“What the damn hell?”
“It will only take a minute.” I stepped inside and flipped the yearbook open. “Do you know this kid?”
He squinted. “I can’t see anything.”
I held the book under the light, keeping the door open in case I needed to get out fast, and tapped the photo. “This one in front with the wavy hair.”
He stuck his nose closer to it. “No, and I wouldn’t want to. Looks like another one of those long-haired wimps too afraid to fight for their country.” He went into another diatribe against peace activists.
“Are you sure? He was at the Fargo drone event.”
He looked again. “Might have seen him race a couple of times. Not lately though. Like I said, I won’t have anything to do with those hippies.”
My brain adjusted to what had just happened. He’d seen the kid, but didn’t really know him. My thoughts swiveled to the Lundbergs and Millers and took another leap. I held up a hand. “How’s Evelyn?”
Weldon’s jaw dropped. “She won’t have anything to do with me. Go on. Get out of here.”
“If you give me her phone number I’ll put in a good word for you.”
He peered up at me. “Why would you do that?”
“You seem lonely and unhappy. Maybe your wife is lonely, too.” My real reason was to get him to stop blackmailing his neighbor. Encouraging him to leave Medicine Falls was the only solution that came to me on short notice.
For a moment, his angry guard slipped away and the saddest expression crossed his face. “She won’t come back. She’s gotten stubborn in her old age. Evie never used to be like that.”
“Maybe you never used to be so hard to live with.”
He snorted like an old bull. “You’ve got your nerve.”
I lifted a shoulder. “Just guessing.”
He lowered his head and came for me. “Get the hell out of here!”
I moved behind his work bench. “Just give me the number. What have you got to lose?”
That stopped him. He said, “Well, hell.” He tapped his phone for the number and tossed it to me. I entered his wife’s number in my phone, set his on the workbench and left.
He yelled from the step. “Waste of time.”
*
I hadn’t intended to contact her right away, but why not get this resolved? I called her from my car. “Mrs. Weldon?”
“This is Evelyn Weldon. Who’s calling?”
I identified myself. “I’m an acquaintance of your husband’s, and I thought you might like to know he’s been getting involved with some questionable activities.”
“If you mean tormenting those anti-war activists, I know about that. He won’t listen to me. The police already asked me about where he was when the college was bombed. He was here trying to talk me into going home. I told him no.”
She didn’t sound like she was lying, but liars rarely did. I said, “He’s also trying to keep the Summer Fest event out of Medicine Falls.”
“He hated that thing.”
“And he’s blackmailing your neighbors.”
Her voice rose. “What?”
That time I believed her. “He puts cameras on his drones and takes compromising photos of the neighbors, and then threatens to use the pictures if they vote in support of Summer Fest.”
“Oh my God. Those police never mentioned that.” She tsked. “I hoped his interest in drones would be a good hobby, keep his mind off losing our son.”
“Please talk to him, Mrs. Weldon. I told your neighbors I’d try to help.”
Her voice wobbled. “I’m not moving back there. My sister has MS. She needs me.”
“Maybe he’d be willing to live in Duluth if you’d have him back.”
“I do kind of miss the old coot but he’ll never leave Medicine Falls.”
After seeing the longing on his face, I thought he might be ready. “Why don’t you call him now? Only please don’t mention the blackmailing. He might retaliate against the neighbors in an even worse way.”
“I’ll call him, but I’m not taking him back unless he stops being such an angry old cuss.”
I thanked her, hoping at the very least to get him out of the county so people like the Lundbergs could get their lives back. My guess was he’d been harassing others as well.
Evelyn seemed to be telling the truth and so did Weldon. If he wasn’t using his drones to blow things up, that left a hole in my theory. Brian was the BCA’s suspect. Maybe they had the right person after all. But who was the kid in the yearbook? It was too late to visit Chloe, and the day had drained my energy.
