Through the Evil Days: A Clare Fergusson/Russ Van Alstyne Mystery (Clare Fergusson and Russ Van Alstyne Mysteries)

by Julia Spencer-Fleming

  Dylan didn’t tell him. He doesn’t know. She hadn’t realized the weight of dread she had carried out of the hotel until it was gone. “No,” she managed to say. “Not usually.” She smiled up at him. “Can we go home now?”

  15.

  Could they go home, that was the question. Kevin inched down the mountain in second gear, zigzagging across the road for maximum traction. Twice the tires lost contact despite the gravel spread along the drive. Both times the Aztek slid in a slow free fall downhill, gathering speed, until they caught a patch of still-rough stone and Kevin could wrestle the SUV back under control. After the second skid, he said, “Maybe we ought to rethink this.” He kept his voice low, hopeful the kids couldn’t hear him. “We could ditch the truck and hike back up to the hotel—”

  “No.” Hadley shook her head.

  “If we showed our IDs—”

  “No.” There was an edge to her voice, the sound of someone pushed to the brink and left teetering there.

  “Okay.” He downshifted to make another curve, holding his breath until he had swung the SUV through without slipping. “What about the Stuyvesant Inn?”

  “You mean, stop there?”

  “It’s just a couple miles up the road.”

  “I dunno. Maybe.” She scrubbed at her face. “I really just want to get home. I think the kids need things to be as normal as possible.” She looked at him closely. “What about you? Are you too tired to go on?”

  He was exhausted from the long fruitless day in Albany, and from the teeth-gritting intensity of the drive, and from everything that had happened at the Algonquin. But after all she had been through, he didn’t want to hand Hadley one more disappointment. “I can make it,” he said.

  He lost control of the Aztek again when they hit Sacandaga Road. They bottomed out at the foot of the drive and slid across both lanes, stopping only when they wedged the right front quarter into the snowbank. “Are we stuck?” Genny asked. It was the first thing she had said since leaving the Algonquin.

  “I don’t think so, sweetheart.” Kevin turned on the four-ways and reached for his parka. “I think your mom and I can push it out.”

  They waded through the snow and braced against the front grille. “Ready?” Kevin said. Hadley nodded. “Okay, on my count. One, two, three—” They shoved back, rocked forward, shoved back, rocked forward, shoved back, and the Aztek rolled free. He held out his hand to help Hadley clamber out of the snow.

  She stood in the light of the headlamps, shaking her head. “That was close.”

  He rubbed his boot back and forth. “There’s nothing here. It’s like driving across a frozen lake.”

  She climbed back into the Aztek. He beat the glaze of ice off his coat and followed her. “Have you ever driven across a frozen lake?” Hadley asked.

  “Oh, yeah. My first car was this ancient crew cab that my dad had used for business.” He shifted into gear and gently accelerated. “Some of my friends and I used to get together for ice races on Summit Lake.”

  “Wasn’t that dangerous?” Hudson asked. Kevin caught Hadley’s eye. Another country heard from.

  “The most dangerous part was not letting my mom find out. Don’t tell her I told you about ice racing. She’ll probably ground me.”

  Hudson snorted. “You’re a grown-up. She can’t ground you.”

  “Yeah, but who’s going to tell her that? You?”

  Hudson giggled. Hadley pressed her hands to her mouth and looked down at her lap. Kevin suddenly felt like he could drive the lot of them to Canada, if he had to.

  “What’s that?” Hudson asked. There was a light up ahead. Not moving, too close to the road to be a farmhouse. “Is it a car?”

  “I think it is. Good eyes, buddy.” Kevin could see the four-ways as they got closer, then a figure that resolved itself into a human shape, standing at the edge of the road, waving both arms. Kevin let the Aztek coast to a halt and put on his own emergency lights again.

  “Do you want to get strapped?” Hadley said quietly. It was a natural impulse. Traffic stops were always potentially dangerous, and no sane cop went into one unarmed.

  Kevin nodded toward the man walking toward them. He was sixtyish, in a puffy down coat and what had to be a hand-knit-for-Christmas pom-pom hat. “I don’t think he’s going to be a problem. You stay here, though, just in case.”

