Cold Hunter's Moon (18 page)

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Authors: K. C. Greenlief

BOOK: Cold Hunter's Moon
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Lacey picked up the phone and punched in a number, leaving a message. “Phil, this is Lacey. Sorry I missed your call. I'm out of town on a case. I'll call you when I get back.”
“You want some privacy?” he asked as she hit the play button on the machine again.
“Nope. This'll just take a second. There are only two messages left.”
Lark wandered into the living room. Despite his discomfort, he listened intently as another male voice came across the machine. He was pleased to hear that it was a guy from a repair shop telling her she could pick up her VCR. The last message was a florist telling her she had a bouquet that they hadn't been able to deliver. Lark found himself wondering who had sent her flowers. He assumed it was Phil. He moved closer to the kitchen to listen as Lacey placed a call to the florist. She gave them Molly Grenfurth's name and address as the place to deliver the bouquet. Then she called Molly, telling her to expect a delivery. They commiserated over the kids, but Lark didn't hear any explanation of who the flowers were from. He didn't like how much he wanted to know. When Lacey came into the living room, he was studying her bookcases.
“Sorry that took so long. I'll get my clothes packed and we can go. Help yourself to the refrigerator.” She trotted upstairs.
Lark focused his attention on her living room. The carpet was offwhite. Two sofas in a dark green-and-blue paisley print flanked a painted brick fireplace and wall-to-wall bookcases. The bookcases were stuffed with books and pictures. In several of the pictures he recognized a younger Lacey with an older couple he assumed to be her parents. He found himself smiling at another display of pictures of Lacey with Joel and Molly's kids.
The books were arranged haphazardly. There were several rows of
biographies, popular fiction, and mysteries. She had a small section on adoption along with several travel guides. A copy of
Women in Love
by D. H. Lawrence caught his eye, jammed between
Lady Chatterley's Lover
and a paperback copy of the
The Virgin and the Gypsy
. They were crammed onto the same shelf with several cookbooks and nature guides.
“Do you like to read?” Lacey asked.
“Jesus Christ, I didn't hear you come downstairs,” Lark said, whirling around and bumping into her. He grabbed her arm to steady her.
“I flew in on my broom but you didn't seem to notice.” She smiled up into his red face. “You were studying my meager book collection.”
“Meager, my ass,” he said. “You and Ann Ranson should pool your collections. Together you have more books than most libraries.”
“See any titles you want to borrow? Topics you might want to brush up on?” she asked, her face innocent, her eyes twinkling.
“As a matter of fact I did.” A smile played over his lips as he pulled a book off the shelf. “I don't have a copy of
Tracking Wildlife in Northern Wisconsin
. Mind if I borrow this?”
“Help yourself,” she said, holding back laughter.
He grabbed her suitcase and they were out the door. They spent most of the ride with Lacey reading through the reports. “This is what we have so far,” she said, once again curled up in the passenger seat. File papers were spread out between them and tucked under the edges of her coat. “Someone riding a snowmobile left several Marlboro cigarette butts and size-twelve boot tracks—we don't yet know the brand but the tracks look the same—outside your house as well as the Ransons'. I think it's a man, don't you?” she asked, looking at Lark for a comment.
“The shoe size seems to imply that, and these murders seem to be pretty vicious for a woman,” he said, keeping his eyes on the road. It had started to snow just after they got out of Wausau and it was now coming down in blinding sheets that seemed to blow straight into the windshield.
“This weather is worse than what I expect to see in February, let alone November,” Lacey said, trying to see out the window.
“You can say that again. I hope we get back to Big Oak tonight so we can get a good night's sleep.”
“Why don't you let me drive?” Lacey asked, noticing how tired he looked. “I had a nap this morning, you didn't.”
“No, you keep pouring the coffee and I'll be fine. I couldn't sleep right now—my brain is on overload trying to make sense of this case.”
“I know what you mean,” Lacey murmured. “Back to Shotgun Man. He must have a cloaking device or one hell of a snowmobile trailering system, because he's vanished both times. No one's seen a snowmobile trailer leaving either scene. They haven't been able to track any truck tires more than three hundred yards.”
“Have they gotten anything back on what type of tires we're looking for? That might give us somewhere to start.”
“Nothing yet. It's getting too dark to see. I'd better dig out my flashlight.”
“I don't think we have enough room for you to empty that bag again.”
“Very funny, Swenson. Ah, shit.” A pile of papers she'd stuffed under the edge of her coat slid down on the floor when she reached for her bag. “Dammit, look at this mess.” She raised up to show him the papers drifted all over the floor. “I can't believe this. Now we'll have to sort them back into the two files.”
“I do believe this is the end of the world,” Lark said, turning on the overhead light. “Stack them in the briefcase and we'll sort them out later.”
Once she had the papers picked up, Lacey called Wausau only to find that Joel was on the road to Madison. There was nothing new on the tire tracks. They spent the rest of the ride listening to the radio, watching the snow, and talking about their observations from the Foltz interview. They made a quick stop to pick up the files that Knutson had prepared on the students and pulled into Lark's road a little after 6:30. About a quarter of a mile from his driveway, they came upon a snow-covered vehicle, lights on, nose down in the ditch. Their headlights showed a driver in the car.
“Shit, this doesn't look good.” Lark said, stopping the Jeep.
“That looks like the Ransons' Explorer,” Lacey said as she dialed the cell phone.
“I hope it's not John,” Lark said, thinking that every third car in Big Oak was a Ford Explorer. He grabbed a large flashlight out of the backseat and got out of the Jeep.
“I'm not getting through on the phone or your radio. I'll keep trying and request an ambulance,” Lacey said.
