“He’s going to meet me downtown with a couple of his men.”
“I’m going, too, Jonathan,” she said, standing up and coming over to him.
He reached out and took her in his arms. “Emily, the sheriff and I agreed you need to stay here and rest. It’s too soon for you to be out, particularly for something like this. Besides, you know very well this guy is dangerous.”
“Then we should just let the sheriff take care of it,” she said.
“Willy agreed to let me go because I think I know where this place is. George and I used to hunt out that way.”
Emily pulled him in and held him closely. “You let them do their jobs, but please watch out for Agnes and Sara. I can’t stand the thought of them getting hurt anymore.”
“I know, honey.” He lifted her chin and kissed her goodbye.
Sammy Truegood finished work and got on his bike to head home. The shop foreman, Pete Borders, stopped him before he left.
“Sammy, wait up a minute.”
“Yeah, Mr. Borders?”
“Some of the boys around the shop here have been talking stupid today. You probably heard some of it. I told them I’d have their heads if they kept on with it. Point is, there’s folks in this town have already convicted you and they’re not feeling too good about you still being out on the street.”
“You know I didn’t do this?” Sammy said.
“Yeah, I know, son, but you need to be careful. There are people don’t want to listen to the truth. You need to be careful and not let any of this get under your skin. It’ll only make things worse.”
He thanked the man and got on his bike and pedaled out of the boatyard up onto the main road into Charlevoix. His mom would have dinner ready when he got home, and Jonathan mentioned going fishing, but then called and said he might not get back from something over in Boyne Falls in time tonight. Sammy had told him how much he appreciated what Jonathan and his friend George Hansen were doing for him.
He braked as he came down the big hill on Bridge Street, the little downtown district of Charlevoix before him, the docks and Round Lake off to the right. Traffic was backed up as usual for the drawbridge opening on the half hour to let boats through. He slowed to make his way between the traffic lane and parked cars. He noticed a family stop ahead on the sidewalk and the father pointed at him as he passed. The man yelled something at him, but he couldn’t understand what he was saying. He put his head down, feeling the shame all of this was bringing on himself and his family. Further up near the movie theatre, he saw Andy Welton and his friend Josh Knowles walking up the sidewalk joking with two other boys.
Sammy knew there was no use in trying to avoid them and then they saw him and stopped. Welton put his arm out in front of the others and stared back at Sammy with a look of nothing but hate and malice. Sammy tried not to even flinch as he rode by, just returning the intense glare of Andy Welton and his friends. He was surprised none of them said anything as he passed and as he continued on across the bridge and up the next hill, he looked back and saw they were still staring at him.
He turned up along Michigan Street and then the beach road out to their house near North Point. When he pulled into the dirt drive back to their house, he immediately realized something was terribly wrong. His mother was sitting on the front porch of the little cottage tucked back in the woods, her head in her hands and she was sobbing uncontrollably. His little brother, Jonas, sat next to her playing with a toy. Sammy threw his bike down and ran over to her.
“Momma, what’s…?”
“Oh Sammy,” she cried out.
“What’s happened?”
“I just got back from work,” she said and paused to sniff back tears and blow her nose on a handkerchief she pulled from her purse. “I just got home a few minutes ago. Someone has broken into the house.”
Sammy got up and ran through the front door and immediately stopped. The house had been ransacked. Everything had been knocked off shelves and tables, furniture was turned over and cushions ripped with knives. He walked into the kitchen and all of the cupboards had been emptied and jars and boxes of food smashed on the worn linoleum floor. Dishes and glasses lay smashed and broken across the floor and into the back hall.
As he stood and looked at the wreckage of his family’s home, a rage grew up within him and he clenched his fists to keep from yelling out. He turned and walked slowly back through the debris and out onto the porch with his mother. He sat down next to her and put his arm around her shoulders. She turned her face into his shoulder and the sobs intensified as he tried to just hold her and comfort her.
“Momma, I’m so sorry about all this.”
