“I flew in on my broom but you didn’t seem to notice.” She smiled up into his red face. “You were studying my meager book collection.”
“Meager, my ass,” he said. “You and Ann Ranson should pool your collections. Together you have more books than most libraries.”
“See any titles you want to borrow? Topics you might want to brush up on?” she asked, her face innocent, her eyes twinkling.
“As a matter of fact I did.” A smile played over his lips as he pulled a book off the shelf. “I don’t have a copy of Tracking Wildlife in Northern Wisconsin. Mind if I borrow this?”
“Help yourself,” she said, holding back laughter.
He grabbed her suitcase and they were out the door. They spent most of the ride with Lacey reading through the reports. “This is what we have so far,” she said, once again curled up in the passenger seat. File papers were spread out between them and tucked under the edges of her coat. “Someone riding a snowmobile left several Marlboro cigarette butts and size-twelve boot tracks—we don’t yet know the brand but the tracks look the same—outside your house as well as the Ransons’. I think it’s a man, don’t you?” she asked, looking at Lark for a comment.
“The shoe size seems to imply that, and these murders seem to be pretty vicious for a woman,” he said, keeping his eyes on the road. It had started to snow just after they got out of Wausau and it was now coming down in blinding sheets that seemed to blow straight into the windshield.
“This weather is worse than what I expect to see in February, let alone November,” Lacey said, trying to see out the window.
“You can say that again. I hope we get back to Big Oak tonight so we can get a good night’s sleep.”
“Why don’t you let me drive?” Lacey asked, noticing how tired he looked. “I had a nap this morning, you didn’t.”
“No, you keep pouring the coffee and I’ll be fine. I couldn’t sleep right now—my brain is on overload trying to make sense of this case.”
“I know what you mean,” Lacey murmured. “Back to Shotgun Man. He must have a cloaking device or one hell of a snowmobile trailering system, because he’s vanished both times. No one’s seen a snowmobile trailer leaving either scene. They haven’t been able to track any truck tires more than three hundred yards.”
“Have they gotten anything back on what type of tires we’re looking for? That might give us somewhere to start.”
“Nothing yet. It’s getting too dark to see. I’d better dig out my flashlight.”
“I don’t think we have enough room for you to empty that bag again.”
“Very funny, Swenson. Ah, shit.” A pile of papers she’d stuffed under the edge of her coat slid down on the floor when she reached for her bag. “Dammit, look at this mess.” She raised up to show him the papers drifted all over the floor. “I can’t believe this. Now we’ll have to sort them back into the two files.”
“I do believe this is the end of the world,” Lark said, turning on the overhead light. “Stack them in the briefcase and we’ll sort them out later.”
Once she had the papers picked up, Lacey called Wausau only to find that Joel was on the road to Madison. There was nothing new on the tire tracks. They spent the rest of the ride listening to the radio, watching the snow, and talking about their observations from the Foltz interview. They made a quick stop to pick up the files that Knutson had prepared on the students and pulled into Lark’s road a little after 6:30. About a quarter of a mile from his driveway, they came upon a snow-covered vehicle, lights on, nose down in the ditch. Their headlights showed a driver in the car.
“Shit, this doesn’t look good.” Lark said, stopping the Jeep.
“That looks like the Ransons’ Explorer,” Lacey said as she dialed the cell phone.
“I hope it’s not John,” Lark said, thinking that every third car in Big Oak was a Ford Explorer. He grabbed a large flashlight out of the backseat and got out of the Jeep.
“I’m not getting through on the phone or your radio. I’ll keep trying and request an ambulance,” Lacey said.
Lark walked up to the rear end of the vehicle and rubbed snow away to identify it. It was a dark-colored Explorer. He swore under his breath as he slid down through snow up to his thighs to get to the driver’s side. The snow continued to pelt down and he pulled up the hood of his coat to protect his face from the sting of the flakes. The driver’s side door was locked and the window was fogged, but he could see someone in the driver’s seat. He banged on the door with the butt of his flashlight.
