The Toyota 4x4 sat at an odd angle and Erin swore when she saw that both tires on the passenger side were flat. Sharp punctures marred the sidewalls. She bent and traced the damage with her fingertips. She didn't need Kathy to tell her they were made by a one and a half inch blade. They would match the knife on Derek's duty belt. Bastard! The surveillance camera mounted on the side of the main building was out of range. She made a mental note to park right up front from now on.
Pulling her cell phone from her bag, she punched in the direct line for dispatch and informed them of the damage to her truck. As she hung up, she noticed Derek's cherry red 1973 Ford Mustang idling on the street in front of the station. It sat for a moment and then drove off, with a sharp chirping of rubber on asphalt. Her eyes, like two angry red lasers, followed until his tail lights disappeared.
Then she called Allie.
CHAPTER SIX
Erin slid into the passenger seat when the little black Mini Cooper arrived behind the police station. Allie drove fast, barely slowing for corners She was getting to know her way around the streets. Allie concentrated on the road and waited for Erin to speak first.
"How was yoga?"
"Unpleasant. There was a new instructor who was messing with my Qi," Allie said.
"Your what?"
"My Qi." She pronounced it chee. "You know, my life force, my energy, my soul." A small grin tugged at the corner of her mouth. "I'm kidding. I'm teasing you because you think all that stuff is crap."
"No, I don't. I'm not a total Neanderthal."
Allie reached over to touch Erin's sleeve. "I know you're not."
"I'm sorry you left work early," Erin apologized. "I could have waited."
"Not a problem."
"I had a shitty day. I solve the mystery of who has been stealing my lunches, and then the asshole slashes my tires. I want to punch Derek Peterson in his smug face!"
"Another cop slashed your tires?" Allie asked incredulously. "Are you sure? Did you report it?"
"I'm sure Derek's unstable enough to do it but I can't actually prove it."
"So you can't actually accuse the guy. You deal with bad guys on a day-to-day basis and not many of them are happy with you. It might have been any of them."
"And the asshole knows it!" Erin wanted to punch the dash but held back. "I don't know what his problem is!" Her stomach flopped over, feeling like it would devour itself.
"Well, don't take it out on me."
"I'm sorry. I don't mean to. I spent the afternoon out at Dolores' house and it was unbelievably hot, and I didn't have lunch and—do you have an antacid?" Erin asked meekly.
"The Sportsman's Stop 'N Go is up ahead. I'll pull over and you can get some." Allie pulled into the lot with the bright yellow illuminated trout and parked out front.
"I'm going to wait in the car," she said. I'm getting a wicked headache all of a sudden. It must be that silly fish sign." She attempted a small grin and laid her head in her hands.
"Okay, be right back." Erin shoved open the store's glass doors and immediately sensed that something was wrong. There was no one at the counter. Robbery? Medical problem? A quick peek down the aisles revealed the closed office door. She approached and heard a thump. A firm woman's voice behind the door told someone to sit down.
"Everything okay?" Erin knocked lightly and sidestepped so she wasn't right in front of the door. "Do you need a hand?"
The door opened abruptly and Gina, the store clerk, looked out. She laughed, a gravelly noise deep in her throat.
"Little Blondie come to save the day." The corners of her hazel eyes crinkled in delight at the old joke. The long brown hair she'd always prized was disheveled around her flushed face. Behind her on a wooden straight-backed chair sat Lily, as skinny and pale as ever. Head down, tears drizzled slowly down her cheek. She wore the same gray hoodie, pulled up over her colorless hair, and her jeans were torn at the knees. The young girl hunched with legs twisted and one foot over the other, battered blue sneakers looking like they'd been to the city landfill.
Erin knew Gina from way back. Gina was two years older and, held back a grade in school, had always played the tough girl. Gina's belly and square jawline looked a little softer than they used to, and a few gray hairs straggled down over her forehead, yet she was not even thirty. She wore a faded pair of jeans and similarly faded black Harley T-shirt that practically screamed Don't mess with me. They had lived in another world when Erin had stolen her first real kiss from Gina behind the soccer field in grade five, but the earth rotated on its axis that day.
