When The Wind Blows: A Spruce Run Mystery

by Mark Mueller

  I had never experienced something like that before. I knew it was common with mothers, in that they could identify their children by scent, even a short time after birth, but I’d never heard anything before that fathers could experience the same thing. It was fascinating.

  I looked around the room. I’d expected to see nothing but pink and fluff all over. I had also expected teddy bears, unicorns and Disney posters.

  I couldn’t have been more wrong in my presumption.

  Instead, I was overwhelmed with John Deere green. I saw hiking boots on the floor. A large stuffed brown grizzly bear was on the bed. A Native-American handmade blanket was folded up on a rocking chair in a corner. Pittsburgh Pirates and stock car posters were on the wall.

  I looked at Maddy. “You’re kidding me, right?”

  “No, Mac. This is her room.”

  I chuckled. “Not what I expected.”

  “In some ways she takes after me.”

  “This looks like a boy’s room. Not girly girl at all.”

  “She’s a tomboy, just like me.”

  I grinned. “I guess that’s why you call her Charlie instead of Charlotte.”

  “Pretty much.”

  We walked further into the room. I noticed a book lying on a nightstand next to the bed. The Indian in the Cupboard. I picked it up. “She’s reading this?”

  “I told you her vocabulary is through the roof,” Maddy reminded me. “She starts first grade in September. She’s already reading above third grade level.”

  I nodded. “Cool.”

  I put the book down and browsed through a bookcase between the bed and the window. I recognized a familiar book and pulled it out. It was a copy of Weather Down the Shore, which the Ocean County Press had published when I still wrote for them.

  The summer after I had graduated from college, the Press had assigned me to write a series of summertime beach stories about the Coast Guard weather station on Sandy Hook. I spent three weeks on Sandy Hook in July of that year, learning everything I could about meteorology and what precisely the Coast Guard did there. Maddy spent those three weeks with me, and it was one of my most cherished memories.

  When the three weeks were over I wrote a pair of twenty-thousand word features for the Press. One was about the Sandy Hook Coast Guard station and the other was about meteorology. A photographer had included several photos, too.

  About six months after the features appeared in successive Sunday editions, the Press published both stories as a science book supplement for school-age children. My publishing career outside of newsprint had begun.

  “She loves that book,” Maddy said. “Especially all the pictures.”

  I smiled. “I hope so.”

  “She’s going to love it even more when she finds out you wrote it.”

  “I can live with that. I seem to recall you loved it, too.”

  “I still do. You’re holding my copy.”

  That surprised me. “You kept it? And you gave it to Charlie?”

  “Of course I did. I always keep books I like.”

  Maybe there was hope for us after all. I put the book down and looked around the room a little longer. I noticed two framed photos on the wall above the book case, and took a closer look. One was a formal studio shot of Maddy and Charlie that looked recent. I smiled and picked it up.

  “She’s beautiful, Maddy. She’s you.”

  Maddy blushed. “Thank you, Mac.”

  The second photo was a shot of Charlie playing soccer. Her hair was in a ponytail, just like the way Maddy wore hers. The similarities between the two of them were incredible.

  “I know she doesn’t inherit her athletic ability from me,” I said.

  “You’re not a total klutz, Mac.”

  “Thank you, Maddy, you’re too kind.” I turned and looked around the room once more, but didn’t really see much else of interest.

  Maddy seemed to have noticed. “Is there anything else you want to see in here?”

  “Nope. Charlie can tell me the rest.”

  “I can’t believe Ducky hasn’t called yet.”

  “Maybe he hasn’t heard anything yet.”

  “Maybe you should call him.”

  “I will. Let’s go back downstairs.”

  Chapter Thirty

  When we got back to the living room I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and dialed Ducky.

  “F.O.T., F.O.T.!” I exclaimed when he answered.

  “We haven’t heard anything yet,” he grunted.

  “Just checking in, Ducky.”

  “Hang in there, Mac. We’ll find her.”

