Cry in the Night

by Colleen Coble

  “Wait!” he called when he heard the sound of thrashing. Tree-filtered moonlight shone down on the outline of the dog. Samson had moved to the edge of the garage and stood staring after something. Probably the man who had just fled.

  Kade struggled through the snow back to the deck. “Samson, come!”

  He stomped the snow from his feet and pajamas, the wet coldness seeping into his bones. The door to the kitchen still stood open, and he hurried inside to the warmth he could feel pouring out of the house. The click of Samson’s nails came up the steps to the deck. Kade waited to close the door until the dog was inside.

  He threw the lock behind them. His feet left wet trails on the wooden floor. Snow clung to Samson’s fur.

  He touched the dog’s head. “You didn’t bark, boy. And the guy called you Sam, which I’ve only heard Davy say. Who was that?” Wait, Dave said the man who tried to grab him had called the dog Sam.

  Samson gazed up with a steady expression as though he held the secret to everything and wasn’t telling. Samson wasn’t concerned about whomever had been out there, so Kade didn’t think the person was dangerous, but why was he prowling around at this hour? And why hadn’t he identified himself?

  “Did you say something?” Bree stood in the doorway. Her gaze went from her snow-covered dog to Kade’s wet pajamas and feet. “What happened to you?”

  “There was someone in the backyard.” An expression passed over her face. A little bit fear and a little bit resignation. But no surprise.

  Had she met someone out there?

  He rejected the stray thought as soon as it came. Bree would never have an affair. This was no illicit tryst. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he knew that much.

  “The guy called Samson Sam, like he knew him.”

  Bree paled and wet her lips. “That’s odd.”

  “I thought so too.” He studied her downcast eyes and trembling lips. “Do you know who it might have been?”

  “Not many people have ever called him Sam. Just Davy. And R-Rob.” She stammered over her dead husband’s name.

  “Well it wasn’t Davy, and it sure wasn’t a ghost.” He stopped when she swayed where she stood. “You okay, Bree?”

  “Just tired.” She passed a hand over her forehead. “I haven’t been sleeping well.”

  She was as pale as the snow on his pajamas, and he could have sworn she was shaking. He put his arm around her. She was shaking.

  “Are you getting sick? Let’s get you to bed.” He led her toward the steps. “Whoever it was is gone now. Maybe it was someone who heard Davy call the dog Sam. The funny thing is that Samson didn’t bark. He ran right up to the guy like he knew him. Weird.”

  “Very,” she said, her lips barely moving. She clung to his hand as they went up the stairs.

  When they reached the bedroom, she turned and moved into his arms, laying her head on his chest. “I love you, Kade.” Her words held a trace of desperation.

  “I love you too, babe.” He wet his lips. Their argument over Olivia must be bothering her. He needed to explain. “I’m sorry I can’t agree to adopting Olivia, but things at work have been . . . difficult.”

  “Difficult how?” she asked.

  “Layoffs, the usual. Lots of work.” He brushed his lips over her forehead and inhaled the fruity scent of her shampoo. His hand smoothed her curls. They sprang right back with the same courage and spirit Bree possessed. His wife was the most precious person in his life. He’d do anything to protect her and keep her happy.

  Bree clung to him with a grip that seemed desperate. He’d never seen her in such a state. She trembled as if she had the flu. “Are you okay?” he whispered.

  “Love me, Kade, just love me,” she said, backing toward the bed.

  He glanced at the clock. “It’s late,” he whispered. “You’ll have to care for the baby. Get some rest. Something has upset you.”

  But he couldn’t resist the tug of her hands or the invitation in her eyes. They could sleep tomorrow.

  Kitchigami Crag beckoned. Though the weather was still frigid, the fierce storm had settled to a mild gale, and the sun bounced off the snow. Kade stood at the bottom of the trail and stared up. The snow on the trail had turned to ice in the last twenty-four hours. The ascent wouldn’t be as easy as last time.

  Tribal policeman George DeCota stood nearby. Though in his fifties, he was as trim and fit as a man in his twenties. His dark eyes scanned the imposing rock formation. “Good day for climbing,” he said.

