Cry in the Night

by Colleen Coble

  “I don’t know. I just kind of thought of Daddy when I saw him.”

  For a time after Rob died, Davy was drawn to any man with a superficial resemblance to his father. Bree had hoped he’d outgrown that tendency for good.

  “You’ll see your daddy again someday,” she reminded him.

  “He’s happy in heaven. He’s looking down on you and he’s glad you’re such a good boy.”

  “I know.” He hugged her back, then pulled away. “I’ve got a bite!”

  She watched her son reel in his fish, a fine walleye. Samson lunged forward, barking at the flopping fish, and she quieted him with a word. It was a good thing Davy hadn’t talked like this in front of Kade. It would hurt him to know Davy still longed for his father enough to create monsters where there were none.

  She watched Davy take the fish from the hook—a task that would have required her help just last winter. She wanted to question him more about the baby but decided against it. She’d stop by Kade’s office on the way home. He could reassure her that Davy was perfectly fine.

  4

  WITH THE COLLAR ON HIS COAT HIGH AND A HAT COVERING his ears, Kade hurried to the line of snowmobiles. He’d worked on the grant for an hour, dutifully padding the amounts needed for the study. At least he could leave his misgivings behind and do something useful now.

  The Natives probably wouldn’t tell him anything. An uneasy truce existed between those on the res and the whites. Hunters encroached on protected lands and fished in forbidden areas. For the most part, the Ojibwa bore the injustices with stoicism, but Kade was often ashamed of his race.

  He started the snowmobile and mounted it, then crossed the parking lot. He was about to pull out onto the snowmobile path when he saw a familiar red Jeep come tearing up the lane. Spitting snow from the studs on the tires, the vehicle was going too fast for the slippery conditions. He saw Bree’s set face behind the wheel.

  He killed the engine and dismounted, waiting by the fence until she pulled into a spot in the parking lot. She got out, then climbed back in when she saw him hurrying toward her.

  The heater blasted warm air into his face when he got onto the passenger seat. “Where’s Dave?”

  “I dropped him to play with Timmy.”

  He slid over and embraced her with his left arm. She nestled her head against his shoulder. “So, what’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Davy just told me he saw a windigo who looks like Rob put a baby in the snow.” Her voice quavered.

  “Whoa, that’s a weird tale.”

  “I know. I tried to argue him out of it, but he was adamant.”

  He hugged her tighter. “What’s riling you the most? The fact that he’s seeing his dead father or that he believes in the windigo?”

  The frown between her eyes eased. “The father thing,” she admitted. “I thought we’d gotten past all that.”

  “A boy never stops missing his daddy. I still miss mine. I try to make up for it with Dave, and you know I love him, but he knows the difference, deep down.”

  Her green eyes pleaded for understanding. “He loves you, Kade.”

  He traced her jaw with his fingertips. “I know he does. There’s room for two dads in his heart. You wouldn’t want him to forget all about Rob, would you?”

  Her face softened. “No, you’re right. But don’t you think it’s worrisome that he equates his father with a scary monster? You think there’s anything to the baby story?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe it’s how he’s dealing with his dad’s death. Take him to see the doctor if it will make you feel better, but I think he’ll be okay.”

  The monsters lurking around the corner in their lives were huge—the possible loss of their house, their security. If he lost his job, how would he support them? Bree’s insurance money from Rob’s death was long gone, and the dog training didn’t bring in much. The grant was his only hope.

  He gazed into the eyes he loved, such a clear green, like glass.

  He could see all the way down to her soul. No sacrifice would be too great to keep her happy and content. It was his job to provide for her, and he meant to do it. No matter what it took.

  He brushed her lips with his and withdrew. “I have to get back to work, babe.”

  She returned his kiss, then stared into his eyes. “Is there something wrong?”

  “Just busy. You’d better let me get back to work.” He knew his brusque tone had hurt her when she dropped her gaze.

