by Lyn Cote
The sheriff promised to follow up and Joe said he would just close up and go home. He was too tired to do anything else. A few moments of fright had tired him out and he’d already been dragging. Ridge and Keir left together.
“I’m sorry I bothered you,” Keir said. “I thought it might be connected to the robbery at Ollie’s convenience store or to the more serious crime that we’re investigating.”
“You might be right on one. Keski might be the one who held up Tanya at Ollie’s,” Ridge said, standing by his car.
“You don’t think he might be the one who knocked Milo down the stairs today?”
“Well, you have the snowmobiling mask. After a DNA test, that might provide your answer.” Ridge pulled up his collar against the chill. “But the bartender said that this guy was wearing a ski mask, not a snowmobiling mask. But we don’t know if that is even helpful.”
“Yeah. Going to pick up Keski feels like fishing in a bucket.” Keir waved and got into his Jeep. “You can head back to Shirley’s. I’ll get a deputy to go with me to pick up Keski.” He slammed his door.
Ridge didn’t argue. He waved goodbye and got into his SUV. He needed his sleep tonight because tomorrow he had to reason with Sylvie.
He was slumped in his favorite chair and he heard someone pounding on his door. His heart skipped a beat. Had the sheriff somehow connected him to the attack on Milo Patterson or the robbery? Or was it them, coming to pressure him again? He shook himself and stood up. He was getting paranoid. It might just be a late customer. He trudged to the door and opened it a crack. And he didn’t like who he thought he saw outside. “What do you want?”
“It’s me. Open up.” He recognized her voice.
He didn’t want her around, complicating things any more than they were. “Go away. I don’t have anything for you.” He started to shut the door.
She pushed against it, halting him. “You owe me. You owe me big-time. You give me what I want or I’m going to go straight to the sheriff.”
He threw open the door. And glared at her. “You’re becoming a real pest.”
“And you’re a jerk. We all got problems.” She wavered on her feet. She looked a mess. “Now give me what I want. I’ve got to have it.”
He turned away from the door, slamming it behind him. He heard her pounding on the door again. He took his time getting out what she wanted. He sauntered back to the door and enjoyed listening to her pound and yell for him for a few more moments.
Then he opened the door and threw the bag into her face. “Here. Don’t come back again. Your credit isn’t good here anymore.”
He slammed the door in her face. But the satisfaction was momentary. Time was running out. He had to find it. He had to get the money. Or make a run for it. Or he’d be dead.
March 20
Ridge sauntered into the sheriff’s neat office the next morning. He was confident that Keir would agree with him even if he had to persuade him. But he would hold back at first. He didn’t want to let it show how much Sylvie’s idea bothered him. The suspicion that the sheriff might agree with Sylvie sharpened the edge to Ridge’s voice. “So how did everything go with arresting Keski last night?”
“No problem. But we didn’t find the money on him.” Keir waved Ridge to the chair on the other side of his desk.
“Were you able to arrest him?” Ridge sat down and shrugged out of his overcoat.
“I’m going to talk to the county prosecutor. If nothing else, I think I can get a court order to insist that Keski give us a DNA sample.”
“You’re going to try to tie him to the snowmobile mask found after the break-in at the Pattersons’?” Ridge shifted in his chair, fighting the tension that seized him.
The sheriff nodded.
Unexpectedly, Ridge’s mind brought up a parade of images: Ginger’s body lying twisted and cold, Tanya chewing hangnails as they had interrogated her, Ben hovering over Milo at the bottom of the steps yesterday. How to put all this together? “Sometimes I get the feeling that there’s a whole lot more going on with this than just our finding a murderer.”
“I think you might be right. But that is not a comforting thought.” Keir lifted both shoulders, and then went on, “There still is a lot of activity out at the Leahy house. I’ve been so busy with the break-ins, robberies and trying to solve Ginger’s murder that I really haven’t had time to set up a drug bust.”
