by Lyn Cote
Sylvie took a step forward. “Rae-Jean, don’t send Chaney away. Ridge and I will leave.”
Ridge put a hand on Sylvie’s shoulder, trying to restrain her. Stay back. This doesn’t involve us, you.
Chaney turned sideways and addressed everyone. “Please don’t leave. I’ve been trying to persuade Rae-Jean to go to counseling with me. And our business isn’t really private. Everyone in town is talking about it.”
“Do you have to remind me?” Rae-Jean demanded, pushing her abundant blond hair off her face with one hand. “Jake’s teacher already called me to tell me that she thinks he needs counseling. Because of all the stuff kids have repeated to him about me. Stuff that they’ve overheard from their parents. Maybe I shouldn’t have come back to Winfield. But I didn’t have anywhere else to go.” She turned away, hunching over as if hiding tears.
Shirley hurried to Rae-Jean’s side and put an arm around her. “The important thing is you are here. That you are getting better every day.”
“I don’t see myself getting better every day,” Rae-Jean said like a fretful child, laying her forehead against Shirley’s shoulder.
“I’m glad that Chaney has finally suggested that the two of you seek counseling,” Sylvie said, moving toward Rae-Jean, slipping from Ridge’s loose grip. “Why aren’t you willing to let things get better? Why are you holding on to your guilt?”
Ridge marveled at the love they were showing this sad woman who had made such a mess of her life.
“I am guilty,” Rae-Jean snapped. “I can’t forget what I’ve done.”
“Rae-Jean, listen to me,” Sylvie said, moving forward another step. “I felt terrible guilt for a very long time after Dan died that night—”
“But that was an accident!” Rae-Jean objected.
Sylvie reached out for Rae-Jean’s hand and caught it. “We were fighting. Dan was trying to tell me what to do. And I wasn’t going to let a boy tell me what to do. He pushed me and I pushed him and the railing behind us broke….” On the last word, her voice cracked.
Ridge saw the starch go out of Sylvie. He moved forward and put his arm around her. Hearing her account of his brother’s death had grabbed his heart. He’d never realized that Sylvie had struggled with guilt over Dan’s death. Just as he did. Still.
“Rae-Jean, I understand guilt.” Sylvie spoke in a soft and understanding voice. “It can destroy your life. Don’t let it do that to you. Turn it over to God like I did. Let Him free you.”
Ridge’s stomach churned. If it were only that easy.
For a few moments, no one moved. No one spoke. Then Rae-Jean said, “None of you know what drugs can do to a person. Make a person do.” She pulled away from Shirley and headed toward the front hall.
“I’m not giving up on you, Rae-Jean,” Chaney called after her. “Not while we still have our children to think of. You screwed up one year of your life and that shouldn’t ruin the rest of it for both of us.”
“None of you know what I’ve done!” Rae-Jean called over her shoulder as she left the room.
In the past few moments, Ridge’s respect for Chaney Franklin had expanded exponentially. And Sylvie’s words and Rae-Jean’s echoed in Ridge’s mind. Let Him free you. None of you know what I’ve done!
She sat huddled on the cluttered floor of her room. She hadn’t thought things could get any worse. But somehow they had. Why couldn’t they understand what she was going through? Everyone thought she should just be happy and go on with life. They kept saying, you’re young, you have your whole life ahead of you. Yeah, right.
And then the bedroom carpet under her began to buck. The desk lamp burst into green and purple flame. She squeezed her eyes shut, but that didn’t shut out the sensations. They weren’t coming from outside her, but from inside. She clamped her hands over her mouth to keep from screaming. How much longer could she survive this?
Later that night at home when the darkened apartment was quiet, Sylvie got up. She’d waited until she was sure that her father and Ben were sound asleep. She couldn’t fall asleep. Not with Ridge leaving in the morning. Not after he had proposed to her. Not after she had witnessed the conflict between Chaney and Rae-Jean.