  “Thanks for coming with me.” Kade seated his hat more firmly over his ears. “The trail doesn’t look too bad.” He’d been surprised the Ojibwa man had been willing to come out with him, but George suspected some of the screams his people feared might be a big cat. He wanted to set the rumors about the windigo to rest.

  “Ready?” Kade asked.

  George nodded. “I know this trail. I will go first.”

  Both men had put crampons in the soles of their boots. Kade ground his feet into the icy path with each step after George. As the ascent grew steeper, he used his ice pick for leverage and to keep from sliding off the edge. Ice glittered along the narrow path, and as they progressed higher up the crag, the way grew more slippery.

  He was panting by the time he reached the summit. George stood watching him heave himself the last two feet. Kade couldn’t see that the other man was even winded. As Kade paused to catch his breath, he watched George kneel and examine where something had churned up the snow and ice.

  “Cat,” George said, satisfaction rippling in his voice. “Could be lynx, but could be cougar.” He pointed. “Went that way.” He took off at a brisk pace.

  So much for a rest. Kade jogged after him. Here on top of the crag, the wind tore through the material of his pants as if he wore nothing at all. He quickened his pace and soon caught up to George. The Ojibwa led him along a tumbled mass of rock close to the edge of the mountain. The track disappeared over the edge. Peering over, Kade saw more tracks along the rocky face. But it was much too dangerous to try to climb down from here.

  While George continued to scan the ground, Kade moved back toward the trees. The men he’d found taking wood said the den was this direction. He studied the landscape for the cave they’d described, but the snow softened the edges of rocks and valleys and made it difficult to determine the terrain.

  As he turned to see if George had found anything, he heard a shout. Squinting through the trees that blocked his view, he saw George throw up his arm as a dark shape leaped at him. It happened too fast for Kade to get more than an impression of bulk. George yelled again, then disappeared over the rock face. Kade couldn’t see the animal any longer either.

  He broke into a run, then slipped and went down on one knee. Praying for George’s safety the whole time, he staggered to his feet. Pain pierced his knee from the fall, but he pressed on, hobbling as fast as he could to the spot where he’d last seen George. He flung himself onto his stomach and peered over the edge.

  George’s upturned face stared back at him. “I have broken my ankle,” he said, his voice calm. “You will need to call the reservation for help. You cannot get me up by yourself.”

  Kade surveyed the situation. George lay on an icy ledge eight feet down. The sliver of rock barely gave him enough room to cling to the rock face. Dragging out his cell phone, he called up the number of the tribal police and reported the incident.

  He put his phone away, then sat on the edge and dangled his feet over. “They’ll be here as fast as they can. Can I do anything?” He wasn’t sure the ledge would support both of them.

  George shook his head and attempted a smile, but his teeth chattered. “Shock,” he informed Kade. “You wouldn’t have any whiskey on you, would you?”

  “Sorry. I’ve got coffee.” Kade shrugged out of his backpack and rummaged in it for the thermos. He attached it to a line and lowered it to George, who took it off the rope, opened the lid, and swallowed it straight from the thermos.

 
George put the lid back on and tucked the container against his chest. “Thanks.”

  “What was it that jumped you?”

  “You didn’t see? Big cat. Cougar.”

  “I caught a glimpse but wasn’t sure.” If he’d only gotten a picture. But even that wouldn’t be enough. There had been cougar sightings over the years, but the official DNR stance was that only a breeding population was real proof of the species’ return.

  “You can do nothing while we wait,” George said. “Go. Look around for the den.” His glassy eyes closed.

  He didn’t like the way George’s teeth continued to chatter. “I’m not leaving you alone.” The words barely left his lips when he heard a scream behind him. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand at attention.

  And it had been close. He rose and turned in the direction of the scream.

  “Get out your Mace,” George muttered.

  “Good idea.” Kade dug it out of his coat pocket and held it ready. He didn’t think the cougar would come back. The trees and rocks might hide what he sought, and he took a step in that direction.

