by Mary Daheim
Badgering Sam wouldn’t do any good. I knew that from past experiences with the tight-lipped, sometimes surly deputy. I disconnected the call before he could do the same at his end.
The fire engine had also turned onto the Icicle Creek Road. Even in light traffic I didn’t dare make a U-turn on the slippery street. Instead, I went right at Sixth and again at Railroad Avenue. With any luck I could catch up with the emergency vehicles by following the sirens.
I was retracing the route Kip and I’d taken to get to Bert’s chop shop, but that wasn’t the site of the “situation.” Neither was Swanson Toyota. I’d reached the Icicle Creek Road, pausing at the arterial sign and trying to determine where the sirens were coming from. To my dismay, they’d stopped. I considered my options. The Icicle Creek Road dead-ended north of town. Wherever the crisis was, it had to be either across the bridge to River Road or straight ahead. I was still mulling as an SUV rushed past me, made a sharp turn onto the other side of the railroad tracks, and sped east. Despite the vehicle’s speed, I recognized Milo’s Grand Cherokee. I followed him as he passed Gas ’n Go and the ICT and crossed Icicle Creek.
I fought back a rising sense of panic. All I could think of was that Vida might somehow be involved. But Milo was slowing down as he went past the small older homes huddled close together on the other side of the railroad tracks. Although the sirens had gone mute, I could see the cluster of flashing red lights off to the left. Milo’s Grand Cherokee stopped on the muddy verge that separated patchy stands of grass from the asphalt road. By the time I drove up behind his SUV, he was already striding up the short driveway of a frame bungalow.
“Milo!” I called as I got out of the car, “wait!”
The sheriff stopped, turning to look in my direction. “Oh, for … Emma, get your ass back in that Honda and move on out!”
I ignored his order. By the time I reached him, he was on his cell. “Okay,” he said, turning his back on me. “Then I’m coming in.”
Milo’s long legs covered the short distance to the front porch before I could argue with him. I was too worried to care what he wanted or didn’t want me to do. The flashers from the three emergency vehicles blinded me momentarily, but I caught up with the sheriff just as he went inside the house.
Jack Mullins was in the living room along with Del Amundson and another medic. The firefighters were either still outside or in another part of the small house. Under a striped afghan, a shivering figure on the sofa made strange little mewing noises. It took me a few seconds before I realized it was Norene Anderson.
I hung back near the open door. My initial reaction was relief that Vida wasn’t the one in apparent distress. I remembered that the Andersons lived in this part of town, but I’d never been inside their house. Del and the other medic were trying to talk to Norene. Jack’s eyes slid in my direction, but he didn’t say a word. Milo’s back was still turned, seemingly unaware that I was on the premises.
“How bad is it?” he asked the medics.
“We won’t know until we get her to the hospital,” Del replied, lowering his voice. “Fractured cheekbone maybe, multiple bruises, cut lip. We don’t need the firefighters. Tony and I can handle it. This room’s not very big. We need some maneuvering space with the gurney.”
Milo looked at Jack. “Tell the firemen they can go. Where’s Julie?”
“In the kitchen,” Jack said, starting for the door. “Should we put out an APB for Bert?”
“Hold off on that,” the sheriff replied and turned around. “Oh, for chrissakes!” he shouted as he finally spotted me. “Didn’t you hear me?”
“The whole neighborhood can hear you now,” I said quietly as Jack hurried outside. I gestured at Norene. “Is this what it looks like?”
“Work it out.” The sheriff turned on his heel and left the room.
I followed him. The kitchen was separated from the living room by an inglenook. Julie Canby was closing the refrigerator. “Coffee coming up,” she said, seemingly unruffled. “How’s Norene?”
Milo shrugged. “Pretty banged up, but at least she’s alive. They’re taking her to the hospital.”
“Good,” Julie said. “That’s the best place for her. Thank God she was able to call us. Spike couldn’t understand a word she said. Just as well.” She checked the coffeemaker. “I can cope better with a crisis than he can. Anyway, Spike has to hold down the fort at the tavern. Thank goodness we’re so close to Bert and Norene’s house.”
I finally spoke up. “What was Norene able to tell you?”