*
Unwilling to admit that constant fear might be my new companion, I left the safety of the SUV to walk the few steps to my cabin, sweeping the dark sky for blinking lights, my ears attuned to anything that buzzed. Listening between the gaps in night rustles, I unlocked my door, slipped inside and locked it behind me.
I stared longingly at the teapot but Little’s chamomile wouldn’t cut it. I crawled into bed, fearful of what lay ahead.
Chills and nausea wracked my body throughout the long night, and so did the dreams. The Nigerian girl, her head covered in a blue-patterned cloth, her body covered in a loose black dress, walked closer and closer until she was directly in front of me. She ripped open her dress and I saw the vest strapped to her slight body. Her mouth opened, she screamed, “Help me.” And then we both blew up into a million pieces.
I sat up in bed and ran trembling fingers along my arms and legs, not believing they were still connected, then fell back against the pillow, gasping as if I’d run a marathon. Rock watched me from the bottom of the bed, his worried expression almost human.
“It’s okay, buddy.”
*
In the morning, after several glasses of water and standing under the shower until the water ran cold, life returned to my miserable body. There was too much to do to be sick. I swallowed what was left of a green smoothie stashed in the refrigerator and that revived me.
Chloe’s yearbook in hand, I headed straight for Branson Hospital. Her face lit up when she saw me and she started chatting nonstop. “Little’s coming this afternoon to get me. He’s like the older brother I never had. I don’t know what I would’ve done without Little and Lars when Mom died last year.” She caught her breath and plucked at the blanket. “I hate to take advantage of them now.”
“I’m glad Little will have you to fuss over and let me off the hook for a while.” I cringed. That didn’t sound right. “You know what I mean.”
She nodded. “I do know what you mean. Lars will be on me nonstop about my schoolwork.”
No one had told her about the split up. “Lars is in Minneapolis at the moment so you’ll get a pass on that.”
Her lips screwed to the left. “He called me here, but I noticed he hadn’t been in. They having problems again?”
“They are. I’ll let Little fill you in.” I pulled a chair close to her bed and held up the yearbook. “Would you mind if I asked you about someone in here?”
She took it from me. “You brought my yearbook from junior year?”
I showed her the kid with the sneer. “I’ve seen him on campus. Do you know him?”
“That’s Ethan Johnson, but he doesn’t go to Branson.”
My nerve endings sizzled. “What can you tell me about him?”
“Not much. He was only in Medicine Falls for half of junior year. Some of us tried to be friendly, but he was rude and people started bullying him.”
“His family left town?”
“They moved or he was homeschooled. There were rumors he hurt animals and stuff. I never saw him again.”
“Who bullied him?”
“Some of the jocks. Ethan always said things about how dumb they were. He was new, small, bad attitude, he had a limp and kids would mimic that.” She hurried to say, “Not that it was right.”
My voice slowed to a crawl. “Did you say limp?”
She nodded. “The rumor was that he
was in a car accident.”
I pushed the yearbook closer to her. “Can you point out the boys who bullied him?”
She pointed to a few faces.
I touched one. “I recognize that one. It’s Hunter Anderson.”
“Ethan taunted Hunter about being a dumb jock. Hunter made fun of him after that.” Chloe reddened. “He was kind of immature back then. We didn’t date for long. He’s the one who came here to tell me about Jeremy dying in the explosion. The three of us were friends.”
I ran my finger under Ethan’s name. “Did you know his family?”
She yawned and shook her head. “Sorry.”
I hated to tire her with so many questions but now we had a real connection.
Chloe swallowed. “I remembered what I was doing just before the explosion. Hunter, Jeremy and I were walking down the steps together after class, going to the food court. It was windy. Leaves were blowing around us. Jeremy was trying to catch the leaves and we were laughing. Hunter left to meet a friend.” She plucked at the blanket covering her legs. “Then I woke up in the hospital like this.”
Her eyelids drooped. I slipped the yearbook from her and said goodbye.