He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the person’s head move slightly. He was considering breaking out a window when Lacey yelled down from the road. She had to cup her hands and shout so he could hear her over the wind. “I’m going to drive up to your house and call.”
He motioned her to go on and turned his attention back to the car. He rubbed out a spot on the side window. It didn’t help much due to all the fog on the inside. He checked each door, including the hatch, to see if he could find one unlocked. By the time he’d gone full circle, his Jeep slid to a halt behind the Explorer.
Lacey jumped out of the driver’s side and Lark trudged up to meet her. A big man in a hooded parka jumped down out of the passenger side and walked towards him. It was John Ranson.
“I found John and his crew putting in your new doors. The rest of his crew is coming down in his truck.” She tried to position herself to keep the snow out of her face as they slipped and slid down to the Explorer. “The Big Oak ambulance is on the way to Wausau with another MVA. Your dispatcher is calling Park Falls to see if they can help and one of your patrols is coming.”
They rounded the rear end of the Explorer and John let out a yell, stumbling through the snow to the driver’s side. He rubbed newly fallen snow off the window and put his face up against it, trying to peer inside.
Lark grabbed him by the shoulders. “The doors are locked. Do you have a set of keys?”
“They’re in my truck,” he yelled as he broke away from Lark and half ran, half crawled up the drifted ditch bank. His crew pulled up in his truck just as he got to the road. He grabbed the keys out of the ignition, and slid back down to the Explorer. Lark grabbed him before he could put the keys in the door lock.
“Get the hell out of my way,” John shouted, trying to get past Lark.
“John, wait a minute.” Lark yelled, pulling the keys away from him and handing them to Lacey.
“Get out of my way, Ann’s in there,” John cried out, trying to get past Lark. Although John was a little shorter, it was a test of wills for Lark to keep him away from the door.
“Lacey will get the passenger door open so we can take care of her. We can’t move her until we can get a cervical collar on her. Do you understand?” Lark asked, shaking his shoulders.
John looked at Lark, tears freezing on his cheeks. “You’re right, I know you’re right. I’ve had first-aid training.”
Lark let him go. “There might be a cervical collar in my first-aid kit. I’ll go get it if you promise me you won’t do anything until I get back.”
“I won’t. I just lost my head for a minute.”
Lacey had just climbed in the passenger side when John yelled at her to unlock the rest of the car. She found the electronic switch and popped the locks.
“Don’t you lay a hand on her,” she said, jabbing her finger at him.
“I know, I know,” he said as he carefully opened the driver door.
Ann was still in her seat belt and shoulder harness. She was slouched over on her right side, away from the driver’s door, leaning up against the headrest. She already had some redness and swelling on the left side of her head and there was a red line across her forehead. When Lacey called her name, she mumbled and batted the air with her left hand. The car reeked of beer and Lacey noticed that the floor on the passenger side was littered with broken beer bottles and Tupperware. Plastic-wrapped sandwiches spilled out of a torn paper bag.
Lark ta
pped John on the shoulder and motioned him out of the way, then leaned into the driver’s seat and called Ann’s name. She didn’t respond. He asked Lacey to steady her head as he loosened the red scarf wrapped around her head and neck. When he wasn’t able to get it off without manipulating her neck, he put the cervical collar over the scarf. He stepped out of the way so John could get back to his wife.
John gently picked up Ann’s left hand. “She must have taken off her gloves like she usually does once the car warms up. She hates to drive in them.” He rubbed her cold left hand between his two large warm ones. “Ann, can you hear me?” he yelled as he leaned in to stroke away the bangs that straggled down out of her scarf.
Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled at him. “I’m so cold, come over here and warm me up.” She closed her eyes.
“Honey, open your eyes.” he said, stroking her cheek.
“No, I’m cold,” she whimpered as she tried to turn away from the bright light Lark was shining into the truck. “Turn out that light and come to bed.”
“Ann,” John said. “Do you know where you are?”
