Just Intuition (5 page)

"I've actually never been fishing. Why would you think that?"

"Well, you have such a dark tan!"

"Jimmy!" Liz leapt from her chair and reached for her son.

"My tan!" Allie laughed. "I work indoors, in front of a computer all day long and I certainly don
't have a tan. I was born this color."

"You don
't have to—" Liz's face turned purple.

"It
's okay," Allie said patiently and Jimmy twisted in her lap to peer at her face. "My mom was Irish and my dad was Ojibway. I have brown skin like him."

"Okay." The four year old twisted back over and let his arms dangle to the floor. Sometimes it was as simple as that. Fiona curled up beside her chair and he brushed his fingers back and forth across her fur. The dog snuffled appreciatively. There was an undeniable sense of warmth and comfort surrounding her, and she liked it.

"Why don't you girls go outside and play until dinner is ready?" Ellen chided them. She stopped one more little hand from snitching a crouton. It was beginning to dawn on Allie that they weren't only sisters, but twins. They weren't dressed identically, as mothers of twins often do, and they had very different haircuts.

"There
's too many blackflies out tonight!" Victoria hovered close to her mom and blinked wide blue eyes. "If blackflies can eat a whole moose, don't you think they would eat me too?"

Thomas laughed out loud.

"It's gonna get dark soon!" Sophie exclaimed.

Outside, the sunset painted the sky with pastel hues of pink and orange. Most of the daytime songbirds no longer flitted through the bushes outside the window and the breeze calmed. There was a stillness that had not been there when she
'd come. As if the woods knew the day was winding down, it tucked in its little ones for the night.

"I don
't want the Bog Monster to get me!" said Victoria. Wide-eyed, all their earlier precociousness evaporated and they crowded toward their mom.

On her lap, Jimmy
's body stiffened too. Allie patted his shoulder in what she hoped was a reassuring manner.

"Who scared you with that old swamp tale?" Liz put down her cards and scooped the girls together as one.

"Uncle Thomas did!" Two little fingers pointed directly at Thomas.

"Lots of folks around here say it's true." He shrugged innocently.

"There's nothing in that bog except Johnny Fiddler's four wheeler that he sunk when he was a teenager. It's probably sitting underneath the old beaver lodge and their little kits ride it for fun." Grandma Ellen winked at Jimmy and his sisters, who all mirrored the same incredulous expression. "Why don't you kids go watch the Disney Channel until dinner?" She turned and pointed a stern, silent finger at Thomas whose impish grin evaporated. The children did as they were asked and the blaring TV provided a layer of background noise.

"Once again, Uncle Thomas traumatizes my kids." Liz waggled a finger at her brother in a startlingly accurate imitation of their mom.

"You have to admit," Thomas said, "weird things happen near the bog."

"Is that the place they call the floating bog?" Allie
's head spun and her chest tightened at the memory. She clenched one hand around her glass to mask the trembling.

Breathe.

A burning lump ignited in her throat and she gulped a mouthful of wine but inhaled instead. She gasped and choked for a long moment before she could calm herself and breathe normally again. Thomas and Liz were polite enough not to comment.

"People say it's haunted," said Liz, after Allie had composed herself. She leaned conspiratorially forward in her chair and shot a sideways glance at her kids who were enthralled with whatever was on TV.

"Erin took me there last week," Allie said flatly. Liz stared at her and Thomas spent an inordinate amount of time shuffling the cards before he looked up.

"Sure it
's pretty, but that would not be my best spot for a romantic date." He slowly and deliberately dealt out the cards. "Erin hasn't any sense. No one goes out to the bog unless they must. Everyone in town believes it is haunted. Now look what's happened to Mrs. Johnson! The only other person foolish enough to live near there is old man Gunther, but see what it's done to his life? He might as well be dead too. Something evil is out there. It howls on summer nights—"

"That
's enough of that old story." Mr. Ericsson stood on the porch outside the screen door, wiping his hands on a rag. "There is no bog monster and that's no kind of conversation for Erin's new friend." He came into the kitchen, and Erin loped in after him.