  “Maddy and I should be out there looking, too.”

  “How are Maddy’s parents doing with the phone? Any calls?”

  “They’re not here. They were gone when we got back.”

  “Judas Priest. I told them to stay put.”

  “I know. But still, Maddy and I should be out looking.”

  “No, Mac, we’ve been through this. You and Maddy stay there in case the girl shows up.”

  “Okay. We’ll stay. But I don’t like it.”

  Ducky sighed. “I’ll let you know when I hear something, okay?”

  “Yeah, as soon as you find out.”

  “Will do. Later, gator.”

  The cell went dead in my hand. Typical Ducky exit strategy. Before I stuffed it back in my pocket, I decided to phone the Bugler and check in with Beth Henry. I was still irritated that she hadn’t been in the office when I stopped by earlier. It was imperative that we get started on writing up this story for the following week’s edition. But even more pressing was that I wanted her to get the story posted on the Bugler’s online edition. I knew that if we got it posted soon enough, the larger dailies in the area would find it and pick it up. We needed all the help we could get.

  No answer at the Bugler so I tried Beth’s cell. It went straight to voicemail, which really got up my sleeve. First she complains that she wasn’t being paid enough, and now she goes ahead and blows off work. I was ready to fire her the next time I saw her.

  I put my cell back in my pocket and turned to Maddy. She was sitting on the couch and turned away from me, with her arms wrapped around herself as if she was cold.

  I sat down next to her and put my own arms around her. I knew there was nothing I could do or say to make her feel better. All I could do was to hold her and assure her that I was going to be with her the rest of the way on this. I wasn’t going to let her down. Not this time.

  Time seemed to have stopped as we waited, and it was excruciating. And not knowing what was going on was absolute torture. What made it worse was that I felt helpless. I wanted to do something to help her, but I didn’t know how. I’d never been this close to a kidnapping before.

  It was almost the same helpless feeling I had encountered during my last year in college, when my grandmother was diagnosed with terminal cancer. She was eighty years old and had been a life-long smoker. Surprisingly, the cancer hadn’t originated in her lungs. Instead, it had begun in her pancreas and spread like wildfire to her other organs. And it caught all of us in the family off-guard.

  She was gone within two months of the diagnosis. One moment she was in good health and in good spirits, and the next minute she was in a hospital bed at my aunt’s house.

  The last time I saw her was about two weeks before she passed. I went to visit her with my cousin Bridget that day, and wasn’t at all prepared for the way she had deteriorated. She had languished at such a rate that she looked almost skeletal and could move only with difficulty. When she saw me, with a weak smile she apologized in a very quiet, whispery voice, saying she was sorry she looked the way she did. I was so stunned, I couldn’t talk.

  All I could feel was a hurt so huge and so raw and so primitive that no words could illustrate.

  So, I didn’t say anything. I embraced her with a gentle hug and kissed her cheek. She smiled at me and whispered that everything was going to be okay. Here she was, my grandmother, so
meone who was going to be gone in less than two weeks, and she was consoling me. That’s the kind of person she was, always concerned with the well-being of others. Always thinking of me before herself.

  I stayed with her for just a little while. We didn’t talk because we didn’t have to. There was nothing to say, nothing I could say.

  When I left, I kissed her once more on the cheek and said I’d come back to see her again soon.

  I was feeling just as hopeless now as I sat with Maddy on the couch. And I didn’t like it. I had to do something, because I didn’t want Maddy to suffer any more than she already had.

  It also didn’t help that my thirst for alcohol had again returned with a vengeance. My desire to drink at that moment was so strong that I would have sold blood for a bottle of Jameson. Even after being sober for five and a half years, I still sometimes wanted it when I felt things were out of my control. It didn’t happen often, but when it did it was almost intolerable.

  I stood up from the couch and grabbed my cell out from my pocket.

  Maddy looked up. “What are you doing?”

  “Calling Ducky,” I said as I hit the speed dial button. I had to do something to get my mind off of alcohol. But even though it was still a struggle, it was easier to deal with if I had someone to talk to.