Lark walked up to the rear end of the vehicle and rubbed snow away to identify it. It was a dark-colored Explorer. He swore under his breath as he slid down through snow up to his thighs to get to the driver's side. The snow continued to pelt down and he pulled up the hood of his coat to protect his face from the sting of the flakes. The driver's side door was locked and the window was fogged, but he could see someone in the driver's seat. He banged on the door with the butt of his flashlight.
He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the person's head move slightly. He was considering breaking out a window when Lacey yelled down from the road. She had to cup her hands and shout so he could hear her over the wind. “I'm going to drive up to your house and call.”
He motioned her to go on and turned his attention back to the car. He rubbed out a spot on the side window. It didn't help much due to all the fog on the inside. He checked each door, including the hatch, to see if he could find one unlocked. By the time he'd gone full circle, his Jeep slid to a halt behind the Explorer.
Lacey jumped out of the driver's side and Lark trudged up to meet her. A big man in a hooded parka jumped down out of the passenger side and walked towards him. It was John Ranson.
“I found John and his crew putting in your new doors. The rest of his crew is coming down in his truck.” She tried to position herself to keep the snow out of her face as they slipped and slid down to the Explorer. “The Big Oak ambulance is on the way to Wausau with another MVA. Your dispatcher is calling Park Falls to see if they can help and one of your patrols is coming.”
They rounded the rear end of the Explorer and John let out a yell, stumbling through the snow to the driver's side. He rubbed newly fallen snow off the window and put his face up against it, trying to peer inside.
Lark grabbed him by the shoulders. “The doors are locked. Do you have a set of keys?”
“They're in my truck,” he yelled as he broke away from Lark and half ran, half crawled up the drifted ditch bank. His crew pulled up in his truck just as he got to the road. He grabbed the keys out of the ignition, and slid back down to the Explorer. Lark grabbed him before he could put the keys in the door lock.
“Get the hell out of my way,” John shouted, trying to get past Lark.
“John, wait a minute.” Lark yelled, pulling the keys away from him and handing them to Lacey.
“Get out of my way, Ann's in there,” John cried out, trying to get past Lark. Although John was a little shorter, it was a test of wills for Lark to keep him away from the door.
“Lacey will get the passenger door open so we can take care of her. We can't move her until we can get a cervical collar on her. Do you understand?” Lark asked, shaking his shoulders.
John looked at Lark, tears freezing on his cheeks. “You're right, I know you're right. I've had first-aid training.”
Lark let him go. “There might be a cervical collar in my first-aid kit. I'll go get it if you promise me you won't do anything until I get back.”
“I won't. I just lost my head for a minute.”
Lacey had just climbed in the passenger side when John yelled at her to unlock the rest of the car. She found the electronic switch and popped the locks.
“Don't you lay a hand on her,” she said, jabbing her finger at him.
“I know, I know,” he said as he carefully opened the driver door.
Ann was still in her seat belt and shoulder harness. She was slouched over on her right side, away from the driver's door, leaning up against the headrest. She already had some redness and swelling on the left side of her head and there was a red line across her forehead. When Lacey called her name, she mumbled and batted the air with her left hand. The car reeked of beer and Lacey noticed that the floor on the passenger side was littered with broken beer bottles and Tupperware. Plastic-wrapped sandwiches spilled out of a torn paper bag.
Lark tapped John on the shoulder and motioned him out of the way, then leaned into the driver's seat and called Ann's name. She didn't respond. He asked Lacey to steady her head as he loosened the red scarf wrapped around her head and neck. When he wasn't able to get it off without manipulating her neck, he put the cervical collar over the scarf. He stepped out of the way so John could get back to his wife.
John gently picked up Ann's left hand. “She must have taken off her gloves like she usually does once the car warms up. She hates to drive in them.” He rubbed her cold left hand between his two large warm ones. “Ann, can you hear me?” he yelled as he leaned in to stroke away the bangs that straggled down out of her scarf.
Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled at him. “I'm so cold, come over here and warm me up.” She closed her eyes.
“Honey, open your eyes.” he said, stroking her cheek.
“No, I'm cold,” she whimpered as she tried to turn away from the bright light Lark was shining into the truck. “Turn out that light and come to bed.”
“Ann,” John said. “Do you know where you are?”
“Bed,” she mumbled. “I'm in bed, turn out that damn light, it hurts my eyes.” She pulled her hand away from John to shield her eyes.
Lark moved the light away from her face. “Ann, you're not home in bed. You've had a car accident. Do you hurt anywhere?”
“Car?” Her voice rose as she tried to right herself in the seat. “What am I doing in the car?” She fumbled with her seat belt.
“Just be still. Leave that on until the ambulance comes,” John said, pulling her hands away from it.
Ann looked at Lark and Lacey, her eyes large and confused. “What are you doing here?” She looked around, as if seeing the inside of the car for the first time. “Please help me get out of here. I'm very cold. Oh my god, I have to get out of here right now.”
“Ann, please be quiet until the ambulance comes,” John pleaded, tension creeping into his voice as he tried to keep her from unfastening her seat belt.
“No,” she yelled, swatting his hands and groping for the seat belt clasp. “I have to get out of here.”
“Stop it,” John shouted, “you're going to hurt yourself.”
“John, take a break. I'll stay with her.” Lark said, pulling him out of the way. John walked a few feet away and lit a cigarette. Lacey joined him.
“When is that damn ambulance supposed to get here?” he asked.
“As soon as it can. Do you know what she was doing out here?”

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