I trusted what I saw through my camera. Edgar believed what he saw when his eyes were closed, and sometimes our visions were not that far apart. That’s as deep as I wanted to go on the subject.
Lars stopped to refill coffees. “Henry, how are things going at the Dreamcatcher?”
Henry had an MBA and was both tribal chairman and casino business manager. His eyes disappeared behind his cheeks when something amused him, and that was often. “The bad weather this summer has been good for business. In fact, I’d better take Edgar home and get back to work.”
I rose from my seat. “Time for me to go home, too.” Edgar’s claw-like hand clamped over my wrist. “Be careful. Trouble is seeking you from more than one direction.”
A chill snaked up my spine. “I’ll be careful.” Little had gone to the kitchen when Edgar tossed that one at me or he would have had an instant panic attack on my behalf.
Once again, Edgar had spooked me. I kept glancing into the woods on the drive home.
Chapter 9
Ben’s green Forest Service truck was in my driveway. He waved to me from the dock when I pulled in. I jumped out of my SUV, raced across the wooden slats and threw myself at him, almost knocking us both into the lake. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d be here?”
The corners of his eyes crinkled. “I wanted to surprise you.”
I couldn’t take my eyes off him—wide-shouldered, short brown hair, lean, taller than me, hawk nose and eyes that slanted down at the outside, a fan of fine lines around them. “You look great, Ben.”
He held me close and whispered into my ear. “It’s been a long three months.” I put my arms around his neck for a real welcome home kiss.
Our arms circling each other’s waists, I led him across the porch and opened the sliding door to my bedroom. We made love to the sound of gentle rain and waves lapping against the shore, making up for the months apart.
Later, still wrapped together in bed, he stroked my hair and I burrowed into his side. We talked about going out for dinner but weren’t ready to untangle. We were so relaxed and happy when we were horizontal but often clashed in our vertical lives. It was my fault. I’d left him twice, once for twelve years and again last year when I’d briefly gone back to my philandering ex-husband.
Still, cozy as we were, something was on his mind. He’d always drawn inside himself when upset. Ben wasn’t talkative as a rule, unless it was about the latest technology gadget that helped catch bad guys. Then you couldn’t shut him up. He hated that too much of his time as a forest ranger was spent going after the two-legged animals, when all he really wanted to do was take care of the creatures and natural habitat of the forests. But he did like the gadgets.
This was a different quiet. Curled against him, loving his warm, bare skin touching mine, breathing in his woodsy male scent, I said, “You’ve started to say something twice now and then stopped. What is it?”
He disengaged from my web of limbs and hair. “Are you spending so much time with Edgar you’re taking on his skills?”
“Today was the first time I’ve seen Edgar since I got back. He warned me about being careful, but he always warns me about that. Don’t change the subject, what’s wrong?”
His thumb traced a strand of hair falling across my eye. His hazel eyes, warm with love only moments ago, now were almost black, unreadable. “I want to be here now to protect you and the guys and work with Wilcox to find out who’s doing this.”
A huge weight lifted. “That’s what I want too. I’m so glad you’re back.” I’d spent my entire career in precarious situations with no Ben and managed to handle it so far, but this thing with Charley unnerved me.
He left the bed and stood facing Spirit Lake. “I want to be here, but there’s been a breakthrough on that border trafficking ring, and they need me back in the Boundary Waters.”
I went to him, my fingers trailed down his chest and almost holding my breath, said, “It will never be finished, will it?”
He caught my hand in his and brought it to his lips. “It’s an impossible task. It would take armies of rangers, police, FBI and ICE to stop them. All we can do is slow them down.” His jaw tightened. “But we’re close to containing this one cell.”
I went into the bathroom and turned on the shower, dreading the lonely summer ahead. “When do you have to leave?”
He followed with a heavy sigh. “They expect me tomorrow.” We undressed and stepped in, holding each other as the water streamed over us. I wanted to throw a tantrum or at least whine, but since I left him three months ago to begin a new contract for the L.A. Times, I swallowed it. It was hard for him too and I didn’t want to make it worse.