“Bed,” she mumbled. “I’m in bed, turn out that damn light, it hurts my eyes.” She pulled her hand away from John to shield her eyes.
Lark moved the light away from her face. “Ann, you’re not home in bed. You’ve had a car accident. Do you hurt anywhere?”
“Car?” Her voice rose as she tried to right herself in the seat. “What am I doing in the car?” She fumbled with her seat belt.
“Just be still. Leave that on until the ambulance comes,” John said, pulling her hands away from it.
Ann looked at Lark and Lacey, her eyes large and confused. “What are you doing here?” She looked around, as if seeing the inside of the car for the first time. “Please help me get out of here. I’m very cold. Oh my god, I have to get out of here right now.”
“Ann, please be quiet until the ambulance comes,” John pleaded, tension creeping into his voice as he tried to keep her from unfastening her seat belt.
“No,” she yelled, swatting his hands and groping for the seat belt clasp. “I have to get out of here.”
“Stop it,” John shouted, “you’re going to hurt yourself.”
“John, take a break. I’ll stay with her.” Lark said, pulling him out of the way. John walked a few feet away and lit a cigarette. Lacey joined him.
“When is that damn ambulance supposed to get here?” he asked.
“As soon as it can. Do you know what she was doing out here?”
“Damn if I know, I was trying to finish up with Lark’s windows,” John said, pausing to take a drag on his Marlboro. “I called her earlier and told her that I wouldn’t be home until late. I can’t imagine why she’d drive over here in this weather.”
“The car smells like beer and there’s a sack of food spilled in the car. Could she have been bringing you dinner?”
“Shit,” John said, rubbing his hand across his five o’clock shadow. “Yeah, she does that sometimes—brings us a surprise picnic supper when I’m working late.” He flicked his cigarette butt into the snow and walked back to the car.
Lacey saw the flashing lights of the Park Falls ambulance. Thirty minutes later the ambulance crew was on its way to the hospital with Ann and John. Lacey and Lark walked the road attempting to trace Ann’s skid marks and figure out what happened. It was next to impossible to find the Explorer tracks between the foot traffic and ambulance tracks. Within another thirty minutes, Ann’s Explorer was loaded on Tetzloff’s flatbed to be towed into Big Oak. Lark drove John’s truck to the hospital on his way back to the station.
FRIDAY EVENING
NOVEMBER 24—THE HOSPITAL
“Don’t even think about it,” John said as Lark and Lacey walked into Ann’s room. She had been admitted to the ICU because of her loss of consciousness.
“I want to go home,” Ann said. She was sitting up in bed, her back ramrod straight, obviously mad as hell. Her hair was frizzed out like she’d received a jolt of electricity and her hospital snap gown had slid off one shoulder. An IV dripped into her arm and she was hooked up to a heart monitor. John reached out to pull her gown back up on her shoulder and she smacked his hand away.
“I can tell you how to do a neuro check. I did the damn things for so long, I can do them in my sleep. They already said there’s nothing on my head CT.”
“That’s what I’ve always thought. Now, at last we have proof,” John said, humoring her.
“Asshole,” she said, flopping down and turning away from them.
“Honey, I’m just teasing. I’m really afraid something will go wrong. At least here they can help you if something happens.” He walked to the other side of the bed and rubbed her shoulder.
“Fine,” she shouted, pulling away from him.
John motioned for Lacey and Lark to leave. He kissed Ann’s shoulder and followed them into the hall.
“Thank God she doesn’t have a fractured skull, but she does have a concussion. They told me that people temporarily lose some of their inhibition control with frontal lobe concussions. That must be why she’s reacting this way. She’s never been a good patient, but I’ve never seen her like this.”
“Does she remember anything about the accident?” Lacey asked.
“I don’t know. All we’ve done is argue over going home. I think she might try and sign herself out,” John said, stepping back to peek in the window.
“Would you mind if we talked with her for a few minutes?” Lark asked.