  He should tell her about the job situation, but the words stuck in his throat. He got out without saying another word. Only when her Jeep disappeared around the bend in the lane did his mind turn to the baby part of Dave’s story. What if Dave really had seen someone dispose of a child? Two babies were missing. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed Bree’s number, then ended the call before it could ring. No sense in worrying her. Mason would be the better person to contact. He punched in the sheriff ’s cell number.

  “Hey, Kade,” Mason Kaleva answered. “How’s it going?”

  “Fine. Hey, listen, Dave told Bree something weird.” He related the story about a windigo who looked like Rob burying a baby in the snow. “I hear there are a couple of babies missing from the res. Been talk of some screams. I’m thinking it might be a cougar.”

  “I’m heading over to talk to them. You want to come with me?”

  “You don’t mind? I was hoping to hear their story too.”

  “Nope. I’ll pick you up in two minutes. I’m just down the road.”

  “I’ll be ready.” He closed his phone. Bree would want in on this if it might affect Dave at all. He punched in her number and told her what was happening. Before he got it all out, she was turning her vehicle around.

  “Be right there,” she said.

  By the time Kade put the snowmobile back into place, Mason’s SUV was pulling in the lot with Bree’s Jeep right behind him. Kade jogged across the lot and held the back door open for Bree and Samson.

  Bree reached the SUV with the dog. “I’m going too, Mason, you mind?”

  “Nope. Hop in the back.”

  Bree climbed into the backseat while Kade took the copilot seat beside Mason. Kade stared out the window while Mason filled them in on all he knew. They were at their destination in minutes.

  The Keweenaw Bay Indian Community had been here since 1854 and was as much a part of Michigan culture as the big lake itself. The kids went to public schools but still headed home to the res. It created a subtle class difference that disturbed many on both sides.

  Mason drove to the house where the woman lived who had lost the child. Along the way, Bree ran her window down to throw out a handful of pistachio shells. She tipped her head to the side.

  “What’s that?”

  “What?” Kade asked.

  “I thought I heard something. Like a baby crying.” She paused.

  “There. It came again. You think it’s a cougar?”

  Mason ran down his window, but the only sound was the wind scooting along the icy cliffs above their heads.

  “I didn’t hear anything,” Kade said. He ran his window back up.

  “Maybe it was the wind,” she said.

  Mason continued to their destination. He parked in a pullout that had been cleared. Nearly buried in drifts, the modest ranch home sat back off the road. Someone had managed to shovel a path to the front door from the parking spot. To protect the walk from the next snowfall, sheets of plywood made a covering over the top of the walkway. Kade took Bree’s hand so she wouldn’t slip.

  They had to duck under the low-hanging plywood roof to scuttle up to the door.

  Mason raised his gloved fist and knocked on the door. Kade stayed back two feet to give him space. Here out of the wind, the temperature wasn’t too bad. The door was opened almost immediately by a woman. Her dark eyes were full of hope that quickly faded when her gaze went to their empty hands.

  “You have not found my baby?” she asked.

  “I’m sorry, but no,�
�� Mason said. “You’re Ms. Meadowlark?” When she nodded, he added, “I’m Sheriff Kaleva, and this is Kade and Bree Matthews. I wondered if we could ask you some questions.”

  She stood aside with obvious reluctance, and they entered. The house was spotless, though the furniture, clearly from the fifties with a square shape, was sparse and worn. Kade kept hold of Bree’s hand and let Mason take the lead. His gaze wandered the room and lit on a snapshot of the woman with a blond man. She held an infant on her lap, and she and the man were smiling.

  “That the baby’s father?” Kade asked, then wished he’d kept his mouth shut when Mason glared at him.

  “Yes. Jarret Smith.”

  “Any chance he took your baby?” Bree put in.

  The woman frowned. “He says he did not. The tribal police have followed him. There is no sign he has my William.”

  “You’re not married?” Mason asked, clearly intending to take charge of the questioning.

  “No.” She looked down at the carpet. “But I love my boy. I want him back. I didn’t hurt him.”

  “Why do you think a windigo took him?” Bree asked, her voice urgent. “My son says he saw a windigo.” Mason sent a sharp glance her way, but Bree didn’t seem to notice.