"We fixed the boat motor," Erin said, her confident posture signifying satisfaction. She took the rag from her dad. Giving her hands a wipe, she frowned at dirty fingernails. "Dad says he
's found a good fishing spot up on the big lake. Maybe we can go next weekend." She headed for the bathroom to clean up. Her dad swiped a piece of cheese from a tray on the counter and popped it in his mouth. Then he gave his hands a quick wash in the kitchen sink.

Mrs. Ericsson turned out to be a fantastic cook. Allie enjoyed every mouthful of roasted turkey and twice-baked potatoes. It reminded her of home cooked dinners growing up with her foster parents and Allie was beginning to want to belong to this clan too. Although a little shy on the outside, the inner warmth of these people was enchanting.

When dessert time came, Erin's mom slid a fresh baked fruit cobbler to the rear of the fridge and brought out Allie's 'store-boughten' blueberry pie. Everyone took a piece and no one made a single face while it was consumed. The kids smothered theirs with mountains of fresh whipped cream.

They said
their good-nights and Erin shepherded Allie down the walkway to the car. Allie's blueberry wine buzz had diminished after Erin returned and figured out what her siblings were up to, but she was still fuzzy. Erin squeezed the exhausted dog into the backseat and took command of the driver's door.

"I'll drive," she stated, fetching the extra key from her leather bag. Allie held two palms up in supplication.

CHAPTER FOUR

Erin navigated the end of the driveway and was past the mailboxes before she managed to find the Mini Cooper's headlight switch. Twin yellow beams efficiently illuminated the dirt road ahead. She gunned the engine and aimed the car straight down the middle, picking up speed and dodging memorized potholes. A sliver of moonlight trimmed the tops of trees and thick brush became a blur on either side.

Allie was not used to such darkness. In the city, there was always ambient light from somewhere and nights were never this dark. She did like being able to see so many stars. She had no idea there were this many. The Milky Way splashed across the sky and she now appreciated how it had earned its name. Somehow, she was calm and secure for the first time in years. She had not drunk alcohol for a long time and was unaccustomed to the fuzziness it produced. The sky was so beautiful, so vast.

"Those are the cutest kids I ever met," she mused. "Your aunt Vicky must have been pretty tough to fight off a grizzly bear!"

Erin puckered her eyebrows. "What?"

"And I suppose the part about you being descended from Swedish royalty was made up too?" Allie gave her a wink. "It would have been quite a feather in my cap to be dating a Princess!"

She burst out laughing. "I can
't believe they were telling you the old family tales. My family loves to make up fairy tales to entertain the kids. There are no grizzly bears around here and our ancestors were farmers and maids, not royalty!"

Allie smiled. The royalty claim was pure fun, but the story about the grizzly bear really had her going. She knew alcohol made her much too gullible. "I don
't care. I love those kids. Especially little Jimmy. He says he will take me blueberry picking."

Erin eyed her suspiciously. "I don't think I've ever seen you drunk before. What are you talking about? You hate kids."

"I don't really hate kids. I just never met any I liked before. I always had snot-nosed foster brothers getting into my stuff and little foster sisters stealing my socks."

"That hardly sounds like a federal crime worth hating all children for." Erin dodged another pothole. Allie didn't bother bracing herself for the abrupt maneuver and bobbled along with it.

"You're right. I think I was a bit spoiled by my foster parents. They treated me like their own from the beginning and I must have been jealous of their attention. Even though they were never able to adopt me, I knew I belonged and was loved. I guess I was a little brat. I doubt I made it easy for any of the other kids who came and went."

"I'm sure you weren't all that rotten," Erin said, "otherwise how would you have grown up to be so wonderful?"

Allie sloppily punched her arm. "Yeah, I love you too." Sobering, she squinted at Erin. "But you better be honest with me from now on. None of that cloak and dagger crap. I don't like being manipulated."

"If you'll give me the chance to prove it, I promise you'll never have a reason to mistrust me again."

Allie suddenly groaned. It was as if the pressure in her skull literally strained at the cranial sutures. Hunched over, she dropped her head into her hands, hair twisting through fingers. Unbidden, disturbing images writhed their way into her brain. She struggled against them, but finally weakened and could no longer resist.

