Cry in the Night (3 page)

He’d done a lot of things in his life, but kid killing wasn’t one of them. First he’d find out what the kid saw. And the autistic guy. Maybe nothing would have to be done.

Glancing at his watch, he realized Jenna would be back any minute. As if on cue, he heard the front door open, and Jenna Pelton stepped into the suite.

She stamped her feet in those stupid fluffy boots. “I found the best deal on Donald J Pliner shoes.” Carrying four bags, she padded across the thick carpet. “And I bought a darling Prada bag for five hundred dollars. What a sale they had!” She sent a sultry smile his way. “I got a darling pink teddy too. Wait until you see it.”

She sank onto the sofa and curled up into the throw but said nothing. Her blue eyes studied his face. Her blonde beauty turned heads wherever he took her, but she was higher maintenance than he liked.

The boredom slid from her face as she studied his expression.

“What’s wrong?”

“What isn’t?” He sighed, dropped a kiss on top of her head, then sat next to her.

She kicked off her high-heeled boots. “You’re not the only one with troubles. My brother called babbling about some baby being put in the snow.”

“Brother? I forgot you had a brother.”

She nodded. “Victor. He’s autistic. High-functioning though, and he keeps down a job, so he’s never been any trouble to me.

He lives in Rock Harbor.”

Quinn’s gut twisted. He’d known all that once but forgot.

Could there be two autistic men in Rock Harbor? “He prone to tell stories?” She moved over to snuggle against him. Her perfume made him dizzy, but he stayed motionless as he tried to sort out how much of a risk Victor might be.

She ran her hand over his face. “He’s very imaginative. I calmed him down.”

“Maybe you should go see him. I have to make a trip up there anyway. Right away.”

She pouted. “I had other plans for this afternoon.” Her fingers began to unbutton his shirt.

He caught at her hand. “Later. I need to pack. You too, if you’re coming with me.” He got up, nearly dumping her on the floor.

3

SAMSON BARKED AND BOUNDED AHEAD THROUGH THE snow with Bree and Davy trailing behind. Davy didn’t have much to say about the lesson he’d had with Florence and Timmy, nor about whether he was excited to fish today. Bree settled into his silence, wondering if his mind was on last night’s dream.

The trail through the woods was packed and easy to navigate. Little Wolf Lake was a popular ice-fishing destination but today it was deserted.

Paulie, a cardinal that had “adopted” them, circled and swooped above their heads. Samson ducked and whined when the bird dive-bombed him. Bree could almost hear Paulie laugh as he flew away. He perched on a branch nearby and watched them.

The wind pierced Bree’s down jacket but not her depression. Stopping to see her dad in the nursing home hadn’t helped either. He was totally gone now, buried in dementia. He never knew her or responded anymore. Her sister, Cassie, had left town to go back to her job last week, knowing their father might slip away before the next visit.

Sometimes Bree thought it would be for the best if he could escape the body that trapped him.

Her son showed no sign of noticing the cold. She held his mittened hand as they trudged along the path. Just ahead, the forest opened onto a frozen glade. Ice shanties dotted the lake, and Davy and she could have their pick. They were alone today, a perfect time to talk, sitting side by side, fishing with their poles.

She set down the box of tackle and retied a loose bootlace.

“Where do you want to fish?”

He pointed out the closest shanty, a blue and white plastic one.

“Can I cut the hole in the ice?” Davy asked.

She couldn’t resist his pleading green eyes. “All right, if you’re careful.” They stepped inside the shanty, and the structure blocked the bite of the wind. The weak sunlight bounced off the ice and lit everything with a gentle glow. They wouldn’t have long. It got dark early this time of year.

She sat on the bench and began to unpack their gear. Davy knelt beside her, and she handed him the ice auger. He put it on the ice and began to turn the handle. She doubted he’d have the strength to get the bit through the ice, but he kept at it. She watched his smooth movements. Kade had taught him well, and his thin frame was beginning to lose its baby fat. Soon he’d have muscles like Kade too.

What was she thinking? He’d never have Kade’s burly frame.

Davy’s body was built for Rob’s long, slim muscles. She shook her head and smiled at her self-deception.

“It’s through!” His face shone with achievement.

