted.”

      Conscious of the sudden gray pallor that spread across her face and the apprehension in her eyes, he quickly explained what he’d heard the day before.

      “Judging from similar experiences others have had when they’ve trespassed on the property,” he concluded, “this must be an effort to scare intruders away. I don’t know if it’s safe for you to go any farther.”

      Lance’s words coming on the heels of the slashed tires alarmed Janice as nothing had ever done. She staggered against the gate, and Lance reached out a hand to steady her. She shook her head.

      “I’m all right,” she struggled to say. Through tight lips, she told him about the written message she’d received warning her to stay away from Stanton.

      “Maybe I should have heeded the warning. I don’t mind risking my own life to claim what belongs to me, but if anything happened to me, Brooke would be all alone!” Swallowing with difficulty, she continued, “And last night, the tires on my car were slashed. Chief Goodman is investigating.”

      Lance frowned and his blue eyes darkened with anger.

      “Every time I decide I can make a home in Stanton,” Janice continued, “something else happens. I don’t know what to do.”

      “What do you want to do?” Lance asked.

      “Forget I’ve ever heard of this place, take Brooke and move so far away that no one has ever heard of my family.”

      A gleam of interest in his eyes, Lance persisted, “But what are you going to do?”

      Janice forced herself to remember the biblical promise, “God has not given us the spirit of fear, but of power.” If anything happened to her, surely God would take care of Brooke.

      “Stay here, claim my property and find out who’s trying to drive me out of town.”

      Smiling, Lance opened the gate and stepped aside for her to enter. “Then be my guest,” he said. Swiftly, he stepped in front of her. “On second thought, perhaps I’ll not be a gentleman today. I’ll walk in front—you stay behind me.” He handed his car keys to Janice. “If anything happens to me, run as fast as you can and bring the chief of police.”

      Janice laid her hand on his arm. “This is my problem. I should take the risk, not you. Why are you going to all this trouble for me?”

      A look of bewilderment in his eyes, Lance shook his head slowly. “I really don’t know.”