Buried in Wolf Lake Page 9

  I pushed my memories aside. “You want to tell me what’s been bothering you?” I asked.

  “Don’t you think he’s a little too perfect?” He was obviously talking about Nick.

  I pulled my head back enough to glimpse his face. “Too perfect? Is there such a thing?” I challenged.

  “Handsome, good physique, prestigious career, affable—look at him over there, impressing the group around him.” Old and young, men and women—my mother and the sheriff included—appeared rapt, listening to a story I couldn’t hear.

  Smoke went on, “And he dances and sings.”

  “Smoke, you could have just described yourself, and I don’t think you’re too perfect. At all.” I held a deadpan face until he processed my words and a smile cracked his solemn expression.

  “Sometimes, little lady—” Smoke brought our extended arms closer to our bodies and turned my hand so our arms were intertwined. His hand on my back pressed my body still closer against him. The audible intake of my breath brought his focus back to my face. We searched each other’s eyes, wondering what we were looking for, what would happen next.

  An image of Smoke’s near-naked body sprang up from the recesses of my brain. I had accidentally seen him in his boxers one morning and was alarmed that I found him so attractive, so desirable. My friend, my colleague. My lover? I had kept my fascination repressed, but at that moment, locked against his body, I found myself feeling, not thinking.

  I vaguely registered the singer slowing down for the last, sad line about losing his darling at the end of the waltz.

  “I guess our song is over, Corinne,” Smoke realized, his voice a mere whisper. We stopped dancing, but held our embrace to recover for another second.

  “Right. Thank you.” Formal, stilted, the best I could do.

  “You’ve improved . . . every year.” He took a step back, releasing one hand. The other, he slowly and gently lifted to his lips and kissed my fingers. “Thank you.”

  My face betrayed me by blushing.

  “Wow. You two are really good.” Sara’s voice brought me back to the party I had forgotten. Her happy expression was the opposite of John Carl’s scowling one. Either Sara had offended him—which I doubted—or he did not approve of my dance with Smoke—which I did not doubt.

  “Thanks,” I said too brightly. “Thanks, Smoke. Time to mingle.”

  Sara followed and pulled me aside. “Oh . . . my . . . gosh. That was so hot. I mean, when you told me you were attracted to Smoke, I have to admit I thought you were a little nuts, but I see what you mean. He is a total hottie. Not that Nick isn’t. No wonder you have such a dilemma.”

  “Sara, I don’t want to talk about this here. And no, there can be no dilemma. I work with Smoke and I’m dating Nick.” I looked her full in the face, took her hands in mine, and squeezed.

  “Whatever.” She pushed me away.

  I was suddenly aware that Nick, Mother, the sheriff, my friends in the department, and others might have witnessed the dance and wondered if something was going on between Smoke and me. Sara had. John Carl had.

  I spotted my mother and the sheriff. They were sitting with my friends at a loft table and appeared lost in conversation. None of them were looking at Smoke or me, whispering and pointing. Nick was occupied with helping his daughter and friends dish up some food at the tables. Yes, I was a little paranoid.

  The next few hours passed in a blur. I helped my mother keep the dishes filled with food and the coolers full of beverages. I introduced Nick to my mother, brother, grandparents, and friends. The sheriff stayed near my mother most of the evening, even helping her replenish food and beverages. He probably didn’t know what else to do with himself.

  Brian Carlson poked me when I was picking up some discarded plates and cups. “People asking you about the Molly case?”

  I handed him the stack of paper products and picked up some more. “Yes, I’ve been cornered a few times. They can’t seem to help themselves, can they?”

  Brian shook his head. “First dismemberment case in our history. They want to know—but don’t want to know—all the gory details.”

  “You got that right. What’d you think of the debriefing the other day? Did it help?”

  He frowned slightly. “It did. Not that I’m overly interested in another dive anytime soon.”

  “So did you burn your gloves?” I thought of the disturbed look on Carlson’s face when he held Molly’s arm and vowed to do just that.