Sylvie walked silently to the large windows overlooking the harbor. Midnight radiance attracted her, the half-moon and stars above. Lights from Madeleine Island glowed across the harbor. The street below and northern horizon were illumined as all these light sources were reflected by the snow and ice, a natural halo effect.
She pulled her robe tighter at the neck against the nighttime chill radiating from the large windows. What was she going to do about Ridge’s proposal? Because if she knew one thing about Ridge, he wouldn’t take her rebuff for a final answer. He would pursue her unless she thought of a way to stop him.
Never in a million years would she have expected Ridge to propose to her. And in fact, he hadn’t really proposed to her. He had offered her what, in the past, had been called a marriage of convenience. She’d been right to refuse. But perhaps she shouldn’t dismiss it completely from her mind. Couldn’t dismiss him.
Tonight his presence behind her, backing her up, had given her the courage to tell Rae-Jean the truth about her feelings of guilt over Dan. Tonight when he’d brought her home, what would he have done if she’d leaned over and kissed him? Just kissed him good-night? She closed her eyes, imagining his arms closing around her and him returning her kiss.
She bent her head forward to press it against the cold window glass. When she had been a little girl and had a fever, she’d often done this to make herself feel better. It didn’t work anymore. Her chaotic thoughts pounded against her skull as if trying to break through. Did Ridge’s proposal signify anything? Perhaps he was changing.
He certainly wouldn’t have proposed even a marriage of convenience to her nearly three weeks ago. Perhaps Ginger’s murder, the break-ins, Rae-Jean and Chaney’s dilemma and finally the recent attack on her father and Ben had succeeded in chipping through his outer veneer. Outside the window on the dark expanse that was the frozen rim of Lake Superior, she tracked the headlights of a few vehicles heading east.
When would the ice break? When would the secret of Ginger’s death be cracked to reveal the facts? When would God’s truth penetrate Ridge’s sorrow and self-reproach? And was there anything she could do to help him break free of the past?
A thought occurred to her, but did she have the nerve to carry it out?
From his SUV parked farther down the waterfront street, Ridge glimpsed Sylvie pressing her face against the front window of her apartment. Couldn’t she sleep? Would she see him down here? He shifted on his seat. Then his saw a deputy’s Jeep approaching from the opposite direction. The deputy parked and flashed his headlights. Once. Ridge started his car. And flashed his headlights once in return.
Ridge had persuaded Keir to station someone outside Sylvie’s apartment at night. Ridge had done the first shift. Now at midnight he could drive home, leaving Sylvie with another law officer’s surveillance. He needed sleep. Tomorrow, he had to drive to Madison. Never had that thought left him feeling so bleak.
March 22
Just after dawn the next morning, a groggy Ridge stood looking around his room at his parents’ house. Had he left anything? Just then, his mother appeared in the doorway. “I found these on top of the dryer in the laundry room. I must have forgotten to put them with your other things.” She handed him a stack of neatly folded underwear and T-shirts.
“Thanks, Mom.” He took the stack of clothing from her hand and set it in his open suitcase, distributing it to make an even pile.
His mother did not immediately leave as he would have expected her to. As she always did.
“It’s been nice having you home,” she said.
He paused in the midst of his chore and turned to look at her. Neither of his parents had said words like this to him in nearly twenty years. He couldn’t say that it had been nice being here. Because it had been uncomfortable and unpleasant t
o live with his silent, self-contained parents over the past weeks.
It had been years since he had spent more than a day or two at home with his parents. Maybe he was to blame for part of their disconnection. But now he must say something. What? After a moment’s thought, he said, “Thanks, Mom.”
She nodded and turned away, walking back to the living room where the early-morning show had kicked off her day of TV.
After a solitary breakfast, Ridge packed up his car and drove to Milo’s apartment to say goodbye to Ben, Milo and Sylvie. As he walked up the steps to their door, he thought of the attack on Milo. So much had transpired in three short weeks. I will call Keir before I leave town to check once more that Sylvie still has round-the-clock protection. But he couldn’t leave without saying goodbye.
