Blue Wolf In Green Fire (3 page)

3

Nantz had awakened him before daylight, her soft lips trailing butterfly kisses across his chest. After a long embrace, flesh against flesh, Maridly had straddled him the way she liked, holding her hands gently against the sides of his head, making love to him slowly, relishing the sensations and the buildup, lingering with each movement, sliding downward almost lazily, and when they came together she lay her head next to his ear and whispered, “I love you Grady. Just you, in all ways, always.”

Later they had gotten into the shower together and she was as relaxed as he had seen her in the almost three weeks since September 11.

In the shower she held him tight as water cascaded over them. “You are a great fuck, Service. For an old guy.” She punctuated the punch line by tickling him. He retaliated until she squealed for mercy, and they ended up outside the shower with Nantz sitting on the counter, her legs wrapped around him, raptly watching them in the mirror.

“I thought it was men who're visually stimulated,” he said as they moved together.

“I'm New Woman,” she said, her breath coming in bursts. “And I am
close
. You there?” she asked, her words clipped. “Grady,
there?
”

“When you are,” he said, keeping cadence with her hips.

“Yep,” she said. “Yes, there she is, there she is . . . God!”

All the while Newf was scratching on the bathroom door trying to tell them to hurry up, that she had her own needs to tend to.

After they had finished Nantz began to run water in the tub. “I'm gonna take a long soak, hon. I hear they don't give you time for real baths at the academy.”

They both laughed.

Tomorrow Nantz would depart for downstate to attend the nine-month DNR Law Enforcement Academy in Tustin, a town south of Cadillac. By next spring she would be in her probationary year as a new CO. They had been living together since July, and Service had enjoyed their routine and closeness. Now they would be apart for much of the coming twenty-one months.

Maridly had a good idea of what lay ahead. She had talked at length with Kate Nordquist, who had graduated from the academy the previous spring and was now field-training with Eddie Moody, the CO in Manistique. Moody had a nose for finding illegally killed animals and was known in the force as Gutpile. He was an immense officer who could charm people one moment and petrify them with fear an instant later. Nearing forty, Gutpile still attacked his job like a new officer. Kate Nordquist, twenty-three, told Nantz that he was “way cool.”

Nordquist had been to the house in Gladstone several times, and she and Nantz had become friends. The new CO was tall and lean, an attractive woman with a good mind and a model's face, an attribute that could work for or against her, depending on circumstances. Gutpile told Service that Nordquist was “solid,” high praise coming from him.

“Kate says the school's tough,” Nantz said as she tested the water with her toe and slid into the tub. “They make you stand at attention and spray Mace in your face.”

Service had heard. The DNR Law Enforcement Academy had been created three years before under their state training officer Captain Chamberlin, who looked faintly like a sleeping owl but was a raptor in his work; he was called Blood Hawk behind his back. Chamberlin was a longtimer who had made it clear to all who would listen that he intended to make the academy far more demanding than Troop School—the vaunted Michigan State Police Academy. The DNR academy would be longer and tougher.

In Service's day new recruits could graduate from any police academy program where they learned basic law enforcement, then join the DNR for specialized fish and game training. Blood Hawk had put together a program that combined basic police work with fish and game law enforcement, and so far it seemed as tough as advertised. The idea was to put new officers into the field with a much stronger preparation for the job and to test them early and often in order to weed out those who didn't belong. Service and Gus Turnage had been asked to serve as instructors for the tracking module. And Service would also teach the search and rescue section—if his new job would allow it, and if his suspension had not turned Chamberlin off to him. Chamberlin was fanatical about appearances.

He had heard about the Mace-in-the-face drill and wasn't happy that Maridly would have no choice in undergoing this. In his Troop School class it had been strictly voluntary; not undergoing it had not been held against trainees.

But he felt like he knew Nantz well, and he knew she could handle it. He had seen her in action as a fire officer. Despite all the wealth inherited from her late father, she had shown an incredible devotion to the resource and her work.

But Blood Hawk had a different notion of how the world was, and Nantz would have to endure it.

“Did you get Maced at Troop School?”

He nodded.

“Was it awful?”

“Yah.”

“If you can do it, I can do it,” she said.

While Maridly lolled in the tub he took Newf downstairs and let her out, made Nantz's favorite almond-flavored coffee, and started the batter for lemon-raspberry muffins.

There would be no work today. He had one mission and that was to heap his attention on Maridly and help her to pack. She would depart tomorrow after lunch and drive to Cadillac, where she and several other recruits would spend the night at Jerry Openlander's Cast-and-Blast Inn. Jerry was a longtime officer who had retired with a medical disability after a nasty snowmobile crash near Mesick. He had moved smoothly from law enforcement officer to hotelier and his business seemed to be working out. Monday morning all recruits were to report to Tustin to begin their ordeal.

This would be their last full day and night together, perhaps for months, and Service planned to shower Nantz with affection, good food, and good wine. Only sex took priority over food in Maridly's scheme of life. She would say, “Great sex, great food, and humor make for great love, and a couple with great love and challenging work make for a great life.” She never talked about children or motherhood, which he found curious, but he didn't press her on it. They had not discussed marriage, and if this was how she wanted it, then he did too. She was thirty-two and he was nearly fifty, an eighteen-year difference. He wondered if there would soon come a time when she began to feel her biological clock running out.

He set the oven to 425 degrees, took frozen raspberries out of the freezer, dumped them in a bowl, and strained away the syrup. After dolloping the muffin mixture into a pan, he slid it into the oven, set the timer for nineteen minutes, poured a cup of coffee, and started preparing the crabmeat egg casserole. When the buzzer sounded, he took the muffins out, reset the oven temperature, and put the casserole in.

