I told you I’ll send money as I can for the boy’s care, and I’ll honor my commitment, but only if you tell no one who Beau’s father is. No one! You must understand I can’t and won’t jeopardize my family or my position. Think it through. If I were to lose my employment, how could I help support him? I need to know you will be discreet. Promise me you really did burn everything I’ve written to you. Burn this too.
If I find out you have talked to anyone, my withdrawal of financial support is only the first repercussion. I promise you, you do not want to provoke me.
“Wow!” Grace said.
Robin set the phone down. They stared at each other. “Does that sound like blackmail to you?”
Grace’s brows pulled together in thought. “Maybe, maybe not. I mean, if he got her pregnant, doesn’t she have the right to ask him for support?”
“It’s a fine line, isn’t it? But it’s the kind of thing that happens all the time. Someone gets pregnant and the guy has reasons to keep it quiet, like a wife or—”
“Or a political career. Like John Edwards.”
Robin said, “He, I mean John Edwards, tried his damnedest to keep his baby a secret, but he didn’t murder anyone, and he had everything to lose. But this guy was threatening Sierra from the beginning. ‘You don’t want to provoke me,’” she quoted.
Grace shook her head. “I know. But don’t you think if she’d blackmailed him back then, she’d have been dead a lot sooner?”
“Hmm, I see your point. Why didn’t he just get rid of her back then? Obviously she was inconvenient to him, and so was Beau. Sooner or later, secrets have a way of getting out.”
The server came and refilled their coffee cups.
“Does it make any more sense that she’d wait until now to blackmail him? Beau’s almost an adult,” Grace said.
“Maybe the father’s suddenly got enough money to make it worth her while. Or maybe it went from child support to blackmail. Or maybe poor Wylie finally did the math and found out he couldn’t have been the father and stirred things up,” Robin suggested, only half serious.
* * *
Erik’s parents stripped off their coats for Cate to hang up. Sally had never been comfortable with pets, and so every critter in the house was shut away for the time being. Cate offered coffee, which they refused, and tea, which they wanted only if it was Darjeeling. Soon they were sitting with steaming mugs in front of the television, watching the lines and colors move in accelerated time on the big weather map.
“It looks like we got here just in time,” Chuck said to his wife. He picked up the remote, assuming only men could handle such complicated electronics, and started flipping through the channels. They listened as some meteorologists smugly said they’d properly warned people of a dangerous winter storm, while others admitted they’d been caught off guard by the weather system’s rapid movement.
“Where’s the real weather channel, the national one?” said her father-in-law as he clicked through the channels one by one.
Cate hoped her smile looked genuine. “You mean the first one I put on?”
“Perhaps. What channel was it.”
She told him and he returned to it. The storm’s track had not only shifted north, but had accelerated.
Cate heard a phone ring. It took her a moment to realize it was coming from the phone on the kitchen counter. Foxy’s phone.
As soon as she said hello, the caller said, “It’s me, Wylie.”
Cate ducked into the laundry room and quickly told him she wasn’t Foxy, and explained why she was in possession of her phone.
“Do you know how I can reach her?” There was an urgency to the way he asked.
Cate said she didn’t. She wasn’t about to give out information until she got some from him.
“Do you know where she and Vinnie are headed?” he said. “I really need to get hold of them.”
Cate’s head dropped. Even though Bill had said Foxy wasn’t with him, she’d continued to hope she’d done the right thing and sought out safety at the sheriff’s house. “Vinnie? Her ex-husband?” It all started to make sense.
“Hello? Are you there?”
“Still here,” Cate answered. “Listen, you have to tell me what’s going on.”
Briefly, Wylie said he’d just talked to Sierra’s parents. A man claiming to be an old friend of Sierra’s had called them just a couple of days after her death. He said he wanted to hold a memorial for her and asked for names and addresses of her old friends from Las Vegas. “Mrs. Brady gave him my phone number and Foxy’s address, and said we could help him.”
Cate got chills. “He never called you, did he?”
“Hell no! He’s tracking us down. Vinnie thinks so too.”
“You think he killed Sierra, don’t you?”
“The guy who called? Absolutely, and I need to warn Foxy before—”
“Wylie!” she said, interrupting him. “I need to tell you something. Sierra left Foxy a message.”
That stopped him. She told him in as few words as possible about the paternity test and intimidating letters.
If he was surprised at finding out he wasn’t Beau’s biological father, he didn’t show it. Instead, he asked, “Are they still going up to her brother’s place?”
Cate made an instant decision she hoped she wouldn’t regret. “Yes.”
“I’m on my way up there but can’t remember the name of the joint.”
Luckily Robin had told her. “It’s Twin Loons up by Ely.”
He whooped and before she could ask anything else, he hung up.
Stunned, she stared at the phone in her hand for a moment and then called Robin, who was about to leave Hinckley. She did her best to recreate the alarming call from Wylie.
When she was done, Robin, sounding a little breathless said, “And he’s on his way up to the resort?”