“I need you to go with me to talk to Sylvie,” Ridge began. There was a knock at the door. He turned and saw Sylvie, standing on the other side of the window in the door. Lovely as usual, she entered. But he could tell she was masking her own tension. A smile hovered around her lips, but on this sunny morning her eyes were a moody dark violet. She was the last person he wanted to see here today. He grimaced, but stood and opened the door for her.
“Good morning.” Sylvie greeted the two of them but she sent Ridge a wry grin. “I’m glad to find you two together.” She sat down in the chair that the sheriff offered her. “Has Ridge told you what I think I should do?”
The sheriff lifted one eyebrow. “No, we haven’t had the chance to talk about you as yet.”
Ridge sat down in the chair closest to the door, beside Sylvie’s. While he felt grim, she was sounding lighthearted. He wished he had something in hand to crush. How could he get through to her about how dangerous her plan was? “She wants,” Ridge said bluntly, “to move into Ginger’s apartment and be bait to trap the murderer.”
The sheriff raised his eyebrows even higher this time. “Where did that come from?”
“Last night,” Sylvie said as she sat back, getting more comfortable in her chair, “I finally realized that I might be putting my father and Ben in danger by staying in my own apartment.”
“I thought she’d finally seen some sense.” Ridge let his disgust over this ridiculous idea resonate in every word. “But then she came up with this idea that she should be bait.”
The sheriff did not react right away. He steepled his fingers and gazed at the two of them.
Ridge did not appreciate his hesitation. Sylvie’s sweet fragrance floated to him as if trying to soften him, make him lose his focus.
“I can understand,” the sheriff spoke slowly, “why Ridge would be unhappy about this suggestion of yours, Sylvie. But we might have to resort to this if we can get no further in this case.”
Ridge was on his feet before he realized he was moving. “Over my dead body.” Anger blazed white-hot through him.
The sheriff held up one hand, motioned Ridge to sit down. “I only said, might. You and I both know that Sylvie is in danger already as matters stand. We could lay a trap—”
“No!” Ridge thundered.
Sylvie did not move, did not look at Ridge. “I realize that you just want to protect me, Ridge. But I am a grown woman. And Ginger was my cousin.” Then Sylvie’s voice dropped in pitch and lifted in urgency. “We have to find out who killed her. He can’t walk scot-free. I want justice. Not revenge. Justice.”
Ridge fisted his hands to keep from grabbing her shoulders to shake some sense into her.
“Sylvie,” the sheriff said, fingering some papers on his desk, “let me think about this. Don’t do anything until we’ve discussed it and decided on a plan.”
“Thank you, Sheriff, for taking me seriously.” She glanced at Ridge, her eyes pleading with him. “I’m not doing this just to flout you, Ridge. We must bring this dreadful mystery to an end. There must come a time—soon—when it is over, settled. I don’t want this to be one of those cases where twenty years later the truth is uncovered. I want the truth now.”
Ridge had spent most of the rest of the day working with the sheriff on getting evidence against Keski, hoping against hope that this would somehow tie in with Ginger’s case. Sylvie’s plan had plagued him all day and he had been trying to come up with a way to prevent her from doing anything so ill-advised as offering herself as bait.
In the end, the prosecuting attorney had decided that, wi
th Keski’s long criminal record, they had enough to get a court order for a DNA sample and a search warrant for Keski’s dilapidated trailer. Especially since the barkeep at Bugsy’s had testified in a signed statement that after the robbery, the robber must have driven off in Keski’s truck.
With preparing the case in mind, the sheriff had had Keski tailed from the time he’d finished questioning him and let him go home the night before. Keski had not left the trailer since then. And no one had been to visit him.
The long process finished and in the waning daylight, Ridge got into his SUV to go to Shirley’s house, feeling years older than he had just this morning. Shirley had invited him along with Sylvie and Ben for supper to welcome Milo home from the hospital. As he headed to pick up Sylvie at her bookshop first, his cell phone rang. He flipped it open. “Matthews here.”
