Cry in the Night (10 page)

“I know, I know. I’ll tell her soon.”

Yeah right. How many times had he told her that? For six long months, ever since Wes first told her he loved her, he’d been saying he’d break it off with Maura. Tears burned Lauri’s eyes, but she wasn’t going to let him see. She wanted to believe him, but it was getting harder and harder every day.

“I don’t want to force you into doing something you don’t want to do.”

He pressed his lips against her hair. “It’s not that. I want to be with you, but I have to choose the right time. If I do this wrong, Dad will cut me off, and how will I even support you? I’d like to start my own outfitters but it takes money—preferably Dad’s.”

At first she’d had cozy visions of setting up a small house with Wes with the two of them always together. But he was a man’s man. Into sports, hunting, fishing. He was happiest when he was in the wilderness. How could she even ask him to change his life so drastically by settling down with her?

She’d messed up her life so badly. Ever since her parents died, she’d made one mistake after another. Wes was the best thing that had ever happened to her, and she didn’t want to ruin this relationship too. Her dream of a new car vanished. She’d start giving money to Wes. Eventually it would be enough for him to break free from his father. He could buy the equipment for his outfitting business and make a name for himself. She wouldn’t be under her brother’s eagle eye anymore and could have a real life with Wes.

The thought of Kade made her wonder if she could talk her brother into a loan.

Watching Wes, she knew he’d had no intention of breaking away from his dad or Maura without another plan in place. Wes was a pragmatist. He’d always known where he wanted to go. There had to be a way to accomplish their dreams.

She thought of Zoe, her daughter. Mason and Hilary adored that little girl. Every time Lauri saw her—and she tried to make sure it didn’t happen often because it hurt too much—she knew she’d done the right thing to give Zoe up for adoption, but the sacrifice had made her long for a family of her own. A good man, another baby—one she could keep this time. But first Wes had to break it off with his fiancée and make their relationship a priority.

It would be up to her to figure out a way to make her dreams happen.

Her cell phone chirped in her purse, and she turned away from Wes’s pleading face to dig it out. The generic ringtone told her it was someone who didn’t know her, but she glanced at the screen anyway. Her boss’s cell phone number flashed across the screen.

“Hello, Mrs. Saunders.” She turned her back to Wes’s questioning expression.

“How—how did the meeting go?” Mrs. Saunders asked. “I wanted to catch you before class.”

“What meeting do you mean?” Lauri tried to think if she’d forgotten a meeting for today.

“The delivery you made for me.”

“Fine. I did what you asked.”

“Did he say anything?”

“No. He just took the briefcase.”

“Strange. He still hasn’t . . .”

Lauri wasn’t following any of this. “Hasn’t what?”

“Never mind. I’ll have to wait. I must call Mike.” The phone went dead.

Lauri hung up. “That woman has been so weird,” she said.

Wes reared away from the sofa. “Who was that?”

“My boss.” She told him about the errand she had run and what Mrs. Saunders had said.

Wes pulled at his chin. “You think she’s running drugs or something?”

Lauri shook her head. “Not Mrs. Saunders. But she’s been really upset since I met her yesterday. I don’t know what it’s all about.”

“What’s her husband do?”

“I don’t know. I never asked.”

He flipped open his laptop and called up the browser. Lauri watched him type in the name. She leaned closer when the results came up. “Her husband is Mike Saunders. He owns Kitchigami Mining Corporation.” She vaguely remembered hearing of it.

“I wonder if the briefcase had something to do with him. Maybe he’s about to go bankrupt or something.”

“That doesn’t explain what I delivered.”

“Maybe it was a payoff or a kickback to let him open a new mine somewhere.”

“You’ve got a wild imagination.” She shrugged, her interest waning. “I think I’ll heat up some beef pasties for lunch.” She leaned into his embrace. He smelled of wood chips and snow. And he was hers.

“Sounds great. Don’t forget the ketchup.”

“I won’t. You want anything else?”

“A Dr Pepper. I have to be at Mom’s in fifteen minutes so better hurry.”

