Neither of them noticed the black Acura SUV parked at the end of the block, or the man in a stocking cap hunkered down behind the wheel.
Leaving the shovel on the front porch, they went upstairs, where Foxy heated water for tea, and Vinnie pulled the phone charger out of his pocket and plugged his cell phone back into the outlet above the kitchen counter.
“I don’t have any clients for the next two days,” she said as she handed Vinnie a mug of tea. “I was planning to run up to see Mom. I try to get up there once a month or so.”
“How is she? Did she stay on at the house after your dad passed away?”
Foxy shook her head. “Not for long. She’s in her own little world half the time. She’s in long-term care at a nursing home in Pine Glen. They built it a few years ago where the old skating rink used to be.”
“What’s Matt up to? Still at the resort?”
“He’s okay. He’s still up in Ely. In fact, I’m planning to spend a few days with him after seeing Mother.” She filled him in on her mother’s health and Matt’s love life, which was currently nonexistent. He’d had a few catastrophic relationships before Patrick. They’d been together seven or eight years, but recently Patrick had moved out, she told Vinnie. “Matt doesn’t want to talk about it. I think he’s depressed,” she said, adding that she wanted to check up on him.
What she didn’t say was how desperate she felt to get away from her apartment. It wasn’t logical, but the feeling was persistent. Even before the call from Sierra’s father, she’d felt a menacing presence. Cate had picked up on it too.
“I miss your brother.” Vinnie had always spoken wistfully about Matt and her parents, as if she’d grown up in some kind of Norman Rockwell family. But her upbringing had been about as dysfunctional as his had been, and she didn’t want to get into their pointless and well-rehearsed dispute about whose childhood was more screwed up.
She didn’t know what to do, and so she changed the subject by saying, “Tina told me you got married again.”
“Mm hmm.” Elvis pawed at his thigh. Vinnie scooped him up and set him in his lap. “I suppose she told you it didn’t last.”
“She did.”
“I guess I’m not made for marriage either.”
She looked up sharply. “What do you mean, ‘either’?”
“Not made for Minnesota. Not made for marriage.”
She relaxed back and said, “Oh.”
Setting his cup down, he ran his hand from the top of the cat’s head to the tip of his tail, over and over. Elvis purred loudly and nuzzled his head into Vinnie’s hand with each stroke.
Seeing the reunion of Vinnie and the cat tore at her heart. “More tea?” she said brusquely.
He declined. Leaning back, he rested his head on one hand. “Your turn. What’s up with you?”
“Me?”
“You and the cop. Think you’ll get married? I mean, is he the real thing?”
She closed her eyes for a second. “The real thing? I don’t know. He’s a thing. I mean we’ve been seeing each other for a while now,” she said lamely.
“Did you just say he’s a thing? Christ, Foxy!”
She couldn’t believe she’d so easily disparaged a man who’d shown her nothing but kindness. He deserved better. Bill had been honest and reliable, and she’d stood him up. And for what? So she could sit here having sexual fantasies about a man who was neither honest nor reliable? “Just drop it.”
They abandoned their monosyllabic conversation in favor of silence.
Foxy left Vinnie petting the cat, and picked up their mugs to set in the sink on her way to the bathroom. Shutting the door behind her, she looked at herself in the oval mirror over the sink. Her eyes were puffy and her skin had the pallor she got whenever she was sick. She hadn’t slept well for two nights, and she couldn’t imagine tonight would be any better.
Tears welled in her eyes. No matter what happened next, it would be wrong. Sending him back to sleep in the cold and vacant apartment across the hall seemed unkind. But if not across the hall, then where? She couldn’t imagine sleeping in the same bed. She didn’t trust either one of them enough to do that. But how well would she sleep knowing he was on her too-short sofa in the next room?
“Want me to go with you?” he said as if he could read her thoughts.
She saw his hopeful expression and it caught her off guard. “To my mom’s?” She stalled for time. On one hand, it would be the most natural thing in the world and provide driving relief and companionship. On the other. . . well, familiarity cut both ways.
