by Mary Logue
“As I told you, someone beat her up pretty badly yesterday. Whoever it was went after her with a glass bottle.”
The old man shook in his chair. “Sounds bad.”
“I talked to Stephanie in the hospital and asked her if she knew who had done it, but she says she can’t remember. I wondered if you had any ideas about who might be responsible.”
“At least you can’t blame it on me,” Mr. Klaus said and then laughed a laugh that turned into a cough. When he was finished hacking, he added, “I may have lifted my hand to that girl when she was a kid, but I couldn’t do it anymore.”
Claire looked at the old man and wondered if he wasn’t ultimately responsible for Stephanie’s predicament, teaching her that she should expect to get beaten. What a lesson to give a daughter.
“Anyone from her past?”
“Stephanie didn’t have many boyfriends. She was pretty enough, but I was kinda strict with her. Until she run off and got married. They weren’t married long. Have you thought about him? I forget his name.”
“Yes, sir. I’ve talked to him.”
“Big guy. I think he’s a cop now.”
“Anyone else?”
“Harry?” A woman’s voice came from the back of the trailer. “Who’ve you got out there?”
“A cop. Asking about Stephanie. I told you she got hurt.”
A woman walked out of the back room, buttoning up a sweater. She was in her late fifties and had even lighter blond hair than Stephanie’s, short and done in a frizzy shag. “No, you did not. You didn’t tell me anything. What’s going on with Stephanie?” The woman turned and addressed the question to Claire.
“She was assaulted and spent the night in ICU.”
“My baby. How bad is she?” Mrs. Klaus opened a pack of cigarettes, tapped out one, turned on the gas burner, and lit it from the flame.
“I talked to her today. Her eyesight isn’t good, and she had to have her nose reset, but she’s doing better than they expected.”
“Who did it?” the woman spit out.
“She doesn’t seem to know.”
“She’s lying. She knows.”
“Why are you so sure?”
Mrs. Klaus blew out a puff of smoke. “I know her. She keeps everything to herself. Just her way. She’d get beat up when she was living with us and not tell me a thing.”
“A boyfriend?”
“She didn’t seem to have any. She claimed she was clumsy. I didn’t push it.”
Claire wondered if the abuser had been Mr. Klaus. “What about her ex-husband?”
“I’d be surprised. He’s a cop, after all. Plus I don’t think they’ve stayed in touch over the years.”
“Anyone else I could talk to?”
“Have you tried Johnny, our son?”
“No—would he know something?”
“Maybe. He and Stephanie have been pretty close in the past. Then they had a falling-out. But I bet he might know something.”
Claire told them the name of the hospital where Stephanie was being treated and then stood up to leave.
Mrs. Klaus stubbed out her cigarette in an old orange peel that was sitting on the table. “Harry was pretty bad with his hands when he could still get around. He gave me a black eye or two and was always taking after the kids. I would have left him if he hadn’t been so sick. He’s got MS. He’s lucky to have me now, aren’t you, Daddy?”
The old man scowled at her.
Scott decided that if Claire got back to work in time, he was definitely going to ask her to go have a drink with him and Billy. It was Friday night. They didn’t do it every night, but they had a standing date to get a beer or two on Friday nights. Claire hadn’t been included in much of the socializing with the other deputies. Stan, Fremont, and some of the older guys didn’t care for her. Thought she had moved in on their territory. But Scott admired her. Maybe it had taken him a while to warm up to her, but she did her work. You had to give her that. Billy liked her too.
At five to five, she came in the door. He stood up, walked over to her desk, and sat down in her chair.
She walked up to him, tapped him gently on the shoulder, and said, “What’s up, Scotty?”
“You’re in a good mood.”
“I decided to be. I’ve got a plan.”
“How about you going out for a drink with Billy and me? We’re heading out in a few minutes.”
“A drink? God, that sounds like a good idea. Okay. How ‘bout Shirley’s? That way I can talk to the bartender who was on the night that Owens was killed. I think he’s working tonight.”
“You got it. We’ll meet you there.”
They all three drove separately. Scott reached Shirley’s first. He grabbed a booth, saving it with his coat and walking up to the bar just as Claire and Billy came in. “The first one’s on me,” he said.
“Let me get it,” Claire insisted. “It will be the only one for me. I’ve gotta get home to my daughter.”
They all ordered Leinenkugel on tap and sat at the booth Scott had claimed. The bar was filling up fast. They clinked their glasses together and drank.
After another sip, Claire asked, “You guys know a cop named Tom Jackson, works up in Eau Claire?”
Billy nodded his head. “I think I know him. Big blond guy?”
“Yeah, that sounds right. You hear how he is as a cop?”
“He was a year ahead of me at the academy. People left him alone. Not so much that he had a temper, but he was unpredictable.”
“Like how?”
“You couldn’t joke with him. He didn’t get it. Very serious. That’s all I remember.”
“You heard anything about him, Scott?”
“No, but I know someone on the Eau Claire force. Should I ask around?”
“Please do. He was married to Stephanie Klaus a few years ago. I think he needs to be checked out.”
