It was the in between that had her frowning, climbing out of bed, and wincing as her sore muscles reminded her of the terrifying tube ride. The discovery in the woods concerned her, more than she had let on the night before. Easier to act angry than have Jake worrying she was going to collapse into a helpless heap. She hoped he had some answers soon as the uncertainty was starting to take its toll.
The morning was clear, all traces of the previous night’s storm gone, and as she made her way to the shop she couldn’t help but pause to take in the fresh, clean smell and the sounds of the birds chirping happily in the trees. The temperature had dropped considerably and the oppressive humidity had vanished along with the storm. The lake shone a brilliant blue again, a far cry from the dark grey churning monster of the night before. Sam unlocked the door to the shop and couldn’t stop the sigh when she took in the chaos…much more orderly chaos than a couple of days ago, but chaos nonetheless. Well, no point in crying over spilt milk, as her grandfather used to say. She pushed up her sleeves and got to work.
She spent a couple of hours repairing and rebuilding parts of the kids’ projects. After discussing it with Jake, she had reluctantly agreed not to try to hide the vandalism from them, rather tell them straight out what had happened and watch for reactions. She still didn’t like it, it seemed like setting them up, but he had convinced her that finding out who was responsible was the main priority right now. She was going to do some repairs to their projects but decided to leave some of the work for the kids themselves. A good lesson, she figured, as there was always something that needed fixing and knowing how to do it was not only satisfying, it was just plain smart.
She hammered, sawed, sanded, and glued, working not only on the repair work for her class, but also further repairing her workbenches and cabinets. Tired and ready for a lunch break, she muttered an oath as the last bolt she needed to reattach the vise to the workbench slipped out of her hand and rolled out of sight. Sighing heavily, she got down on her knees to locate the errant bolt. Out of reach, of course. She crawled under the bench, stretched, and got it with her fingertips. Pulling back, her head brushed the underside of the bench and something rustled. Paper, probably a receipt or warranty document, she figured. Feeling her way above her head, she ripped the paper loose, stole a glance, and froze.
She recognized the writing immediately, she had seen it her whole life. And her grandfather had always called her Samantha, never Sam. Her hand shook and she sat where she was, still half under the bench. How long she looked at the envelope, she would never recall. A thousand thoughts flashed through her mind and nearly as many emotions. She wanted to tear it up, almost did, but deep down knew she wouldn’t, couldn’t. It had to be her ‘letter,’ the one she had wanted so badly eight months ago.
Why here? Why hide it from her? The answers were inside, she guessed, but wasn’t sure she was ready for them. She finally crawled out from under the bench, shoved the envelope in her pocket, and headed for the house.
Sam made herself a sandwich, sorted her mail, tidied the kitchen, and brushed Rigi. And gave the letter a wide berth. Sure she glanced at it when she passed the table, who wouldn’t? And she may have picked it up and held it up to the light when she was wiping down the table but it had to be moved in order to clean and it wasn’t her fault the sun was shining so brightly through the kitchen window. But, she didn’t open it. Eventually she went back to the shop and worked, hard, trying to put it out of her mind.
Later that evening after she had finished everything in the shop she wanted to get done before morning, played in the yard with Rigi, showered, and fixed herself some dinner, Sam found herself unable to relax. The movie she tried watching held her interest for all of fifteen minutes before she turned it off. The numbers in her checkbook may have as well been hieroglyphics for as much sense as they made when she attempted to pay bills and balance her accounts. She thought about going for a swim since yesterday had made her realize how much she missed the water and since swimming was always a guaranteed way to zap her stress, but it was getting dark. She considered calling her cousin, Susan. They hadn’t talked in a couple weeks and Sam missed her. But Susan would tell her to open the envelope and get it over with and Sam didn’t know if she could face it alone.
That was it, really. She didn’t want to be alone when she read whatever it was her grandfather had to say. It hit her like a brick to realize how alone she really was. And how much she missed her girlfriends. She hadn’t let herself think about them much, rationalizing that there wasn’t anything she could do about it with all of them in Chicago and she here in the middle of the woods in Minnesota. Sure, they talked on the phone occasionally but she missed the face to face…the girl talk, the laughs, and the unwavering support. They had been there for her when she lost her brother and then her grandfather. Even when she had been despondent, distant, and sometimes downright mean, her girls got her through. They would get her through this, too, she knew, if they could.
Tina would joke and make light of the situation even when Sam knew, deep down, her heart would be breaking to see Sam hurting. Jess would make pro and con lists, analyzing the situation to death until Sam couldn’t stand it any more and tore the envelope open. And Carrie would hold her hand and support her no matter what her decision. Yes, she missed them.
The decision to keep to herself and avoid any and all personal relationships in Misty Lake seemed less sensible now than it had a few months ago. She had lost so much, all those closest to her. Everyone she had loved the most had been taken from her. If she was being completely honest with herself, leaving her girlfriends, her cousins, her aunt and uncle behind hadn’t really been that hard. She loved them all dearly and realized now that putting some distance between herself and those she cared most about was her way of protecting herself from more hurt. The easy way out, really. If she didn’t care so deeply, it wouldn’t hurt so deeply if—no, when—something happened to another one of them.