If she sent him away, whether to a motel or to Kansas City, she’d be alone, and right now being alone didn’t have much appeal. There would be no more phone calls from Bill Harley, no chance he’d come rushing to her side if she saw shapes in the shadows of her room, or sensed the presence of someone or something in the room with her in the middle of the night.
The soft tinkling of chimes filtered through her thoughts like the soundtrack of a creepy movie and she gasped before realizing it was the ringtone on Vinnie’s phone. When she came from the bathroom, Vinnie was leaning on the counter, talking in a low voice. His phone was still attached to the wall outlet by a short cord.
He mouthed something to her, and it took her a minute to figure out he was telling her who he was talking to—Wylie, Sierra’s old boyfriend.
“Yeah, we’re heading out in the morning to visit her mom up north,” Vinnie said.
Squaring her jaw, she shook her head vehemently.
He nodded back at her just as vigorously in the affirmative.
“I don’t know, long term,” Vinnie said to Wylie. He turned so she couldn’t read his face. “Right now, we aren’t safe here.” There was a long pause and then he said, “Yeah, the dude was sketchy. Set off my Spidey senses.” Another pause. “Definitely. I think we all need to be on alert.”
Be on alert. Foxy could hear only his side of the conversation, but his words made her think about the Homeland Security sign posted on the highway leading to the airport. Since it had gone up following 9/11, she’d never seen it at any level other than orange, indicating a high level of alert. What would it take, she’d wondered more than once, to drop the alert level to yellow or raise it to red?
He traced his finger on the countertop in small, circular patterns. He was trying not to show emotion, but Foxy knew him too well. He was nervous as hell. “I never saw his face, but he was a big guy, you know, broad in the shoulders . . . Uh, huh . . . No, I couldn’t tell. He was wearing a stocking cap.”
She sat on the barstool and watched his expression change from disbelief to worry. “No, don’t come here. We won’t be here.” There was a pause, and then he said, “Maybe up to her brother’s resort. You remember the place . . . yeah, the Twin Loons, but why can’t you just tell me over the phone?” he said.
Foxy wrapped her arms tightly around herself. For all his upfront honesty, Vinnie had obviously held back an important little detail.
“Really! Just a minute.” Vinnie said over the phone. He turned to Foxy and said, “Tina was so spooked she took off. She won’t tell Wylie where she went.”
“Doesn’t she trust him?” Foxy asked as soon as he hung up.
“Not really. He’s acting a little weird. He says he figured out something and has to tell us in person.”
Foxy frowned. “That’s just great! And he knows where I live.” If Foxy had needed convincing earlier, she was a believer now.
* * *
“I think Foxy and Bill are going off together,” Cate told Robin over the phone. “When we said we couldn’t join her at her brother’s place, she canceled the trip, but she called a little bit ago to say she’s going to visit her mom, and asked me to check on the pets in case she doesn’t get back ’til the next day.”
Robin c
huckled. “Cate, I didn’t know you were such a hopeless romantic. Why can’t she just be going to visit her mother?”
“Because when she does, she never stays overnight.”
“Maybe she just wanted a fallback. It’s not a bad idea considering the weather.”
“Uh huh, but listen to this. She called me back just now, and suddenly the plan’s changed. Now it turns out she’s going up to her brother’s place after all, and she’s definitely going to be gone for a few days. When I started asking questions, she said she couldn’t talk because she had to call her clients to reschedule. She said she’s not seeing any more clients until after the new year.”
Robin let the words settle. After the day of revelations from Foxy, she didn’t think Foxy would be taking off on a lighthearted romantic romp. It sounded much more like Foxy was fleeing in fear. “How did she sound to you?”
“Excited. But here’s the kicker. I heard him coughing in the background, but when I asked if she was going alone, she said she was taking Molly Pat.”