“That she got beat up,” Julie replied. Given the circumstances, I found her aplomb admirable. Being a nurse, she was accustomed to crises. “Or so I pieced together,” she added. “Poor Norene.”
I ignored the dark glare the sheriff was giving me. “By Bert?”
Julie shrugged. “I guess. He wasn’t around when I got here. For all I know, it was a burglar. Norene’s car is gone. I suppose Bert took it—or the burglar stole it.” She looked again at the coffeemaker. “Who wants java?”
I said no; Milo said yes. While Julie poured coffee into two mugs, the sheriff was still glowering at me. “Have you got some kind of death wish? You could’ve been killed, you moron.”
“So could you,” I retorted. “I didn’t see you pull a gun before you came into the house.”
Milo sighed. “I suppose you’ll put this in the damned paper.”
“I will if it goes in the log,” I said. “Where’s Vida?”
“How the hell do I know?” the sheriff shot back. “I’m surprised she didn’t get here before I did.”
“She’s still missing.” I paused as Jack entered the kitchen.
“Coffee,” he said after giving Milo and me a curious glance. “Good idea, Julie. I’ll have some. Bit of sugar, no cream.”
Just another day with law enforcement, I thought, and got to my feet. “Okay,” I said to Milo, “I’m leaving. If you don’t care what’s happened to Vida, I do. Meanwhile, you’ll be hearing from me again before eleven. Whatever went on here has to be in the Advocate.”
“Knock yourself out,” Milo muttered before turning to Jack. “We’ll stay on the job until we find Bert. I’m going to let the other deputies know what’s going on and make sure we’re all up to speed.”
“Overtime,” Jack said. “That’s …”
Not wanting to get in the way of the medics, I decided to leave via the back door. It wasn’t easy to see through the heavy rain, but the Andersons’ backyard looked neglected. There was nothing but overgrown grass, untended berry vines, and weeds. As I started down the unpaved driveway, I heard a sudden loud rumble that made me jump. Calm down, I lectured myself, realizing the noise signaled the fire engine’s departure. Still unsteady, I stumbled on a rock, but awkwardly regained my balance. The twisting movement caused sharp pains in my back. “Damn,” I said under my breath. I’d forgotten to ask Julie for water so I could wash down my pill. Taking a few tentative steps, I headed back inside. Climbing the four wooden stairs leading to the door made me wince. I rapped twice; within a few seconds Julie let me in.
My return didn’t seem to surprise her. “Forget something?” she asked. No doubt it was a frequent query for ICT patrons who left all sorts of belongings at the tavern—including their spouses.
I explained about needing some water. Milo was standing up, looking out the window on the west side of the house and talking on his cell phone. “No,” he was saying, “let’s not drag in the state patrol yet. Bert’s got to be around here someplace.”
Julie poured me a glass of water. I thanked her before taking both a methocarbamol and a Demerol. If the pain didn’t ease quickly, I wasn’t sure I could drive home.
“What happened?” she asked.
“I reinjured my back,” I said after gulping down the first pill. “I pulled something a few days ago.” I couldn’t stop my eyes from veering in Milo’s direction. He’d just rung off and had turned around.
“Want to ride with the medics?�
� he said in a dour tone. “They haven’t left yet.”
“I’m fine,” I snapped.
“Hmmph.” Studying me from head to foot, he scratched his head. “You don’t look it. I’ve seen drowned rats in better shape.”
He was right, of course. My hair was bedraggled, my makeup was long gone, and my jacket had gotten dirty somewhere along the way. But his remark riled me. A snicker from Jack Mullins annoyed me even more. “It hasn’t been a good day.” I said grimly.
“No shit.” Milo turned away to stare out the window again.
Just as I was swallowing the second pill, Del Amundson called out from the living room. “All clear. We’re out of here.”
Julie was observing me with a slight frown. “You don’t seem like yourself, Emma. Can you drive?”
It was another question she’d probably asked hundreds of times at the tavern. “I’ll be okay,” I assured her. “Maybe I should sit for a few minutes until the meds kick in. I’ll go into the living room.”