  “Okay.”

  Kevin shrugged on his parka and got out.

  “Thank God somebody came along!” The older man raised his arms as if he were going to hug Kevin. “We tried calling Triple A, then nine-one-one, but the phone’s not letting any calls through. I thought we were going to be trapped here all night.”

  Kevin looked to where the man’s SUV was planted in the nearby field, at least three car lengths away and perpendicular to the road. “What happened?”

  “Well, according to my wife, I was going too fast for the conditions.”

  “I have to side with your wife on that, sir.”

  The passenger door opened and the aforementioned wife got out and waded through the snow toward them. “Hello! Do you think you might be able to pull us out?”

  Kevin heard a door thunk behind him. Hadley must have decided he didn’t need armed backup in the car. He shook his head. “There’s not enough traction on the road, ma’am. I’d just spin my tires. I’m sorry, folks,” Kevin said. “You’re going to need a tow truck for this one.”

  “You can come with us,” Hadley said. “There’s an inn less than two miles down the road. We were planning on stopping there ourselves.”

  The couple got their things from the vehicle and followed Kevin and Hadley back to the Aztek, sitting on the road like a lonely lighthouse. “We were planning on stopping there ourselves?” Kevin asked.

  “You were right. What if this happened to us and the kids? I don’t want to be sitting in the dark, waiting for the gas to run out, hoping somebody else is stupid enough to be out on the road in this storm.”

  They stomped off the worst of the snow when they reached the road. Kevin opened the back door for the older woman. “Genny, Hudson, we’re giving these folks a ride. I want you to climb over the seat and get in the rear.”

  The kids scrambled into the rear well, and the elderly couple got in. “We’re so sorry to put you out like this,” the wife said.

  Kevin climbed behind the wheel. “You’re not putting us out.” He shifted and began rolling very slowly down the road.

  “Where were you headed?” Hadley asked.

  “Lake George,” the husband said.

  “We retired up there just last summer,” the wife said.

  “You’re going the long way around.” Kevin glanced into the rearview mirror. “The Northway’s a lot quicker than routing through Millers Kill.”

  “They’ve closed the Northway,” the husband said. “No traffic allowed except emergency vehicles.”

  Hadley twisted around in her seat. “You’re kidding. I didn’t know they did that.” She looked at Kevin. “Have you ever heard of that?”

  He shook his head. “No.” He didn’t want to think what that meant for area law enforcement. The rest of the MKPD must be flat out, everybody working on double overtime to handle the weather emergency.

  The older folks chatted with Hadley and the kids, freeing Kevin to focus on getting everyone safely to the Stuyvesant Inn. By the time the rambling Victorian came into view, his shoulders were stiff with tension and a headache was building behind his eyes.

  Like the one at Algonquin Waters, the inn’s sign was dark, but the many-paned windows glowed with warm, soft light. There were several cars jammed into the side yard; either the inn was having a midweek boom in skiers or they weren’t the first travelers to seek shelter from the storm.

  The front door opened before their little band had reached the wide front porch. The older of the two innkeepers raised a kerosene lamp. “Welcome! Welcome!” Kevin plodded up the stairs, Hudson and Genny’s bags in hand. “Officer Flynn! This is a s
urprise. I take it this isn’t an official visit.” He stepped back to allow them to enter. “Come in, come in.” They crowded into the front hall. The hall, as big as the living-dining room in Kevin’s apartment, wasn’t much warmer than the outside. Candles in wall sconces threw flickering shadows over spindly side tables and layered oriental carpets. The mahogany stairs led up to darkness. The innkeeper shook the husband’s hand as he shut the door behind them. “Stephen Obrowski. Welcome to the Stuyvesant Inn.”

  Kevin blessed the man for introducing himself, because at this stage he could barely remember his own name. “Mr. Obrowski. Do you have rooms available for these folks and for Hadley and the kids?”

  Hadley turned on him. “What about you?”

  “I need to report to the department. They’ve got to be stretched to the breaking point.”

  “So are you. You’ve spent the last four hours driving in this mess. You’re going off duty as of now, Flynn.”

  He couldn’t help but crack a smile. “Didn’t the dep say running the department was above your pay grade?”