A crescent moon winks down through the tangle of angry steel and dead branches. The shadow figure growls like a feral animal, rolling a boulder against the jagged metal shapes. Crouching behind for one last swallow from a shiny can.
Rocking back and forth in malevolent glee and tossing the can into the pile. Red and white. Red and white. Find it. The shadow dissipates into the trees like smoke, dripping evil residue in its wake.

* * *

"Are you going to be sick?"

Allie squeezed her eyes tight and locked her lips in a grimace of pain. In the subtle glow of the dashboard panel, her face drained of color. Erin knew something was wrong when she struggled to release her seatbelt.

"Do I need to pull over?"

Allie pushed her door open and extended one leg.

"Stop!" Erin reached out. Her hands faltered on the steering wheel and the car swerved violently, skidding sideways when she stomped the brake pedal to the floor.

Already in motion, Allie landed before they had fully stopped. She stumbled to one knee,
then righted herself.

"Wait!" Erin yelled. She jammed the shifter into park but Allie was already walking purposefully up the road. Fiona squeezed out the open door and raced to block her path. She changed direction to outmaneuver the dog and continued on. Fiona followed, bumping her thigh with her body. She reoriented herself and kept walking, the dog circling and bumping every time she took a step.

Erin disentangled herself from her seatbelt and punched the button for the car's four-way hazard flashers. Lesson One at the Police Academy was to protect the scene and yourself. It would make the situation worse if another car smashed into theirs on the dark road.

"Where are you going?"

Allie did not answer, continuing toward a tight bend. Erin sprinted to catch up and took her by the arm. Dark brown eyes reflected the night sky. Her expression was placid, like a sleepwalker, and there was not a flicker of recognition. Allie turned her face and Erin's eyes followed her gaze. Just on the other side of this blind corner was a grotesque pile of rubble that had not been there when they'd come. She looked back at Allie's widened eyes and understood.

They approached the haphazard barricade cautiously. Old tires, twisted metal from long deceased farm machinery, mounds of brush and deadfall, and a medium sized boulder were jumbled together in the middle of the road. It would have taken a fair amount of time and effort to assemble this junk heap and Erin gave a low whistle. Damage to the Mini Cooper, and to them, would have been substantial if they had not stopped.

Allie stood in front of the pile but looked beyond. "Watching us. Waiting." Fiona made a guttural canine sound halfway between a growl and a whine, tucked her tail and ducked behind Allie's legs.

"Who's watching? Who's waiting? What is going on?" Erin squinted into the dark. She backed toward the car, where her pistol lay in her bag. There was not a sound. Not a snapped twig, not a rustle of wind in the leaves. They had left the headlights far behind them at the corner and only inky blackness lay ahead. Adrenaline coursed through Erin
's veins. She clenched her fists.

Sharp pain between her shoulder blades stunned her and a small rock skittered to the road at her feet. She whirled around, enraged. Not a single branch stirred and she could not make out a thing. The dog stared ahead, body rigid, hair on end.

"Who is out there? This is not funny! You could have caused an accident!" Silence mocked her. "This is a criminal offense!" She almost laughed at herself. Her voice in the darkness sounded so pathetic. She chose a substantial looking stick from the ditch and gripped it in her hand. It made her feel better.

Keeping the stick nearby, Erin heaved items from the barricade off the road. Anger boiled up and, swearing vehemently under her breath, she pitched them as far as she could with each throw. It was strangely gratifying to hear them crash into the undergrowth.

She kept one eye on Allie who, still a little dazed, rummaged through the pile of rubble like a raccoon. To get her attention, she nudged her shoulder, but Allie kept searching. She picked up an item, discarded it and picked up another. Finally satisfied, she wordlessly held out a beer can to Erin like a prize.

"I think you
've had enough tonight, baby." Erin gently took the can from Allie and guided her by the shoulder. "I guess this is why you so rarely drink." Erin tossed the can with her other hand, and the red and white label glinted when it spun in the moonlight. It clattered on gravel.

They walked back the way they
'd come, Erin steering Allie like a disabled shopping cart with the dog trailing timidly behind. Fiona yelped involuntarily at a faint crackling in the brush and hair bristled down her spine. All of Erin's senses on high alert, she scanned the brush in the direction of the noise. The stillness was absolute. Erin gripped the stick more firmly and prodded Allie to quicken her pace.

