by J C Paulson
“Will you kiss me, please?” she whispered.
Adam lowered his head; his lips softened into seriousness from the sympathetic half-smile they had worn, and he gently placed them on Grace’s. But Adam’s kiss never failed to rouse her, and in a moment she slipped her tongue between his teeth, diving in for deeper sensation. Before long, their meeting lips stirred passion . . . and were rudely interrupted by a knock.
“Hell,” Adam muttered. Giving Grace’s mouth a longing gaze, he turned away with a pained shrug toward the door.
“Hey, Al,” he greeted the sergeant. “Any luck?”
“No. Can I come in? I need to talk to Grace.”
“Yes, of course.”
Grace emerged from the bedroom, gave Al a shaky smile and invited him to take a seat in the living room.
“Coffee?”
“No, I’m fine, thanks. Tell me what happened.”
“I had hung up with my editor a second before. I looked down for a minute, and when I looked up again, a man was staring at me through the window with these red-rimmed, bloodshot eyes. I took off as he reached for the door knob and ran down to the beach to find Adam. That’s it.”
“Did you recognize him?”
“I don’t know. As I said to Adam, it happened so fast, and I didn’t stick around for a second look.”
“No, I guess not.” Al paused. “But you said you aren’t sure.”
“No, I’m not sure.”
“Does that mean you have a guess?” Adam asked.
“Not really. I have this sense that he was vaguely familiar. I didn’t actually recognize him, though.”
“Can you describe him at all, Grace?”
She furrowed her brow in concentration.
“He wore a hat; a ball cap, I think. I didn’t see his hair. Dark eyes. Thin. Flannel shirt, maybe? Something bulky, anyway. Medium height. He was bending forward peering at me, so it was hard to tell. Five ten? And he was filthy.”
“That’s pretty good for a two-second glimpse.”
“Reporters, you know,” Adam said, with an admiring look at Grace.
“Oh, please,” she said, although privately she loved the compliment. “Look, I have to get to work.”
“I’d better get back out there.” Al rose to his feet. “I have twelve officers combing the place, but I’m another set of eyes. Call me if you think of anything else, Grace. Any time. Okay?”
“Yes, of course. Thanks, Al.”
Adam saw him to the door. “The killer, do you think?”
“Who else?”
“I don’t know, but he’d have to be insane to show up here. And would he know which cabin was Grace’s?”
Al mulled that over.
“Good point. But who else would be harassing Grace, out here?”
“No idea. But I’ll ask her to think about it. Have you talked to Tillie yet?”
“Nope. Haven’t had time. Something about a salesman?”
“Yeah. Strange timing for a salesman to show up here, and then for this to happen.”
“Right. I’ll be in touch, probably sooner than you’d like.”
By the time Adam returned to Grace, the cabin was tidy and she was typing her story into the computer, at ninety words per minute.
*****
The StarPhoenix
Online edition, 1:24 p.m.
Sunday, Sept. 16
Body discovered in Saskatchewan’s lake country
By Grace Rampling
of The StarPhoenix
A man was found dead near the shore of a northern Saskatchewan lake early Sunday morning. RCMP are treating the death as a homicide.
This reporter was on the scene after noticing a fire on a small island in Ferguson Lake, forty kilometres northwest of Meadow Lake. It consumed a tiny shack and several trees but did not cause a forest fire.
The man was discovered near the shack shortly afterward.
RCMP responded quickly and the body was prepared for transport to Saskatoon, where the province’s forensic pathologist will conduct an autopsy.
Police said they are not providing further details at this time, including the man’s identity. However, the man’s injuries indicated foul play.
More . . . .
*****
Grace sent the story to the newsroom by email and slumped in her chair.
She regarded Adam, reading quietly in the overstuffed armchair, waiting for her to finish. He was probably dying to get out there and help the RCMP, but he was stuck here in the cabin. Protecting her. How stupid was that?
She went over to Adam, kneeled before him and hugged his legs.
