by Unknown
Cameron followed him with plates and the teapot, and with much buffoonery, the two men served the women and themselves cake and tea.
As usual when Verna and her sons were together, the conversation veered to the past, when Cam and David were youngsters, and soon everyone was laughing over the time Verna, concerned about their diet, mixed up some vile concoction called moose milk, heavy on nutritional yeast and soy yogurt and lecithin, and insisted the boys drink it each morning before they left the house.
"God, I despised that stuff. Remember, Cam, the minute her back was turned, you used to drink mine for me?"
"Ahh, but look how I grew. No wonder you ended up such a runt, kid." Cam landed an affectionate punch on his brother's arm.
Alex laughed with them, but part of her was envious of the tight cocoon of affection and mutual respect that bound the Ross family into a unit. She thought of Wade in his hospital bed, and of her parents, rigid, judgmental, unable to laugh or tease or even relax the way these three did so easily. Dinners at her parents' house had all the right china and silverware but totally lacked warmth.
Cameron sat down close beside her, an arm circling her shoulders, and she watched him as he talked and laughed. This afternoon he was seemingly free from whatever demons haunted him. Since she'd gotten the job in Korbin Lake, some of the anger and resentment she felt toward him had dissipated, and things were easier between them, at least on the surface.
He'd taken on all the responsibility for the actual move, packing their belongings into boxes, labeling them, arranging for a moving company to transport the furniture, making certain that when she followed him, everything would be taken care of.
Cameron had always taken care of her, Alex reflected. It was one of the things about him that was so endearing, his concern and thoughtfulness for those he loved, his willingness to solve their problems and protect them. It was one of the things that had made her fall head over heels in love with him, because she'd never experienced it before.
Which was why she still didn't begin to understand the arbitrary, uncharacteristic way he'd acted during the matter of his transfer and their forthcoming move to Korbin Lake.
He was leaving before dawn the following morning, and she wouldn't see him again for two weeks, when her resignation took effect at St. Joe's and she was free to follow him.
Maybe the two weeks apart would be good for them, she mused. Maybe she needed time away from Cam, time to miss him, time to put her feelings into perspective again.
She loved him, that was certain. And she would miss him.
She reached out impulsively and touched his long silky hair, tied back as usual, and he turned his head and planted a kiss in her palm.
His long hair would be gone when she saw him next. Going back into uniform meant he'd have to have a haircut. She'd never seen him with short hair.
So many changes, big and small.
Change frightened her.
KORBIN LAKE BARBER SHOPPE. The red letters were emblazoned across the front window of the small building, and Cam looked past them before he opened the door and went inside, taking in the single chair and the middle-aged barber leisurely snipping away at a customer's hair.
He'd arrived in Korbin Lake the night before, and he had to report for work early tomorrow morning, in uniform. Why the hell hadn't he had his hair cut to the regulation earlobe length before he left Vancouver?
The truth was, he'd put it off as long as possible. There was something symbolic about his haircut. It was a ritual that would visibly mark the end of one phase of his career and the beginning of another.
He sat down on a battered wooden chair and picked up an equally battered copy of Outdoor Life, praying that the barber wouldn't make it necessary for him to wear his regulation cap day and night for the next six weeks.
"Afternoon, sir. Be with you in jiffy." The barber nodded courteously and went back to rubbing something from a large blue bottle on his customer's head. He then meticulously combed and arranged a fringe of long hair across the man's large bald spot, and a few moments later, Cam found himself in the chair.
"I'm Steve. Haven't seen you before. You new in Kor-bin Lake?" One shake of the hairy cape and it was around Cam's shoulders.
Thinking it might prevent reckless abandon with the scissors, Cam explained that he was starting work the following morning at the RCMP detachment.
Steve raised his bushy eyebrows and loosened the leather thong that held back Cam's hair. "Heard they were getting a new boss over there. You're him, huh?"
"Guess so."
"Then I reckon you want this—" Steve made a chopping motion and Cam swallowed hard and nodded.