He knocked on the door and Sylvie opened it. She was already dressed for her day at work. She wore a vivid lavender corduroy jacket and matching slacks and looked beautiful as usual. Out of the blue, his mind brought up the image of him taking Sylvie with him to Madison and introducing her to his colleagues as his fiancée.
Imagining their surprised expressions, he knew he would be the object of general envy. What was wrong with Winfield? Every man over thirty here had to be blind not to notice how beautiful Sylvie was. All this clotted together in his throat and made it difficult for him to speak. But he managed to say, “Good morning, Sylvie.”
“Good morning,” she replied and waved him inside. “Have you eaten?”
“Yes, I just came to tell Ben that I would be back as soon as I can and to obey you and Milo while I’m gone.”
“I’m sure Ben will be no problem to us,” Milo replied, sitting at the table with his Bible open.
“I’ll be good,” Ben said, swallowing the last spoonful of his Corn Flakes.
“Ridge, why don’t you sit down with us for a moment?” Milo invited. “Ben was just going to read our Bible verse for today.”
Ridge found that, while reading the Bible before beginning the day was not his usual custom, he wanted to linger here for just a few moments longer. “Okay.” He sat down in the chair next to Ben and accepted a cup of coffee from Sylvie.
Ben picked up the large black book and read:
“Matthew 6:18–20, Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal.”
“Now, Ben, read 1 Timothy 6:10–11,” Milo instructed, indicating a bookmark. After using the mark to find his place, Ben obeyed, reading:
“For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil. Some people, eager for money, have wandered from the faith and pierced themselves with many griefs.”
“What do you think that means, Ben?” Milo asked.
“We’re not supposed to be greedy?” Ben replied.
“Excellent answer,” Milo said, patting the boy’s arm. “You’ll hear people say that money is the root of all evil. But remember that Paul told Timothy that it was the root of all kinds of evil. There are many sources of evil or perhaps many ways to fall into evil.”
“Do you think someone killed Ginger because of money?” the boy asked.
“We don’t know yet,” Milo said, “why Ginger was taken from us. I hope that we will someday.”
Ridge hoped it wasn’t his own guilty conscience projecting his feelings onto Milo. But had Milo given up on Ridge discovering who Ginger’s murderer was? The thought iced his inner core. Ridge sipped the last of Sylvie’s good coffee in his cup and rose. “I need to get going. I won’t reach Madison until late afternoon as it is.”
Sylvie rose and offered him her soft, slender hand. “Drive safely.”
Milo and Ben also rose and shook hands with Ridge. “Don’t worry about us,” Milo assured him. “We’ll be fine.”
“Yeah,” Ben echoed, “we’ll be fine.”
Ridge wished that he could be as confident of that as they were.
“I’ll walk you down to your vehicle,” Milo said. “Ben, you go gather up your books and I’ll drive you to school today.”
Ridge had the unusual urge to turn back and kiss Sylvie goodbye. This more than anything told him it was time, way past time, for him to get out of Winfield. And he didn’t think Milo escorting him down to his car was just politeness. What did Milo want? Surely Sylvie hadn’t told Milo about Ridge’s proposal to her?
As he walked down to his SUV, Ridge was aware that the wind had softened. The warm front that the weatherman had been promising must have moved in. There was even the scent of rain in the air. But Ridge had grown up in Winfield and he knew how fickle the weather could be. The scent of rain could pass and a blizzard could follow.
Milo didn’t keep Ridge guessing about the reason why he had walked down with him. When Ridge reached his vehicle, Milo said, “Ridge, what do you think about letting me adopt Ben?”
Ridge was completely caught off guard. He’d thought Milo would have something to say about the case Ridge had been investigating for most of March. “Adopt Ben?” he repeated. “How did you come up with that?”
“Ben and I have really hit it off. I know that I am some twenty years older than you, but I think Ben and I would get along fine. And you’ve said yourself that your lifestyle is not conducive to parenting. But mine is. I have a lot of time for Ben. He would be with me in the store during the summers and school holidays.” Milo leaned against Ridge’s SUV.