She used the ice chisel to widen the hole, and soon she and Davy had their lines in the water. Samson crowded under her legs and helped keep her warm. With her arm around her son, Bree realized the day that had started out badly had turned perfect.

He leaned his head against her. The sock hat he wore would soon be too small for him. It was both a pain and a pleasure to see how fast he was growing. He wouldn’t be her little boy much longer. Adolescence would be here before she could blink, then his teenage years. Time was so fluid and slipped through her fingers with every day.

She pressed a kiss on his brow. “You’ve been quiet, honey. Anything you want to talk about?”

His skin paled at her question, bringing the freckles on his nose into more prominent display. “I saw a windigo the other day, Mom. I didn’t want to tell you.”

She tried to make light of his sudden preoccupation with the legendary monster. “A windigo? Did it have big teeth?” He wasn’t so grown-up if he still saw boogeymen.

He shook his head. “It wasn’t that kind of windigo. It’s the kind that possesses a person.”

Most Rock Harbor adults were familiar with Ojibwa legend and Bree was no exception. In Ojibwa lore, the windigo monster stood as tall as a tree. It had jagged teeth in a lipless mouth and devoured people. She’d never talked to Davy about the legend, though some parents frightened their children into obedience with the story of the monster, much like a bigfoot. In some stories the windigo possessed a man instead, causing the hapless fellow to become a cannibal. Bree figured Davy had heard talk at school.

She hugged him to her. “You know there’s no such thing, right?”

His green eyes studied her face. “But I saw it.” Relief struggled with doubt in his face.

“Where, honey?”

“At the pond with Miss Florence and Victor, when she took us fishing last Saturday.”

“What did you see?” she asked, her voice neutral.

“The windigo.”

They were going in circles. “I mean, what made you think it was a windigo?”

“Because it looked kind of like Daddy.” He rubbed his eyes. “It looked right at me too. I was afraid and ran away.”

Alarm prickled along her spine. Maybe last night’s dream and today’s sighting was a new manifestation of Davy’s longing for his real father. She should discuss this with Davy’s child psychologist.

“He was mad.”

She put confidence into her smile. “Well, there you go. It couldn’t have been Daddy. He was never mad at you.”

He cupped his hand to the side of his mouth and stared out the opening of the shack before he whispered, “I saw what it did.”

“What did it do?”

He pressed his lips nearly against her ear. “It put a baby in the snow. I think it was hiding the baby from Miss Florence.”

Bree frowned and tried to ignore her unease. She recalled his asking Florence if she found the baby. “Maybe a guy was getting rid of an old doll,” she said. “Sometimes people are bigger than we expect. And distances can distort size. Dad’s explained that to you before, right?”

He nodded and chewed on his lip. “This was close though, Mom.”

“Dave, there’s really no such monster.”

“Maybe it was a ghost,” he whispered.

“There are no ghosts either,” she assured him. “I think you’re missing Daddy and look for him in everyone you see.”

“I saw a windigo with the baby,” he insisted.

Could there be an element of truth in what Davy was talking about? Her lame theory about disposing of a doll didn’t hold up either. Why dig a hole in the snow for a doll? “What did this person look like?”

Davy pulled away to check his fishing pole. He jiggled his line in the water. “I told you—it was a windigo. They change every time you see them. This one sort of looked like my daddy, then it changed and had big teeth.”

She wanted to pull out her hair. “What was he wearing?”

“A black parka and jeans. Boots.”

Rob hated black.
The stray thought burst out of nowhere.

“Maybe it was a vampire,” Davy said, his grin breaking out. “They have teeth and wear black. And it had blood dripping from its fangs.”

“Now you’re really pushing it, buster.” She poked him. “I’m not that gullible. You pulling a fast one on your old mom?”

His smile faded. “I really did see it, Mom. Maybe it didn’t have big teeth, but I’m sure it was a windigo. I was scared. So was Victor, and we ran away.”

“Was Miss Florence scared?”

“I don’t think so. She went to talk to him. She was really brave.”

Bree hugged him. She’d clear this up with Florence. “I want you to forget all about this, okay? There’s no such thing as windigos. Or vampires or ghosts. Who’s been telling you such stories?”