Ben soaped my hair and massaged my back and I groaned in pleasure. We made sudsy love, only this time as if outside forces were tearing us apart and this was our last chance together.
We went to Little’s for a late dinner. Little, Lars and Ben chatted about subjects unfamiliar to me due to the gap in years when I’d been away from Spirit Lake. It made me regret what I’d missed.
Ben had a beer and I sipped tea as the guys closed up. He urged me to stay at his place in Branson until Wilcox caught the killer. “This guy is sick. You live by yourself in the woods. Think about it.”
“Nobody has threatened me. I want to help keep an eye on Little and Lars, and your home is too far away.” He bit off his response and we didn’t talk about it anymore.
After the restaurant closed, the four of us went to their apartment in back. Lars and Little sat across from Ben and me on the sofa.
We talked about Charley. Little said, “He never got close enough to anyone to be actual friends, other than our dad.”
Ben nodded. “I remember rhododendron plants showing up on Aunt Gert’s step in the summer. I think she stopped in to see him once in a while.”
The guys were exhausted from the harrowing morning and long, busy day. We said goodbye, making sick jokes about what they might find next in the restaurant. Laughing about it helped keep the fear at bay.
They said goodbye to Ben. “We wish you didn’t need to leave right away.”
His face clouded. “Me too. Take care of yourselves.”
When we were outside, I bee-lined for Jerry’s car, stationed at the front of the café. “Hey, Jerry, can I get your cell number?”
Jerry said, “That was Riley who messed up last night. He’s on desk duty now. You don’t need to call if that’s what you’re thinking. Wilcox will end my career if I let anything happen on my watch.”
He gave me his number anyway. “You should have it in case.”
Ben’s arm settled on my shoulder. “Let’s go home. I wouldn’t be surprised if Wilcox calls him every hour.”
At the cabin, I brought in Rock and Knute and locked the door. Ben and I talked for a long time. He’d been my best friend when we were kids and sharing everything with him now came naturally. Our romance was a fairly new development and we were still finding our way.
With his arms wrapped around me, I slept, almost at peace. Car lights flashed across the cabin several times during the night, waking me each time. A peek out the window reassured me that Eddy was on duty. Earlier, he’d said, “Don’t you worry about anything, Britt. I got you covered.”
***
Sunlight slanted across the bed, waking me. I squeezed my eyes shut against the glare and stretched like a cat, still tingling from the night with Ben. How had I lived for so many years without him, and how was I going to manage our long distance romance in the future? I tried to keep from thinking about how cold and barren my bed, and life, would be again.
I reached for him but touched only twisted sheets. My eyes fully opened. Had he left already? In a moment, the aroma of brewing coffee reached my nostrils. Kitchen sounds reassured me.
I needed to hear Little’s voice and picked up my phone to tap in the café’s number. From the pans clanking and the whir of his industrial mixer, I could tell he was already in the restaurant. My shoulders lowe
red in relief. “How’d it go last night?”
“I got up early to fix Jerry breakfast before he signed off. He said nothing happened except for Wilcox’s voice on his phone every couple of hours.”
“Ben said he’d do that.” I laughed, thankful that nothing had happened during the night, although a voice in the back of my mind warned that the killer would wait until the authorities relaxed their vigilance then strike again, and it wouldn’t be when anyone was watching.
“Wilcox has a guy coming to babysit us inside the restaurant. Enjoy your time with Ben. I gotta go, I need both hands.”
Little’s calm attitude helped, and his advice about enjoying what little time I had left with Ben sounded like a good idea. I pulled on a t-shirt and tiptoed into the kitchen. He stood at the sink, his back to me. I slipped up behind him and kissed his neck, but instead of taking the hint, he turned away to pour a cup of coffee for me.
I said, “Your mind must be on something other than last night.”