  “Naw. Bagged ’em up and threw ’em in the trash,” Carlson said as we dropped our stacks of paper items in a garbage can.

  “I’d have done the same thing.”

  “Mason and Weber and I all disinfected our wet suits about a hundred and fifty times.”

  I feigned surprise. “Is that all? I would have gone for an even two hundred.”

  My Grandma and Grandpa Aleckson and Gramps Brandt were sitting together at a table on the edge of the dance floor. “How are you all holding up?” I asked.

  “Hanging in there,” Gramps said.

  “I can give you a ride home whenever you’re ready,” I offered.

  “No, no, I can make it ’til nine.”

  Grandma Aleckson reached over and patted my hand. “So, tell us more about that young man of yours. We haven’t had much of a chance to talk lately.”

  I gave a brief summary of Nicholas Bradshaw. He was the Oak Lea Memorial Hospital Administrator. I had met him while working on an investigation at the hospital about six weeks before. His wife had died of cancer, leaving him alone with a young daughter to care for, to whom he was clearly devoted. I was the first woman he had dated since his wife died four years before.

  “He seems nice, dear. Almost too good to be true.” Her lips pursed with concern.

  I half-smiled and shrugged. “Maybe.”

  First Smoke, then Grandma. I was beginning to wonder what they had against being “too perfect.” Truthfully, I didn’t know the depth of my feelings for Nick. I was attracted to him and loved spending time with him. He made me laugh. His kisses filled me with longings. His daughter was a treasure: polite, mature, kind, and—as an added bonus—she liked me.

  “We saw your waltz with Detective Dawes. You two really cut a rug tonight.” Both my grandfathers smiled with her.

  I raised my eyebrows. “Cut a rug?”

  “Old expression. Danced well, looked good together. Almost intimate.”

  “Oh.” I dropped my empty cup on the floor on purpose. I hoped bringing blood to my face by bending over would cover my rising blush.

  “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you, sweetheart.”

  I could never fool my grandmother.

  Nick and I shared one last dance before he left. If he had any questions about my relationship with Smoke, he didn’t ask them. We held hands as we searched out his daughter and her friend.

  “Faith, Janie, Sarah, we need to get going. Time to say goodnight,” Nick prompted.

  “Sergeant Corky, thanks for showing us your horses and for the fun party,” Faith said.

  “Yeah, thanks,” twins Janie and Sarah said as one voice.

  Nick made a gentle shooing motion. “You girls can get in the car. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  They ran off. Nick led me out of the barn and drew me into his arms for a deep kiss. “Mmm, I’ve been waiting for that all night.”

  I smiled. “And it was worth waiting for.”

  “Can you come over later, after the party?” He squeezed my shoulders gently.

  “It’ll be pretty late by the time we get things cleaned up.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  I exhaled audibly and shook my head. “Back to work tomorrow evening.”

  Nick frowned. “Oh, right. It’s hard to keep up with your schedule. You ever think you’ll work days?”

  “I’m low man on the sergeants’ totem pole, I’m afraid. Two sergeants either have to quit, retire, or get promoted for that to happen.”

  Nick nodded then brig
htened. “I almost forgot—I did get those tickets for Fiddler on the Roof at the Orpheum in two weeks.”

  “Good. I’m really looking forward to it. It’s been a long time since I’ve been to a play in Minneapolis. Years.”

  16

  Labor Day. The last unofficial day of summer. The weather was ideal—sunny, seventy-five degrees, no humidity. The perfect day to be on the lake swimming, fishing, or waterskiing, or taking a hike through the woods, or sitting on the deck with a good book, or digging in a garden.

  Since my Grandma and Grandpa Aleckson had returned to Oak Lea from a month at their northern cabin, they spent as much time as they could with my Gramps Brandt. The Alecksons were in their seventies and enjoyed excellent health, while Gramps’ physical condition was deteriorating—not uncommon for a man in his upper eighties.

