Speak in Winter Code

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Speak in Winter Code Page 4

by S. M. Harding


  “Enough play-by-play. Remember what Emily said: go along with the fantasy.”

  I cut the engine and turned to Des. “Stay.”

  I got out, walked up to the front door and tried to slow my pulse. I knocked, opened the door and left it slightly ajar. When I stepped into the living room I saw Emily in a side chair. Laura stood behind her, a service pistol in her hand.

  “What’s going on?” I saw quick movement in the kitchen. “Why are you here?”

  “We were just having a little fun,” Laura said, moving toward me. She seemed to have forgotten the gun in her hand. “I’ve missed you so much, sweetheart.”

  She put her arms around me and kissed me, began unzipping my parka with her free hand. I pulled back and could feel her stiffen. “You know I’m not comfortable with public displays of affection, don’t you, Laura.”

  “Public?”

  “In front of other people.” I motioned to Em. She began to turn when a blur flew past my shoulder. It knocked Laura down and fastened a jaw around her wrist. Her weapon went slithering across the floorboards. I couldn’t understand. Des was in the car.

  Win shoved past me. “Des! Release!”

  Des let go of Laura’s wrist when Win recovered the gun. She sat beside Win, licking her chops.

  Laura was crying and holding her wrist. “All I want is you, Sarah. I want us to be together all the time. Not sneak around anymore.”

  I helped her up. I didn’t read her her rights, but I cuffed her. If she was as loony as Win thought, then she didn’t need jail, she needed treatment. Win helped Em to her feet.

  “You people have got to stop hanging around me because I’m tired of being used as bait,” Em said, her voice shaky. “I don’t want any more of this crap. Ever.”

  * * *

  When Laura grew more hysterical, Em gave her a sedative and we took her to the hospital in town. While we waited for the paperwork to be completed, Win hovered. She kept asking Em if she was okay. She’d brought Des in, afraid to leave her in the car again and I thought needing Des close. For a woman who’d been so cool and in command, she was a tad puddly now.

  “We’re all safe, even Des.” At Em’s, when we’d gone out to the car, we found the back window down. We looked at Des and she’d just smiled. “I swear the window was up when I left the truck. I think this hero is an escape artist.” I motioned to the row of chairs. “Now sit down and collect yourself.”

  “Sorry,” Win said as she sat down. “Just wound up.”

  Des sat by her and stuck her muzzle into her lap. The two stared into one another’s eyes. I wondered who Des had charged in to save, me or Win? She’d never taken to Laura and avoided her when she could. Perhaps this was just her own form of taking advantage of the situation. No, she’d do anything to keep both of us safe.

  Paperwork done, Em signed it. “Ladies, I’m going home. Laura will be transported to the VA in the morning. I’m turning her case over to the psychiatrist there.” She ran her hands through her hair. “She’ll be okay eventually. She’s got a hell of a lot of work to do to get there. I’m sorry, Win. I should’ve paid more attention to what you told me. If you need to talk about this, call me.”

  “Same to you,” Win said with a big grin.

  As we walked to my car, I felt a complex stew of feelings, but the predominate one was sadness.

  “I’ll need to swing by and pick up my truck,” Win said as we headed home.

  “No way, not tonight. We’re going straight home. I’ll take you in tomorrow.”

  “What’s the rush?”

  “What do you think? We’ve been walking on eggshells and I need some good release. That is, if you’re willing.”

  “My, oh my,” Win said. She leaned her head back and stared out the windshield. “So you kissed another woman today. How’d you like it?”

  “I didn’t. Too damn sloppy and way too fast.”

  “Hmm.”

  “What does that mean, Win?”

  “It means it was a new experience. One you’ll think about.”

  “I’m only thinking about kissing you right now and we’re almost home. So get ready, Wife.”

  Chapter Eight

  Win

  Sarah made love that night with complete concentration. My lightest touch elicited a response. Her gaze never left my body, as if she was memorizing it. By sight. By touch.