He handed me the cup, his jaw set. “I’m going up to the Boundary Waters this morning to turn the case over to another investigator. I’ll be gone two days max. I’m not leaving Spirit Lake with a murderer after Little and Lars, and I can’t be worrying that you’ll be in the middle of it.”
My mouth dropped open. I wanted him to stay but the trafficking case was his project. He’d been lead on it for more than six months, eating, sleeping and chasing down every thread. They’d cut off the tentacles and most of the Hydra heads but there were still a few left and this was supposed to be the final push to stop this cell. Without this final blow, the organization would build itself back up and soon be running at full throttle again, all that time and effort a waste.
“There’s no way to get someone else up to speed in time.” I couldn’t believe my own words. “It’s your project. You have to see it through.”
“I’m not going.”
I was familiar with the look, head lowered like a bull, subject closed. This time I used my brain before my mouth. “You’re always telling me Wilcox is as good as they come. He’s got a task force working on this. The Minnesota Bureau of Criminal Apprehension might get involved if they decide it’s a hate crime.”
“The BCA investigator is working with us in the Boundary Waters. Their teams are spread pretty thin now, too.”
That wasn’t surprising news since the BCA covered the entire state. “Well then, the FBI. Just do your own job, you shouldn’t have to do the sheriff’s.”
His head snapped around to look me full in the face. “That’s funny coming from you, the crusader who has to take charge of everything, including Wilcox’s job.”
He had me there. “Please, Ben, I promise I won’t do anything but wait for Wilcox to handle things. You know you need to go.”
I eventually convinced him to leave, but asked a favor before he went. “Wilcox won’t tell me what leads he’s working on. Someone left a business card at Charley’s two days before I found him dead and he’d gotten calls from that same person. Do you know anything about that?”
“We’ve talked. He’s checking out someone who was trying to buy Charley’s place. So far there’s nothing suspicious.”
“Do you have a name?”
He kissed me. “Morris Bolger, but if Wilcox gets anything, he’ll deal with it.”
I moved away from him. “You must know more than that.”
He set his cup in the sink. “There are allegations in St. Louis of strong-arm behavior, but so far he’s avoided any criminal charges. His attorney contacted Charley a number of times and Bolger’s been to Charley’s house. But they haven’t been able to put him together with the hate stuff.”
“What else? The sheriff must have other leads, since he’s not that interested in the Willards.”
“He’s been to the resort interviewing the people in that writers’ group.”
That caught my attention. “Why them?”
“They hang out at Little’s a lot. It’s just routine.”
“What are their stories?”
“I’ve only met Vik Baaker, the workshop leader. He’s a prof from Northwestern. Older guy, staying at the big cabin with the two students from his class, a kid from India and a young woman from Illinois. Vik says they usually have about ten to twelve, but half of them canceled this year because of the bad weather.”
“What about that tall woman?”
“Anke Schmidt. She’s from Germany.” He rolled his eyes. “Patty says she smokes in the cabin. That’s not allowed.”
I said, “I think Peder stays on my side of the lake. I don’t know where the fisherman is staying. He’s a creep but he and Lars are friendly.”
“Neil stays at his friend’s cabin on the north shore. Wilcox is watching him. He has anger issues and his ex-wife’s got a restraining order on him in Duluth.”
Pushing it, I asked, “Did Wilcox come up with any evidence from his interviews with them?”
“It’s been hard for Wilcox to pin down alibis because Vik doesn’t schedule regular sessions. They come and go. He says he likes to keep it ‘loose and creative.’ Now, no more questions.”
He left within an hour. To watch him go even though I sent him away left me miserable. I’d done the right thing, although seeing Ben was my most important reason for coming back to Spirit Lake. I’d missed him so much. Of course, Little and Lars, Rock and my friends meant a lot to me, but it was Ben I ached for all those months. The summer was going much too fast. He had to come back before I left for South Sudan.