  “I have heard it screaming by the barn last week. The winter has been very hard on us. Some have been hungry. A windigo appears in such circumstances.”

  “Any tracks in your yard?” Mason asked, his gaze intent on her.

  “The wind has covered them now. They were large though.”

  She measured out nearly twenty inches with her hands.

  Mason and Kade locked glances. Kade saw the doubt on Mason’s face, but Kade himself heard the ring of truth. Did this have anything to do with what Dave saw? “You mind if I take a look outside for signs of the windigo you heard?”

  “You will not see anything now, but look.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Bree said.

  They left Mason to finish talking to the woman. “You think this baby is connected to the one Davy said he saw?” Bree asked.

  “I was on my way to talk to Florence when you called.”

  “I think she should be the next stop,” Kade said. There was nothing here but wind and snow. “I need to get back to work though.”

  “I’ll go see her. Will you pick up Davy at Naomi’s?”

  “No problem. Call when you’re done.” He studied his wife’s face. She wore that expression of determination. The windigo didn’t have a chance.

  The quaint village on the south shore of Lake Superior never changed. Quinn parked his truck on Quincy Hill and stared down at the sleepy town where he’d ridden his first bike and kissed his first girl. He’d always intended to come back someday, but he never dreamed it would be under these circumstances.

  Though he’d dropped Jenna at the nicest hotel he could find in Houghton, he almost wished she were with him. Her chatter would provide distraction. His gaze pinpointed the house that was his target. He let the truck coast down the hill until he reached some snow-covered shrubs that partially hid his vehicle. Florence had managed to find out where the kid would be, and sure enough, there he was in the backyard with the O’Reilly children. He wore the same bright red parka and ski mask as last week. The kid’s name was David Matthews, not a familiar name.

  Pulling up his coat collar, he put on his ski mask, then got out of the truck and walked briskly toward the fenced yard. He let himself through the gate and moved toward the swings. All the kids wore ski masks, but he recognized the coat David wore.

  He heard barking but kept his gaze on the kid. The dog could be a problem he hadn’t counted on. All the possibilities raced through his head as he closed the last few steps to reach the boy.

  The kids looked up and saw him. He saw his target’s eyes blink, then Quinn snatched the boy up and tossed him over his shoulder. The children began to shriek, and David struggled to get away. Quinn held him fast.

  The dog barked and ran around in circles before planting himself between Quinn and the gate. Every time Quinn shifted, the dog did the same, blocking his access to the gate. He heard a woman scream and glanced toward the house to see Naomi Heinonen brandishing a baseball bat and running toward him. What was she doing here?

  David squirmed in his arms again, and Quinn lost his grip on the small, wiry body. He made a last grab at the boy, and Quinn’s fingers snagged the kid’s ski mask. The knitted covering slid from the boy’s face, then Quinn was looking down at a face he’d seen a million times in his dreams. Davy.

  Quinn stumbled, and his arms dropped to his sides. The boy raced away toward Naomi, who still approached with the bat.

  The dog ran at him again, and Quinn recognized Samson. He kicked at the animal. “Get back, Sam,” he yelled.

  The dog veered, then raced after Davy. Quinn took the opportunity to rush for the gate before Naomi could identify him. Or beat him with the bat. He reached the safety of his truck and gunned it away. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he saw she was already on her cell phone. Calling the sheriff, no doubt.

  He drove away with his thoughts in turmoil. Nothing that had just happened made any sense, and if not for the cold piercing his bones, he’d think he’d dreamed seeing two people from his past. A past he’d buried along with his emotions about it.

  The paneled room had been recently waxed, judging from the odor of lemon in the air. It was all Lauri Matthews could do to keep from jiggling her leg. She crossed her ankles to settle her nerves, but it didn’t help. Peeking at her watch, she saw it was nearly five. She flipped open her notebook and clicked her pen a few times until a woman appeared in the doorway.

