And next to the prints, following them around the cabin and into the meadow, small holes dotted the snow at regular intervals, as if someone had poked the snow with a stick.
She stood up carefully and stared down at the imprints. Yes, a stick, maybe.
Or, she thought, a cane.
***
The holes in the snow. Right next to the footprints.
They’d been gnawing at Cass, wheedling their way into her brain. The snow had disappeared quickly, leaving nothing but the brown, hard-scraped mud that edged the cabin. No clues left; no way to check again. But she remembered the holes and what they suggested.
She patted the lump of smooth clay in front of her, mounded on her wheel. She needed to get busy. She had bowls to throw before she went to town, so that they’d be ready for her to trim when she got back, after they’d stiffened, but her mind kept wandering. What did she know about Ryan? She bit her lip. Really, nothing more than what he’d told her. He was an assistant district attorney in Anchorage. That part had been easy to check out on the State of Alaska website. From what Nick had said, she knew that Ryan had been to Homer at least once before, after Merry’s husband had tried to murder her. Maybe he came to Homer regularly. That wouldn’t be unusual at all. Anchorage was the nearest big city and lots of Anchorage government employees had periodic work assignments in Homer.
She frowned at Cat, who was sitting on the kitchen table, staring pointedly at her, his tail switching rhythmically from side to side like a pendulum.
“Get off the table. You know you’re not allowed up there.”
Cat blinked once, slowly, but he didn’t move, though the very tip of his tail lifted and then dropped.
“It’s not time for dinner yet. Go catch a mouse or something.”
Cat’s tail continued its hypnotic tick-tock. Cass sighed and stood up. “All right, all right. You’re going to get fat, you know.”
Cat followed her to the refrigerator and rubbed the side of his head against her ankles while she retrieved the open can of cat food. Cass smiled down at him. He was certainly a pest, but he was a comfort too. And he wasn’t too much trouble.
Not like a baby was going to be. She pushed that thought away as she scooped food into Cat’s bowl.
Her mind returned to the holes. So what reason would Ryan have for coming to the cabin, if the holes were from his cane? If he’d come to see her and she wasn’t home, wouldn’t he have left a note or something? And why would he want to see her anyway?
Cat gobbled his food in five seconds and looked up at her, hope in his eyes.
“Not a chance.”
He sniffed once and wandered away, no doubt looking for a good place to wash his face and nap. Cass glanced back at her wheel, knowing she needed to get back to work, but her mind was still focused on Ryan.
Was it possible…could Ryan…?
She frowned. She still hadn’t said anything to Nick about the glove. She thought she’d done the right thing, the adult thing, going to the police to ask for help. That certainly hadn’t worked out very well. She’d bet a lot of money that if Nick had been with her, she’d have gotten a different response. She could still do that, of course, tell Nick about all of it, the strange prickly feelings about being watched, the flowers that she now realized weren’t from Nick, and finally the horrible glove with its sticky, disgusting smears. But damn it, Nick was always watching out for her, taking care of her like she was a little girl. Even now, with the baby on the way, he acted more like a father or a brother than a…husband.
A husband!
For a moment she let her eyes soften as her brain embraced that idea. She and Nick, together. They wouldn’t even need to get married. But they would be a couple, a family with a baby. They would belong to each other.
She shook her head briskly, bringing herself back. It was a lovely fantasy, but right now that’s all it was. When she pulled herself back to reality, she knew that’s all it was. It certainly wasn’t going to come true, at least not the way she’d imagined it, as long as Nick considered her damaged and weak, needing his help. Somehow she needed to take care of this herself.
Moving to the wheel, she draped plastic sheeting over the clay and grabbed her coat. Ryan had mentioned that he would be in Homer for a few days. If he was still here, she was going to find him. She would get to the bottom of this.
Chapter 12
He was still in town. When Cass called the police station, she wondered if she would have to make up some reason why she needed to know if Ryan was in Homer, but that didn’t prove to be necessary. The bored voice on the other end seemed completely disinterested.
“DA Anderson? Yeah, he’s around this week, but he’s out to lunch right now. He’ll be back in an hour or so.” The voice paused, then said reluctantly. “I can take a message if you want.”
Cass swallowed hard. “No…thanks. I’ll just call back later.”
Once she’d made up her mind to confront him, she was jittery and impatient. She didn’t want to wait in case second thoughts made her even more nervous. She drove to the station and parked across the street, not in the station parking lot, and waited.
She jumped in her seat, startled, when he came from behind, walking right past the jeep, his head down, his cane tapping the dirt path at the side of the road. He turned and headed across the road to the station. Her heart was in her throat. It was now or never.
She shoved open the jeep door and jumped onto the uneven ground by the side of the road. A flash of white under her foot grabbed her attention. The limp sack of a used condom stuck to the heel of her boot. She swore under her breath, grimacing, and dragged her foot to shake it off onto the roadway. A good rain would wash away some of the road trash, the used tissues and apple cores, but not stuff like this. It was disgusting, really disgusting that people would drop stuff like this in the roadway. She shuddered and kicked it away into the nearby bushes, then slid her thoughts back to her mission. When she turned back, Anderson was almost to the front door of the police station.