Gina had gone on to publicly date most of the boys on the football team, and secretly a few of their girlfriends, but she always saved a private wink for Erin. The years had not been kind to Gina and their lives could not have turned out more differently.
"Don't worry about it," Gina told Erin, closing the door partway behind her. "I caught her shoplifting again."
"Did you call down to the station?"
"I phoned a while ago," Gina said. "Then I called her grandpa. Gunther was supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago. Lily didn't want to wait and nearly bit me trying to take off." She paused, brushed at a reddened spot on her tattooed forearm and blew out an exasperated sigh. "But I'm not worried about that little pipsqueak."
Behind her, Erin could hear the heel of Lily's running shoe thrum anxiously on the tile floor.
"Are you sure?" Erin asked her. "I'm off duty, or I would take care of it."
"I don't think a little package of lip gloss is worth all this hassle, but the rules are that I have to report all shoplifters. I probably would have given it to the kid if she'd told me she had no money. A girl's gotta look good, doesn't she?" Gina turned around and directed that last comment to the hunched over girl whose foot tapping immediately stilled. She leaned in and handed Lily a phone number written in black marker on the back of a cash register receipt.
"It's the number for the Kids Help Line. Don't be afraid to phone if you need to." Her tone was sympathetic.
"Oh, here comes the cavalry now!" Gina said, peering out the front window. Erin's jaw tightened when Lieutenant Derek Peterson parked his red Mustang directly in front and sauntered through the doors.
"On my way home, heard the call on the radio, and thought I'd stop by to take care of your little problem," Derek volunteered, breezing through the front glass doors. His eyes took in the scene and he acknowledged Erin with a curt nod. "Unlike some people, I'm never really off duty."
Erin stood stock still, eyes like flint.
"Where's the kid?" He circled Gina like a mongoose wary of a cobra. She held out a finger toward the office.
Derek sternly gestured and the girl meekly followed him. She had left the piece of paper with the Kids Help Phone number behind on the desk. Standing on the sidewalk, ragged blonde hair spilled out the front of her hood. She hung her head and compliantly sat in the front of his car. He opened the glass doors to the store, spoke in low tones to Gina and then left. When he had gone, Gina shrugged and turned to Erin.
"He said he's gonna drive Lily home." She shook her head. "Told me to pretend this never happened. That's kinda weird."
"Yeah, weird," Erin said.
"Oh, look who came after all. A day late and a dollar short," Gina drawled. Gunther parked his Ford truck cockeyed out front, stepped out and left the door hanging open.
Under the illuminated sign, Allie still sat in her Mini Cooper, head in hands. The yellow glow made her look positively sallow but Erin wasn't comfortable about the situation and didn't want to leave yet. She reviewed the expiry dates on the sandwiches in the refrigerated display case and decided maybe she wasn't that hungry after all. There was bread at home and she could have a few slices of toast. She picked up a package of Tums and then snatched up a bottle of Advil for Allie's headache. Nonchalantly lingering by the front door, she placed the items on the counter.
Gina stepped outside to talk to the old man but Erin could not hear what was being said. Gunther waved
his arms angrily, his face turning from pallid and sweaty to absolutely apoplectic. She wondered if he was going to give himself a heart attack right there. She leaned casually on the door but backed off when he blustered through.
"Scheisse!" he growled in German. "Shoplifting again!"
"Gunther!" Gina pleaded. Her hands reached for him. "She's already gone!"
"Git yer hands off me!" he bellowed, pulling his arm away so violently that Gina shrank back. She nervously tucked a strand of brown hair behind her ear. His reaction had definitely rattled her.
"She is schlecht, that one," he hissed through yellowed front teeth. Sweat trickled down his stubbly cheeks to his throat. "She's so bad." He edged over to the panel of refrigerated beverages and deliberately plucked a can of Budweiser off the wire shelf.
Gina looked pointedly at the beer in his hand and his brow furrowed.