  “Maybe, but running you isn’t.” She looked at Obrowski. “We all need rooms.”

  “Well, there’s the rub, as they say. We’ve got one double room left. No fireplace, but we’re wrapping up warm bricks to heat the beds, just like they used to do.”

  “How much?” the husband asked.

  “Harvey! Give it to this nice couple!” She turned to Hadley. “I’m so sorry. He just doesn’t think.”

  “We’re not charging,” Obrowski said. “Didn’t seem right, with people stranded by the storm.”

  “You take the room,” Hadley said. “We can camp out in the parlor, if it’s okay with Mr. Obrowski.”

  “Ron!” Obrowski yelled. A younger man appeared at the top of the stairs. “Will you show these guests to the Clinton Room? Head right on up, folks, Ron will show you where everything is.”

  Harvey-the-husband shook Kevin’s hand. His wife hugged him. “Your wife and children are so sweet. Thank you again for rescuing us.” She mounted the stairs before Kevin could correct her. At least, that’s what he told himself.

  Obrowski beckoned to him and Hadley. “We can do better for you than the parlor. Lord knows I love our Empire and Renaissance Revival furniture, but it’s lousy to sit on for more’n ten minutes.”

  He picked up his lantern and led the way down the hall and into the cavernous kitchen, lit only by the glow from the professional-sized wood-fired oven. He opened a door at the far end of the room. “Taa-daa.” Obrowski opened another door. “Ron and I renovated part of the original barn for our private quarters.”

  The room they were in was small and warm, with a deep sofa facing a tiny woodstove and a pair of plump chairs with matching ottomans. “Your boy and girl can take the chairs, and you can have the sofa.” He smiled at Kevin. “I’m afraid it’s the floor for you, Stretch. Don’t worry, though. We have enough sheets, blankets, and down comforters to bed down the Fifth Regiment.”

  “Thank you. Thank you so much.” Hadley’s voice shook. “It’s more than generous of you.” She leaned against Kevin, and for a moment he thought, This is what it would be like. If she really were his wife. If those really were his children.

  Obrowski left to retrieve bedding for them. Hudson and Genny each climbed into a chair. Hudson bounced. “That old lady thought you were my dad,” he said.

  “It was a natural mistake,” Hadley said. She shucked off her parka and draped it over the arm of the sofa.

  “Kevin doesn’t even look like me. Dad does.”

  “Give me your coat, Genny.” Hadley took the pink parka. “Hudson, hand me yours, too.”

  Hudson stood up. “We should have stayed with Dad. They had the lights on there and the TV worked. Everything was fine until you messed it up.”

  “Hudson!”

  “Dad said bad words!” Genny looked up at Kevin. “We’re not supposed to use bad words.”

  “He didn’t say them to us! He just said them because Mom came to take us away!” The boy glared at Kevin. “You hurt him! I saw you! You pushed him into the wall and twisted his arm!”

  “For God’s sake, Hudson!” Hadley took hold of his coat sleeves. “Kevin was helping us.”

  “Helping you.” Hudson wrenched his arms out of his parka and twisted away from his mother. “I wanted to stay with Dad!”

  “Hudson!”

  “Why did you make him stay away? He never came to see us because of you! I hate it here in New York! If we were back in California, I’d see Dad all the time!” The boy’s voice was clotted with rage and tears.

  Hadley sank to her knees. “Oh, baby, no.” She was close to crying as well. “No. I would never keep your dad from visiting you.”

  Hudson wiped his sleeve across his eyes. “Then why did you take us away? How come we’re here instead of at Dad’s hotel?”

  “Because Dad was going to take you away to California, and I can’t allow that.” Hadley took a deep breath. “It may sound nice, but we’re better off here in Millers Kill. You’re better off. I promise you that whatever decisions I make, they’re always about what’s best for you and Genny. You may not like them, you may not like me, but I am always and ever looking out for what’s best for you.” Genny came to her mother’s side and leaned against her. Hadley wrapped her arm around her daughter’s waist.

  Hudson’s jaw jutted out, a barricade against more tears. He glared up at Kevin. “Why did you have to fight with him? You made him so mad! He wouldn’t have said those things if you hadn’t made him mad!”