  The tall, elegant blonde’s skin showed sure signs of a face-lift. She carried a manila folder, and her eyes were red as though she’d been crying. Lauri guessed her age at about forty-five.

  Lauri sprang to her feet. “Mrs. Saunders?”

  The woman extended her hand. “You must be Ms. Matthews.

  You’re very young.”

  Lauri drew herself up to her full height of five-four. “I’m twenty.”

  Mrs. Saunders consulted the folder. “Your grades are good, but you college students seem to get younger all the time. Or maybe I’m just getting older.” She gestured to the sofa. “Please, make yourself comfortable. Tell me why you want to work for me.”

  Lauri marshaled her thoughts. “My major is accounting, and your firm is known all over the UP. You keep the books for all the biggest companies. I can learn a lot from working with you. Not that I’d be working directly with you, of course,” she added.

  Mrs. Saunders scribbled something on the paper in her file. “Actually, you would be working with me for a little while. My assistant just quit and I need a fill-in until we can hire someone. Once we have that person in place, you’d move to the accountant pool.”

  Lauri’s elation expanded. She wanted to ask why the woman didn’t promote someone from the pool, but she wasn’t about to blow her chance.

  Mrs. Saunders closed the file. “Your credentials look good. Gordon Kievari has given you a stellar recommendation. When can you start?”

  She had the job! Lauri tried not to show any unprofessional enthusiasm. “Right away. Today if you like.”

  Mrs. Saunders smiled. “Ah, the exuberance of youth. Tomorrow is fine. Eight o’clock sharp. The receptionist will show you to my office. You’ll work four hours a day, five days a week. You’re sure your classes are set for afternoons only?”

  “Absolutely. Thank you for giving me this opportunity.”

  The conference room door opened, and a man stepped inside. About fifty, he wore a distracted air. Dark skin circled his eyes, and she wondered who he was.

  Mrs. Saunders sprang to her feet and rushed to him. Lauri caught only a few snippets of words: “he called” and “oh no.” She tried not to listen, but it was clear from Mrs. Saunders’s clenched fists and rigid backbone that something was wrong.

  The man kissed her, then backed out of
the room. Must be her husband, Lauri decided. Mrs. Saunders turned back toward Lauri. The muscles in the older woman’s throat convulsed, and her eyes were full of moisture.

  “Sorry for the interruption,” she said. “A personal matter. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Her tone dismissed Lauri in no uncertain terms.

  Lauri headed for the door. “Thanks again, Mrs. Saunders.” But the woman was already turning away. Lauri pulled the conference room door shut behind her. The latch barely clicked before the sound of muffled sobbing slipped faintly through the door. Poor woman. Lauri had no idea what could be wrong.

  She wanted to skip to her car, but that would draw frowns from the receptionist and others she passed. Holding her head high, she walked the long, carpeted hall to the elevator and punched the down button. There was no one around to see her goofy smile.

  When she reached her vehicle, she realized she’d left her notebook on her chair, where she’d laid it while she slipped on her coat. She hurried back through the parking lot to the building and stepped inside. The receptionist waved her back when she explained.

  Lauri hoped Mrs. Saunders had left the conference room. The last thing she wanted to do was bother the upset woman.

  Good, the lights were out. She flipped on the light in the room and grabbed her notebook. Shutting off the light again, she approached another door and heard the murmur of conversation. As she neared the room, she realized two men were arguing.

  “You won’t get away with this.”

  Was that the voice of the man who had come in to see Mrs. Saunders? It sounded like it. Curiosity getting the better of her, Lauri glanced through the sidelight of the door and saw her boss’s husband.

  Lauri reared back as steps came nearer to the door. If they thought she’d been eavesdropping, she might lose her job as quickly as she’d found it. She glanced around for somewhere to hide and tried the closest door, one she’d already passed. Locked.

  Putting on a smile, she walked briskly toward the door that was opening. A slim man with a bent nose stepped out. He was dressed in pressed black slacks, a leather jacket, and expensive shoes. She nodded and smiled and kept on going. She caught his suspicious stare as she passed, but he said nothing and continued to stand in the doorway.