  My mother was grateful for any assistance. She never complained, but between running her dress and accessory business, taking care of her own house, and doing a little volunteer work, caring for Gramps took the balance of her time.

  My grandma and grandpa had an early tee time with friends, so I made a date with Gramps for the activity he most loved—fishing. We tried to get out at least once a week to one of his favorite spots in search of sunfish or crappies. Unfortunately, Gramps was losing his ability to walk. It was getting more and more difficult to get him in and out of the boat. I tried kindly suggesting places where we could fish from shore, or on a dock, but he preferred being out on the water.

  We were all increasingly concerned Gramps would fall when he was alone and suffer an injury. He was determined to continue living in his house, and the four of us were doing our part to help him.

  “Hi, Mom. Hey, Gramps.” I kissed my grandfather’s cheek.

  My mother smiled at me as she set a plate of food in front of Gramps. “Dear, I didn’t expect you so early.” Mom’s hair and makeup were flawless, and she looked especially pretty in a multi-colored, flowing skirt and silk blouse.

  “I couldn’t sleep. Cute outfit, by the way.”

  Her gray eyes twinkled with her smile. “Thank you. Just got some new things in last week, and I fell in love with this skirt.” She twirled around.

  I grinned and poured myself a cup of coffee. “So John Carl got off okay?”

  “He did.” She added coffee to Gramps’ cup. “I feel so bad for what he’s going through with Emily.”

  I leaned against the counter. “Me too. He’s already about the most serious person I know, and this just makes it worse. I was hoping to spend more time with him, but man, the weekend went sooo fast.”

  She gave me a nudge. I shifted to the right so she could replace the coffee pot in its holder. “Way too fast. There is a silver lining, though. John Carl hinted if his marriage can’t be saved, he is thinking of moving back home.” Mom settled in beside me.

  I swallowed quickly. “I don’t believe it. What did he say?”

  “His exact words were, ‘If Emily leaves me, there’s not much to keep me in Denver.’” She shook her head. “I have been praying since he moved to Colorado that he would come back, and now if he does, it’s because his marriage failed. I don’t want that, either. You want your children to be happy, and you want them nearby. If you can only have one of those things, which should it be? That’s not a very fair thing to put on a mother, is it?”

  I shrugged. “What is fair? Not what Emily’s putting him through, that’s for sure. But you’re right, it’s a double-edged sword. I guess if I had to choose, I’d go for whatever makes him the happiest.”

  She put her hand on my arm. “Of course. So do I.”

  I glanced at the progress Gramps was making on his eggs and toast. “You’re raring to go after some fish, I guess.”

  “Are you hungry, dear?” Mom asked me.

  “No, I grabbed an energy bar, juice, and coffee.”

  “I’ll be finished here shortly,” my grandpa said.

  “Take your time, Gramps. We are in no rush.”

  He took a last bite and slowly pushed his chair back, his hands positioned on the table to hoist himself up.

  “It’s these old legs of mine—they’re all played out. I remember when your grandmother and I could dance all night. We’d a given you and that Elton fellow a run for your money.”

  Gramps, be quiet.

  “What do you mean, Dad?” I envisioned antennae sprouting from the top of my mother’s head.

  A sly smile appeared on Gramps’ face. “Well, the way they were dancing at the party had everybody at our table talking.”

  I am not here.

  “Did I miss something?”

  I checked the inside of my coffee cup. “I don’t think so. You were there.”

  She reached over again and squeezed my arm. “I didn’t see you and Elton dancing, so according to Gramps, I must have.”

  Gramps was on a roll. “I always thought he might be interested in you, Kristen, but he was holding Corky so tight, we were kind of wondering how she could breathe.” Gramps leaned back on his chair and folded his hands. He knew he had let a cat out of the bag and waited to see what would happen next.

  Mother moved in front of me, her face inches from mine. “Corinne, there isn’t something going on between you two—you and Elton—I should know about, is there?” Her brows furrowed tightly, producing a near uni-brow.