  I was right. Laura’s kiss had taken her by surprise. Had shaken her, even if it was too much tongue. She was the only other woman Sarah had ever kissed. My second woman was so long ago, I couldn’t even remember who she was. Sarah had a hell of a lot more women to kiss to catch up. Would she want to?

  Remembering the numbers made me sad. Sex? A hundred? More? One good thing, my emotional count was two. Azar and Sarah.

  As dawn lit Sarah’s breasts in a rosy hue, I watched her dream. I knew Sarah wouldn’t talk about what she’d felt at Laura’s kiss. Not until she’d processed her response to it. Her reaction bothered her, that much I knew. She didn’t like to talk about “stuff.” Had she shared with Hugh? As her husband, surely she’d talked with him. When had she started stuffing down her feelings? Micah said what was on his mind, flat out. Elizabeth, Sarah’s mother, was a bit more circumspect. Maybe out of diplomacy, I thought, not lack of awareness. Maybe it was the years Sarah had spent as a deputy, then sheriff. The need to appear professional. Stuff the feelings down and get on with the job.

  I wished we could talk about it.

  Sarah opened her eyes, yawned. Stretched. Reached out her hand to me. “Last night was lovely. Made me forget it wasn’t the first time.”

  What did that mean? “You want to start over?”

  “No. That’s not what I meant.” She propped herself on one elbow. “I never expected my love for you could grow every day. So, every time we make love, it’s new because the love is new. Am I making any sense?”

  “Yeah.” I took her hand, entwined our fingers. “Yesterday crystalized something for me. You walked into that house and I understood how Azar felt every time I went on patrol. She never said anything, but once I turned around for another look. Saw the worry on her face. I realized my face wears the same expression when you go to work.”

  “I…”

  “I probably shouldn’t have said anything. I don’t want you to stop being sheriff because I know how much it’s a part of you. Down deep. But each time you come home, it’s a miracle to me.” I kissed her. “Just my klutzy way of saying I understand what you said. About each time being new.”

  She examined my face. “Be real, Win. I’m behind my desk more than I’m out on patrol.”

  “Doesn’t matter and I don’t want you to change to fit into our marriage. I knew what I was in store for. Well, mostly.”

  Sarah pulled me down to her, kissed me with surprising energy for so early in the morning. “What you said, about kissing Laura, I was honest with you. I didn’t like it. Am I curious about kissing other women? Not that I’m aware of.”

  “So it’s possible?”

  “But not probable.”

  * * *

  I was just finishing my first cup of coffee when Sarah’s phone rang. This was her day off. I’d been looking forward to some snowshoeing. Maybe hot cocoa in front of the fire. And then…

  “Not on or off the record, Zoe. It’s a private matter,” Sarah said. “You tell Mary Ellen Simmons she’d better keep her big mouth shut or she’ll find herself faced with disciplinary action from the Medical Board.” She tossed me the phone. “Zoe.”

  “Morning,” I said.

  “I’m working on a couple of articles about PTSD in our returning soldiers—”

  “No.”

  “Come on, Win. I want to do a good job with this and I’ve already interviewed several soldiers.”

  “First mistake. It’s not just military who suffer from the disorder. Any first responder is susceptible. Firefighters, EMTs, cops. I don’t want people thinking every soldier who comes home from deployment is a
ticking time bomb. It’s not true. Strictly off the record, the woman who was brought in last night never served in a combat zone. The trauma that happened to her, happened here in good old McCrumb County.”

  Des woofed to go out. I opened the door and followed. “I have a question for you. What do you know about the Sovereign Citizen movement?”

  “In the county? Nothing. Should I?”

  “Maybe. You want a story? That might be a good one. Try the McCrumb County Rangers.” I disconnected.

  I tucked the phone in my pocket. John Morgan had given Sarah copies of all the letters—Sarah’s and those to the Brownes. She’d brought them home, left them on my desk. They scared the shit out of me, the way any paramilitary does to the military. I hadn’t said anything to Sarah. What had I been preaching? Openness. No secrets. Shit. I hoped sending Zoe McClanahan off on the trail would keep me relatively uninvolved. Her job was to report the news. Mine was to protect Sarah.