She shook her head against the sleeve of his shirt.
“We’ll make this right, Momma. I swear to you I will make this right!” he said slowly, his anger almost overwhelming.
Jennifer Harris and her friend, Elaine, drove slowly through town looking for a parking place. They had planned to go to a movie. There was a new picture in town that had won an Academy Award, The Greatest Show on Earth. She saw an empty space up ahead and slowly pulled the big sedan into position. At the same time, she saw Andy Welton and his pack of friends coming up on the sidewalk. Andy spotted her, and they all came over to the car. Elaine rolled down her window by the curb.
“Hello gentleman,” Elaine said.
Andy and Josh Knowles both stuck their heads through the open window.
“Ladies,” Andy said.
“Hi Andy,” Jennifer replied, still feeling embarrassed about being around him.
“Seen our friend Sammy lately?” Josh asked.
“No, why?” Jennifer replied.
“Well, you shouldn’t have to worry about him anymore,” Andy said.
“What do you mean?” Jennifer asked.
“Well, for one, he’s going to be real busy for a while, and then his ass will be rotting in jail.”
Josh laughed and said, “Yeah, I bet he’s going to be real busy.”
Jennifer was alarmed and said, “What have you done?”
“Nothing he didn’t deserve,” Josh said and laughed again.
She could hear the boys behind them laughing, too and saw them pushing each other around.
“Andy, you need to leave him alone. You’re only causing more trouble,” Jennifer said.
“You don’t need to worry about anything,” Andy said.
“I swear Andy, if you’ve hurt him…”
Elaine turned and looked at her friend with a puzzled expression, “Jennifer!”
“Don’t tell me you’re worried about this damn Indian kid after what he did to you?” Andy said, anger showing across his face.
Josh pulled away from the window, a look of disgust on his face and joined the other boys. Andy came around to the other side of the car and Jennifer rolled down her window.
He leaned in and said, “This is all going to be over soon, and we can get back to how it used to be.”
“How did it used to be, Andy?” Jennifer asked.
He looked at her with a confused stare and then said, “You and me, like we were last summer.”
All Jennifer could think about was the second beach party when he had shown up drunk with his friends again after he’d promised there wouldn’t be any more drinking. “I don’t know, Andy, I just don’t know,” she said.
He backed away from the window and rejoined his friends on the sidewalk. Jennifer and Elaine got out of the car. As Andy walked away with the others following, he turned and looked back at Jennifer. “Don’t start feeling sorry for this damn Indian kid, Jennifer. Don’t even start.”
Jonathan rode in the front seat of the patrol car with Sheriff Potts. Two deputies followed in another car. They had just driven through Boyne City and were on their way across the Boyne Falls road. It was late afternoon and long shadows spilled across the road and light from the sun would occasionally break through the tall trees and shine in his eyes. The sheriff had a radio station playing music so low you
couldn’t make out what the song was, just a steady noise in the background. They came out of the forest and up ahead on the right he saw the bare grass hills of the ski resort at Boyne Mountain.
They crossed over the bridge at the Boyne River and then turned north on Highway 131. There wasn’t much traffic in either direction, and the little village of Boyne Falls was quiet as usual.
“What are you thinking, McKendry?” the sheriff said, breaking the lull in the conversation.
Jonathan looked over at him. “Just frustrated, I guess. We can bring this guy in and he might even do a little time in jail, but he’ll be out again, and his family and my wife will be in danger again.”
“I know,” Potts said. “It’s a damn shame we can’t do more.”
Jonathan continued to direct them up the Lake Louise road and then had them turn on a small dirt road that ran along Bear Creek. “Could be anywhere along here, Sheriff. Old Bud wasn’t entirely sure, but he said he didn’t think it was very far down this road,” Jonathan said.
A hundred yards ahead they saw a narrow two-track road turning off to the right. The sheriff slowed and came to a stop, the other car rolling up behind him.