On the way back to Spirit Lake, I called Medicine Falls High School to get an address for Ethan Johnson. The office assistant was no help so I asked to speak to the person in charge. Several levels of personnel told me they weren’t allowed to release that kind of information. I insisted on hearing it from the Vice Principal, who said the same thing. “Only law enforcement with a proper warrant.”
Ben didn’t answer my call and neither did Barry. I’d use my own sources.
At the cabin. I went straight to my secret office and sent Ethan’s high school photo and the name under it to Sebastian.
–Could you identify this kid? He also calls himself Martin Birch. That’s all I have on him.
Always connected, Sebastian responded instantly.
–Not a lot to go on. I’ll check.
Next, I posted a photo of Emmaline, feeling sheepish for asking, but as long as he was willing...
–I’m trying to locate this woman. Her name is Emmaline Moreau. Says she doesn’t use technology so might be tricky.
–What’s her story?
–She left Spirit Lake. I really need her herbal tea.
–Seriously?
–It’s not life or death, but that last assignment left me a bit shaky. The tea actually helps.
–Anything for you.
–Thanks, Sebastian.
After Gert died, Sebastian transferred his loyalty to me. I didn’t deserve it, but was unendingly grateful.
*
Mid-afternoon Little and I brought Chloe to Spirit Lake.
She’d been practicing with the wheelchair and managed the ramp at Little’s on her own. I held the door open for her.
The staff was expecting her, and someone had let it slip that she was coming. A room full of well-wishers surrounded her. They’d even brought hotdishes. I caught the slight huffiness from Little—they’d encroached on his area of expertise. Chloe seemed slightly overwhelmed, but handled it with her usual poise.
Little had spread the word he’d need help from the church groups. Lutheran, Catholic, Baptist, and Congregationalist contingents eyed each other from separate corners of the restaurant. They’d made up a schedule specifying dates and times each church would take for the duration of her stay. Something told me there would be competition among the denominations.
Only a few months ago, Lars had received this same outpouring of love after his horrible beating.
Chloe tired quickly. She thanked everyone and the three of us headed to the apartment. Little had removed the piles of clean table linens overtaking the sofa along with the giant boxes of paper towels and hand wash gel stacked against the wall. He stood next to the open guest room door. “This is your room as long as you want it.”
She wheeled in. Her roommate had left Chloe’s favorite crocheted throw at the foot of the bed. Chloe touched it. “Mom made me this for me when I was eight.”
Little had stacked her books on a desk under the window. He’d folded her clothes on the dresser. She wouldn’t be able to reach things in the closet for a while. Chloe moved to a vase filled with cranberry and orange fall leaves on the nightstand. She beamed at Little. “You’ve thought of everything.”
We turned at a discreet cough behind us. Mrs. Clausen and Mrs. Angstrom had slipped in. Mrs. Clausen, straight-backed, tall and imperious stepped forward, hands folded at her waist. “We’ll take over now and get Chloe settled in bed.”
Mrs. Angstrom, whose arms were ample enough to enfold every kid in the county, leaned in close and covered Chloe’s hand with her own. With a gentle pat, she said, “You need your rest, sweetie.”
Little and I were being dismissed. We watched Chloe to make sure she was okay with the takeover. The expression on her face told us it had been too long since she’d felt the loving touch of motherly hands.
We slipped out and went into the kitchen. Little leaned against the wall, relief softening his features. “I was worried about handling all this without...but everything’s going to be fine.” He grabbed his apron. “I’m making her a snack, want anything?”
“No thanks. I’m going home.” Sebastian might have responded to my requests. Ben liked facts. I’d get them before calling him again.
I stopped to get a glass of water before leaving the café. The front door opened. I gaped, pouring half the glass down my shirt. Stocky upper body, skinny legs, plaid shirt, and jeans held up with suspenders. Lars was back. I said a silent prayer of thanks, then sent him a stern look. “You just get to town?”