“What? I’ve got two hours before class.”

“She needed me to help Dad move the living-room furniture around. She’s got a euchre club meeting tomorrow.”

Why did his mother’s stupid meeting come before her? Lauri stormed off to the kitchen. Maybe it would always be this way. Ever since she’d met Wes, it seemed he put his family and everyone else first. She should insist on meeting his family. They were going to have to know about her sooner or later. If she left Wes to his own devices, she’d be eighty before he married her.

8

THE CHILDREN’ S PROTECTIVE SERVICES EMPLOYEE HAD already come and gone this afternoon. With the baby sleeping in the carrier by her feet and Davy playing beside them both with a fire truck, Bree launched the Web browser on the computer and typed in another search for missing babies in the UP, Michigan, or Wisconsin. No new Amber alerts had been posted since she’d first searched over the weekend, only the ones she knew about for the reservation babies. She clicked to the next page and found an article about a woman who had been stolen from a reservation and was being reunited with her birth parents. Old news.

“Nothing,” she told Samson, who stood guard over the baby. Her gaze lingered on the infant’s face. “Who are you, little girl?” she asked softly.

The doorbell pealed out its Elvis tune, and she rose to answer it. She left the baby sleeping, but Samson padded after her. “Come with me,” she told Davy.

He made a face. “Aw, Mom. No one is going to grab me in the hallway. Besides, I need to look after her.”

They were on the second floor of the lighthouse, and the doors were locked. “Okay,” she said, touching his hair. “Take good care of the baby.” She jogged down the steps as the doorbell song restarted. “Coming,” she called.

Through the window in the door, she saw a woman standing on the porch. Blonde, about twenty-five, maybe a little older. Beautiful bone structure and dressed in a stylish coat with a red beret perched on her head. Even from here, the outerwear looked expensive.

Bree pulled the door open. “Can I help you?”

The woman clasped her hands together and focused tear-filled blue eyes on her. “I’m Victor Pelton’s sister, Jenna. I’m here to try to clear him, and I’d heard you were a friend of his. I need your help.”

“I was sorry to hear about Victor. Come in.” Bree stepped back to allow the woman to enter.

“I don’t suppose I could use your bathroom?”

“Sure.” Bree shut the door and locked it. “It’s this way.”

The woman’s high-heeled leather boots clicked across the oak floor, but she stopped when Samson nosed at her hand and whined. “Gorgeous dog,” she said, rubbing his ears.

“His name is Samson. He’s a search dog.”

“I’ve heard of him.”

Bree showed her to the powder room, then checked on Davy and the baby before going back to the hall to wait on Jenna. The woman was very different from her brother. She’d be more at home in New York than a small town in the UP.

The powder-room door opened. Jenna had removed her hat and coat, and her blonde hair curled around her shoulders. She wore impeccably pressed gray trousers and a pink blouse under a tailored jacket. “Thanks for seeing me. I just got to town.”

Jenna followed Bree into the living room, where flames leaped in the fireplace. Samson followed close on Bree’s heels. “Sit down,” Bree said, indicating the chair by the fire.

“The fire is lovely.” She sniffed. “Your candle smells wonderful.” Jenna sank into the chair and crossed her legs.

“How can I help you?” Bree asked.

“Did you see anything that might help me clear my brother?” Jenna asked.

Bree hated to disillusion the woman. “I’m afraid not. I actually saw him with the bloody shovel in his hand.”

“He probably found it and picked it up,” Jenna said.

“I thought it likely.”

Bree noticed her staring at the pictures. “That’s Davy, my son.”

“Cute kid.” Jenna turned away.

Bree heard a faint cry. “Just a moment.” She ran up the stairs. Davy was talking to the infant, showing her the pieces of his puzzle. The baby’s blue eyes stayed fastened on his face. Smiling, Bree lifted the baby from the carrier. Glancing at her watch, she saw the girl couldn’t possibly be hungry. She checked the diaper. Dry. “Faker,” she scolded, carrying the child back to the living room.

“Oh, such a darling baby,” Jenna said when Bree stepped back into the living room. “How old is she?”