  “No.” Nothing you should know about. I was trapped against the cupboard, and my only way out was with words. “Mom, on a related subject, I think it’s time for you to fess up.”

  She straightened a little. “Fess up? You talk like I’m one of your suspects.”

  I smiled. “That’s not the way I talk to my suspects.”

  “Fess up about what?” I caught a hint of a guilty look. Very curious.

  “How you happened to invite the sheriff to your party, and why you two were acting pretty cozy.”

  Mother blushed slightly. “Okay, you might as well know. We’ve been seeing each other, a little.”

  “Seeing, as in dating?” A robin’s feather could have easily knocked me over at that moment. I had never even put my mother and the sheriff together in the same thought.

  “You don’t have to look at me like that.”

  My eyes were wide and my mouth hung open. “How long has this been going on?”

  “Um, I hate to bring up that horrible night when Alvie Eisner broke into your house . . . but . . . since then.”

  My hands flew up in the air. “Mom, that was six weeks ago! I am your daughter, your neighbor. Twardy is my boss. I talk to you almost every single day, sometimes several times in a day. Why didn’t you tell me? You haven’t dated anyone in the twenty-nine years I’ve been alive.”

  She rested her hands on her hips. “This is exactly why I didn’t tell you—you can get so riled about things sometimes. I just thought I’d see how things went, and if it didn’t work out, there was no reason for you to worry about it.” She turned to the table, picked up Gramps’ empty plate, then looked back at me. “And I’ve been out with men.”

  I shook my head and half-smiled. “Mom, a few dinners—never with the same man twice—doesn’t count as dating.”

  Her shoulders went up and down once, very quickly.

  I stepped toward my grandfather. “Did you know about this, Gramps?”

  He moved his head to one side and raised the palms of his hands like he did.

  I felt like a very poor detective. What giveaway clues had I missed over the past six weeks? I wracked my brain, but nothing popped up.

  “Mother, I want you to start from the beginning and tell me what happened that infamous night.”

  “Now you are talking like I’m a suspect.”

  “Just talk. Please.” I calmed my tone.

  She looked away for a moment and sighed. “It was the worst night. There were deputies all over the place. I was trying to attend to you and Sara and clean up a little. I went to the kitchen to get something, and all of a sudden, it hit me. I started bawling
like a baby. I was so scared, thinking you . . . and Sara . . . could have been killed. Denny came in and put his arms around me and held me. I felt myself relax, and I knew everything would be okay.”

  I was transfixed.

  My mother’s face held a look of wonder. “It felt so good to be in his arms.”

  Okay, you can stop now.

  “Anyway, after that, he’d stop by the shop and bring me something from the deli for lunch. Or when Stella was there and I could break away, we’d go somewhere to eat.”

  “I can’t believe you—both of you—could keep it a secret from me. Who else knows?”

  She nodded at my grandfather. “Just Gramps. We’re taking things slowly, one day at a time. Denny’s been through a lot, you know, taking care of his wife when she was sick for those years, and—oh my—it was so hard on him when she died. He’s had a lot of healing to do.”

  Mom studied me. “Denny said the only thing that kept him going was his job. Oh,” She glanced at her watch, “Job. I only have ten minutes to get the shop open.” She bent to give Gramps a kiss and paused to hold me briefly. “Don’t look so worried, dear. Denny is a good man.” She kissed my cheek.

  “Yes he is, Mom.” That wasn’t the point. The point was, how serious were they, and what would it be like to have the Winnebago County Sheriff—my boss—as my stepfather, if it came to that?

  We keep a lot of secrets in our family, I thought as I patrolled the highways and byways of Winnebago County in my squad car. Why would my mother date the sheriff behind my back? I didn’t feel betrayed, exactly—more puzzled than anything else. And why hadn’t I picked up any signals, any clues?

  Admittedly, I had a number of secrets of my own. Maybe I was too absorbed in my own life to notice something had changed in my mother. And poor John Carl. He had been carrying the burden of a failing marriage around for months without telling us. Did he think he was protecting us, Emily, himself?