“Not sure if this is the place, but we should probably walk on in there so we don’t spook him,” Potts said.
He gave directions to his deputies, one to stay with the cars and watch the road, the other to come with him and Jonathan. Sheriff Potts and his deputy both took 12-gauge shotguns out of the trunk of the first car. “Jonathan, you stay behind us now,” he said.
They started up the narrow road that was not much more than two tire tracks with a high grassy mound down the middle. Tall thick cedars lined both sides and Jonathan walked behind the Sheriff and his deputy. They walked for nearly a quarter mile before they saw a clearing up ahead, All of them slowed and pressed against the edge of the trees for cover. Proceeding slowly along the tree line, a small unpainted shack came into view, not much larger than one room; a small window on the front wall and a stove pipe coming out of the sagging roof.
The three men knelt behind the cover of the trees and listened and watched. Harold Slayton’s old truck was parked on the far side of the shack. There was no other sign of people. After several minutes, the sheriff whispered to Jonathan to stay where he was and then the two law officers slowly started moving closer to the house. Still there was no sign of occupants inside the shack.
Potts and his deputy took cover behind the trunks of two large oak trees. The sheriff looked back at Jonathan for a moment and then pumped a shell into the chamber of his shotgun. The deputy did the same.
The sheriff’s voice startled Jonathan as it broke the stillness. “Harold Slayton, you in there?” he yelled.
There was no response and all Jonathan could hear was a blue jay squawking in a tree above them.
“Slayton, you need to come out now,” the sheriff yelled again.
Jonathan thought he heard a muffled sob and the sheriff apparently heard it, too, and turned to look back at Jonathan. He waved his deputy forward to the right side of shack and he made his way slowly toward the front door, the shotgun aimed waist high in front of him. He came up to the side of the door and stopped to listen again.
“Slayton, come out now and there won’t be anymore trouble, you hear me?” the sheriff yelled.
Still no response.
Potts used the barrel of his gun to reach over and push on the door. It wasn’t latched and swung open into the darkness of the small shack. Jonathan watched him look around the doorjamb into the shack and disappear inside. He couldn’t help but hold his breath as he watched the sheriff go in. Then he heard him yell out.
“McKendry, Jurgenson, get in here!”
Jonathan jumped up and started running and he watched the deputy run into the house in front of him. As he came through the door, the light was so dim he couldn’t see at first, only the shadowy outline of Potts and Jurgenson over in a corner to the left. His heart was pounding, and a terrible sense of dread made him tremble.
“Sheriff?” he said.
“Over here Jonathan,” and he saw the big sheriff kneeling slowly. He came up beside him and as his eyes adjusted, he saw Agnes Slayton lying on the floor by a small black iron stove, her arms and legs splayed out at odd, unnatural angles.
“Ohmigod!” Jonathan said, falling to his knees next to the sheriff. Then he could see there was blood on her face from a bad cut on her cheek and a pool of blood spread out from the back of her head across the worn wooden floor.
“That sonofabitch!” Jonathan hissed. He stood up looking around.
“Jonathan, just settle down,” he heard the sheriff say, and he watched as the man held his hand to Agnes Slayton’s neck checking for a pulse.
Sheriff Potts shook his head and stood and then turned to look at Jonathan. “She’s dead, Johnny.”
Jonathan stood there in panic, fighting back the urge to vomit, not sure what to do, or what to say. And then he thought of little Sara. “We need to find the girl!” he said.
They looked around and the shack was only one room and no one else was inside.
“Jurgenson, you run back to the road and bring the cars up. Jonathan, you come with me.”
They walked back out into the sunlight and Jonathan shielded his eyes from the bright sun still just above the tree line to the west. Jurgenson ran back up the road and Jonathan followed the sheriff around the side of the shack. The old truck sat there, windows rolled down. Potts brought his shotgun up to firing position as they approached.
