Speak in Winter Code

by S. M. Harding

  I ached to touch Sarah, to kiss her body. Just to hold her in my arms. But I couldn’t. I pushed the covers back and got out of bed. Put on socks and my new robe, a Christmas gift from Sarah. As I padded out to the kitchen, I noticed the pile of my caps on the couch. I picked up the helmet. Battered as it was, it was a wonder I hadn’t gotten any brain damage. Why had I kept it? To remind me of the danger of combat. To be careful.

  Now it was combat of a different kind. To stay open to the woman I loved, not become defensive, not wound her. To be careful.

  I let Des out and started the coffee. Looked at the helmet I’d laid on the counter. So many battles. So much blood. Des barked to get in about the time the coffee maker beeped. I let her in, poured two mugs full and walked back to our bedroom. I called Sarah’s name softly.

  Her eyes fluttered open and she squinted at the clock. “Couldn’t we sleep in once in a while?”

  “Sit up and we’ll have coffee in bed.”

  She pushed up into a sitting position. “Oh, I’m sore, too much lifting yesterday.”

  I handed her the mug, settled on my side of the bed. “So what do you want to do today?”

  “Go back to sleep.”

  “All day?”

  “We could stay in bed all day. Uh, talk.”

  I turned to face her. “I dreamed about you last night. When we were kids.”

  Her eyes widened. “I dreamed about you. And Hugh. He said, ‘That was a rookie mistake.’ Only it wasn’t.” She sipped her coffee. “It was a dream, Win. Let me see if I can remember.”

  She closed her eyes, laid her head back. She had a beautiful neck. But if I did what I wanted to do, we’d never talk.

  “That’s what it was about,” she said, opening her eyes. “There were crossed wires, dispatch gave me the wrong address and I ended up inadvertently making a drug bust, kind of out of the blue. When I told Hugh, he was snotty about it.”

  “Told you it was a rookie mistake?”

  “Looking back on it now, I realize I scared him. I thought I was serving a warrant on check forgery. I knocked on the door, a guy opened it. They were cutting cocaine in the living room.”

  “Fuck it, I understand his scare.”

  “But that’s when I stopped telling him stuff like that. When he died and I moved back home, Dad was sheriff. I couldn’t share those kind of mistakes with him. Mom got sick and we didn’t talk about work at all.”

  “You shut down.”

  She nodded. “I go to Dad now when I want advice or can’t figure something out. But hell, it’s taken a long time for me to get there. That first year after I was elected, I felt like Dad was looking over my shoulder, ready to criticize.”

  “To tell you you’d made a rookie mistake.”

  “Yeah. Now that I hear you say it, it sounds so silly.”

  I put my arm around her. “That’s why you need to think about this stuff. To banish the hobgoblins, to dismiss the irrational fears.”

  “Irrational, huh?”

  “Yeah, most of the time.” I rubbed her shoulder. “Look, I’ve spent a lifetime not talking. Not about my missions, not about being lesbian. Silence was a valued habit. So was not examining what I was feeling. Now I’ve changed. I feel free for the first time in years. I’d like to see you feel the same.”

  “I’ll try, I promise.”

  “Okay.” It was the best I was going to get now. “How about you fill me in on those letters? Then we can go over to Nathan’s, see what he’s found.”

  “First,” she said, putting her coffee on the nightstand. “How about we make up?”

  Chapter Twenty

  Sarah

  We walked into Nathan’s in the early afternoon and I was floored to see Dad bent over a keyboard. “What are you doing here?”

  He looked up. “Hired assistant to the Chief Hacker. Leastways with this job, I get paid.”

  I looked at Nathan who didn’t appear the least chagrined. “We’ve covered a lot of territory trying to fill in the local picture.” He punched a couple of keys and two monitors came to life. “This guy’s been in steady contact with the group in Idaho. Also fancies himself a hacker.”

  “You hacked him?” I asked.

  “Sometimes amateur hackers are the easiest to hack because they’re so arrogant.”

  “Has he hacked either of us?”

  “With the fire walls I’ve installed on Win’s service and the sheriff’s department, I don’t think he stands a chance. But I’ll keep checking.”