I avoided the sofa where Norene had been lying. Instead, I sat in a well-worn recliner that I assumed was Bert’s usual place. I’d just gotten into what felt like the least uncomfortable position when the medics turned on the siren as they drove off. My irritation with Milo hadn’t ebbed. It struck me that ever since I’d heard about his plans to reconcile with Tricia he’d been treating me like cat dirt. Maybe he’d never really cared for me. I was a convenience, an occasional substitute for the real thing, a bench player who got into the game when the star athlete went down with an injury.
Jack Mullins snapped me back into reality. “Hey,” he said, standing next to the recliner, “I’m sorry for laughing about Boss Man’s big, bad mouth. He’s probably sorry, too. It’s just that he …”
Boss Man lurched into the room. “Saddle up,” he said to Jack. “I’ll take my car. We’ve got a hostage situation at First and Spruce.”
Jack looked dazed. “Hostage? Who? What?”
Milo had already reached the front door. “I’ll alert the rest of the troops. Get going. It’s at the trailer park, Space Fourteen. It belongs to Holly Gross and she’s got Vida Runkel.”
TWENTY-TWO
“HOLY CRAP!” JACK CRIED, GRABBING HIS JACKET OFF OF A hat rack by the door. “What the hell is that all about?”
He hadn’t posed the question to me, and even if he had, I was too stunned to say anything. As Jack hurried off, Julie came into the living room. “What’s happening?” she asked, her composure finally wavering.
“I wish I knew,” I murmured. “I’m going to find out. Are you staying here or going back to the tavern?”
Julie made a face. “I’m not sure. Are you okay?”
“Not really,” I said, struggling to get out of the recliner.
“Wait.” Julie pulled a lever on the chair’s side. “I’ll get this thing more upright. Then I can help you stand.”
“Thanks.” I let her take both of my hands and carefully put me on my feet. “Ah,” I said, trying to judge the level of pain. “Thanks again.”
She shrugged. “No problem.”
“I’ve got to call the office,” I said. “Could you hand me my cell? It’s in my purse, but I’m afraid to bend down to reach it.”
It took Julie only a moment to find the phone. My fingers were shaking along with the rest of me. After three abortive attempts, Kip answered. “What’s going on?” he asked. “I keep hearing sirens.”
“I’ll give you details later. Put the paper on hold. This sounds insane, but Vida’s being held hostage by Holly Gross at the trailer park, Bert Anderson’s missing, and his wife is in the ER.”
Kip didn’t respond for so long that I thought we’d been cut off—or he’d passed out. When he finally spoke, his voice was almost unrecognizable. “I can’t wrap my head around this. Vida’s a hostage?”
“So it seems. I’ve got to go. Stand by.”
Julie was staring at me as if she thought I’d lost my mind. “Emma! What did you say about Mrs. Runkel?”
I shook my head. “Don’t ask,” I said, dialing Mitch’s number. His phone rang six times before switching over to voice mail. “Damnit,” I said, moving toward the door while trying to ignore the pain that hadn’t begun to ease yet. “I’m sorry, I have to go. Thanks for your help.”
But Julie wasn’t put off easily. “Wait!” she called after me as I limped down the front steps. “I’ll go with you.”
My first reaction was an emphatic no. But Julie was a nurse. Maybe it wasn’t a bad idea. “Okay,” I shouted back at her.
By the time I got settled behind the wheel, Julie had gathered up her jacket and purse, shut the front door, and slid into the passenger seat. “How’s Holly involved in all this?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” I replied. “None of this makes sense.” It’s a wonder I’m making sense, I told myself. I can’t get rattled, I have to stay focused, I can’t think about Vida being in danger. Realizing I was driving too fast, I eased off on the gas pedal. Keep talking, Emma. Change the subject. “Tell me more about Bert and Norene. Did they fight a lot?”
“I don’t think so,” Julie answered after a pause. “Norene complained about various health problems, but they were minor. I’d listen and give advice she probably didn’t follow.” She glanced at the ICT as we drove by. “Poor Spike. He’s on his own tonight unless he can find subs for Norene and me.” Julie sighed before continuing. “Norene isn’t a happy person, but she puts on a cheerful face for the customers.”
I winced as I made a sharp turn onto Icicle Creek Road. “Not happy? How come?”
“You know how some people enjoy their misery?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Norene is like that. I almost feel sorry for Bert.”