“Block here. We’ve just had a triple murder in Madison. I need you back here. It’s been around what? Three weeks since that Winfield murder? I don’t think that case is going to break. How soon can you be back in Madison?” Ridge’s boss went on before he could respond, “I need you ASAP.”
The rapid-fire delivery left Ridge speechless for a moment or two. “ASAP?”
“Yes, I could use you tomorrow morning. This is a high-profile murder. A state congressman is implicated.”
There was really only one answer Ridge could give Block. He gave it. As he drove toward Sylvie’s bookstore, he clenched his hands around the steering wheel. His quota of worry suddenly maxed out. He was leaving and Sylvie had an idiotic idea that could conceivably get her killed. The sheriff hadn’t backed him up, either. How could he persuade Sylvie not to go ahead with her baiting-a-trap idea?
Then a notion that had been simmering in the back of his mind moved to the forefront. When he’d first thought of it, he’d dismissed it immediately. But the notion had become more insistent and more persistent. He didn’t know if she would go for it. The thought of putting this into words made him uncomfortable. But he would do anything to protect Sylvie. If nothing else, it might distract her from her plan. It really made good sense in several ways. He steeled himself to suggest it. Nothing ventured; nothing gained.
Walking into Sylvie’s store, he was relieved to find her alone. He didn’t want to ask her this unless they were guaranteed to be alone, completely alone. “Is your dad home safe, then?” As had become usual, being near Sylvie heightened his awareness. Each time he saw her, it was as if he were seeing her for the first time. And each time he found something about her he had never noticed. This time he noticed that she had one golden freckle probably left over from summer at the outer side of her right eye. In his mind, he pressed his lips to that soft spot.
“Dad’s at Shirley’s already.” She looked into his eyes as if trying to read his mind. How was it that she always seemed to sense things about him?
It made him edgy. “Good.” He stopped speaking, gathering up his nerve. He fought the urge to draw her to her feet and into his arms. Maybe this all stemmed from what he planned to ask her.
“What is it, Ridge?” she asked without preamble.
Before he could lose his nerve, he said in a rush, “Sylvie, we’ve always been good friends. Haven’t we?” He hurried on, not giving her a chance to speak. “These past few weeks have opened my eyes. I was wondering if you would consider marrying me.”
Sylvie couldn’t breathe. Not even in her wildest daydreams had she guessed that Ridge’s feelings toward her had changed. And as she gazed at him now, she did not see standing before her a man in love. For several moments, she made herself remain still. It was hard to keep her tongue behind her teeth. She’d realized then to what painful extent her feelings for Ridge had come alive again over the past month. I am in love with him, she now admitted silently.
This wasn’t cause for jubilation. In spite of Ridge’s few recent expressions of attraction to her—their few kisses—she didn’t believe that he had deep feelings for her. Or it might be that he did not realize that he had deep feelings for her. But that point was moot.
“Tell me what you mean, Ridge.”
“I want you to marry me.” He sounded put-upon, not ardent.
“No, you don’t want to marry me,” she said calmly, slowly shredding the tissue she’d pulled from a box on her desk. “Is this a way to persuade me not to move into Ginger’s apartment?”
Ridge’s face twisted with dismay.
Unhappy to be proved correct, she went on, “Ridge, I know you. You’re not a man in love. Why not try to be honest with me?”
“This isn’t difficult,” he persisted. “I think we should get married.”
She wouldn’t take this seriously, wouldn’t let it upset her. He’s just trying to protect me. “Why should we get married?”
He made a sound of irritation. “This isn’t twenty questions.”
“It may become that if you don’t tell me plainly what you’re talking about.” She folded her arms and stared at him. As always, his presence was formidable. He wasn’t a man to give up on anything easily.
He paced back and forth in front of her a few times. Then he stopped and turned toward her. “I know that we have not really been dating or anything. But I have gotten the feeling a few times over the last couple of weeks that you were attracted to me and I have had that same feeling…same attraction for you…at the same times.”
If she didn’t take into consideration how well-intentioned his clumsy proposal was, she could have chuckled at this lame attempt. She remained silent, merely sitting back and gazing up at him.