“What do you want to do?” she asked. “I can’t just sit here and wonder if that man will come back, or what is going on out there. Do you think he was the killer?”
“I don’t know. It’s possible, but what would the killer be doing on your deck with a dozen cops running around the crescent?”
“Maybe he’s screwed up. Well, obviously; he just killed Elias.”
“That’s a different kind of screwed up. He had the sense to remove the body and the ammunition. I don’t think he’s crazy; he was acting in a rational way. For a murderer.”
Grace thought for a moment.
“I see your point. Then who?”
“Can you think of anyone it might have been?”
“No. Nothing else makes sense.” Grace paused. “Whoever murdered Elias has also killed my peace of mind. This place has always been my escape.”
“It will be again, love.”
Grace wasn’t so sure about that, but she nodded.
“Do you think it was that salesman?”
“Well, if he’s not the killer, he more than likely has a connection to Elias’s murder. Elias’s army service is not the only possibility, though. You could argue that it was a family member, or it was race-related, or that someone didn’t want him on that island.” Adam, regarding Grace’s face, stopped musing. “What, Grace? You’ve gone white. What?”
Face clammy with sweat, Grace got to her feet, ran outside and was violently sick in the tall, drying grasses.
Chapter Ten
Adam shot out the door after Grace, wondering what the hell he had said.
“Grace, are you all right?” He drew her hair away from her face, as she bent retching over the deck’s railing.
She shook her head, slightly.
“I’ll get you some water. Hold on.”
Grace sank to her knees and waited.
“Here, drink a bit of this. Small sips,” Adam added, as she started gulping the water.
“Ugh. God. I’m so sorry. And so embarrassed.”
“I’ve done worse, seen worse and cleaned up after worse. It’s okay. Besides, you had just thrown up the first time I met you. I’m used to it.”
She smiled weakly at that.
“What happened, Honey? Did I say something wrong?”
Grace shuddered. “Yes. Well, I know you didn’t mean to; you couldn’t have known.”
“Known what?”
“Someone did want him off that island.”
“Who?”
“I don’t want to tell you.”
“Grace, if this is a serious possible motive . . .”
“I know, I know.” She sipped more water and leaned against the deck railing. “Once upon a time, someone wanted to buy the island.”
“They don’t allow that in provincial parks, do they?”
“No. But it is allowed in other northern areas, and certain people were making the argument that the government should change the policy. They tried to entice the province by pointing out that selling islands would enrich the public coffers, while they would get their little pieces of paradise. There are a few islands in these lakes. But it wasn’t just the islands; they also wanted to build in other areas not approved by the government. In the back of beyond.”
“What about services, though? How do you get electricity to those islands, and, as you say, the back of beyond?”
�
�They argued it could be done, although it would have cost a fortune. Most people around here didn’t really care either way, as long as no one was displaced. By no one, they meant the Indigenous people with cabins in the woods. Some people had the right motives; they truly didn’t want to see the hunters and trappers disturbed. Other people had less-admirable motives. They feared backlash from the nearby First Nations. And others simply didn’t want more development up here.”
“I get it so far. What about Elias’s shack, though?”
“A number of cottagers knew about Elias’s fishing shack. Many of them wanted to protect him. They staunchly argued against selling the island, signed a petition and sent it to the parks department. I signed it. Dad signed it. Parks took the island off the list. They’re still considering other spots, but not that island.”
Adam wondered where this was going.
“And so . . . who wanted that island, Grace?”
“My uncle. My uncle Howard.”
“The drunk one who sent you home in the dark that night Elias found you?”
“Yes.”
“Holy hell.”
They were quiet for a moment.
“Do you seriously think your uncle could have done something like this?”
“No. I don’t. But could he have been involved, somehow? He has quite the temper.”
“He must not have been too happy about you and your dad signing the petition.”
“Furious, would be the best word. Called us traitors. But killing Elias? I can’t see it. Although my stomach begs to disagree.”