“Almost?” I gritted my teeth before making the turn onto Spruce.
“Bert’s a peculiar guy,” Julie said. “Their house is a dump. Yet he often tosses money around as if he were printing it in the backyard. He claims it’s from his rich aunt in Canada.”
“Maybe it is,” I said as we passed by the high school’s football and baseball fields. “Did you know Al De Muth was married?”
“You’re kidding.” Julie sounded incredulous. “Al always seemed so lonely. Or at least alone. Where is Mrs. De Muth?”
“Heading back to Colorado to bury the body,” I replied. “Did you ever run into a waitress named Liz who …”
I lost my train of thought as we crossed Fourth Street. My log cabin was a block and a half away on Fir. Ten minutes ago, I would’ve gladly gone home to collapse. But the shocking news about Vida had triggered an adrenaline rush. Surely she wasn’t really being held hostage. It was too outrageous, too inexplicable, too preposterous. There was no reason for her to get involved with Holly Gross. Despite my incredulity, I felt my heart pounding faster as we approached the trailer park.
Two patrol cars barred the way to the thirty-odd mobile homes behind the tall wood fence. The third patrol car and Milo’s Grand Cherokee were pulled up in the driveway. Jack Mullins and Doe Jamison were putting up yellow crime scene tape. I pulled onto the verge, avoiding the ditch next to the property. The medic van arrived, stopping under the streetlight on the other side of Spruce. Rain was pelting the emergency vehicle’s roof like so many transparent pebbles.
“Sleet,” Julie said. “I can hear it on the roof of your car. What now?” she asked, leaning forward to peer through the curtain of rain.
I turned off the engine. “I’m calling my reporter,” I said, dialing his number. “If he doesn’t answer this time I’ll leave a message.” After six rings followed by voice mail, I told Mitch that his lead story about De Muth’s death might have slipped into second place. “This is no joke,” I emphasized. “And bring a camera.” I disconnected before turning to Julie. “Stay put. I’m going to see what’s happening.”
“I’ll come, too,” she said, unbuckling her seat belt.
“No. Please don’t.” I saw Del Amundson and the younger man he’d ref
erred to as Tony get out of the van. “Maybe you’ll be needed by those two. Just wait.”
If Julie resented my officious attitude, it didn’t show. It fleetingly crossed my mind that she was enjoying herself. I, however, wasn’t. Jack and Doe had been joined by the medics. My walk was a bit unsteady, but the Demerol was finally working to ease the pain.
“Hey!” Jack called to me, “shouldn’t you be in the ER?”
“It’s probably filling up,” I responded, my beat-up shoes getting sucked into the mud by the ditch. “What’s going on?”
“We’re not sure,” Doe replied. “Somebody in the trailer next to Holly’s reported a commotion. Dwight went to check it out and saw Bert’s car parked outside. When he knocked, there was no response except for Vida, shrieking her head off. Dwight phoned Holly, who told him to buzz off. She insisted everything was just fine. Dwight didn’t believe her. He could hear Vida in the background yelling ‘hostage.’”
“Incredible.” At least Vida was able to yell. “Is Bert in there, too?”
“We don’t know,” Jack answered. “Dodge is trying to find out.”
Del Amundson was huddled inside his red-and-white raingear. “All we need is a big wreck out on Highway 2. What a crappy night.”
“How’s Norene?” I asked.
“She’ll live,” Del said. “Dr. Sung’s seeing to her.”
“Did she say Bert beat her up?”
Del shrugged. “She’s incoherent, kept jabbering about barbecues or some damned thing.” He shook his head. “Poor Tony,” he said, gesturing at the other medic who was still standing near the van. “It’s his first week on the job. He’s from Sultan, got home a couple of months ago from medevac duty in Iraq. Maybe he figures it was quieter over there. Hey, Tony—meet the folks before the bullets start flying.”
There was no time for introductions. Although I couldn’t see Milo, I could hear him through a bullhorn. “You’ve got three minutes to come out of there, Holly. Otherwise we’re coming in. You decide.”
I edged away from the others, trying to get closer to the trailer park entrance. Jack grabbed my arm. “Don’t even think about it, Emma.”