  “You have a picture of him?”

  Nathan brought up an Indiana driver’s license featuring a forgettable face. “I didn’t really hack this, Sarah. I just combined your databases into mine.”

  That didn’t make me feel any easier.

  “Meet Joshua Leatherby, who’s lived in the county the last six months. He moved here from Washington County. No arrests, no warrants.”

  “I’ve seen him twice, once at Rhomer’s and once yesterday when I was getting the beds,” Win said. “What does he drive?”

  “A 2001 Dodge Durango, forest green.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “He tailed us about halfway home from Rhomer’s last week,” Win said. “Yesterday, he followed me into town. We need to check with Caleb.”

  “You think he’s triangulating?” Nathan asked. “Or planning something?”

  “Both,” Win said. “I think the first was a chance meeting. He was shopping for his own shit. But if he wants an exact location, why not just follow Sarah home from the sheriff’s office?”

  “Maybe he can’t,” Nathan said. “Maybe he works the same hours and can’t get into Greenglen when Sarah’s leaving.”

  “He works six days a week? Maybe he’s afraid of Sarah picking up on him.”

  “I’m here, in the room,” I said. Win glanced at me with a raised eyebrow. “I’ve been keeping an eye out for tails. Also for long, shiny reflections in the hills, as well as unusual people hanging around outside the department. Nobody’s tailed me from work.”

  “I expect he figures you’re on alert,” Win said. “But if the opportunity presented itself, he must’ve thought it was too good a gift to ignore.”

  Nathan nodded. “I’m doing a deep search, but it may take a couple of more days.”

  “I can’t pull him in for anything,” I said, feeling weary.

  “Mebbe Win an’ me can do a bit of tailin’, pick him up in the mornin’, change off durin’ the day.”

  “I go back to work tomorrow in Bloomington, Micah,” Win said. “I won’t be home until Friday night.”

  “Dang, I forgot. Mebbe I can talk to my buddies. Mebbe even work a three-man team.”

  “I have to be here some of the day, but count me in,” Nathan said.

  I began to tear up, then glanced at Win. Her face was set hard in anger. “I’ll be okay, Win.”

  “You realize some of these militias are armed like the Taliban or Al Qaeda?” she asked, her voice hard. “That one person could set up on Foley’s Knob and send an RPG into our home?”

  * * *

  Win was quiet on the ride home and I sure didn’t know what to say. The image of our home blown to smithereens could invoke nightmares for both of us. I kept my eyes open, both on the rearview mirror and on the hills. I could tell Win was doing the same.

  “They’ve used a rifle so far,” I said.

  Win nodded. “If they can’t get to you easy, they’ll go the easy route with a big boom.”

  “I’ve been driving into work every day. Once a shot’s taken, there’s not a lot of evasive maneuvers I can make.” I turned onto Clayton Corners Road with no one behind me and no glint of a rifle barrel. It wasn’t until I parked that I started to breathe again.

  “Maybe Nathan can put a trip wire and camera on the path up to Foley’s Knob,” Win said as we hurried inside. She let us in and Des out, then leaned against the closed door. “I don’t want to live like this. Always on alert.”

  I slipped into
her arms. “I don’t want to either.”

  “I’m terrified to go into Bloomington,” Win said. “Maybe I can come home every night instead of staying in the apartment.”

  “We’ve got to live as normally as we can or we’ll go crazy. At least I will. Maybe you’re used to this kind of pressure. Are you?”

  Win pulled me into her arms. “I have been. On foreign soil, not so much here.” She kissed my eyelids. “I wanted to leave all this crap behind me. Live a normal life. Hard to do, sometimes.”

  “Your PTSD? You feel like it’s kicking in?”

  “Not yet, but I’ll keep checking in with myself.” She rested her forehead on mine. “Emily always asks the questions that go to the heart of my demons.”

  “I want to help, but I don’t know what to ask or where even to begin. I can’t help you and I feel so damn useless.”