"You owe me," he said, tucking it into his jacket pocket. "Leave it alone, or you'll regret it." Gina averted her eyes from his penetrating glare.
Erin stepped forward and Gunther swiveled to level his jaundiced and bloodshot gaze at her. It gave her pause because she could not smell a whiff of alcohol on him.
"Achten," he grunted. "This is a family matter." He backed out the door like a prizefighter unwilling to turn his back.
On the sidewalk, he viciously kicked the metal garbage can, spilling its contents. He stalked around the trash and into his truck. Erin and Gina wordlessly watched him back out and head home.
"Don't worry about it." Gina peeled a couple of bills off a crumpled wad in her pocket and placed them in the cash register. She busied herself polishing a glass topped display case. Erin handed her a five dollar bill for her purchases and Gina took it without comment. No change was forthcoming and Erin shrugged off the sixty-five cents. "Happens two or three times a month."
"Why do you let him do it?"
"Gunther Schmidt is the reason my grandpa survived the Vietnam War," Gina said dismissively. "That's an old family debt that can never be repaid, and that's just how it works."
Erin gave a shrug. "I don't think he's drunk but he doesn't look right. Is he sick or something?"
"Yeah, I wondered that too. He's been getting worse every time I see him. He never used to be such an asshole. He used to come in here before I closed up at night. I think he was lonely. I'd buy him a beer and we'd both sit out back and shoot the shit. Now he takes his beer To Go. Maybe I did something to piss him off. Maybe it's old age dementia. My grandma had that, only she wasn't so friggin' pissy about it."
Gina flashed a grin at Erin who suddenly noticed that she was standing a lot closer than she had a moment before. Gina was taller and Erin felt warm breath on her hair. She retreated a half step.
"Aw, an occasional stolen Budweiser won't be the thing that kills him. He has a free beer from time to time. I write it off or cover it myself. It's no big deal because I'm the manager now." Gina stood taller, and her jaw jutted out a little.
"Congrats, Gina," Erin said sincerely. Gina had worked for her uncle at the Stop 'N Go since she left high school and this step up was overdue.
Gina glanced out the window. Allie had perked up and was using the rear view mirror to smooth her hair. "She's cute. She pick you up from work today?" Her voice was smoky. "You know I wanna take care of you like that."
Erin didn't answer but rolled her eyes in that oh give me a break look.
"You come see me sometime," Gina said, eyes twinkling with amusement. "You can bring your new girlfriend and maybe we'll all get matching tattoos on our hineys."
"I'll keep that in mind." Gina played this game every time, ever since grade five.
"You look a lot better than you did a few minutes ago," Erin told Allie when she climbed into the driver's seat. "You were a little green around the gills. I bought these for you." She handed over the Advil, and Allie returned an embarrassed grin.
"Yeah, I get these weird sudden headaches sometimes." Allie changed the subject. "Was that the same kid we saw out on the road the other day?"
"Right. It was Lily Schmidt," Erin said. "Derek, of all people, answered the call. That was bizarre. I would have thought he'd say such a minor offense was beneath him. The old man was Gunther, her grandfather."
"That old guy's quite intimidating," Allie said. "I heard him shouting, but I didn't see much. My head was pounding like a hammer drill."
"Ooh, nice mechanic simile snuck in there," Erin teased, poker-faced. "You have been listening to me and my dad talk shop."
"I try to connect with you on your own level," Allie quipped and then her tone became more serious. "Has anyone called Children's Services? That young girl should not have to be stuck with a man like that!"
"I don't remember him being such a belligerent guy. Gunther used to be a decent man. His dad was a fisherman and a trapper, back when people actually traded furs. He was pretty attached to him and I guess that's where he gained his reputation."
"I can imagine. He must have sounded like a ghoul to the other kids."
"On the contrary," Erin said. "Think way, way back, City Girl. Think Davy Crockett cool. Gunther was living it for real. He grew up to be the most sought after fishing and hunting guide in the area. They say he never wasted a bullet and always dropped a moose with a single shot. He also landed the largest Sturgeon ever caught in the big lake. I'm sure his record still stands. You can go out to any fishing lodge and hear stories about Gunther Schmidt. He was a legend."