  Kevin squatted down so he was face-to-face with the boy. “Your dad got overwhelmed by his feelings, so overwhelmed that he lost control. I stopped him from doing something he’d feel terrible about later. I know it looked like I was rough with him, but your mom and I were trained to safely stop people from being a danger to themselves or others. I didn’t hurt him, and he didn’t hurt anyone else.”

  “Dad wouldn’t hurt us!”

  “Not usually, no. But sometimes people do and say things they’re sorry for later. Take you, for instance. I’m pretty sure you didn’t really want to make your mother cry.” He glanced over at Hadley, and Hudson followed his gaze, taking in her red-rimmed eyes and blotchy cheeks.

  “No-o-o-o…” Hudson’s jaw loosened and he began to cry, the weeping of a small child exhausted beyond his limits.

  “Oh, my sweet boy.” Hadley opened her other arm and Hudson lurched into her embrace.

  Kevin met Steve Obrowski at the door and quietly explained the scene. The innkeeper handed him the stack of sheets, pillows, blankets, and comforters—he had been right, the pile could have comfortably slept a small army—and told him he and Ron would give them time to settle the kids down before retiring themselves. Kevin made up the sofa and chairs while Hadley got the kids into their pajamas and supervised their toothbrushing. Hudson and Genny emerged from the bathroom staggering and blinking like a pair of bear cubs in a midwinter den. Hadley steered them toward the chairs.

  “Where’s your bedroll?” she asked him.

  “I’m going to sleep in the kitchen. It’ll be plenty warm enough in front of that stove.”

  “Flynn, you don’t need to do that.” She touched the backs of the children’s heads. “Crawl under the covers now.” She looked up, straight into his eyes. “Stay with us,” she said, her voice low.

  He shook his head. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  She glanced toward where Hudson was already curled up in one of the chairs, nothing but his ear and hair visible beyond the quilt covering him. “Is it because…?”

  “Yeah.” Then—he didn’t know if it was the bone-deep weariness, or the long, hard day they had spent together, or just that he was tired of holding it in—he let her see what he was feeling, what he always felt when he was around her. “And other things.”

  She ducked her head. “Oh.”

  He bent and picked up his share of the bedding. “Good night, Genny.
Good night, Hudson.” He ghosted a smile at Hadley. “Better get some sleep. We’re back on duty as of oh-seven-hundred. And I don’t think tomorrow is going to be the cakewalk we’ve had today.”

  16.

  Mikayla drifted in and out of dreams, hot and always thirsty. Daddy carried her to the bathroom, where she had bad, tummy-pinching poops, and then back to the room they were using. Mikayla hated it—everything stunk and people never stopped talking loud and excited. Nobody bothered her in her room, though, except Daddy and Travis, who sat on one of the other beds and argued in whispers. It got late and later and finally it got quiet, as everyone fell asleep.

  It was hard to sleep with all her bones hurting, and she was so tired of feeling sick. She wanted to go home. She wanted to see Meme and Pepe. She wanted to be better, like she was at Ted and Helen’s house, when she could play outside.

  Far off in the darkness, she heard a dog barking. Oscar. Ted had been right, he was a good dog. She remembered he had scared her, but it was hard to feel the feeling, because now she felt safe, knowing he was out there, protecting her. Good dog, Oscar, she thought, and then she slid into sleep.

  WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 14

  1.

  It was a wave of cold air that woke him up. Kevin shivered, snugged the fat down comforter more closely around his shoulders, and muzzily thought, Time for more wood. He had woken up once already around midnight, just long enough to load the stove’s firebox and then drop back into a profound slumber. Now he tried to rouse himself enough to crawl out of his warm cocoon and brave the chilly drafts by the wood rack.

  He heard a clunk, then another. The creak of the stove door. He opened his eyes. Firelight on the wood-plank floor, and the orange-red glow of coals deep in the firebox, and the shiny trim and toggles on the stove glinting. Bare feet beside the black slate tiles. Bare ankles beneath another down comforter. There was a thunk and thud—wood tossed into the box—then the door closed again. The bare feet turned and the down collapsed in a fat puff and Hadley was sitting next to him.