“One of the older kids at school showed me a book of monsters,” he said. He bared his teeth and growled. Samson raised his head as though to make sure things were okay, then flopped it back onto the ice.

She had to laugh. “You make a good monster.” Those kinds of things were going to happen at school, and she couldn’t protect him forever, but she wanted to throttle the kid who had done it. “There are no real monsters. You know that, right?”

Only human ones, who preyed on the defenseless. She wanted to protect him from that kind of knowledge too.

“It sure looked real,” Davy said, his voice hesitant.

“Why did you think it looked like your daddy?”

“I don’t know. I just kind of thought of Daddy when I saw him.”

For a time after Rob died, Davy was drawn to any man with a superficial resemblance to his father. Bree had hoped he’d outgrown that tendency for good.

“You’ll see your daddy again someday,” she reminded him.

“He’s happy in heaven. He’s looking down on you and he’s glad you’re such a good boy.”

“I know.” He hugged her back, then pulled away. “I’ve got a bite!”

She watched her son reel in his fish, a fine walleye. Samson lunged forward, barking at the flopping fish, and she quieted him with a word. It was a good thing Davy hadn’t talked like this in front of Kade. It would hurt him to know Davy still longed for his father enough to create monsters where there were none.

She watched Davy take the fish from the hook—a task that would have required her help just last winter. She wanted to question him more about the baby but decided against it. She’d stop by Kade’s office on the way home. He could reassure her that Davy was perfectly fine.

4

WITH THE COLLAR ON HIS COAT HIGH AND A HAT COVERING his ears, Kade hurried to the line of snowmobiles. He’d worked on the grant for an hour, dutifully padding the amounts needed for the study. At least he could leave his misgivings behind and do something useful now.

The Natives probably wouldn’t tell him anything. An uneasy truce existed between those on the res and the whites. Hunters encroached on protected lands and fished in forbidden areas. For the most part, the Ojibwa bore the injustices with stoicism, but Kade was often ashamed of his race.

He started the snowmobile and mounted it, then crossed the parking lot. He was about to pull out onto the snowmobile path when he saw a familiar red Jeep come tearing up the lane. Spitting snow from the studs on the tires, the vehicle was going too fast for the slippery conditions. He saw Bree’s set face behind the wheel.

He killed the engine and dismounted, waiting by the fence until she pulled into a spot in the parking lot. She got out, then climbed back in when she saw him hurrying toward her.

The heater blasted warm air into his face when he got onto the passenger seat. “Where’s Dave?”

“I dropped him to play with Timmy.”

He slid over and embraced her with his left arm. She nestled her head against his shoulder. “So, what’s wrong?” he asked.

“Davy just told me he saw a windigo who looks like Rob put a baby in the snow.” Her voice quavered.

“Whoa, that’s a weird tale.”

“I know. I tried to argue him out of it, but he was adamant.”

He hugged her tighter. “What’s riling you the most? The fact that he’s seeing his dead father or that he believes in the windigo?”

The frown between her eyes eased. “The father thing,” she admitted. “I thought we’d gotten past all that.”

“A boy never stops missing his daddy. I still miss mine. I try to make up for it with Dave, and you know I love him, but he knows the difference, deep down.”

Her green eyes pleaded for understanding. “He loves you, Kade.”

He traced her jaw with his fingertips. “I know he does. There’s room for two dads in his heart. You wouldn’t want him to forget all about Rob, would you?”

Her face softened. “No, you’re right. But don’t you think it’s worrisome that he equates his father with a scary monster? You think there’s anything to the baby story?”

He shrugged. “Maybe it’s how he’s dealing with his dad’s death. Take him to see the doctor if it will make you feel better, but I think he’ll be okay.”

The monsters lurking around the corner in their lives were huge—the possible loss of their house, their security. If he lost his job, how would he support them? Bree’s insurance money from Rob’s death was long gone, and the dog training didn’t bring in much. The grant was his only hope.

He gazed into the eyes he loved, such a clear green, like glass.

He could see all the way down to her soul. No sacrifice would be too great to keep her happy and content. It was his job to provide for her, and he meant to do it. No matter what it took.

He brushed her lips with his and withdrew. “I have to get back to work, babe.”