"He was?" Allie asked.
"Yes, was. Past tense." Erin said. "He used to hang out at the Veteran's Club with his buddies from the Vietnam War but he never was the same after his daughter Tiffany, Lily's mom, disappeared. He sold his boat and doesn't go fishing any more. Doesn't even go to the Veteran's Club. The guys at work say he keeps to himself and it looks like he's drinking quite a bit. Lately, the guy does not look well. And now he's taking care of that kid on his own."
She read Allie's humorless expression and knew her concerns would not go away until she was reassured.
"I promise I'll call a social worker I know and make inquiries."
Allie sat back, satisfied. "Who's the brunette drooling over you?" They had not moved from their spot in the parking lot and Gina was indeed watching them through the dusty front window of the store, although pretending to sweep the floor. She noticed them looking and put extra effort into her broom.
Allie backed out and turned around, spinning a rooster tail of gravel along the shoulder of the road. Erin didn't comment but reached for her seat belt and snugly fastened it.
"Aw, that's just Gina," she said. "We go all the way back to grade school."
"Old girlfriend?" Allie teased and then her eyes widened. "She is!"
"If you must know," Erin deadpanned, "Gina and I were something of an item. She really rocked my world." She paused briefly for effect. "In grade five!"
She laughed. "Your first kiss with a girl?"
"My first kiss with anyone," Erin told her. "I never kissed any boys. I guess I always knew who I was."
"I bet all the other ten year olds teased you to death."
"Nah," Erin said. "It's hard to imagine, but Gina was very discreet."
"A discreet ten year old? Impossible!"
"Eleven," Erin corrected, flashing her a lopsided grin. "Gina was eleven and before you say it, yes, I always liked the older women." Her comment was a familiar jibe about Allie being a mere year and four days older.
Erin grabbed the armrest when the car whipped around a corner, squashing her against the door.
"I will get worried if I find you prowling around the Senior's Center."
They both laughed and it was good to release some of the tension they'd held. Allie tossed the Advil into her glove box for another day. Erin was not so fortunate and popped a double dose of antacid tablets into her mouth.
Erin unlocked the front door with the usual jiggle and shove, and punched her code into the alarm control box. She opened the closet door, ready
for a cantankerous cat paw to swipe at her but it was empty. She hung her jacket on the hook and headed to the kitchen.
"You smell like a forest fire," Allie told her. She opened the back door and Fiona happily wagged her way out. "Go have a shower and I'll make us omelets."
"That sounds so—" Movement caught Erin's attention and she was unnerved when the bottom cupboard door vibrated. It eerily swung halfway open.
"What the heck!" She leapt back, startled. She'd seen this in a movie once and it did not end well. Suddenly a fuzzy paw emerged and, claws extended, narrowly missed swatting her leg.
"Goddamn cat!" Erin shouted. "It's like I'm living in a horror film! I never know where she's hiding and she's always attacking me!"
Allie tilted her head and raised an amused eyebrow.
"Seriously, she's only a playful cat. She doesn't have a murderous agenda."
The cat exited the cupboard and the door closed with a dull thump. She innocently wound her way around their legs and Allie picked her up. Wrong-Way Rachel chirped and affectionately bumped foreheads.
"How could anyone not love this adorable kitty?" Allie cooed.
Over her shoulder, Erin swore the cat winked one evil yellow eye. "I don't trust that feline, and she hates me." She let the dog back in and Fiona galloped past her, wiggling her hind end at Allie in joyful welcome. "You too? What am I, chopped liver? I let you in, you ingrate." Her faux anger disappeared when Fiona wheeled around and slathered Erin's hands with happy dog slobber. She gathered the dog close. "Sorry buddy. I had a rough day. I know you love me." What was it about dogs? She could not resist that cheerful grin and waggly tail.
"Oops, we have no eggs." Allie looked blankly in the fridge. "There are no eggs. We need eggs."
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