Scott remembered the brutal scene at Stephanie Klaus’s place. The ambulance had taken the woman away by the time he got there, but there was still blood everywhere. He understood Claire’s urgency.
Billy said, “I don’t like the idea of looking at a cop.”
Scott remembered his dad slapping his mom around when he was a kid. She had divorced him and taken Scott and his brother to live on the farm with his grandparents. “I’ll check him out for you, Claire.”
Claire smiled at him. She must have put lipstick on in her car before she came to the bar, and she’d let her hair down. Scott was going to see his girlfriend Cindy later on. They were going out to eat at the Fish House. He liked Cindy, but couldn’t see himself hooking up with her permanent. He was having fun just hanging out. But when Claire smiled at him, something buzzed inside him that never did when Cindy gave him a sexy look, and Claire wasn’t even trying.
He knew that Claire was seeing someone. Rich Haggard—nice older guy, pretty quiet. Scott wasn’t about to move in on Claire; it was a bad idea to be seeing someone you work with, anyway, probably against the rules. But he sure liked having her around work. She made him feel like there were places a woman could take him that he hadn’t been yet. He was determined to get there with someone. Hell, who knows? Maybe she and Rich would break up. Anything could happen. He knew Claire was in her early forties. He was going to be thirty-five. Seven or eight years wasn’t too much of a stretch. She looked young enough.
“Another beer?” he asked Billy.
“Let me go up with you,” Claire said, grabbing his arm. “I want to talk to the bartender. That’s the one, isn’t it?” She pointed at a stocky dark-haired man with glasses. He was laughing at a customer’s joke.
“Yeah, that’s who I talked to that night.”
“Stay with me. You know what he said that night.”
Claire got the bartender’s attention. Scott had reminded her of the guy’s name. “Norm, I know you’re busy here, but could you give me a minute or two to talk about what happened the night Buck Owens died?”
“I’ll do my best.”
“What, now I’m a shrink? Same as always. He was a pretty easygoing guy.”
“Do you remember anything in particular about him when he came in?”
“Actually, I do. He came in the door, and his glasses fogged up. He walked up to the counter and set them down in front of me. He ordered a beer. I remember thinking that I couldn’t tell whether his eyes were tearing from the cold or he was crying. That’s what I thought. I handed him his glasses, and he took his beer. He was fine.”
“You touched his glasses?”
“Yeah. A law against that?”
“No, but we’d like to get your prints. Can you come by the sheriff’s department?”
“I’ll swing by tomorrow.”
“Was he with anyone?”
“Not that I noticed. We weren’t terribly busy that night.”
“Was anyone in here that you didn’t know?”
The man wrinkled up his face. He was trying to please, but didn’t have much to offer. Scott hadn’t gotten much more out of him that night. “Hard to remember, but I don’t recall anyone.”
“Did you notice when he left?”
“Now, that’s what was funny. I didn’t notice that. But then I saw the dog sitting in the middle of the floor, staring at the door. I looked around for Buck, and figured he stepped out for a second. He wouldn’t forget his dog.”
Claire perched on a stool for a moment and swung around to face Scott. “I better head home. I’m really glad you asked me to have a drink.”
“Long overdue.”
The truck slipped on the road, then found the gravel and lurched forward. Rich looked down at the little dog snuggled next to his leg as he headed the truck up the hill to Claire’s house. “I’m glad to have you along, little buddy. We’re going to a house full of women—four of them to be exact—and another male presence will be welcome. You stick by me.”
When he walked in the door, Snooper became the center of attention. Meg immediately knelt in front of him and offered him Rachel’s rattle.
“Not a good idea. Rachel’s too young to share with a dog,” Claire said and then reached down to pet the small dog’s head.
Bridget swooped the dog up, and he licked her face over and over again.
Rich stood and watched all the attention they were showering on Snooper.
Finally Meg noticed him. She leaned her head against Rich’s leg. “I like the dog. I wish we could keep him.”
Claire walked over and gave him a peck.
Bridget said, “Hello, Rich. Claire’s getting looped tonight. She went out with the boys after work.”
Claire laughed and walked into the kitchen. He followed her, leaving everyone else cooing over Snooper. Then he took her in his arms and gave her a real kiss. She smelled warm and tasted sweet with beer. She kissed him back with just enough warmth to make him feel welcome.
When he had called her earlier at work and asked to come over, she had sounded hesitant. He knew she didn’t want him to come because her sister was going to be there, but he had gently argued her out of her concern, saying, Bridget certainly knows what we’re doing.
He managed to keep himself from complaining that they hadn’t been together in five days. He would only admit to himself that he needed the feel of her body next to his in the night.
This is what he hated about love, the need of it.
16
MRS. Watkins, I need to talk to you about your daughter.” Mr. Turner’s eyebrows flew across his forehead. Although only in his thirties, he had eyebrows that were starting to sprout auxiliary hairs, and he moved them with great effect when he was excited.