Cate could hear Robin relaying the information to Grace, and heard Grace’s remark. “I hope Wylie’s one of the good guys,” she said.
Cate hoped so too. She didn’t tell Robin she’d had the snow globe dream again last night, only this time Foxy was spread out on the snow like a snow angel, lying perfectly still. And there was a dark-haired man standing over her wearing a neck brace. It was too bizarre. “Please be careful,” she said.
Robin assured her the roads weren’t that bad.
With one eye on the Doppler radar, Cate gave her the latest update.
“What?” Robin said. “I’m getting a lot of static. Can you hear me okay?”
“It’s a little crackly.”
“What are they showing between Hinckley and Ely?”
“Not a lot of new snow, but the winds are gusting up to forty or fifty miles an hour just this side of Hinckley. The weather model says it’s going faster than they expected, but it looks like you’ll beat the worst of it if you leave now.”
“We’ll do that.”
“Please exercise caution.”
“I’ll exercise caution, Mom,” Robin answered, with emphasis on the word Mom.
“I’m serious. I don’t want you and Grace risking your safety to help Foxy.”
“What?”
Through the crackling connection, she repeated her words.
“Help Foxy,” Robin echoed back. “And quit worrying. We’re not scared of a little wind. Anyway, I did always want to visit Oz.”
“Smart ass,” Cate said. As she walked back to attend to her houseguests, she had the chilling thought that she didn’t want those to be the last words she would say to Robin.
Chapter 24
Do you remember the way Sierra threw herself at your brother?” Vinnie said.
Foxy put a hand to her forehead. “Well, you can blame me since I encouraged her. We didn’t know about him being gay, an
d she couldn’t figure out if he was just that innocent or really didn’t find her attractive. It confused her.”
“Poor Sierra.”
“Poor Sierra,” she agreed. “I’ve been thinking about it, Vin, and it just doesn’t make sense her death is connected to the guy who got murdered in Las Vegas. If the killer didn’t track us down while we lived there, why now?”
“I know. I’ve wondered about that too. I used to play with the idea that the guy’s murder was somehow related to the clowns that put me in ICU.”
“How so?”
“That’s just it. I can’t find a connection. The only thing I’ve ever come up with is that I said something at the casino. Maybe I was talking to Wylie or Al or maybe they said something to me—I can’t remember. But I don’t think it was a coincidence that John was sitting next to me at the slots when I ran out of money. It wouldn’t be hard for a guy to scope out the clientele and find someone with a gambling problem who was willing to sell his car or pawn his watch just to stay in the game. I think John was looking for some chump like me who’d come into some money and was stupid enough to risk it all.”
Foxy nodded. She took a long draw on the bottle of water they were sharing before offering him some.
He shook his head. “There are still some parts about that night I don’t remember, but I do remember thinking John was like a father figure almost. I hit a losing streak. I was done, and he said he’d be willing to cover my bet if I had the money to repay him. I told him, and these were my exact words, that I had more than enough to cover it.”
“Oh, Vinnie!”
“I keep trying to make those thugs fit into what’s going on now, but I don’t see the connection.”
“They got what they wanted.”
He grunted. “And then some.”
“I think we’re trying too hard to link Sierra’s death to whatever it is we did back then. It was such a turning point for all of us, but maybe it has nothing to do with anything anymore.”
Vinnie drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “If I heard this from a client, I’d say they were still trying to work out their own shame.”
“Mm. You think that’s what we’re doing?”
He snorted. “What do you think?”
“I think you’ve gotten smart in your old age.”
“Yeah, too old smart, too young . . . how does that go?”
“Too soon old, too late smart.”
“Right.” He bobbed his head. “If Sierra’s death had nothing to do with all of that, are you thinking she really did take her own life?”
“No.” Foxy said quickly. “I don’t.”
A wind gust buffeted the Saturn, and Vinnie took his foot off the accelerator. “We don’t have to keep driving, you know. We could spend the night in Virginia and drive up to Matt’s in the morning.”
In response, she punched the radio button and moved the dial until she got a good signal. When the classical piece—she thought it was Chopin—ended, the announcer, who had only a slight Iron Range accent, addressed the impending blizzard. What they were seeing, according to him, was nothing compared to what was coming. By evening, residents of Virginia and Hibbing, in fact all of Aitkin, Carlton and St. Louis counties would be under a blizzard warning.
Foxy rubbed her forehead and came up with a decision. “It’s not even one o’clock. We’ll get there well ahead of the big storm,” she said.
Molly Pat slithered through the space between the seats and settled on Foxy’s lap. She was shivering.
Vinnie shook his hands one at a time to get the tension out. “Sounds good. We can hole up at the main cabin and sit in front of the fireplace with a big bowl of popcorn and a glass of Chianti.” He reached over and scratched the top of the dog’s head. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, old girl?”
“You’d better be talking to Molly!” said Foxy.
Vinnie laughed his best old, carefree laugh.
Suddenly, that picture of domestic tranquility was all she wanted.