Robin couldn’t quite hook into Cate’s enthusiasm. “Aren’t you even a little worried about her after everything she told us? I mean, the guy in the background might have been holding her at gunpoint for all you know.”
Cate snorted. “Where do you come up with this stuff?”
“Um, Cate,” Robin said, “have you learned nothing in the past couple years about our uncanny ability to attract trouble?”
She barely paused to take a breath, let alone consider that Robin might have a point. “The only thing she was anxious about was getting on the road.”
“Cate, you were so worried about her, and now you think everything’s just ducky.”
“I was worried, but not any more. I figure if she’s being stalked, she picked the right person to protect her. I think hanging out with the sheriff for a few days is the smartest thing she can do. Bill Harley will guard her with his life.”
Robin pondered her friend’s reaction and decided she was giddy with relief to have Bill Harley on the scene. Cate had been anxious ever since she’d dreamt about Foxy trapped in a snow globe and calling for help. It seemed odd to Robin that Cate would dismiss it, but then, the dream didn’t have to come true. For each of Cate’s premonitions that came to pass, there were ten more that didn’t. Cate claimed it was impossible to discern which to heed and which to ignore. “Yes, I’m glad she’s with the sheriff, but I’m confused. Do you think they’re going to see her mother or her brother?” Robin asked.
“Could be either one, or maybe they’re going to hole up at Bill’s place in Wisconsin. Either way, I know she’ll be safe with him.”
Chapter 12
Vinnie had insisted on sleeping on the sofa. Both slept fitfully, and at five-thirty in the morning they gave up on trying to sleep. Sitting on the sofa, they debated which car was more reliable. It was a toss-up, since Foxy drove a six-year-old Saturn and Vinnie a Mustang that was only one year newer but had more miles. Since both of their black cars were covered in the same chalky salt residue as every other car on the road, they’d be pretty much unrecognizable if anyone should be following them. The tie-breaker was Foxy’s experience driving in the snow.
Yesterday after Wylie’s call, they’d put it all out there and tried to examine what they knew. Like Sierra, Foxy thought someone was following her. And now, Vinnie said a menacing man was scoping out her apartment in a black SUV. The more they talked, the more they knew it was time to get the hell out of Dodge.
“Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean people aren’t out to get you,” Vinnie said.
“Thank you. That’s so reassuring.” Foxy already felt a little queasy. She should’ve known Vinnie would say something to make it worse. She was already regretting the plan but hadn’t come up with a better one.
It was still dark when Foxy pulled her car into the alley to load. Her winter emergency duffle—with blankets, flares, candles, matches, and protein bars—was already in the trunk. She tossed in another bag with warm clothing, hats, and mittens, and tucked a pair of Sorrels on the floor in the back seat. The last thing to go in was a large Ikea tote filled with wrapped Christmas presents for her mother—a robe and slippers, hand lotion, a new hairbrush and two CDs of relaxation music.
She didn’t like to think of her mother spending Christmas Day with no family, but last Christmas her mother had gotten so agitated and confused she had to be medicated. The nursing home director had explained some of the residents got over-stimulated when their routines were disrupted around the holidays. Throw in a jumble of decorations, energetic music, sugary foods, and a room full of strangers, and some of them just couldn’t cope. Foxy reluctantly agreed from then on she would have private celebrations with her mother, avoiding the days when too many activities were planned.
Elvis purred and snaked around Vinnie’s ankles, and then Foxy’s, back and forth, in and out, as they tried to get ready. Jasmine hid under the bed. Finally, Foxy had everything they needed, including the dog’s four little booties with non-skid soles and her red, fleece-lined hoodie. At the last minute, she took off her heavy wool jacket and exchanged it for her down coat, which had a hood trimmed in faux fur.
Foxy breathed a sigh of relief as soon as they got moving. After some argument, she agreed to let Vinnie drive the first stretch. He took a circuitous route on side streets, claiming he just needed to get the feel of the car before they got on the interstate. Foxy thought he was using diversionary tactics in case they were under surveillance. He slipped and skidded at each intersection and swore each time he overcorrected. When Foxy offered to take over, he said, “No, it’s coming back to me.” By the time they reached the freeway entrance, he appeared to have gotten the hang of it.