“OK, as long as you stop if she gets agitated,” John said, heading back into her room.
When she heard the door open Ann turned over, tears streaming down her cheeks. “John, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she sobbed.
“Ah, sweetheart,” he said, pulling her into his arms.
“Ann, are you up to talking with us?” Lacey asked, pulling a chair up to her bed.
“Of course, anything to help.” She wiped her tears with the corner of her sheet.
“Do you remember what caused your accident?”
Ann pulled her sheet up to her neck. “It was snowing hard. I slid a little bit and remember thinking how glad I was that John was just up the road in case something happened. I heard a loud noise and the car veered out of control. It was a blowout, wasn’t it?” She looked back and forth between Lark and Lacey for confirmation.
“Blowouts can be very loud,” Lark said, noticing that the left side of her lip was already swollen to twice its normal size. Her left temple was swollen and her forehead was abraded and reddened.
“The car was suddenly very hard to steer. It spun around and I hit my head and then nothing. How bad is the car?” she asked John.
“It’s at Tetzloff’s. Don’t worry about it, we’ll figure it out tomorrow.”
“Ann, just one more question,” Lacey said. “I hate to ask you this. There were broken beer bottles all over the floor of your car. Were you drinking?”
“Oh, no, I was bringing dinner to John and his crew and I threw in a six-pack of Leinies at the last minute. I’ll sign a permit for a legal blood alcohol to be drawn. I don’t want any question in the community or with the insurance company.”
Lark and Lacey left to give John and Ann some privacy. John’s crew was installing the last door when they got to Lark’s. The house still felt like an icebox. After building fires in the family room and bedroom, they wolfed down cold turkey sandwiches while they watched the news tapes on Lark’s new television. They were cleaning up the dishes when the phone rang.
It was Joel, calling from Madison to let them know that the Pattersons had been located at a relative’s cabin in northern Minnesota. They had been notified about Gemma’s body and had agreed to be interviewed in Eau Claire the next day at noon.
“How long does it take to get to Eau Claire?” Lacey asked, looking at her watch and yawning.
“Four hours in this weather. We’ve got to be on the road by seven-thirty
,” Lark said, dousing the family-room fire.
“I feel like I could sleep for a hundred years.” Lacey yawned again and headed for the staircase. “Wonder how cold it is upstairs?”
“Too cold to sleep separately,” Lark said, following her.
“I just want to get a good night’s sleep and keep warm,” she said, stifling yet another yawn. “At this rate I’ll be asleep before my head hits the pillow.” Lacey went into her room and changed into fresh sweats.
“My room’s ice-cold, but with that fire and the door shut it isn’t half bad in here,” she said as she walked into Lark’s room. “I can just barely see my breath.”
He’d already changed into sweats and was stoking up the fire. She looked around the room, realizing that she’d been so tired the night before that she hadn’t noticed much about it. His bed was a kingsized, dark cherry Shaker-style four poster covered with a navy-and-burgundy plaid comforter. A tall chest, two nightstands, and a long mirror-topped dresser, all matching the bed, were spread around the room. A burgundy leather recliner sat in the corner near the window. The bed was directly across from the massive floor-to-ceiling fieldstone fireplace—no small feat since the ceiling was vaulted. Old maps of northern Wisconsin were framed on the wall. A picture of a very pretty woman in an ornate gold frame sat on Lark’s nightstand. Lacey’s heart flew to her throat when she realized the woman was probably Lark’s late wife.
She got into bed and crawled under the covers, snatching glances at the picture. The woman had a gorgeous smile and warm, friendly eyes. Lacey thought she looked like someone she would like to get to know. Rolling on her side away from the picture, she found herself staring out the window and discovered that Lark had left the perimeter lights on. They reflected on the falling snow, creating a fairyland effect. Lark snapped off the overhead lights and the room went dark except for the glow from the fire. She felt the mattress give as he got into bed beside her.
“In the right circumstances this could be heaven,” she said drowsily.
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