“Is Chloe here yet?”
“She’s in the guest room. Did Little know you were coming?”
He bounced from one foot to the other. “I didn’t know what to say.”
The swinging doors between the kitchen and dining room flew open, smacking into the wall. Little dashed out, anger and happiness fighting for space on his expressive face. He crossed his arms, scowling. “Well?”
“I heard Chloe needs to stay here a while.”
“Who told you?”
Lars’s glance slid toward me. He said, “Chloe will need my help to keep up with her school assignments and the physical therapy.”
Little’s arms crossed. “I saw you look at my sister. Would you have come back if Britt hadn’t made you?”
“She didn’t make me. I didn’t take the teaching position.” He stared out the window at the lake. “I’ve been seeing a therapist down there.”
“Does that mean you really want to be here?”
He took a tentative step toward Little. “I want us to be together, and it doesn’t matter to me where that is. I didn’t feel any safer two hundred miles away from here, and I missed you.”
Little dropped the interrogation. “You can go on back and say hi to Chloe.” They headed for the kitchen. Little was still frowning, Lars darted unsure peeks at him as they walked.
Life was messy in Spirit Lake.
Chapter 21
At home, Rock stayed outside chasing squirrels, his favorite pastime. I threw a few logs in the stove. Thirsty and light-headed, I drank more water and lay down on the sofa. I’d rest a minute before checking to see if Sebastian had contacted me.
The phone was ringing. Drenched in sweat, my head swirling, I groped for it on the coffee table. The caller ID said it was Barry. The display showed I’d slept an hour.
“I need you at headquarters. A car is on its way. Are you home?”
Shaking the sleep from my brain, I said, “Why do you want me and why send a car? I can leave the cabin in ten minutes.”
She was curt, most likely hating to tell me anything about their investigation. “We have Brian in custody. He refuses to talk to us or his parents. He wants you.”
I rattled off a bunch of questions. She said, “I’ll fill you in when you get here. Micah’s on his way.”
Maybe se
nding a car was BCA protocol. The light-headedness hadn’t improved from the nap so I didn’t argue.
Carpenter pulled up within minutes. I slid in. “How’s Brian doing?”
He raised a shoulder. “Robyn said not to talk about it, sorry.”
At BCA headquarters, Carpenter led me past Brian’s parents sitting together under the front window. Mrs. Roerden leaned slightly forward, her arms wrapped around her body as if holding herself together. Her husband didn’t bother to lower his voice. “He wants to be a terrorist? Does he hate me that much that he had to embarrass me in front of my friends and colleagues?”
My feet planted in front of him forced him to look up at me. “That’s your take-away from this? Your reputation will be tarnished?”
Barry hustled me across the room, talking fast. “Ben and my guys, the FBI and Homeland Security are tracing Farid. This is bigger than we expected. It’s crucial for us to find out everything Brian knows.”
“What do you mean, bigger?”
She said, “Brian first, then we’ll talk.”
We entered a windowless office. Brian sat in one of two metal chairs, breathing too fast.
I raised my chin to Barry. “Can we get some water?” Brian was close to hyperventilating. She called someone and a minute later a guy brought the water. Brian gripped his with both hands. I gulped mine, caught Barry’s eye and tilted my head toward the door. Barry and the two others, logos on their jackets indicating one was FBI and the other Homeland Security, left the room.
I shut the door behind them, slid into the chair next to Brian and leaned in close, my voice calm and low. “What happened when you were supposed to get your passport from Farid?”
He tore at the label on his water bottle. “I was freaked out about Jenna after what you said so I told them I wasn’t going. But Farid said I had to get on the plane. He said he would take Jenna. I ran away from him and went to her school, but she didn’t come out when classes were over. They already had her.”
“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”
He rubbed his tears away with a fist. “He said if I did, they’d kill her. I didn’t know what to do. My parents were so worried I finally told them about Farid and they called the sheriff. Then the BCA picked me up.”
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