  I paced across the living room. I couldn’t stay still. I had to release the stress somehow. I continued to pace back and forth across the room, as I listened to my cell connect to Ducky’s. It rang once, then twice.

  All of a sudden, the bay window exploded behind me. Startled, I dropped my cell and turned around. For a moment I was disoriented. Glass was shattered all over the living room floor, as if some smartass had thrown a large rock through it. But as I looked around, I didn’t see a rock or a stone on the floor. All I saw was glass.

  Just what I need. A prankster.

  I looked up again at the shattered window and then realized that Maddy was groaning. I turned and looked at her. She had fallen over and was half lying, half sitting on the couch. She was hurt.

  I rushed to her and knelt down and tried to sit her back up. She screamed in pain. It was then that I saw blood seeping through her clothes and onto the couch cushion. It seemed to come from under her right shoulder. Without thinking, I took off my jacket and tried to wrap it around her.

  “Maddy!” I panicked.

  She groaned.

  “Maddy, can you hear me?”

  “It hurts so much,” she whispered.

  “Listen to me, Maddy.”

  No response.

  “Maddy!”

  She moaned.

  “Crap,” I swore. She was losing blood fast. She’d lose consciousness if I didn’t work fast. I eased my jacket further around her shoulders and tied the sleeves together. As soon as it was secure, I drew my pistol from its holster and then picked up my cell phone from the floor.

  I looked out the broken bay window as I started to dial 911, hoping to see who had broken it, but all I saw was a white Toyota Prius moving up the street.

  My cell phone blasted off before I could connect to 911. I looked at the caller ID and then answered it.

  “Ducky!” I shouted, ignoring our usual F.O.T. greeting.

  “Mac, did you just try to call me?”

  “Ducky, I need an ambulance, now!”

  “What happened, Mac?”

  “Maddy’s been shot. She’s bleeding bad.”

  “She’s been shot? What happ—”

  “Not now, Ducky, please! Maddy’s hurt. Get me an ambulance or I’m taking her to the hospital, myself.” I was losing it.

  “On it, Mac.”

  The cell connection went dead. Typical Ducky exit strategy.

  I quickly surveyed the area outside the bay window again and holstered the pistol. Then I knelt down again next to Maddy. As I held pressure to her bleeding shoulder, I looked her over for other injuries but didn’t see anything else. I was tempted to carry her to the Charger so I could get her to the hospital as fast as I could, but decided against it. I didn’t want her to lose any more blood.

  “Come on, Maddy, stay with me,” I implored.

  “Mac,” she whispered.

  “Don’t talk.”

  “Mac.”

  “Shhh. An ambulance is coming.”

  “Mac—!”

  “Stay quiet. Save your strength.”

  “Charlie—”

  “We’ll find her, Maddy.”

  “Shack.”

  “What?” I asked.

  Maddy opened her eyes. “Charlie, shack. Find her.”

  I heard sirens in the distance.

  “Don’t talk, Maddy. I’ll find her. I promise.”

  “Save her, Mac. She’s out there. Shack!”

  “We will, Maddy,” I held her as comfortably as I could. She was becoming delirious.

  I now heard two separate sirens. One appeared to be much closer than the other.

  “Stay with me, Maddy. Don’t leave me, now.” I was beside myself.

  Maddy began to shiver as if she was freezing cold. She was going into shock and I knew that wasn’t good. I tightened my jacket around her as best I could. I grabbed a blanket from a nearby rocking chair and wrapped it around her, then held her close to try to keep her warm.

  The longer I held her, the more exasperated I became. As I listened to the two sirens getting closer, it seemed as if everything was running in slow motion. I knew I needed to get Maddy to the hospital as soon as possible because she was hurt bad and was losing so much blood. I considered again that maybe I should just carry her to my car and take her to the hospital myself, but again I dismissed the idea. An ambulance would be equipped to provide safe care for her during the twenty-minute ride. Plus, with my luck I’d probably get pulled over for speeding, which would make the trip even longer. Still, the longer I sat holding Maddy, the more distraught I became.