“Excuse me, Mr. Anderson?” Her voice was breathless and a little squeaky. He turned slowly and looked at her, and his face broke into a giant smile.
“Cassandra, er…Miss Drake! Hello! How nice to see you!”
She arranged her face into the haughty, cold mask that protected her from the world. His smile faded and was replaced by a look of confusion and concern.
She pitched her voice icy and formal. “I need to speak with you please. Is there somewhere we can talk? I’d rather not go in there.” She pointed to the station.
“Yes, sure.” He limped towards her. “Do you want to go down to the coffee shack?”
She nodded and they came together and headed down the road. She held her face rigid, but her thoughts were whirling. She hadn’t really thought out how to begin this. They settled across from one another at the outside table, and he looked at her quizzically, waiting.
“Do you want a coffee?”
She shook her head no, and took a deep breath.
“Mr. Anderson…”
“Oh, please, call me Ryan.” His face broke out into that broad smile again.
“Ryan…” She stared right into his eyes. “Ryan, were you out at my cabin yesterday?”
His smile faded.
“Yes,” he answered. He looked stricken.
She felt as if the breath had been knocked out of her. Then a flame of anger took over.
“Why have you been doing this?” She hurled the words at him. “Why have you been hanging around my cabin? Why have you been watching me?”
His face transformed, first into a mask of total confusion, then moving into an expression of absolute horror.
“No, you can’t think…no, it isn’t what you think. Oh, God.” He reached his hand across the table to hers, then withdrew it quickly.
She waited.
“Oh, God, I’m so sorry. I was just checking…investigating.”
He had turned beet red, to the very root
s of his hair. If Cass hadn’t been so furious, she might have felt sorry for him.
He took a deep breath. “When you left the station the other day, you left that…glove behind.” He leaned over the table. “I got the story out of the cop, about what you’d said was happening. And by the way, I’m so sorry you were treated like that. It was despicable.” He paused.
“I came out to look at the scene, to get a sense of your situation, to see if there were any clues about how this was happening. I thought perhaps I could help.”
His face was still flaming. Cassandra felt her expression crumble, just a little.
“Then why didn’t you contact me? Call me? Leave a note?”
He looked embarrassed. “How can I explain this…Miss Drake, when you came into the station, that cop, he noticed how beautiful you are, didn’t he?”
Now it was her turn. She felt her face flush.
“I’m not trying to embarrass you, but it must happen to you all the time. I know it does. You don’t have to say anything. I wanted to help you, but I didn’t want you to think I was hitting on you. I know how to conduct investigations, and I just wanted to have a quick look around, to see if there was anything obvious. I know the cop just blew you off, but you could be in a dangerous situation.”
He looked miserable now. “It was a stupid move, and I’m sorry.”
She didn’t know what to say. She believed him. This was so far from what she’d imagined.
He pressed both his palms onto the tabletop, looking at her intently. “I know how it is. People make assumptions about you, based on how you look. It happens to me all the time.” He grinned then. “Obviously not because I’m so great to look at. But they make assumptions about me because of the limp, the cane. They assume I’m sick, or weak, or damaged. I’m not any of those things, but I have to prove myself, over and over again. I’m sure you’re a lot more than a beautiful woman, though you are certainly that, but I bet that’s all a lot of people see when they look at you. I guess I was trying to be noble.” He grimaced briefly. “But all I did was scare you.”
He looked at her sheepishly. “I was incredibly stupid, and I apologize.”
She swallowed.
“You know, Ryan, if you have the time, I think I could use a coffee right about now.
***
She noticed right away that Ryan seemed to have two distinct personalities. When he fumbled through his explanation of why he had been at the cabin, he’d been tongue-tied and awkward. But as soon as she’d started to tell her story, as they sat at a picnic table outside the coffee shack and sipped their coffee, he became a different person. He focused entirely on her, taking some notes on a small notepad he pulled from his pocket. His voice was crisp and professional, and even his body language changed. He was taller, straighter as he leaned across the table, asking questions from time to time, occasionally tapping his pen on the tabletop.
At one point, she paused, mentally second-guessing herself about the whole situation. She had been scared, yes, but was she making a mountain out of a molehill? She was a strong and independent woman, even if Nick didn’t yet see her that way, and it wasn’t easy for her to ask for help, to open up her life to anyone.
Ryan must have realized she was feeling uncomfortable. He put down his pad and pen and put his hands flat on the table.
“Look, you’re doing the right thing, pursuing this. This guy could just be some spineless jerk who gets some sort of perverse pleasure from scaring you. Maybe in the great scheme of things he won’t take this any further. But we don’t know. From what you’ve told me, it seems like his actions are ramping up, getting more personal and intrusive.”
At this point Cass flushed, knowing they were both remembering the glove with the disgusting smear, dropped on her doorstep.
Ryan shifted in his seat. “He could be really dangerous. And even if all he has in mind is making you uncomfortable, that’s enough of a problem. We need to get to the bottom of this.”
A wave of relief washed over her. She hadn’t wanted to open up, to ask for help, but now that help was offered, the weight of the situation eased, just a little.