  A rumble echoed through the snow-topped trees and grew louder. Snowmobiles. He gazed down the rock face and saw four snowmobiles pull up to the base. The men riding them dismounted. They began climbing the path to the top.

  “Help has arrived,” Kade said.

  George waved a hand weakly. “Go, go. Check for the kittens. My friends will be here any minute.”

  Kade stayed until the men reached him and he could point out George’s location. “What can I do to help?” he asked.

  “Just stay out of our way. I’m going to rappel down and attach a harness to him, then lower him to the ground,” the youngest man said.

  Kade stood aside and watched. They knew what they were doing. Their movements were practiced and efficient. He glanced back at the trees and the tumbled rocks beyond. “I’ll be over there a few minutes,” he mumbled.

  He dug out his camera, then dropped his backpack into the snow. With his load lightened, he jogged to where he’d been when he heard George yell. The snow pack seemed pristine and untouched, but he wandered farther away from the rescuers. There. The remains of an animal. And paw prints.

  He snapped some pictures of the prints and followed them. They led to a tree, not a den. He circled back again and studied the rocks for the opening the woodcutters had mentioned. Nothing. Maybe they’d been pulling his leg.

  Disappointment left a bitter taste in his mouth when the rescuers called for him. The hunt would have to continue another day.

  13

  BREE RUBBED BLEARY EYES . IT WAS GOING TO TAKE awhile to track down what the specific number across the top of Victor’s sudoku puzzles meant. The fact that the same number recurred every time told her it was important.

  But who would have guessed there were so many nine-digit numbers? She’d spent the morning running a computer search and found many references. It could be a bank deposit box account, a prisoner number, an ISBN, a bank routing number, the Standard Point Location Code for delivery, a driver’s license number, a bird banding by the park service, an American Society of Reproductive Medicine member number, a college student number, an EIN, a library ID number, a specific zip code, a job code from the Dictionary of Occupational Titles, a UPC code, a hunting or fishing permit, a park service animal tag, or a juror number. The list seemed never ending.

  Her gut told her to pursue the line of the young woman who was missing, Ellie Bristol. If only she could figure out the sudoku thing. It would take a lot of digging, but she was sure everything—the deaths, the puzzles, the missing mother—were connected to Olivia in some way.

  Olivia was asleep in the bassinet, and Bree hated to awaken her, but she couldn’t sit here and expect the answers to drop into her lap. The baby’s head lolled as Bree lifted her and slipped her into the carrier.

  “Are you going somewhere?” Jenna stood in the doorway.

  Bree was so ready to get the woman out of her house. It was clear Jenna found Kade attractive. Normally Bree would have found it comical, but her emotional state was too fragile right now.

  She zipped up the carrier cover around the infant. “I’m going out to check on what Victor’s puzzles might mean.”

  “I’ve wracked my brain and I can’t imagine what that number is,” Jenna said. “A Social Security number?”

  “Mason ran it through the system,” Bree said. “A dead woman came up. She’s been deceased for ten years.”

  “Any connection to Florence at all?” Jenna asked.

  “Not that Mason could tell. She had spina bifida and lived her entire life in a nursing home. She wasn’t related to Florence.”

  Jenna watched her bundle the baby. “You can leave Olivia here. I’ll watch her.”

  Nice of her to offer. Bree hesitated. It would be much easier if she could just scoot in and out of the places she needed to stop. She should be ashamed of her antipathy to Jenna too. Pure jealousy, that’s all it was. But no matter how she tried to talk herself into it, she couldn’t bring herself to leave the baby.

  “I’ll just take her, but thanks for asking.” Invite her to come. Bree wanted to ignore the inner prompting but she forced herself to smile. “You want to come with us?”

  “It’s so cold.” Jenna shuddered, an exaggerated movement. “My new boots are already ruined from all the snow.”

  Didn’t she care about clearing her brother? Bree tried not to judge her, but the woman made it hard. She was such a city girl, and Bree had nothing in common with her. “Suit yourself.”

  “Want me to get Davy from school for you?” Jenna asked.