They both heard a soft sob coming from inside the truck and they quickened their pace, the sheriff out ahead. Jonathan saw him look in the side window and when he came up, he saw Sara Slayton was sitting on the floor of the truck, her head down between her knees, sobbing quietly.
Chapter Twenty-five
The sign above the gallery had changed and it always seemed odd for Sally to see it now. She had owned the shop as the Thomason Gallery for so many years. Her partner in the business, Gwen Roberts, had taken it over when Sally left that summer with Alex. The sign now read The Charlevoix Gallery. She pushed open the familiar front door and walked into the shop. Gwen’s new partner, Tara Peterson, was standing behind a counter going through some paperwork. She looked up when she heard Sally come in.
“Well hello, Sally. Nice to see you,” Tara said.
“Good morning, Tara,” Sally said, looking around the shop. “You have some beautiful pieces.
“Thank you, we’ve brought in a whole new collection of work this summer.”
“It’s really wonderful,” Sally said. “Do you mind if I just look around a little?”
“No, not at all. Gwen is in the back. Do you want me to get her?” Tara offered.
“That would be great, thanks.” Sally walked over to the far wall to look at several northern landscapes similar to her own painting style.
She heard Gwen’s familiar voice, “What a nice surprise. The prodigal daughter returns home.” Gwen came over and gave Sally a hug. “The nice weather is agreeing with you, Sal.”
“It’s been beautiful,” Sally said. “The shop looks wonderful, what a nice selection you’ve brought in.”
“Oh, thanks. Tara and I were all over this winter trying to find new talent and Tara’s work has been doing great.”
“You’ve done really well,” Sally said.
Tara came out from the back room and went over behind the counter to finish up her paperwork.
“Tara, do you mind if Sally and I take a break and run next door to get a cup of coffee?” Gwen asked.
“No, go ahead, I’ll hold down the fort.”
Sally and Gwen walked down the street and ordered two lattes at the coffee shop and then found an empty table and two chairs out on the sidewalk. They sat down and watched the summer crowds flow by for a few moments.
Sally turned to Gwen. “So how are things up here in the cold north,” Sally asked.
“It’s been fine, Sal. You kno
w, when you left, I really thought for a long time about getting back to New York and starting over there, but I went back a couple times and it just didn’t feel like home anymore. All of my old friends were either gone or had changed so much I barely knew them anymore.”
“I really miss the old town, too,” Sally said. “It’s been great to come back for a few weeks every summer with the boat, but I just miss the pace up here. It’s so crazy in New York with Alex and Megan’s schedules and the travel we’ve been doing.”
“Are you doing alright?” Gwen asked, reaching over to touch her arm.
“I’m fine,” she said.
“Why do I sense that’s not completely true?” Gwen asked.
“No really, my marriage has turned out to be even more than I’d hoped. Alex is exactly what you see, just a truly nice man, and Megan and I have become very close. She’s a great kid.”
“So, what’s the problem?” Gwen asked.
“Well, Alex has some serious issues with his business. I can’t get into the details, but you know Louis Kramer, his partner?”
“Oh yeah, Mr. Mary Alice Gregory,” Gwen said and then they both laughed.
“Yeah, what a pair,” Sally said. “The thing is, Louis has pulled some pretty serious and apparently illegal stunts with the business and he and Alex are in a lot of trouble with the SEC and the Attorney General of New York.”
“Oh Sally, I had no idea.”
“Alex truly had no part in any of this, I’m sure, but as president of the company he’s responsible and he may even be charged with some of this,” Sally said.
“Honey, I’m so sorry,” Gwen said. “How long has this been going on?”
“Several months now. Alex has a top law firm in New York working for him and at least he seems pretty confident about the whole thing.”
“But not so for Louis Kramer?”
“No, I think Louie is in a bunch of trouble.”
“Well, I’m really sorry to hear that, even for Louis. He’s kind of a lovable old guy.”
“Not so lovable anymore,” Sally said. “And then Alex has this hot Italian number as his lead attorney, Anna Bataglia.”
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