Ridge couldn’t think of a word to say.
Milo continued, “Ben suffered great injury, losing his parents at such a tender age, and he needs someone who can devote time to him. I have the time. And I like Ben. I could easily come to love him. I’ve been kind of holding back from letting him know that, since I thought you would be taking him from us. But I want him. Will you consider it?”
Ridge instantly became aware of his ambivalence about Ben. He hadn’t wanted the responsibility of Ben. He’d tried to shift the care of Ben to boarding school and summer camp. But now that Milo was offering to take Ben and raise him as his own, Ridge felt a sense of loss. He pushed it aside. “I will think about it, Milo.” They shook hands and Ridge got into his vehicle and slammed the door.
As he drove out of town, he felt some emotion inside him growing, increasing, inflating. What was this awful feeling? No answer came to him. He flipped open his cell phone and speed-dialed the sheriff’s number. “Matthews here. I’m on my way out of town. Has anything happened since we last talked?”
“No, unfortunately nothing,” Keir answered.
“Will you promise me to keep a close watch on Sylvie while I’m gone?” Ridge requested. There was a pause that Ridge did not like. “Keir?” he prompted.
“I know you won’t like this, Ridge,” Keir said, “but I am seriously considering Sylvie’s offer to move into Ginger’s apartment as bait.”
“You can’t be serious. We’re dealing with a murderer.” Ridge felt his pulse accelerating. He wanted to yell into the phone, curse the sheriff. “You wouldn’t let your wife, Audra, take such a risk, would you?” he demanded hotly.
There was another pause on the line. Then the sheriff said in an odd tone, “That is a very interesting question, a very interesting comparison.”
Then Ridge could hear muffled sounds as if the sheriff must be talking to someone with his face away from the phone.
“Call me when you have a chance, Ridge,” Keir said, coming back on the line. “I have to get busy now.”
“Has something popped up?”
“No, nothing you need to be worried about. Good luck with your triple murder in Madison. Give my thanks to Block when you see him.” Keir hung up.
Ridge snapped his phone shut in anger. Why had the sheriff thought his question interesting? Ridge turned onto the highway and faced south. Then the sensation came again like pulling against bindings or a tow rope. It was as if Winfield were trying to tow him back. But he had
no choice. He had to return to his job, his life.
He sipped the last of the cheap whiskey. Nothing had gone right in his life for a very long time now. And none of it was his fault. Just one unlucky break after another. If he didn’t have bad luck, he would have no luck at all. And that wasn’t funny. If he didn’t turn things around within the next few days, it would all be over for good. They’d probably find his body floating in Lake Superior. This thought filled him with stark, icy terror. He clutched the slippery shot glass. He felt that he might be sick to his stomach. How can I turn this around? I’ve done everything I could. And it has been one disaster after another.
There was only one answer. He’d have to grab the girl. There was no other way.
As soon as he accepted this line of thought, he began to plan his strategy. Maybe he could get what he wanted from her without killing her. He hadn’t planned on killing the first time. The thought of killing someone in cold blood filled him with the same kind of terror as the image of his own body floating facedown.
But he couldn’t waste any more time. And if it were a choice between someone else’s life and his, he would have no trouble choosing his own life first.
In Madison late that afternoon, Ridge sat around a table with several other homicide detectives. Block stood at the end of the table beside a dry erase board and was going over the different measures their department had already taken toward solving the triple murder.
All around him, his fellow officers were jotting down notes, compiling information. Ridge knew that at the end of this informational presentation they would be asked to come up with some new ideas for pursuing more information to solve these murders. But Ridge’s mind was still in Winfield.
Sylvie’s face, and then Milo asking to let him adopt Ben, and finally his last conversation with the sheriff. Why had Keir thought Ridge’s comparing Audra and Sylvie odd?
“Matthews, you have anything to contribute?” Block asked him.
Jerked back to the present, he was caught unprepared. “Not right now.”