  “You don’t have to ask questions, just be here with me.” She stepped back. “Nathan’s going to contact Bill, find out who’s got the heavy hardware for sale. He’ll check Leatherby’s contacts. I’m still worried about a sniper. I’d rest easier if I knew nothing heavy was coming our way.”

  I pulled her back into my arms and we embraced until Des barked to get in. I made quick work of heating up soup and making sandwiches while Win lit the fire. After dinner, we sat on the couch, afraid to talk about the situation, afraid not to.

  “Maybe we should move to Vermont,” I said. “Raise dairy cattle.”

  Win laughed. “You’d get your exercise.”

  “You think I’m getting fat? Do you?”

  She felt around my middle, then lifted up my sweater to look and ran her hands around me. She raised an eyebrow.

  “No! I have not gained more than five pounds since we’ve been together.”

  “Five?”

  I swatted her. “You better watch it, or we aren’t going to do much dancing.”

  “Which I would miss terribly.”

  “Maybe I can meet you at Ruby’s Friday night, stay the night at the apartment.”

  “That might work—they wouldn’t expect it. Besides, I love dancing with you there.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Win

  Sarah handed me her civilian parka and a small duffel bag before she left for work. “Do I still have a clean uniform there?”

  “I’ll make sure you do,” I said, examining her face. Tense, but not panicked.

  She slipped her arms around me, nestled her head on my shoulder. “I want to go with you, be a faculty wife.”

  “That would be…interesting. You’d have to bone up on feminist philosophy.” I stepped back. “Don’t let this all get to you. We’ll get this guy. In the meantime, look for a beat-up old Ford truck following you around.”

  “Dad?”

  “Yes, would be my guess. Please realize this isn’t a plot to diminish your authority.” I dropped the bag, put the parka on top of it. Kissed her with a memory of last night.

  “Whew,” she said. “You always leave me weak-kneed.”

  We embraced and I savored the scent of her. “I’ll see you Friday night. Stay vigilant. Concentrate on your job, Sarah.”

  In my mind’s eye, I saw Des and me standing on the front porch in the cold, watching Sarah leave for work. I sighed. I saw my breath freeze and float away. How easily each of us can lose breath without the chance to watch it float to infinity.

  I drove into Bloomington without incident, though it drained me to maintain the line between vigilance and hypervigilance. My phone rang as I was going up to the apartment. Micah. My heart did a flip. “Is Sarah okay?”

  “She’s fine, Win. Got to work just fine. No sign of a tail or anything untoward on the way. How’d you know I followed her?”

  “I just knew it. Are you going to stay with her tonight?”

  “Thought ’bout it, but reckoned she’d get her back up, say a ‘no’ flatter than a sheet of paper.”

  I grinned. “What if I call, ask her to request your presence until I get home? You know, so I don’t have to worry.”

  “Ain’t nothin’ like a good guilt trip to get Sarah to do somethin’ she don’t want to do. Hope you get to concentrate on your teachin’, Win. I’ll stay in touch.”

  Micah was a sweetheart. I brought everything inside and hung her clean uniform in the tiny closet. I got my notes out for class. But before I started a quick review, I called Nathan.

  “Anything new?” I asked.

  “Morning Win. Sarah safe at work?”

  “Yeah. Just heard from Micah. Are you working his detail?”

  “You better believe it.” His chair creaked. “I talked to Susan last night. The reservation is upset about a group of militia up to the north. So are some of the towns around where they train. I guess uneasy is a good name for the feeling. She said she’d talk to the sheriff, see if she can get any definite information.”

  “Uneasy people are good, means they’re keeping a sharp eye out. What about the local picture? Anything on Leatherby?”

  “I’ll let you know if I find anything, soon as I do.”

  “Sorry, don’t mean to push. I just hear a clock ticking.”

  “So do I. This letter writer isn’t going to be satisfied with just making threats for much longer, or at least I get that feeling.”

  “It’s a power-trip for him, Nathan. Don’t be surprised if he keeps playing cat and mouse for a while longer. It’s the people behind him I’m worried about.”