  Bree barely kept the frown from her face. If the woman didn’t want to go out, why would she offer to get Davy? Did she hope to run into Kade? “Kade is picking him up.”

  “Oh. Well, maybe I’ll come with you after all. There’s nothing to do here.”

  Bree nearly rolled her eyes at Jenna’s petulant tone. She wanted to tell her to get a life and not be so self-centered. “Fine. I’m leaving now so grab your coat and boots.”

  Samson rose and stretched, then padded after her when she snapped her fingers. Bree clicked her Jeep’s automatic starter, which Kade had bought her, and waited. She didn’t want to subject the baby to the brutal cold. Ten minutes later they were on the road.

  “Where to first?” Jenna asked.

  “The courthouse,” Bree said. “One possible nine-digit number is a juror number. Also a license number, though Mason has already run it for that and found nothing. It could be a prisoner number too though.”

  She drove downtown and parked in front of the courthouse. When she turned the Jeep off, Jenna reached over and tried to grab the keys from her hand. Bree reacted by jerking her hand away. “What are you doing?”

  “I’ll wait here with the Jeep running. It’s better than taking Olivia out in the cold.”

  Though the young woman had a point, Bree disliked the highhanded behavior. “I’m going to check in with CPS while I’m here. They’ll want to see her.” Tucking the keys into her pocket, she slid out and retrieved the baby and Samson. “But you’re welcome to wait.”

  Jenna sighed and got out. What were they—two children having a spat? Bree hurried inside as fast as she dared on the icy sidewalk. Ten minutes later she was able to rule out the possibilities she’d hoped to find there. After stopping at the CPS office and letting them ooh and ah over Olivia and Samson, she headed toward the exit.

  “Oh Bree, what is that little bundle you’ve got?” Tina Watson’s rotund figure blocked her path. She had a silk rose tucked into the hat that covered her gray curls, a sign of her passion for roses. The color in her cheeks matched the pink in the flower.

  Bree pulled back the cover. “I’m calling her Olivia.” She told the older woman about finding the baby in the woods. “You haven’t heard about any missing babies, have you?”

  Tina’s smile vanished, and she glanced from Jenna to Bree. “This has to be t
ied to Florence’s death.”

  Bree’s pulse rocketed. “Did Florence tell you something about Olivia?”

  Tina pressed her lips together. “Florence and I were hardly friends, God rest her soul. We had an argument at the fair this past summer over the prize for Best Rose. I normally wouldn’t mention it, but we, ah, raised our voices, and the deputies came. Mason could tell you. I was sure the committee that looked into it would realize she’d stolen a cutting of my rose.” Tears flooded her faded blue eyes. “They found in her favor. I went to her house to reason with her, to ask her to withdraw her entry. I saw that young man Victor walking toward her car with a baby carrier.”

  Bree frowned. “That would have been late last summer. We just found Olivia.”

  “I know. But there was something fishy going on. When I asked Florence about it, she told me to mind my own business.” Tina’s voice rose with indignation.

  Tina’s reputation as a busybody was known all over town. Bree couldn’t decide whether to believe her or not. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to tell Mason, so she hurried across the street to the jail.

  The sun shone from a pale blue sky. The bitter wind swept through Bree’s jeans. She hurried to get the baby out of the gale.

  Jenna barely kept up.

  The deputy at the desk smiled and buzzed them back to Mason’s office. Mason still wore his coat but shucked it and tossed it over the back of his chair as they entered his office.

  “Sorry to bother you,” Bree said. She set the carrier down and unsnapped the cover so the warm air could get to Olivia. The baby still slept.

  “You’re never a bother,” Mason said, dropping into his chair. He pointed to the seats on the other side of the desk. “Sit.” Samson went around to Mason, and the sheriff rubbed the dog’s head.

  Bree and Jenna sat down and Bree took off her gloves. “I heard a rumor about Florence and an argument she had with Tina Watson. I guess it’s more than a rumor since Tina told me herself. Have you heard about it?” The more she thought about what Tina said, the more skeptical she became.