Cars idled on the ramp, drivers inching forward toward the traffic control light that would allow them to enter traffic, where at least in theory they could move quickly. But today rush hour had begun early, and traffic on I-94 was a mess. Even though the pavement was mostly clean of snow, cars were bumper to bumper. As Foxy and Vinnie watched, a pickup truck darted around them, tried to slip into the small space a few cars ahead of them and suddenly lost control. Clipping the bumper of a van, the truck left the road at a sharp angle and wound up nose-down in the ditch.
“Black ice,” Foxy said, and Vinnie grunted.
“You know about black ice, don’t you, Vin?” she asked.
He grunted again. “We get ice in Kansas City, too, you know. Besides, I’ve driven in the winter here before, in case you don’t remember.”
She wasn’t ready to remember. Neither of them had known it would be their last trip together. She’d been full of joy and trepidation as they drove to her parents’ house. Of course when they got back to Vegas, it wasn’t long before events sucked the joy right out of their marriage, leaving a place in her too painful to think about.
After a few miles, Vinnie asked if she wanted the radio on. They decided on a classical station.
Foxy drew air in through her nose and sighed heavily as the memory of that visit pushed its way to the front. They’d driven a rental car that time, and Vinnie had complained about having to make so many bathroom stops. She’d been so tempted to tell him her suspicions, but it was too soon. Her period was only a week late. But she’d known even then. It wasn’t just the heaviness in her breasts or the fact that her bladder seemed to have shrunk to the size of a grape. She knew without a doubt that a new and wonderful being was growing inside her, and had commandeered her body and her emotions.
A silver van passed them on the left, cutting in so closely Vinnie had to jerk the wheel to the right.
Foxy grabbed the door handle, sucking in her breath. Vehicles filled in the void, leaving them no way to get back into the lane of traffic. “Aw, jeez! You gonna drive on the shoulder, then?”
Vinnie started laughing. “Does everyone in Minnesota talk l
ike they did in Fargo?”
Foxy gave him a caustic look. “You do know Fargo’s in North Dakota, don’t you?”
“You betcha.”
“Just watch the road and get back where you belong,” she said, heading him off before he went through his whole stupid repertoire of Ole and Lena jokes.
When they were finally headed north on 35E, traffic lessened enough they could relax. Molly Pat, who’d been looking out the window from her perch on Foxy’s lap, made her way to the back seat where she curled up on her blanket. For the most part, Vinnie kept his eyes ahead and said little. Foxy was grateful for the silence.
Ever since moving back to Minnesota, she’d driven this stretch alone except for Molly Pat. Maybe it was because she didn’t have to concentrate on driving that she found her mind flooded with this jumble of memories. She pictured the first time she and Vinnie had driven up from the airport to visit her folks. She relived it now to the extent that her stomach was churning as it had then. Vinnie had looked a little green around the gills too, as she recalled. Her apprehension had been deserved. They’d barely gotten their coats off when her father had pounced on Vinnie, asking things like whether or not he was a churchgoer. When Vinnie answered he was raised Catholic, her father had said, “That’s not what I asked. Do you two worship together?”
“Of course we do,” Foxy had lied.
After 35E and 35W merged, Foxy instructed Vinnie to take the North Branch exit to grab a quick breakfast at Joe’s on Main Street and see if the outlet stores there had real winter boots for him. At Joe’s, they covered Molly Pat with another blanket while they went inside. Foxy ordered oatmeal. Vinnie ordered eggs, hash browns, and bacon. They ate hurriedly, neither one finishing what was on their plates. When she pointed out she’d seen him eat three times that much in the old days, he just shrugged and said, “A lot of things aren’t what they used to be.”
Forgotten Spirits Page 10