As she looked again at the letter, she admitted that maybe she had been wrong. Not having anyone in her life meant facing everything, including this, alone. Was that what she wanted? Is that what her parents, her brother, her grandfather would have wanted for her? No, she was sure of that.
Except for hanging out with Jake a couple of times, she hadn’t spent time with anyone since arriving in town. It was time to move forward with her life, deep down she knew it. Sam furrowed her brow, tapped her nails nervously on the counter, and considered. Could she do it? Could she open herself up again and risk heartache? She poured herself a glass of wine and settled into her favorite chair to think things through, almost pleased to have a problem to chew on so as to forget the letter for a while.
So, how did one even go about making friends? What in theory seemed like something simple, in reality seemed daunting. People made friends at work but she wasn’t working someplace where that was a possibility. She didn’t have any relatives in town to invite her over, introduce her to people. She supposed she could ask Kathleen, the woman really did seem to know everyone in town, but even thinking about it made her laugh to herself. What was she making her out to be? Some kind of girlfriend matchmaker?
Karen, Jake’s sister-in-law, had been friendly, nice. They were about the same age, Sam figured, probably had other things in common. It was a possibility. She had worked with Lynn at First National Bank when she first came to Misty Lake and needed to set up both personal and business accounts. Lynn had been pleasant and talkative, had even asked Sam if she wanted to join her at her monthly Bunco game, but Sam had declined. She wasn’t sure what Bunco was but figured it would have involved socializing which, at the time, was out of the question. She should go back to church, another thing she had avoided since her grandfather’s death. People at church were usually friendly, maybe she could stay for coffee and mingle a little, she’d meet people that way. She promised herself she’d think about it. What else? She knew Jake had a sister…
Then it hit her. She did have one
friend—Jake. Granted, not a girlfriend, but someone who had already proven he would listen, offer support if needed. Could she call him? Was it too late? Would he make more of it than she intended? She paced and looked at the clock. Picked up her cell phone then set it down. Talked to Rigi, asked her opinion, and was rewarded with a loud snore. Finally, she picked up the phone again and, this time, dialed. The letter was making her crazy, she reasoned, as evidenced by the last hour spent dreaming up ways to make friends and then talking to her dog and actually expecting a response. Phase one of her ‘Sam Makes Some Friends’ campaign would start now.
11
Monday morning dawned warm and sunny, a beautiful day in Misty Lake. Jake loved his town, always had. Even when his friends had talked about getting out after high school, he had always known he wanted to stay. He loved the sense of community, a feeling that remained even as the town grew. He appreciated those who had been there for years, working hard to keep the town’s economy growing. And he was proud to work for the people who had put their faith in him as sheriff.
As he walked out of his apartment on the second floor of a refurbished building on the town’s main street, he took in the morning’s activity. Rosie’s Diner was filling up with those looking for a home-cooked breakfast or a leisurely cup of coffee. If his father wasn’t already there, he would be soon. Jake remembered how, a few weeks into his father’s retirement, his mother had said, in her tone that left no room for debate, she needed some peace and quiet in the mornings and his father needed a reason to get up and get moving. He was interfering with the routine she had had in place for over thirty years, she had claimed. Knowing better than to get on the wrong side of Anna’s Italian temper, Sean had spent every weekday morning since having a cup of coffee at Rosie’s with friends who went back to the days when they were the ones raising hell in town.
Bob Bell, the president of First National Bank, was opening up and gave Jake a wave. Further down the street Jake could see a steady stream of people filing in and out of The Whole Bean, the town’s trendier, and wildly successful, coffee shop. Megan Perkins, a year behind Jake in school and his on-again, off-again girlfriend for most of their high school years, had worked hard to build the business after her husband of only two years had left her with a newborn baby. Jake and Megan had remained friends and he was proud of her and her success.
As Jake made his way down the stairs that wrapped around the outside of his apartment building and to his car parked behind, he saw Lynn from First National along with other harried-looking parents urging their kids to hurry into the church that housed Precious Ones Daycare. Lynn had one hand of each of her two-year-old twins gripped tightly in her own and somehow managed to hang on to them while juggling two backpacks, stuffed animals, and blankets. The woman was a superhero, Jake thought, shaking his head.
Yes, he loved his town. And if it seemed a little sunnier or a little happier this morning, well, that may have something to do with the call he had from Sam the previous night. There had been that brief moment of panic when he saw her name on his cell phone and his thoughts jumped to trouble, but it hadn’t taken long to determine that wasn’t the case. Sam had called him, he thought to himself, and couldn’t hold back the grin.
She had been a little cryptic, first saying she wanted him to come over last night, then changing her mind and asking him to come over tonight. She had said there was something she needed help with but hadn’t elaborated. He had tried asking some questions but she had deflected most of them. In the end, Jake had talked her in to going out to dinner since she had already fed him on two occasions and he wasn’t about to let it become three before he had the chance to reciprocate. She had started to refuse and then, almost as if she was waging some kind of internal war, had done a one-eighty and agreed to dinner at The Misty Lake Lodge, Jake’s favorite place on the lake. They’d have a nice dinner, some wine, candlelight, all those things women seemed to like and, he figured, she hadn’t had much of lately. He hadn’t looked forward to a date this much in a long time. Maybe since that first time he had convinced Megan Perkins to go to a movie with him and they had never made it into the theater. God, he thought to himself, that was a long time ago. He had had to do some quick thinking when his dad found her sweater in the backseat of his car the next day.