  Not right, Win. Silence would keep me from active pursuit so Sarah wouldn’t find out.

  I threw snowballs for Des. High underhand pitches that gave her time to field them. Snow all over her face, we went back inside.

  “I really like Zoe,” Sarah said. She turned from a skillet of frying sausage. “But why is it, reporters always want to know stuff that should be private?”

  “It’s their job, Sarah.” I refilled my mug. “Zoe did a nice job on our story.”

  Sarah concentrated on the sausage patties.

  “Are you sorry you came out to the whole county?”

  “No, never. Sometimes I wish there wasn’t a need to.”

  “Yeah, maybe someday,” I said. “Not today.”

  Chapter Nine

  He stood in the same position, but the changing seasons had changed his view. The paddock grass had turned from a luscious green to a faded, darker shade and the trees on the mountains stood naked under a light dusting of snow, waiting for winter to finish. He felt utterly impatient with the rate of change.

  A soft knock at the double doors stopped his thoughts. “Come.” He turned to face his visitor. “Waterstone. Good to see you again and I hope your mission has been successful.”

  Seth Waterstone stood at attention until the man motioned him to a chair at the long table. “I’m not sure that you’ll think it was successful, except in a negative way. The McCrumb County Rangers are pathetic role-players. The only talent we found has been sent to camp for further training. We’ll send them back when they’re finished, but that may be a while, sir. They lack discipline and sense.”

  “Shamsi’s status? I want him dead before he gives the feds a clear trail to us.”

  “Hard to reach right now because he’s in a well-operated jail. If he was in a general population of a larger prison, it wouldn’t be a problem. However, we could take him out with a sniper during his next court appearance. I’ve placed a sniper for other purposes and he could handle this. But that means we have to wait and we don’t know how much he’s already said to MCIA. We can put a court appearance into play at any time.” Waterstone frowned. “We’ve found a way to introduce an assassin into the jail before the trial begins. It all depends on what kind of message you want to send.”

  “I trust your judgment, use whatever method you want but get it done now.” He stared at Waterstone. “What’s the status on the sheriff?”

  “She’s married to a MCIA operative, retired but still in contact with General William Keller, her old CO. They are a formidable team.”

  “The sheriff and her husband or…”

  “Excuse me, sir. I should’ve been clear. Sarah Pitt’s married to a woman, Win Kirkland, a retired MCIA Colonel. Both are on cooperative terms with Keller. The three form a team, sir.”

  “I have sincere hopes you’ve formulated a plan to convince the sheriff to keep her nose out of our business. Now and forever.”

  “Yes sir. But it’s going to take some time and I know you’ve lost valuable time with the lost missiles and UAVs. I’ll push as hard as I can.”

  “Push harder, Waterstone. If we wait too long, we’ll lose our support all over this country. Right now, there’s plenty of dissent and anger boiling. We’ve got to keep it going strong.”

  Chapter Ten

  Sarah

  I wished every day could be like this one. We’d snowshoed up Foley’s Knob, the gnarled siltstone remnant which loomed in front of our house. Des broke the trail for us until she got tired, then Win took the lead and Des followed behind. Back home, we built a fire and cuddled on the couch. I couldn’t remember when I’d felt so content and full and at peace. Until Win started talking.

  “Why don’t you have John send me his files on all those renegade groups he’s been following,” she began. “I’ve got a couple of days with nothing to do and while I’m profiling those letters, I can match words and phrases.”

  I groaned. “You sure know how to break a wonderful moment.”

  Win moved her arm from around my shoulders and sat forward. “Because you don’t want to think about this doesn’t mean there’s no real threat. If I’m working on the analysis, I don’t have as much time to worry.”

  “Hell, Win. That’s blackmail.”

  She grinned. “Yes, it is.”

  “Damnation. You’ve gotten cheeky.”