"Right. I cut all the guys' from the detachment. Short back and sides coming right up." One gigantic snip and a large portion of Cam's past lay at his feet. "You're from the coast, right?" Snip, snip.
Cam, shocked at how unprotected his neck and ears felt, nodded once again, mesmerized by the emerging image of a stranger in the mirror.
"Guess you was one of those undercover cops, huh?" Steve's scissors moved with the speed of light.
Cam conceded that he had been, and Steve responded with a barrage of questions that Cam answered automatically as most of his hair disappeared and an electric trimmer buzzed up his neck.
Twenty minutes after he'd walked in, Cam was once again out on the sidewalk. He felt naked and strangely vulnerable. He thought of Alex, of how she used to bury her hands in his hair and hold him to her when they made love, and a combination of anger and unbearable sadness filled him.
A haircut was a small thing, but to Cam at that moment it seemed to symbolize all the losses he'd experienced over the past month. He hurried down the smalltown street to where he'd parked, feeling totally alone and horribly conspicuous, an unwilling stranger in a very strange land.
That feeling of alienation became even more acute the following morning when, dressed in regulation uniform, he stopped for breakfast at the small cafe where he'd eaten all his meals since arriving in Korbin Lake.
He ordered bacon and eggs, toast and coffee, uncomfortably aware of the attention he attracted from both the proprietor and the other customers. On Drug Squad, anonymity was an important part of the job; in this uniform, he was all too visible, his every move scrutinized, his occupation obvious.
When it came time to pay the bill, it was half what it should have been. "Always a special price for police," the owner insisted when Cam questioned it. Wishing with all his heart that he was just one of the crowd again, Cam put down the money and hurried out.
At the police office, Corporal Ken Barnes, the man Cam was replacing, was already waiting to begin the tedious task of inventory. He introduced Cam to the clerk-steno, Lorna Berringer, and to the constable, Greg Townsend. Both were friendly and welcoming, but it was obvious Ken was in a hurry to turn over command and be on his way; he was going to Kelowna as a shift NCO and wanted to leave that afternoon.
As the morning progressed, Cam became aware that the transition from the drug squad to general duty policing was going to be much tougher than he'd imagined.
The inventory was easy; he signed for every last thing the detachment owned, from cars and desks and computers right down to mops and buckets and pencils. Ken explained that Lorna did the simpler administrative tasks, like preparing the individual expense accounts, but Cam was expected to look after the contingency accounts.
"You'll have about eight hours' reading to do on the files to familiarize yourself with where things are at here," Ken commented. "Coming from Drug Squad, I'd guess it's the operational part of the job that's going to give you the most headaches."
Cam knew it. He'd heard it said often enough that general duty policemen were considered the backbone of law enforcement because of their familiarity with every aspect of policing, and in that department, he was sadly lacking. On Drug Squad, he'd had to be familiar with only two statutes—the Criminal Code of Canada and the Narcotic Control Act. As the noncommissioned office
r in charge of Korbin Lake Detachment, he'd be dealing with everything from the bylaws governing dog control to the statutes covering murder.
Every moment he had to spare for the first few weeks would have to be spent familiarizing himself with the Motor Vehicle Act and the regulations, a formidable task.
At least he had plenty of work to fill in the lonely two weeks until Alex arrived, he thought with a sinking sensation in his gut.
"When we're done here we'll head over to the caf6 so you can meet George Evans, the magistrate," Ken said.
"He's a good man, but he's a stickler on search warrants. Feels a man's home is his castle, so you need really strong grounds before you go to George for one. After that, Greg'll take you out and familiarize you with the town."
As the day progressed, Cam felt more and more overwhelmed with new faces, new places, new systems, and he began to wonder if he'd ever master all of it. He stayed late at the office that night, reading files and familiarizing himself with the computer system, until at last his growling stomach told him it was long past dinnertime.
He went back to the motel and changed into jeans and a sweatshirt before heading into the cafe, but he attracted just as much attention as he would have if he'd stayed in uniform.