He suggested that she come inside the station to file a formal police report, but she shook her head. She didn’t want to tell the story again, and certainly not in a place where she’d been so humiliated. Her stomach was already quaking from sharing so much of her life with a stranger. This wasn’t how she lived her life. She took care of herself and she kept to herself. Ryan paused and looked at her, but he didn’t argue.
“All right,” he said, as he pushed himself upright and reached for his cane. “I’ll be out tomorrow about three, to take a look at the scene.”
The scene…her cabin…the crime scene? Cass swallowed hard. Her hard shell, the casing that always protected her from the world and kept her apart, had developed a hairline fracture.
***
He was right on time, almost to the minute. She watched him from the kitchen window as he slowly opened the door of the dark sedan and stood, holding onto the top of the car for support as he reached inside for his cane. Instead of a business suit, he wore dark jeans and a down vest over a long-sleeved T-shirt. The clothes made him look younger and less formidable. He walked towards the cabin but then stopped halfway to scan all directions, back down the road and across the meadow.
Cass reluctantly opened the door and stood aside to let him in. She didn’t entertain visitors, and it didn’t feel right to have a stranger standing in the middle of her small kitchen. As Ryan stepped inside, he scanned the space, his eyes flitting over the studio area with its shelves of work, her small open kitchen, even lighting briefly on Cat lounging by the stove. At first, Ryan looked uncomfortable too, as though he knew he didn’t belong here, but when he pulled a legal pad and a pen from the satchel slung over his shoulder, his face rearranged itself into a serious but not unfriendly expression.
“Show me exactly where you found the flowers and the glove.”
She took him back to the doorstep, and he pulled out a small camera and took pictures of the scene outside the door, the dirt road rolling up to the cabin, the meadow, and the stand of spruce beyond. He took a few minutes to walk around the cabin’s perimeter, pausing every few feet to scan the horizon. Cass waited by the front door and watched him, her arms crossed over her chest. He leaned on his cane as he walked, but he moved confidently.
He climbed back up the front steps to her, his expression introspective. “You really are very isolated out here, aren’t you?”
A slight shudder prickled down her back. “Yes, but I’m used to it. I’ve lived here for years. And I can take care of myself.” The instant those last words left her mouth she wished she could pull them back. He was only trying to help. He couldn’t understand that being alone here was her solace. People, not solitude, were the danger.
She jumped and teetered when Cat leapt up from the side of the steps and wound himself around her ankles. Ryan reached out to steady her arm, and she jerked away from his hand without thinking.
“Oh…sorry…I just…” He looked stricken, and she was suddenly ashamed.
“No, I’m sorry. Please…come in…I’ll make tea.” She led him back into the cabin. He sat at the kitchen table while she filled a kettle and put it on the stovetop. When she turned back, he was staring at the shelves lining the walls in the cabin, stacked deep with her ceramic pieces in various stages of completion.
“I’ve seen your work in the gallery. It’s really extraordinary.”
She flushed with pleasure. She knew her work was good, very good, but it was still gratifying to hear praise for it. She carried the teapot and two cups to the table.
They sat quietly, sipping the fragrant green tea.
Ryan cleared his throat. “I don’t want to alarm you, but I am concerned. You don’t have any resources out here to help you, if you get into trouble. Do you have any idea who might be doing this? Do you have any enemies? Any old boyfriends with grudges?”
She knew it was a logical question, but she still felt a flash of resentment, as if he were the one responsible for the loss of her sense of security.
“No, not really, but…” She looked down at the table, and rubbed a groove with her finger. “Years ago, in Chicago, something happened to me, something terrible, and there were convictions…people went to prison…and I’ve been wondering if one of them could have found me…” Her voice caught in her throat. She never talked about this, never. But when she searched her mind for a reason, a cause for the someone to be around, watching her, she kept coming back to the idea, the most terrifying idea of all, that somehow the events were related.
“I know.” He said the words quietly, but she looked up, startled. “I know about Chicago. Cassandra, before I came out here, I searched through our record system for information about you. I found the records of the…rape…” He seemed reluctant to say the words. “I’m sorry. I can tell you’re a very private person, and rape is a terrible, terrible thing. It’s standard procedure in a crime investigation to pull together as much information as possible, about everyone involved, including the victim. I haven’t shared the information with anyone else.”
She felt like the breath had been knocked out of her, her soul flayed bare. All she wanted, right then, was for him to leave.
“I just want to help you.” His voice was soft, so quiet she almost hadn’t heard him. “It’s possible, of course, that one of the perpetrators found you and wants some sort of revenge, maybe wants payback for the time he did in prison. It certainly not out of the question.” He shifted in his seat, not looking at her, as if giving her some time to gather herself back up.
“But it’s also possible that this guy—and I’m assuming that it’s a guy, because the evidence points that way, but it’s just an assumption at this point—that this guy has some other connection to you. We need to explore all the possibilities.”
She concentrated on breathing, just in and out.
“I’m going to see if I can get more records from the Chicago files, to see if the perps are still in prison. If not, they’re most likely on parole. We can probably locate them. But in the meantime, you need to think about who else might be doing this.”
A Late Hard Frost Page 11