* * *
Robin and Grace were almost to Cloquet when the car’s Bluetooth ring startled them both. When Robin punched the Talk button, Brad’s voice sounded like he had his head in a bucket.
“Hey,” Robin greeted him. “How’s it going?”
Brad sighed heavily. “Well, it’s hard to tell. We were hashing it all out over breakfast this morning and Cass is already regretting her decision to have me come.”
“Oh, great! What’s your take on the whole situation?”
Brad explained they’d spent the night with Nick’s parents, who graciously offered him a bed, knowing that it was late and motels were filled up. “I liked the parents, and we had a little chat before the kids were up. They might be a little snobbish but they like Cass. Nick’s father even took me aside and said he thought his son was acting like a jackass.”
“Wow. Where are you right now?”
“We went out to breakfast. Cass is outside talking to Nick on the phone. I don’t know how it’ll all shake out. I’ll tell you more later. She’s walking back into the restaurant right now, and it looks like she’s crying.”
Robin felt the miles between her and her daughter. “See if she wants to talk to me.”
He asked her, and Cass declined. Brad said, “We’re good. I’ve got it covered. You sound like you’re in the car.”
“I am. Grace and I are going to spend some time with Foxy,” Robin told him.
“I’m missing some words. Maybe I shouldn’t distract you while you’re driving.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow if not sooner. Obviously we’re not getting on the road until we sort this out.”
“Wait,” she said before he hung up. “How are the roads out there?”
“Nothing a Minnesotan can’t handle. How about there?”
“Same answer.”
After they’d said their good-byes and hung up, Grace started laughing out loud. “Spending some time with Foxy? Do you really think he’s not gonna find out what we’re up to?”
Robin sighed. “Eventually, but what’s the point in getting him all worried now?”
Grace looked at her over the top of her glasses. “You mean, what’s the point in telling him something that’ll make him go ballistic. You don’t think he’s going to be just a wee bit pissed at you when you tell him after the fact?”
“I told him the truth. We are going to spend time with her.”
Grace skewed her mouth to one side. “Yeah, I see no way that can backfire.”
“Okay, smarty pants, what did you tell Fred?”
“That you and I were going to Foxy’s cabin north of the Cities.”
“Did you, by any chance, tell him it was four hours north, in good weather?”
“I did not.”
* * *
In Virginia, they stopped and got burgers and fries, the kind of thing Foxy rarely ate, but somehow being here with Vinnie had thrown her back a couple of decades. Sitting in the car to eat, the three of them, Foxy, Vinnie, and Molly Pat gobbled the fast food and got back on the road. Driving on Highway 169 was still fairly good, and the scenery as beautiful as ever.
As they drove, Foxy and Vinnie reminisced about Sierra’s life the way people did in the hours and days after burying someone close to them. This social convention was, Foxy had always thought, a way of reaffirming life, claiming the stories of the deceased—the good, the bad and the questionable—as their own to tell.
Vinnie brought up the time Sierra forgot garlic bread in the oven and set off the fire alarm during a dinner party. Foxy remembered how she loved to sing along with the radio. “She was this gorgeous creature, until she opened her mouth to sing. I used to think she was trying to sound bad, but she was completely tone deaf.”
“She was pretty awful,” he agreed. “Luckily, she had other assets.”
“Yes, and she wasn’t afraid to flaunt them, either.”
“Didn’t she do something kind of outrageous when you brought her home one time?
“Not just one time. She pulled something every time I brought her there.” Foxy sighed. “I’d forgotten how embarrassing she could be. She said there was something about small town narrow-mindedness that brought out the devil in her. I was just thinking about that the other day when we were driving into Pine Glen. She knew how repressive my upbringing had been, and she must have spent a lot of time coming up with ways to poke fun at the church. When Peter, the pastor’s son was home from the seminary, she asked me all about him, and before I knew it, she was outside being all seductive with him.”
“Didn’t she go skinny dipping in the creek too?
Foxy covered her face. “She certainly did. I’d gotten out of the water and was trying to get a tan, so I slipped the straps off my shoulders. Next thing I know, she’s throwing her bikini on the bank and telling me to let her know if anyone’s coming. When I saw a car coming down the hill, I yelled ‘Car!’ thinking she’d hide over by the willow tree, but no, she steps out of the water and stands on the bank, posing like some sea nymph. You know who it was that drove up? Peter and his father.”
Vinnie laughed out loud. “That’s right! She had balls, that’s for sure.”
“Peter went back to seminary before the sun set, and Pastor Paul, in the process of praying for her wickedness, made it clear Sierra was not to have contact with his beloved son.”
“He was a big boy. I’m sure he made his own decisions.”
“Maybe so, but he grew almost as straight-laced as his father.”
“So you don’t think it’s possible Sierra found a way to get in touch with Peter, or the other way around? They were adults, for God’s sake.”
Foxy frowned. Something tickled at the edges of that memory.
Forgotten Spirits Page 19