They'd made him, he thought with a wry grin. As he ate, he fielded a barrage of questions from other patrons, everything from whether he had children to his opinions on the political situation in British Columbia. He was the new cop, and he was public property.
In the deep of night, unable to sleep, he walked up one quiet street and down another, his brain frantically going over everything he had to do and learn.
One of the most important things was finding a place for him and Alex to live—he was entitled to the housing the RCMP provided, next door to the police office, but Greg Townsend and his wife had been living there for the past year, since the previous officer in charge had been a single man, and Cam wouldn't dream of evicting them. He wanted to find something special for Alex, a house that might make up to her in some small way for the move.
Alex. The very thought of her caused a tightness in his chest, an ache deep inside. He missed her desperately.
He'd called her earlier, but she was getting ready for her first night shift and was obviously in a hurry and distracted, and his day had been so busy he couldn't even sort out what he wanted to tell her when she asked about it.
It hadn't been a satisfactory conversation, but none of their conversations had been since he'd told her about Korbin Lake, he admitted. It seemed to him as if a vital connection had come undone between them that day, like an electrical plug pulled from its socket, and for the life of him, he couldn't connect it again.
It would be better when she got here and things were back to normal for them, he assured himself. He'd stop having nightmares about narrow hallways and men with guns instead of hands. The feeling of deep anxiety that plagued him, the sense of being out of his depth and incompetent would surely have disappeared by the time she arrived.
Two weeks to get through...
The streetlights suddenly switched off and he realized that dawn had come. There were only a few scant hours left until he had to put on his uniform and go to the office and pretend to be the boss.
Alex, I love you. Stay safe and well, my dearest one. And please forgive me for what I've done to you... to us...
He turned and retraced his steps to the motel, wishing with all his heart that Alex was arriving that very day.
CHAPTER SEVEN
"PAVAROTTI, WOULD YOU KINDLY stop that infernal screeching?" Alex scowled at the wailing cat locked in the special carrier on the seat beside her. "We're almost there, I promise you'll be free of that cage soon."
She steered her way down the last long, twisting hill to Korbin Lake, gazing with excitement and curiosity at the mountain valley that would be her new home.
Cameron had already been here two full weeks, and in their daily phone conversations he'd done his best to describe the place, but obviously he'd forgotten to tell her that in spite of the coal mining that was the major industry here, the setting was breathtakingly beautiful.
Below and to the right, snugged against the foot of the majestic Rocky Mountains, the long green lake that gave the town its name shone like an emerald in the mid-July afternoon. The valley that cradled it was wide, bracketed by range after range of craggy mountains, several of whose tops were curiously flat. Their surface was inky black and devoid of evergreens, evidence of the massive strip-mining operations that harvested the valley's rich caches of coal.
The highway wound sharply down in a series of hairpin curves, and as she reached the bottom, Alex lost sight of the lake. The valley floor was rich with evergreens and poplars, and the town was actually some distance away from the water. She tapped the brakes, slowing the car to the fifty kilometers the large wooden sign demanded.
Korbin Lake, population 2,640, it proclaimed. Home of Silver Mountain Mines. Alex slowed to a crawl, trying to get an impression of the town which would be her home for the next few years at least. It seemed to doze, drugged by the afternoon heat. Storefronts flickered past the car like images on a silent movie screen. The people she passed moved at a leisurely pace, unlike the frenzied bustle of pedestrians on the city streets she was used to.
She drove past the Shady 'View Motel and Trailer Park, Tastee-Freez, The Laundry Mat, Korbin Mercantile, Ella's Beauty Salon, Marvin's Hardware and Home Supply, Edna's Tea Shoppe and Bakery, then slowed at the first set of lights. There were only two in the entire town, Cam had explained. She turned right as he'd instructed. The RCMP office was halfway down the street on the right, a neat redbrick building, half office, half living quarters, fronted by a green lawn and a sidewalk bordered by red and yellow flowers. A flagpole sprouted from the middle of the lawn, and the red-and-white Canadian flag hung limp in the airless heat.