He did not look at her. “I need someone to help me with Ben. I’m tired of living alone. I like you and respect you. Will you marry me?”
She’d longed to hear these words from him. Never thought she would hear them from anyone. But in this situation, they fell sadly flat. He sounded as if he were giving the reasons for making a purchase, not proposing marriage. “No, Ridge, I won’t marry you.”
“But it makes such good sense.”
“To you, perhaps.” This time a smile did curve her mouth. Men. “But I get the feeling that you have an agenda that you’re not telling me about. I already suggested that you’re doing this in some way to talk me out of helping the sheriff catch Ginger’s murderer.”
“That’s right. I don’t want you to be used as bait. But how could a marriage proposal from me make you change that?”
She decided to use his own question, his own words to make her argument for her. “Thank you for stating my point so succinctly. What do you want?”
He made a sound of frustration and began pacing again. “I’ve been thinking about your hip. If you married me, you would be covered by my group insurance. You’d be able to get your hip replacement. And I already told you that I need help with Ben. You would make him a very good mother and Milo would be his grandfather then. It all makes perfect sense, doesn’t it?”
Sylvie sighed. She could get very affronted if she let herself. But what was the point? It was obvious that he was not being honest with her or with himself. But she couldn’t change that.
She glanced at the wall clock. “We are expected at Shirley’s now. Let’s get going.” She stood and started toward the hall tree to get her coat.
“You haven’t given me your answer,” he insisted.
“Ridge, when you can tell me honestly that you love me and that I am the only woman you will ever love then I might say yes. Until then, I plan to forget that we had this conversation.”
Ridge exclaimed in an undertone something that sounded like, “Women.”
Sylvie felt a sudden rush of emotion that she had tried to hold back. She blinked it away and went about pulling on her plum-colored tam and letting Ridge help her with her coat. His hands brushed her shoulders and she nearly caved in and burrowed into his embrace. But, no. He was still clueless. And would probably remain that way. I won’t let this hurt my feelings. I will not.
To help her get herself back under control, she said to Ri
dge, “I keep thinking about Tanya Hendricks. How is she doing after being held up?”
TEN
Ridge couldn’t decide whether Sylvie had brought up the discussion of Tanya just to distract him or if she thought the girl was important to Ginger’s case. Had he missed something? To him, the girl was troubling, but so far he’d not found any way to connect her to Ginger except for the fact that Tanya had spoken to Ginger on the night she died.
Ridge wasn’t any closer to knowing how to protect Sylvie. She obviously hadn’t bought his proposal. What was so odd about his proposing? She hadn’t even taken him seriously. That stung.
Disgruntled, he walked beside Sylvie up the walk. Snow had melted and was now refreezing. Shirley and Tom’s back door loomed above—shining with a welcoming light. In one way, he looked forward to a relaxed evening with such good people.
But in another, he was tired, so very tired of all this uncertainty and unexpected emotion. Even his parents’ silent home appealed to him now. There he could just sit, wordless and unnoticed. But he might not go there tonight at all. A new idea had just come to him. Someone, and evidently it would be him, had to do something.
Ridge followed Sylvie through Tom and Shirley’s back door. And realized that he should not have come. Realized it immediately.
“—Rae-Jean,” Chaney was pleading, “I’m not asking for anything you couldn’t do—”
“How many times do I have to tell you?” Rae-Jean asked, sounding desperate, stormy. “I’m too weak yet. I don’t trust myself.”
Rae-Jean and Chaney sat at Shirley’s kitchen table. When Rae-Jean glimpsed Sylvie behind Chaney, she stood up, pushing her chair back.
Chaney grabbed Rae-Jean’s hand. “Please—”
“We’re not alone.” Rae-Jean pulled her hand from his grasp.
Ridge had hung back behind Sylvie. But now over Sylvie’s shoulder, he saw Tom and Shirley appear in the opposite doorway. Ridge took a step back. This wasn’t his family. He shouldn’t be here.