I sat on the porch swing and wallowed. Knute made his arthritic way up the few steps and put his white muzzle on my knee, taking my mind off Ben. It was time to find out what an old bachelor and the guys had in common other than that the old man might have been gay.
Lars answered this time when I called the restaurant. “Has Wilcox’s inside guy shown up yet?”
“The sheriff said he’s finishing up another job and will be here tomorrow.”
Someone should be watching them today. I dressed, secured the windows and was out the door in ten minutes. I locked the front door and then stared at the key in the palm of my hand. Did I really expect a thumb-sized piece of metal to protect my cabin?
Rock jumped into the SUV and I boosted Knute in behind him. “Let’s go keep an eye on the guys.”
A slice of sunshine peeked through the café windows—customers lifted their heads like flowers bending toward the light. Lars was in the bistro, setting up the waiters’ station with water pitchers, glasses and menus. I came up behind him. “Let me do that, Lars.”
He hesitated, waiting for the catch. Okay, maybe I hadn’t readily offered in the past. He cringed at the umbrellas above the tables. “I don’t even want to be out here.”
“Why open it?”
His head tilted toward the kitchen. “Little insists and the customers love it. They don’t know what happened. Some of the townspeople saw the police over here but assumed it was kids vandalizing, nothing serious.”
I stuck my hands in my jeans pockets. “I’m planning to hang around so anything I can do to help, let me know.”
Lars still looked at me like I was an alien but handed me an apron with long strings. “You could bus tables and refill beverages, but try to stay out of the staff’s way.”
He wasn’t being rude, the people who worked at Little’s zipped around at warp speed. He pointed at my head. “You’d better borrow a hair band from Chloe to tie that back. You know how Little feels about loose hair.”
This wasn’t the time to argue. I pulled it into a single braid and wound a rubber band around it. Hair dutifully subdued, I grabbed a bin and started clearing empty tables. I knew how the process worked and handled tasks that brought me close to each customer.
I checked out everyone who entered, looking for someone suspicious, or maybe one of the Willards’ crew. Even without the worry over Little and Lars, due to years as a photojournalist, I generally looked at people with distrust. Most of th
em were in the news for a reason—bad behavior.
Lars sidled up after an hour. “Smile at the customers. Your hard stares are scaring them.”
I nodded with no intention of letting up on my surveillance, but the next few hours of filling water, tea and coffee, fetching doggy bags, answering questions and setting tables made me lose concentration. I’d even graduated to schlepping plates of food. Little didn’t tolerate customers getting cold food.
Edgar’s cleansing ceremony must have worked. Groups of families drank their sodas and iced teas outside in the sunshine. Moms spooned ice cream into the open mouths of toddlers. At another table, three ladies were having an animated conversation. The writers’ group showed up mid-afternoon and sat at their usual table. Neil followed Lars around complimenting him and trying to talk about fishing. Ben’s admission that Wilcox checked them out made me feel better about the sheriff. Just because he didn’t share his investigation with me didn’t mean he wasn’t moving forward.
For a moment, I almost believed whatever evil had blown into Spirit Lake had blown back out.
My brother didn’t surface until four in the afternoon when he plunked down beside me at the counter. I had slipped out of my gym shoes and was resting my aching feet.
“I’ve been watching you. Want a job? Of course, we’ll have to give you a few more pointers on being pleasant to the customers, but you have the work down. I could use more like you.”
That was a huge compliment coming from him. Lars dropped onto the seat next to Little. I asked, “Where’s your shadow?”
Lars grinned. “Neil’s going to use what I’ve told him about my best fishing spots in his book.” He looked wistful. “I haven’t been on the lake in a long time.”
Little stretched and headed to the kitchen. “Time to prep for dinner.” Lars raised an eyebrow at me. “You staying for the dinner shift or have we worn you out?”
“I’m staying.”
“Why don’t you take off for a while? We’re fine.”
I unwrapped myself from the apron. “The dogs could use some exercise.”
Close Up on Murder Page 8