  The first siren approached the house. I looked up through the shattered window and watched as Ducky’s county-issued cruiser skidded to a violent stop.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  “What the hell?” Ducky cursed as he charged through the front door. He looked at me holding Maddy. “Holy crap, Mac.”

  “Help me, Ducky,” I beseeched.

  Ducky keyed his radio. “Where’s that ambulance, Roberta?”

  “On its way, Detective,” came the response.

  Ducky hunched down next to me. “Okay, Mac, we’ve got to stretch her flat on the sofa, okay?”

  “She’s bleeding real bad.”

  “I can see that, but we’ve got to lay her flat on her back and keep pressure on the wound to stop the bleeding.”

  We eased Maddy onto her back. She groaned and tensed in pain. I continued to hold pressure on the wound just below her right shoulder. Ducky got up and adjusted the blanket I had covered her with.

  “Judas frickin’ Priest, what happened, Mac?” Ducky whispered.

  “We were talking here on the couch,” I related. “I stood up and was starting to call you, and that’s when the window crashed. At first I thought someone had thrown a rock at the window, but then I saw that Maddy was hit and bleeding like crazy.”

  “That’s messed up,” Ducky said after a moment. “Did you see anything out the window?”

  “No,” I replied. “I looked, but no one was out there.”

  “See any moving vehicles?”

  “No. Wait, yeah. I think I saw a white Toyota Prius down the street.”

  “Anything else?”

  “No, nothing.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes, Duck, I’m sure.” I glared at him.

  “Okay, Mac.” He turned around and inspected the bay window, while I continued to keep pressure on Maddy’s wound.

  He whistled. “Someone had a plan.”

  “You think?” I asked sarcastically.

  Ducky ignore me, which meant he had been talking to himself and not to me. I shrugged.

  A moment later an ambulance arrived
. Ducky directed the EMTs to bring the gurney into the house. Working with practiced efficiency, two EMTs, one man and one woman, lifted Maddy onto the gurney.

  “Are you family?” the female EMT asked.

  “What’s going on here?” a voice seethed.

  Ducky and I, along with the EMTs turned around. Hugo Wuhrer stood in the living room doorway.

  “What are you people, deaf or something?” Wuhrer demanded. “What is going on here?”

  Amanda Wuhrer came into the living room behind her husband. “What’s happening?” she screamed when she saw Maddy on the gurney. “My daughter!”

  Wuhrer took his wife’s arm. Amanda shook loose from his grip.

  “Mr. Wuhrer,” Ducky asserted. “You’re daughter’s been in an accident. Please, step aside and let the EMTs take her to the hospital.”

  “I’m going too,” Amanda Wuhrer insisted.

  “Are you family?” the female EMT asked.

  “I’m her mother.”

  “Okay, then. Come with us.”

  The EMTs wheeled Maddy out of the house and loaded her into the ambulance. Amanda Wuhrer was directed into the ambulance as soon as the gurney was secured.

  I started for the front door.

  “Hold up, Mac,” Ducky said.

  “I’ve got to get to the hospital,” I replied.

  “Later. I need you to help me piece this together.”

  “Can’t it wait, Duck?”

  “It’ll be just a couple of minutes.”

  “Okay, but make it quick. I want to be with Maddy.”

  “Haven’t you done enough?” Wuhrer piped up.

  “What?” I snapped.

  “You heard me. Every time you show up something bad happens.”

  “Mr. Wuhrer,” Ducky said.

  “I want him out of my house right now. As of this minute, he’s trespassing.”

  “Hugo—” I said.

  “Leave my house, Mac. Right now.”

  “Mr. Wuhrer,” Ducky barked. “There was a shooting here, and in case you didn’t notice, your daughter’s been injured. Your living room is, at the moment, a crime scene. Mac is a witness and I need a statement from him.”