“Babe, you wouldn’t have thrown up if you weren’t exhausted, hadn’t found Elias and been gawked at by some freak with bloodshot eyes. Might have been a little much. Suspecting your uncle was just the last straw.”
Grace nodded.
“Lie down for a while,” Adam suggested. “Later, I’ll make you a light lunch if you feel up to it.”
He extended his hand; Grace took it and allowed him to pull her to her feet.
“Okay,” she said. “Not much I can do right now, is there?”
“No, nothing. You’re safe now. I even have a gun.”
A whop-whop noise disturbed the quiet. The RCMP had brought in a helicopter to search for the bloodshot-eyed man. Adam grinned.
“They’re on it, Grace. Once that thing flies over, you can have a nap.”
*****
An hour later, Adam spied Al coming up the path. Quickly and quietly, he got to his feet, slipped out the door and met him halfway.
“Grace is asleep,” Adam explained. “What’s new?”
“I talked to Tillie Allbright about this sales guy. No idea how we’re going to find him. And we haven’t found your bloodshot-eyed man.” Al sighed. “We’ll keep looking, for a while anyway. Did Grace remember anything else?”
“Not so far.” Adam had already decided to keep Grace’s revelation about Uncle Howard to himself for now. “She’s beat. I could use a nap myself. Bet you could too.”
“Yeah.” Al swiped a hand over his eyes. “I’ll have to head back soon. I’ll leave a couple of guys out here including Ellard; he only got up at five-thirty, not at one-thirty. He’ll keep an eye on your cabin and I think maybe the Allbright place, too.”
“Thanks, Al.”
“No problem.”
Adam held out his hand. The RCMP officer took it, shook it, nodded and walked away.
Adam stood a moment longer in the middle of the path, staring unseeing at the water, wondering how he could soothe Grace, make her feel like this was still her escape, her second home. His lips parted and curled upward.
Returning to the cabin, he found Grace awake and on the couch.
“Hey. Do you feel any better?”
“A little. Early night, though, maybe.”
“Maybe we should have an early dinner, instead of trying to squeeze in lunch?”
“Good idea. I might be hungry in an hour or two.” Grace’s stomach growled. “Or sooner.”
“So you’re feeling better.”
“I don’t feel like I have to barf anymore.”
“That’s a start.”
“Anything new? I saw Al leave.”
“No. Nothing. Oh, except he’s leaving one of the officers here — Constable Ellard — to keep an eye on things. It’s going to be okay, Grace. Well, we’re going to be okay.”
An hour later, as they began to prepare dinner, the atmosphere returned to something like normal. Adam inserted a jazz CD into the aging portable stereo, and strains of Dave Brubeck, Bill Evans and Thelonious Monk filled the small space. Grace pulled potatoes out of the fridge, cut them into small pieces, and tucked them into a tinfoil package with spices and butter. Adam coated thick steaks with his signature rub and poured two glasses of red wine. He could hear Grace humming to the music as he popped out the back door to start the barbecue. Better, he thought. Good.
His eyes flicked around the yard. He looked inside the shed, strode out to the road, and peered through the truck’s window on the way back. No one. He quickly went out front, scanned the yard, and slipped down to the beach, where he threw something into the canoe.
“Adam?” he heard Grace call as he returned. “Salad? Or barbecued vegetables?”
“Salad, I think,” he replied, coming back inside. “Something green and crisp sounds good.”
“Okay!”
He caught her around the waist, hugged her from behind, nuzzled her neck.
“And later,” he said softly in her ear.
“Later?” Grace prompted, turning in his arms.
“I will dine on you.”
*****
Grace inhaled her dinner. She hadn’t eaten since the early breakfast shared with the RCMP officers, and Adam was glad to see her appetite return. As had his.
“This is so good,” she said.
“I can tell.”
Mouth full, she grinned back. Chewed, swallowed.
“You make a mean steak, mister.”