  * * *

  I kept in contact with everyone over the next two days. Sarah in long talks at bedtime. Nathan and Micah via emailed updates. Bill puzzled me. He wasn’t divulging much, which made me think McCrumb County was a small cog in a much larger investigation. At least that was my gut reaction. What? A militia uprising? Revolution? Fuck them all.

  My students were glad to be back at work. Some had shown surprising enterprise by using the syllabus to work on what we were supposed to cover last week. I was glad of the distraction too. At least when I was in the classroom, I could only concentrate on the intricacies of the Tajik language.

  We finished a little early Friday and on my way back to the apartment, I called Micah. It went to voice mail. Ditto Nathan. Ditto Sarah. My hand began to shake. The only other person I could think of was the institution named Dory, the sheriff department’s primo dispatcher. I was relieved when she answered.

  “Hi, Win.”

  I was expecting the standard spiel. Of course Dory had caller ID. “I’ve been trying to get hold of Micah and Nathan and Sarah. It all went to voice mail. You have any idea where they are?”

  “In Sarah’s office meeting with Caleb and John.”

  I took a deep breath. “I was worried. When they get out would you have Micah or Nathan call me?”

  “Sure, hon. How’re you doin’?”

  “Hanging in.”

  “Sounds more like hangin’ on. You take care an’ I’ll nab Micah the second he comes out.”

  “Thanks, Dory.”

  I continued my walk across the campus. Maintenance was still working on the sidewalks, Streets and Sanitation on the roads. I slung the courier bag across my chest, tucked the phone into my pocket and began the search for my gloves. I wondered if we’d ever see the sun again. Constant lowering gray skies were sapping everybody’s energy, particularly mine.

  I slipped and slid my way to my block. Then the tingling began. I looked around as unobtrusively as possible. Nothing. As I approached the doorway to my building, the tingle lifted the hairs on the back of my neck.

  I was reaching for my keys when I heard a shot and the bricks beside my head exploded. I dove for the front entrance. Lay sprawled until I snaked my way to a safe corner. Waited. Remembered to breathe. Put my hand over my nose so I wouldn’t send a plume into the still air. I shoved myself to a standing position. No other shots. This would be a waiting game. How long could a man aiming a rifle stand unnoticed in a public space?

  I caught movement inside the hall. Double-tea
med? I let a long breath out when the figure emerged from the shadows and I recognized my landlady, Mrs. Barrett.

  “Get back!” I yelled. “Shots fired!”

  She kept coming and opened the door. “He’s gone. Left right after he fired. Figured you’d stay put until the cows came home if I didn’t give the all clear.”

  I moved around the open door quickly and sheltered in the corner of the lobby. “Are you sure?” Dumb question. Mrs. B. was a former state trooper.

  She pursed her lips, looked at me over her glasses. “Come on in. Let me clean off your coat and tend to your face.”

  I lifted my hand up. It came away bloody. I felt the sting on my cheek and temple. I hoped from flying bits of brick. I followed her into her apartment, a light, airy space sparsely filled with 1960s Scandinavian furniture.

  “Give me your coat,” she said.

  I slipped off my bag and wiggled out of my parka. I followed her into her kitchen where she put it on the drainboard.

  “First things first,” she said as she reached into her pantry. “Sit.”

  I did, glad my shaking legs could rest.

  She opened a first aid box and brought out some gauze. She wet it under the faucet and wiped my cheek softly.

  “Do I need stitches?”

  She shook her head. “Mostly I’m trying to get the brick dust out.”

  “You saw the shooter?”

  “Yep.” She moved back to the sink. “Too far away to see his face, so if you want to show me a lineup, won’t do any good.”

  “But you know where he was standing?”

  “Yep. You gonna tell me what’s going on? Or should I just call the cops and let you explain to them?”

  With Mrs. Barrett, honesty was the only policy. “Sarah’s been threatened, there’ve been related murders and another shooting. My guess is that this is connected.”

  “Threats against that lovely woman? Those people in McCrumb County are a bunch of crazy hillbillies.” She dried my cheek and temple and applied some salve. “Now, let’s work on your coat.”

  My phone rang from one of the pockets as she lifted it. She jumped, more shaken than I’d thought.