He was still chuckling to himself as he made his way into his office and picked up a ringing phone. Pete Griffin, his friend from the Minneapolis Police Department, greeted him in his booming voice.
“How the hell are ya, Jake? Still busy bustin’ speeders and guys without fishing licenses?”
Playing along with their long-standing joke, Jake shot back, “You know me, every illegal fisherman’s worst nightmare. How about you? Still got task forces, committees, and community groups telling you what to do?”
“Same old, same old. I guess we all do what we gotta do.” Then growing more serious, “So, what’s going on up there? Sounds like you’re having some trouble you think might be gang related?”
Jake filled Pete in on what was happening and gave him the names of the kids in Sam’s class, including Tyler since he’d been tight with Zach, knowing if any of them were heavy into gang activity, Pete would know them.
Pete was quiet for a minute then began, “Well, a couple names stand out. First, the Salentine kid. Does he have an older brother, William, or Blade, as he’s known?”
“Yeah, that’s his brother. I’ve heard a little about him but tell me what you know.”
“Blade’s been running with a gang for about eight years. They’re bad news, Jake. Blade’s bad news. He disappeared about six weeks ago. I’ve talked to departments in Milwaukee, Chicago, Detroit, lots of places this gang of his is known to have a presence, told them to be on the lookout. So far I haven’t heard anything. We like him for a couple murders but haven’t had any luck getting witnesses to come forward. They’re all scared. I don’t know Jimmy, but these guys tend to try to get family members to join, make it hard to say no.”
“I don’t like it that no one knows where he is. Can you get me a photo? I want to make sure we’re on the lookout here.”
“Consider it done.” Jake could hear him clicking away, probably emailing a file while he talked. “Now, the other name I heard from you that raised a flag was Tyler Loomis. Not really my area as he’s not a known gang member, but the kid has been in enough trouble that we all know him. He’s been in and out of juvie, stands to do some hard time if we can pin a rape on him. I didn’t know he was up there for the summer.”
“From what I hear from the director at the camp, he shouldn’t be. They normally don’t take kids with records like his but apparently his probation officer finagled it. So, what’s your take on this? Could one of these kids be responsible?”
“Could be, yes. But I don’t think it’s likely. Frankly, it’d be pretty small time stuff for either Salentine or Loomis. Seems to me the more likely scenario is that one of the other kids in this Ms. Taylor’s class has something against her. I didn’t recognize any of the other names but I could do some checking for you, pull some files.”
Pete’s suspicions mirrored his own and Jake’s anxiety increased. The thought of Sam alone with the group had him more and more concerned. “Thanks, Pete, I’d appreciate it. I got an overview from the camp director but if there’s more, I’d like to know.”
“Not a problem, I’ll get on it today.”
“Let me ask you this. Assuming the older Salentine has made his way up here and has made contact with his brother, do you think the vandalism could be some kind of gang initiation?”
“Not really typical initiation stuff we see from the gang Salentine is in with, it’s usually some pretty serious assault, even murder. But, if he’s working on his brother and has something to hold over the kid’s head to scare him, he could be easing him into bigger stuff. It’s not out of the question.”
“Yeah,” Jake was nodding as he twirled a pencil between his fingers. It was about what he had expected
to hear.
“You’re looking at someone from the camp…what about locals? Someone who doesn’t like this lady?”
“That’s the thing, she’s new in town, doesn’t really know anyone except the kids she volunteered to work with. The attacks, especially the last one, have felt personal. A lot of damage, including to some stuff the kids were working on, things she’s teaching them how to build. They were stored in a cabinet, had all been pulled out and pretty much wrecked. Not exactly a stretch to think one of them could be responsible.”
“Makes sense. Well, buddy, gotta go protect the citizens of this fine city. Good luck, let me know if I can help you out with anything else.”
“All right, Pete, thanks again. If you can dig up any information you think is pertinent, send it my way. And get your butt up here one of these days, it’s been a long time. Tell you what, I’ll even spring for a fishing license so I won’t have to write you a ticket.”
With a laugh, Pete signed off and Jake stared out his window, going over the facts he had so far on the case and hoping for a break…soon.
It had been a long day filled with routine paperwork, frustrating dead ends on Sam’s case, and a particularly ugly incident of road rage that had resulted in two arrests and a shattered window on Jake’s patrol car thanks to an errant swing with a tire iron. Jake was more than ready to put it all behind him as he drove to pick up Sam for their date. When she answered the door in a short, white sundress, some strappy sandals that made her legs seem to go on forever, and with her hair loose and curling riotously around her shoulders, he found it hard to remember his name let alone the miserable events of his workday. Unable to resist, he didn’t even manage a hello before he grabbed her by the waist and closed his mouth over hers.
Misty Lake: Book One in the Misty Lake Series Page 11