Alex pulled to the curb behind a white police car marked with the RCMP crest. She opened the door, and the blast of dry, hot air after the air-conditioned coolness almost choked her.
Her body felt stiff and sore after the long drive—it had taken her two days, fourteen hours in all—and she took a moment to try to straighten her wrinkled khaki shorts and tuck in her red V-necked T-shirt. She stretched to get the kinks out of her arms and legs, wondering with a feeling of glad anticipation whether Cameron was inside, whether he'd seen her drive up and would come hurrying out to greet her at any moment.
Inside the car Pavarotti's yowling redoubled in volume. She grumbled at him under her breath and rolled the windows down so the cat would have fresh air. Then she closed the car door with a bang, disappointed that there was no sign of Cameron. She made her way up the sidewalk and into the office, feeling a little shy and awkward.
"Can I help you?" The pretty, dark-haired woman behind the desk was probably in her early forties, although her flowing hairstyle and dramatic makeup belied it. She wore a narrow flowered skirt and a tight-fitting top with a see-through red shirt over it. She was just overweight enough to be sensual, and with her scarlet lipstick and long matching nails, Alex thought she looked as if she should be serving drinks in the Tiki Lounge instead of working in a police office.
"I'm Alex Ross. My husband's-"
"Sergeant Ross, of course." The woman grinned and stuck out a soft, beringed hand. "Hey, glad you made it. We've all been waiting for you to arrive. I'm Lorna Ber-ringer."
Words tumbled out of her like nickels from a slot machine. "The sergeant said you'd be arriving this afternoon. I'll just give him a call and tell him you got here safely. He was in the office till about fifteen minutes ago, and then Greg came and picked him up. Wouldn't you know you'd arrive just when he stepped out for a minute?" She moved to the switchboard, hips gyrating like pistons, but her voice was all business as she spoke into the mike.
"Korbin Lake, 85."
Alex heard Cam's distinctive voice respond almost instantly. "85."
"Your wife's arrived, Sergeant."
"85 copy. Tell her to sit tight. My ETA's fifteen minutes."
"You catch that, Mrs. Ross? Or should I call you Doctor?"
"I heard, and please just call me Alex."
"Sure thing. You want some coffee? Or I've got some iced tea in the fridge back here. It's more refreshing on a day like this. Hot as Hades, eh?"
"Tea sounds great." Alex could already feel sweat trickling down her back. The office wasn't air-conditioned, and the single forlorn fan on a desk in the corner just wasn't doing the job.
"You can sit in the lunchroom and wait if you want. It's cooler than out front." Lorna opened a partition in the counter and let Alex through, then led the way into the back of the building to a room with a table and chairs, a microwave and fridge. There was a door that opened to a wide expanse of lawn, where a very heavy young woman in a loose blue dress was hanging baby clothing on a clothesline.
Lorna went to the door and called to her. "Hey, Nancy, come and meet the sergeant's wife."
Alex smiled and held out her hand when Nancy came in the door. The other woman was probably in her mid-thirties, and her smile was warm and welcoming, if a little bashful.
"Hi, I'm Alex."
"Nancy Townsend. My husband's Greg. Whew, it's boiling out there." Her face was flushed and she used a tissue to blot her forehead and neck, adding in a sincere tone, "It's really kind of you and Sergeant Ross to let Greg and I keep the h'ving quarters. I love the house—it's big and cool and it was all freshly painted just before we moved in. They even let me choose the colors. Thanks ever so much for letting us stay."
Cam had explained that he'd rented a house somewhere out of town instead, he'd told her, a house Alex was eager to see. They'd never had a whole house before. "You're more than welcome." Alex wanted to add that it wasn't generosity at all. Having to live next to the police office day and night seemed more of a penalty than an advantage to her, although it was evident Nancy didn't feel that way at all.