“We’re not really sure. Less than two weeks,” Bree said. She told Jenna about finding Pia’s body and the baby in the woods. “One of Victor’s sudokus was in her bag.”

Jenna bit her lip. “So you’re saying Victor might have had something to do with that woman’s death too?” She rubbed her forehead. “Oh, what am I going to do?”

Poor woman. Bree reached over and took her hand. “Sheriff Kaleva will sort it out. He has to follow the leads, but he’s smart and intuitive. He’ll find whoever is behind the murder.”

Jenna clung to her hand. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I didn’t know where to turn.”

“Where are you staying?” Bree asked. The woman’s vulnerability touched her.

“I-I don’t know. I tried the hotel downtown, but it’s full.”

“The festival is this weekend. It’s always sold out early with vendors hitting town to get stuff set up.” The Blue Bonnet Bed-and Breakfast next door was closed while Martha was out of town. There was nowhere else to recommend. “You’re welcome to stay here. I’ve got a guest room with your name on it.” It might not be up to Jenna’s city standards, but it was clean.

“I wouldn’t want to be a bother to you or your husband. Are you sure he won’t mind?”

“I’m sure. Mason will have this squared away in a few days. You’ll see.”

The baby whimpered, and Bree rocked her a bit. Mason would be busy investigating the murders, but she was determined to find this little one’s family.

Kade stopped the snowmobile and consulted his map. The report of the screaming last night had been just over the next hill. Any evidence he could find of cougars here would bolster the chances for the grant. If he could find a den, he’d have proof of a breeding population. His goal was to get a picture of cubs.

Driving forward slowly, he scanned the ground for evidence like tracks or scat, but all he spotted were fox tracks. Until he started down the slope. At the base of a large maple tree, he saw a pile of droppings. Dismounting his sled, he knelt and examined the excrement. His excitement rose when he realized it belonged to a big cat. It might be that of a lynx, but he couldn’t help the surge of hope. Grabbing a plastic bag from his snowmobile, he collected the scat and started deeper into the forest.

Snow pillowed bare branches. The sound of the sled’s engine hit the trees, then bounced back louder to his ears. The frigid air burned his lungs, but Kade pressed on. The roar of the motor gradually subsided to another growl. He rounded a boulder and saw two men cutting up fallen trees. Their chainsaws blatted and belched smoke.

He cut his sled’s engine and dismounted. The closest man, bearded and swathed in red and black plaid, glanced up. The sound of his saw stopped. He jabbed the other man, whose stringy blond hair hung out from under a duck hunter’s hat. The sudden silence when the blond guy shut off his saw threw an eerie quality over the clearing.

“Howdy,” the bearded man said. He eyed Kade’s park service patch.

“You have a permit to cut here?” Kade asked. He knew the answer. Permits for firewood were only issued after April 1.

The bearded guy tightened his grip on the chainsaw. “These trees are downed.”

“Doesn’t matter. You need a permit to cut.”

“Look, ranger, I got four kids at home and heat the place solely with firewood. I’m just a family man trying to do the best I can. Can’t you help me out?”

Judging by the rusty pickup on the fire trail, Kade didn’t doubt him, but the law wasn’t his to change. “I have to cite you,” he said, pulling out his pad. “I’m sorry.”

The men moved closer together. The blond guy clenched his fists, and the bearded man held out his hand and smiled. “I know you. You’re Kade Matthews. You’re the guy looking for cougars. If I tell you where to find a litter of kittens, will you let me off this time?”

Kade’s senses went on full alert. “You’ve seen cougars?”

The man’s expression turned crafty. “Maybe I have and maybe I haven’t.”

The firewood was unimportant. “Load up whatever wood your truck will hold. Where did you see cougar kittens?”

“We got your word?”

“Yes. No citation. Tell me where you saw them. How many? What all did you see?”

“You know Kitchigami Crag?”

Kade nodded. “How’d you shimmy up there in the winter?” It would take a mountain goat to scale that trail. The howling wind scoured the path, only a foot wide in some of the worst spots.