By the time Nantz came into the kitchen wearing only underpants, Newf was back in the house and Cat was bumping against his legs to irritate him. Nantz nuzzled his shoulder and sat down.

Nantz seldom wore clothes around the house. “You're almost fully clothed,” he said teasingly.

“Practicing for the academy,” she said with a smirk.

It still wasn't clear to him why she wanted to be a CO, only that she seemed determined, and in their three months as a couple he had learned that when she set her mind on something, she would not be swayed. Earlier in the week he had asked her how she wanted to spend her last day of freedom and she had said, “Eating like a pig and fucking like a nympho.”

“Nymphomaniacs can't get off,” he said.

“Okay, so I'll be a pseudonympho,” she shot back.

She sat in the chair nursing her coffee and sniffing the air like an animal.

“It smells so good in here!” He had never met a woman so attuned to scents and aromas.

When the two-quart casserole was ready, he removed it from the oven and let it stand five minutes before scooping out wedges.

“Oh God,” she said with her mouth full. “You think they'll have food like this at the academy?”

He laughed. “Overcooked meat, soupy taters, frozen veggies, and semifresh fruit.”

“Savages,” she said. “I guess I can lower my standards.”

They ate in silence for a while. “You and Gus will be teaching, right?”

“I hope,” he said. She eyed him curiously. “The suspension sort of tarnishes me. Cap'n Chamberlin may decide he doesn't want all you academy virgins soiled by my presence.”

“Well, the captain better not mess up my plans,” she said. “I'm going to be first in my class to fuck an instructor,” she added with a leer.

“I don't know if that will be possible.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don't you worry, Detective.
I'll
handle the logistics.”

He opened a bottle of 1971 Cuvée Dom Perignon and filled two flutes. He put small shot glasses of orange juice beside them.

“Bubbly for breakie. My favorite.” She held the bottle in front of her and studied the label. “You must've dipped deep into your piggy bank,” she said approvingly.

He grinned.

Her tone turned serious. “You know champers makes me horny.”

Now he rolled his eyes and grinned. “You are terminally horny.”

Lifting her glass for a toast, she said, “To us.”

“To you,” he said, their glasses clinking a delicate musical note. “You'll do great downstate, Mar.”

She closed her eyes when she sipped the champagne. “Definitely the good stuff.”

Nantz ate like she was starved.

At one point she suddenly put her fork on her plate and looked at him. “Grady, I have something very important to ask you.”

He put down his fork and looked at her. He had no idea what was coming. With Maridly, it could be anything.

“When I'm on my deathbed, will you pull the plug for me?”

“You'll outlive me,” he said, grimacing.

“I'm serious, Grady. Will you pull the plug or won't you?”

“If that's what you want.”

“Right answer. Next question, will you fuck me in the hospital bed before you pull the plug?”

He started laughing and couldn't stop.

They skipped lunch and loaded her truck with her gear and clothes. As always, she was organized in every way; his only job was to mule her gear down to the truck and store it under the cap.

It was a warm afternoon for fall, in the upper fifties, and they took his truck to the Mosquito Wilderness, parked, and walked down to the Mosquito River. Brook trout were wearing their spawning orange and were gathered on the gravel runs, the females in front of several males that jockeyed and pushed each other around, trying to be first to spew milt on the eggs.

“Gawd,” she whispered. “There's sex everywhere we turn!”

He spread his jacket on the grassy bank and they sat together to drink in the sounds and smells of the forest. “I'll miss this place,” she said.

On their way back out of the tract three hours later, they found Candace McCants parked behind his truck, sitting in her state vehicle. McCants was in her fifth year as a CO. She was Korean-born, a muscular five-six, afraid of nothing, and had inordinate common sense. Unlike other young officers she wasn't a health freak. They found her puffing on a cigarette.

“Hi Candi,” Nantz greeted her.

“Hey,” McCants said with a sly grin and a stare at Service. “Afraid I'm not taking care of the Mosquito?”

Nantz intervened. “I leave for the academy tomorrow,” she said. “Not that it's the state's business, but if you insist on being nosy, we were fornicating like animals beside the river. He does it really good,” she added.

McCants coughed, grinned, and shook her head. “You two are made for each other.”

Service turned red.

Nantz laughed. “Philosophically and physiologically, I can assure you that everything fits.”

Service felt his blush deepen. Both of the women saw his embarrassment and began to laugh together at his discomfort, the sisterhood at work.

“Why'd you tell her that?” he said when they were in the truck.

“We did it in my mind,” she said. “Doesn't that count?”

Nantz pottered outside the house while Service made dinner. He had put a lot of thought into the meal and began preparations while Newf followed Nantz around outside. Through the kitchen window he watched Maridly throwing sticks, which Newf retrieved, barking for more. Cat sat on the porch looking disgusted at the dog's suck-up behaviors. Things seemed so perfect at the moment that Service began to wonder if it would last. It never had for him. Maybe life was not meant to be perfect. He certainly didn't deserve Maridly Nantz, but now that they'd found each other, he wasn't going to let her go.

The challenge of a big meal was similar to an investigation. You had to bring several things along on parallel tracks so that they all finished at the same time. He baked a mushroom and Stilton galette, which he would reheat before serving, then made a harvest fruit salad, and started on an oven-braised venison ragout. Once the prelims were done, it would be in the stewpot in the oven for ninety minutes.