Claire found herself cranking her head back to look up at the man as he loomed over her. She realized this whole conference thing was set up to intimidate the parent. Here she was sitting in a kid’s desk that was too small for her, and he was standing up in front of her. Why hadn’t they met in a nice comfortable lounge? It made her feel like she was trapped back in school.
Suddenly, she had great sympathy for her daughter and wondered if she shouldn’t consider home-schooling. And the teacher hadn’t even started the lecture. She just knew it was coming.
She replied, “That is the purpose of this meeting, isn’t it?”
“You have a very smart daughter.”
Flattery. Another bad sign. “She is, isn’t she? Don’t know how it happened. Her father, I guess.”
“But—”
Claire knew it had been coming—”the big But,” as Meg called it. “Yes?”
“But she is working way below her potential.”
Claire decided it was time to make a suggestion. “We had considered having her skip fifth grade. Maybe we should reconsider that?”
This shook him, she could tell. “Well, I think that might not be what’s called for under these circumstances.”
“Tell me about the circumstances,” Claire crossed her ankles and put her hands in her lap. She knew how to be a good student.
“She doesn’t seem to be able to focus on the task at hand. She only wants to read in class and doesn’t want to attend to her schoolwork. She has been behind on getting several assignments in, which leads me to believe that she is not faithfully doing her homework.” Then he gave her the evil eye. “Mrs. Watkins, do you check in with your daughter about her homework every night?”
Claire almost laughed. She had never had to check on Meg, her perfect child, who sometimes seemed independent. “No, it’s never been necessary with Meg before. She’s very self-motivated.”
“Well, children change. Meg seems to be going through a stubborn period. She doesn’t want to do things the way I want them done. I fear we’re having a test of wills. And I will win it, Mrs. Watkins, I will.”
He was a bully. It was as simple as that, or as complicated. Poor, dear Meg. It would do little good for Claire to antagonize him, much as she wanted to. He seemed to dislike her on the spot, maybe because she was Meg’s mother or maybe because she was a working woman, possibly even because she was a cop. Claire didn’t even care to try to figure it out. She was here to help her daughter.
“What do you suggest we do, Mr. Turner?” She looked up at him and gave him her winningest smile.
“Well, I am encouraged to find you so agreeable to listen to my slight complaints about your daughter’s behavior.”
“Meg will certainly hear about this when I get home.”
“If you could stress to her how important it is to follow the rules. Teaching a group of twenty-five children can only be done when there is law and order.” He allowed himself a crooked smile, alluding as he had to her job as deputy. “I’m sure you understand.”
The man thought he was amusing, Claire thought. But onward. “Meg can be a free thinker. I will talk to her about all this.”
“I think if she understands that her mother is behind me, I will be able to get someplace with her.”
A sadistic bully. She forgot that teaching could be an ideal job for them and that country schools without easy access to good teaching stock might need to hire them just to fill the classrooms. Get someplace with her, indeed.
Claire stood. She couldn’t take this sitting down anymore. Mr. Turner wasn’t much taller than her, so they almost saw eye to eye. “How are Meg’s grades?”
He backed up to his desk and sat on the edge of it. “They’re in the B range.”
“So she’s not making a complete mess of it?”
His eyes bugged slightly, and his eyebrows were flying circles above them. “No, not at all. But we both know she can do so much better. All she seems to want to do is read books.”
“Not exactly a horrible problem, is it?” Claire asked.
“No,” he admitted. “But if all the other children are working and one is reading, that can be disruptive.”
“Reading?”
Mr. Turner nodded.
Claire thought for a moment. “Well, Mr. Turner. I was thinkin
g that we should have a carrot to dangle in front of the donkey, and I suggest that if my daughter behaves and gets her work done, I will tell her you have given her permission to read as long as she is very quiet about it.”
She had him.
“Well, all right.”
She reached out and shook his hand. “So nice to meet you. I’m glad we had this talk.”
He sat down on the edge of his desk and looked relieved as she walked out of the room. She resisted adding, “Class dismissed.”
Stephanie woke up in real pain. They had been easing her off the Demerol. She was no longer on the drip. They had awakened her once in the night to give her pain pills, but that was four hours ago. Stephanie knew it was four hours ago because that’s how long the pills lasted. And then she woke up. And wanted to scream, but she resisted doing that again.
She buzzed the nurse and waited, counting the moments until she came. Stephanie knew she was getting better because even though the pain was bad, it was tolerable. It felt real because it wasn’t over the top anymore. At first it had felt as if the top of her head was going to lift off with the agony of it all.
They had had her sitting up in a chair yesterday, but today she was supposed to walk down the hall. They promised her catheter would come out and she would be completely mobile.
Her sight was returning nicely, the doctors said. Someone came in about twice a day and shone a little tiny flashlight into her eyes. They had set up an eye chart on the far wall, and they would ask her what letters she was seeing. She had them memorized by now, but tried not to cheat.
Today, she would need to analyze how her body was doing and figure out when she could leave. She hoped in another day or two. They didn’t seem to be in any hurry to let her out of the hospital, which was fine with her. She did feel safe in the hospital, always someone bustling around. She could stay here forever—except she missed Snooper.