They finally rounded the corner but no reassuring lights greeted them. The car was a silent black shape. Erin was sure the engine had
been running and even more certain that she'd left the four-way flashers on.

She approached cautiously and opened the passenger door. The keys were gone from the ignition so Erin used the interior lights to look for other signs of tampering. The dog grumbled and circled the car nervously, before hopping up and wedging herself into the rear. There did not appear to be anything else awry. Erin heaved a sigh of relief to see her leather bag stowed behind the driver
's seat. She snatched it up and knew from the heft that her pistol was still in its concealed holster. She jammed it into the front of her jeans and was immediately reassured.

Then she helped Allie into the car and buckled her seat belt. This was the safest spot for her while Erin conducted a quick search of the area and she had a modicum of undeserved confidence in the security capability of the dog. Fiona was not a reliable bodyguard, but Erin rationalized that her canine senses might be a useful alert if anyone approached.

She searched the area and noted scuffs in the gravel as well as a few freshly broken branches on one side. Someone had recently passed on foot. There was no one here now and it did not appear that they had left anything behind, except the barricade. She settled into the driver's seat, took a breath, and leaned over to double check that Allie's seat belt was clipped securely.

A sharp thwack on the back window crashed through the stillness like an explosion and Erin leapt from the car, pistol instantly in her hand. She scrutinized the brush, gun automatically following her sight line. At first there was no sound and then the soft whipping of branches. Someone scrambled quietly away. Erin pursued but found the brush nearly impassable without knowing where the trail was. Brambles scraped at her, snaring her legs. By now, the assailant was long gone. There was no hope of catching him this night.

She returned to the car and saw a solid bulls-eye crack in the back window. A palm-sized rock lay nearby and she angrily kicked it.

"Ouch!" She winced at the intense pain in her toe and got into the car. Soft-soled running shoes were not made for punting rocks. Her heart pounded in her ears and she punched the wheel a couple of times in sheer frustration. Allie stared back at
her, eyes clear at last, but a look of confusion on her face.

"What
's going on? Why did we stop?"

"Everything is okay." Erin squeezed each syllable through clenched jaw. "I need you to give me your keys. Right now. We
'll talk when we get home." She hit the automatic door locks.

Abruptly sober, Allie handed her keys over. Erin started the car and, with one more glance in the rear view mirror, shifted into drive.

* * *

I have a smile on my face as I take off like a panther. That
's right, I'm a badass panther and this is my territory. I am jogging on soft cat's feet and I can still hear that stupid cop thrashing around like a snared rabbit. She's makin' so much noise that I wanna laugh. The stick she was wavin' didn't scare me, but the gun from the car sure got my attention. Even a panther knows when to bail out. I hit the trail before she started popping off shots like Stallone in The Expendables. But not before I chucked a big rock at their frickin' car. Right smack in the middle of the goddamn back window. A perfect throw, if I do say so myself.

Bitches!
Both of 'em. I've always hated that interfering cop and now she has a zombie girlfriend. Every time I've seen her, she's just plain weird. And her dog is some kind of useless. When they came snooping around my bog, their stupid mutt walked past me without barking or anything. I wanted to jump out and slap its tail out from between its legs. I imagine what would have happened if I'd done it that day, and it's funny enough to simmer me down some.

That was their first mistake. Trespassing on my bog. Poking around my business. Mind your own business. The bog is mine.

I wanted them to smash into my roadblock tonight and I can't figure out how they knew it was there. It would have been great to see the car burst into flames. I would have danced around the bonfire like a wild savage. That would have taught them a real lesson. The brand new crack in their back window should be a good reminder.

I stop and take the set of keys from my jeans pocket. Balling them up in my fist, I throw them in a nice high arc. With so many leaves on the ground, no one will find them for a hundred years.

In the dark, I nearly miss the fork in the trail and sink to my shins in the swamp. By the time I get to town I'm cranky, my shoes are muddy and I'm thirsty. I could use a beer but this whole damn place closes at 11p.m., which was hours ago. I'm also out of cigarettes so, when I see a pack of smokes sitting on the dash of a parked car, I try the handle. Of course, it's not locked and I help myself.