  “What do you want for dinner?” she asked as she handed me the phone from the kitchen counter.

  “Pizza and beer. I don’t want to cook and I don’t want you to cook. I want to sit here and watch the fire and be with you.”

  “I’ll call for pizza if you’ll call John now.”

  “More damn blackmail.” I made the call, and though John sounded a bit surprised, he said he’d send them right away. When I disconnected, Win was doing the same.

  “Forty minutes to enjoy the fire and just be together. I won’t even think about this again until you’re back at work in the morning. Promise.” She sank back onto the couch and pulled me to her. “This is bliss for me too.”

  I snuggled into her. “Bliss isn’t a word I’ve used too many times in my life. But I can use it now without qualification. Thank you for today.”

  “Thank you for doing it.”

  I rested my head on Win’s shoulder. “We’re supposed to get more snow tonight. Maybe we’ll get snowed in and have two or three whole days together.”

  “We need a vacation,” Win said as she rubbed my shoulder. “I know. My fault with my class schedule, but I enjoy teaching way more than I thought possible. When you’re ready to retire, you should think about teaching at the academy.”

  I snorted. “Is this your sneaky way of saying you hope this is my last term as sheriff?”

  “No.” She tweaked my shoulder. “You want to go four terms, so be it. I think I’m just surprised at how much I like it. My life is good.”

  “And even better when the kids get here?”

  “Yes.” She pulled me to her. “Thank you, for everything.”

  * * *

  One of the hardest things I’d done lately was get out of our warm bed and come to work. If it’d been up to me, I would’ve voted for another day home with Win, but what kind of example would that have given to my deputies?

  I needed to start on paperwork, but Win’s request propelled me upstairs to the detective’s loft. I wanted to know where we stood with the Brownes’ murder investigation and if we’d found any link with the letters. Three flights of stairs made me feel yesterday’s hike with cranky knees and achy thighs. I definitely needed to get more exercise, and more consistently.

  John was at his desk and looked up when I tapped on the doorframe. “Morning Sarah. I was glad you talked Win into going over those militia sites.”

  “She volunteered. Maybe she can spot something we’ve missed. Anything new?”

  “Yeah, but not necessarily good news. I had Nathan look at the Rangers’ website and he’s not the provider. It’s a national network I fondly call ‘the nutwork.’ All kinds of radical right groups.”


  “How’d you get onto this network, John?”

  “Southern Poverty Law Center. I subscribe. It occurred to me that the radical right’s ideology was rearing its ugly head in McCrumb County. Just talk, but I kept wondering how long they’d keep to talk without action.”

  I’d heard the rumblings too, but dismissed them as venting frustration with the economy. “How many other groups in the county?”

  He laughed and hit a folder icon. Out spilled a list of twenty or more groups. “Now some of these only have three or four members, close as I can tell. But others are part of a statewide or national network.”

  “Is that what the number column means?”

  “Yeah, membership. The column after that indicates the nature of the hate group. Neo-Nazi, White Nationalist, Skinhead, Klan, militia, sovereign citizen, radical Tea Party and a couple of fundamentalist religious like the Dominionists, groups who are loosely linked to the others.”

  “A toxic mix.”

  “I have more. Membership rolls for some of them, leadership structure, connections with larger groups.” He glanced at me. “All legally obtained from their sites and I’ve done the work on my own time. When it looked like we might be dealing with McCrumb County Rangers, I downloaded all this onto my workstation.”

  “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised with some of these, though I thought the KKK had died a lasting death a long time ago. They were active in the twenties and thirties—I remember Granddad telling awful stories about them.”

  “They’ve never gone away, just been quiet.” John tapped another key. “They’re recruiting people who think the ‘brown tide’ is going to overwhelm America.”

  I could hear the disgust in his voice. “So how do the Rangers fit into this general scheme?”

  “Good question that I don’t have a good answer for. Most of these sites share videos, stories, that kind of stuff. But the Rangers use only their own nutwork’s investigations and reports.”

 

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