“Thank you, beautiful.”
Her face clouded.
“Hardly. I must look like grim death by now.” She swept a hand through her hair. “Oh, God, what a mess. Worse than usual.”
“Later, I will show you just how ugly you are.”
“You’re ugly, too.” Grace leaned over and ran her hand up his hard thigh. “Soft muscles. Cloudy eyes. Rotting teeth. Let’s not forget the bulging tummy.”
Adam kissed her. “Let me whip up these dishes.”
“No way. I’ll dry.”
Dishes done, Adam waited another agonizing half hour for their stomachs to settle and the sun to fully set. They sipped their wine and talked about what needed to be done to close the cabin.
“My favourite part,” Grace said, “is crawling under the cabin to open up the wastewater valves.”
“Spiders and snakes?”
“And worse. Poop. Don’t know what kind. Squirrel, maybe?”
Adam laughed, glanced outside. Finally, he thought. Getting dark.
“Want to go for a walk, Babe? Stretch our legs a bit?”
“Is it okay to do that, do you think?” Grace sounded anxious.
“We’ll stay around the cabin area. Ellard is lurking nearby. It’ll be fine.”
It was still unseasonably warm as they stepped onto the deck and made their way down to the lakeside path. Grace betrayed her nerves, jumping a little at noises; Adam put his arm around her.
“We will solve this case, you know, Grace. This will all go away, except in memory.”
“It doesn’t feel that way, right now. There’s a black cloud over my lake that I haven’t seen before.”
“Take back your lake, Babe.”
“What do you mean?”
Adam led her down to the lake, toward the beach in front of the cabin.
“This is yours, not his. And I am yours, as well. Take off your shoes.”
Grace’s head came up.
“What?”
“Take off your shoes.
”
“It’s a little late for wading.”
“Yes, it is.”
Adam peeled off his T-shirt and threw it into the canoe. Grace blinked, her eyes darkening from chocolate to ebony as she saw his muscles etched hard in shadow and began to understand.
“What if someone sees us?” she breathed. A bathing suit, stripped off in the water, usually accompanied Grace when skinny dipping. Slipping in naked from the beach would be a new experience.
“They won’t. It’s almost dark. Have you taken your shoes off yet?” Adam kicked his loafers off.
“No,” said Grace. “Adam, is it safe to do this? What if the killer is still around?”
“He’s not.”
“How do you know?”
“I don’t. Your shoes.”
Grace kicked them off.
“Your top, please.”
She removed it, still uncertain, and stood quivering before him. She wore no bra, and Adam found himself unexpectedly staring at her bare breasts. He unzipped his jeans and stepped out of them; Grace mimicked him. For a moment, they faced each other, breathing as if they had been running, until Adam took the step between them and lifted Grace into his arms.
Without a word, he waded into the cold water, wincing a bit as it lapped around his legs. The lake was deep; it took only a few strides before Grace’s buttocks met the surface. She did not squeal, but tensed and strengthened her grip around Adam’s neck, then raised her head and touched his lips with hers.
Determined, Adam kept walking, slowly, as their bodies adjusted to the cold. Finally, he held a shivering and submerged Grace as his own body tightened from chill and passion. Adam kissed her deeply, imparting the warmth of his tongue to her mouth.
A switch flicked in Grace’s brain, exchanging fear for the thrill of the risk; but Adam didn’t realize it as she broke the kiss, slipped out of his arms and dove into the water, surprising and alarming him. She wouldn’t swim away, would she? In the dark?
Then her lips caressed him underwater, heating him to the edge of control in seconds. The sensation overwhelmed him, the mixture of cold lake water and the juicy warmth of her mouth. It was also self-limiting; she would have to come up for air, very soon. Adam gasped and trembled, wondering when she would emerge.
Grace released him and ran her tongue up his abdomen and chest before her face reappeared.
“Jesus, Grace,” he said, lifting her by the hips and curling her legs around himself.
