Schuler looked around nervously as if trying to establish they were alone. “All I can tell you is it was someone local.”
“How do you know?”
“Toking up always cooled Sam down. He’d promise the world to anyone when he was high. I remember him saying once. I’ll always have your back, little brother, and I won’t let those bastards ever hurt you. I keep my enemies so close I can watch their every move. Then he’d shut up and never say another thing. So I guessed he was talking about someone who lived here – maybe close to us.”
“Did he mention Dr. Aaron Castle?”
Schuler shook his head. “Not in relation to drugs. But everyone – including his son – knew Castle was a lech with the girls.”
“And what happened to Sam?”
“He left a few years back. Just cut out one night. After Mom died. Packed a few things in a backpack, left a note basically telling us we were better off without him. First we heard he was in Belize – after that on some crazy island off the coast of Thailand.”
“And Jenny? What does she know about the drugs?”
Schuler glanced away again, uncomfortable at the question. He dug his hands into his pockets. “She knows I wasn’t an angel, but she knew how much Sam influenced me. We agreed to bury it all in the past for the sake of the kids.”
“You still keeping your nose clean then?”
Schuler shot a quizzical look at Nick. “Why d’you ask?”
“Guess I’ve seen more than a few kids around here still getting high. Some of them on meth.”
He shrugged and scraped back a loose lock of hair from his forehead. “One more piece of info for you Hendricks – there was a pretty thriving drug scene in Silver Narrows long before me and Sam came into the picture. Maybe you’d better be talking to some of those old timers that were here in the sixties and seventies.”
The though had already crossed Nick’s mind though he had no idea where to start on that particular line of inquiry, but before he could ask anything else the sound of footsteps crunching over snow made the two of them just about jump out of their boots.
Nick looked up to see Jenny Schuler’s fresh, rosy face under a white fluffy hat. The grin disappeared when she saw the rifle. “Have I interrupted a meeting of the gun club?” she said, taking her husband’s arm.
He flushed awkwardly. “Nah – I thought somebody had broken into the barn- but it was only Nick taking a walk.”
“Yeah I got carried away listening to music. Didn’t know I’d wandered onto your land.”
Jennie shot a puzzled look at her husband. “Didn’t you tell him Cole?”
He just shrugged and looked sheepish. Nick’s curiosity was piqued.
“It’s like this, Nick. You’re lucky Cole found you. This land belongs to Ike Dewar. Cole’s dad sold it to him - maybe eleven years ago – just before he died. He said he wanted to maybe build a couple of holiday cottages along the lake shore.”
“Doesn’t look like he did that,” said Nick, scanning the expanse of trees and tangled bush.
“There hasn’t been a machine on this land since we sold it,” said Schuler. “But it was good for us. We needed the money.”
“So that’s why Ike gets Cole to keep an eye on it,” said Jenny, leaning her head against her husband’s shoulder. “Ike doesn’t like intruders. And he usually shoots first then asks questions later.”
.
15
Nick had to have a shot of rye before he got into the shower. Ike Dewar was not the kind of guy you wanted to meet in a deserted forest. In crowds he was cold and controlled – like some uptight military dude, but he always gave off the impression that if something ticked him off he’d come undone in a matter of seconds and the consequences would be violent.
Swishing the amber liquid around the bottom of the glass, Nick reflected on what Schuler had told him. Did he believe everything the guy had said? Was he really keeping his nose clean now? Should he actually be digging deeper into the archives and going back two more decades to the seventies? Trouble is – why would kids suddenly start disappearing twenty years later? Or maybe there had been more disappearances before 1999 but they’d been isolated and nobody had tied them to the string between 1999 and 2003.
A text interrupted his thoughts. It was from Lilah and read. Are you in the shower yet? Check this out, delete it then get your gorgeous self over here.
A photo appeared on his text screen. Lilah standing by her closet mirror dressed in white lacy pushup bra and tiny panties, her hands placed on her curvy hips and her lips puckered up into a cute pout. He’d need a cold shower after seeing that. He texted back:
Thanks for the pic – I’ll put it on Page 3 of the next Sentinel. See you asap.
It took only a few seconds for her reply:
I always knew you were a jerk. I’ll sue.
Nick texted back:
Let’s talk. Maybe we can reach an arrangement.
Only on my terms was her quick reply.
All the bad thoughts suddenly banished from his head, Nick stripped down and headed to the shower. She was so good for him. The more he saw her, the more he wanted to be with her. Not like the others who’d become so familiar they’d slipped into a routine and inevitably, boredom had set in. With Lilah there was no routine. Only unexpected pleasures and a million unanswered questions.
It was close to 5:00 when Nick pulled into Lilah’s driveway. The trees were covered in blue and white lights and a catering van was already parked in front of the garage. Nick had taken his time to get ready, choosing a charcoal tailored shirt he’d picked up in Chicago and the cleanest pair of black jeans he could find. A quick spray of Boss cologne and he was ready for whatever the evening had in store.
The house was ablaze with twinkling white lights, greenery and cinnamon scented candles. Like a house in one of those holiday decorating TV shows that Nick studiously avoided when he was channel surfing. Nick’s only concession to the festive season had been a sad garland drooping across his mantelpiece, studded with a few coloured lights that kept flickering off. The caterers consisted of a barman dressed in crisp white shirt, black bow tie and dress pants, two long-haired waitresses in tight little black dresses and a female chef complete with white hat and chef’s jacket visible in the kitchen beyond.
He stood, almost blinded by the brilliance of the scene when Lilah swept into the room, a vision in a soft, creamy white sleeveless dress with a plunging neckline and a softly pleated skirt that ended just above her knees. Her velvety legs were bare and her feet clad in strappy silver sandals. Silver jeweled hoops glistened from her ears and her hair fell in shiny waves to her shoulders, the front clipped back with silver clips. She was so gorgeous he had the strangest urge. He felt a sudden desire to drop down onto one knee and ask her to be with him forever. Never to leave him. To grow old with him. To tell her he’d never felt so comfortable with a woman before – especially one who really understood him. And he’d never felt such hunger for a woman’s body. A hunger so great it almost hurt.
She smiled that glistening smile and the words were on the tip of his tongue. He stepped forward to take her hand just as one of the waitresses swooped in like an annoying bird.
“Champagne,” she chirped.
“Of course,” said Lilah, taking two sweating glasses and handing one to Nick. “To life and fun and great times,” said Lilah.
They clinked glasses and Nick sipped the bubbly, aware of the wet fizz of bubbles against his face. And to love, he thought, realizing an idea had taken hold in his head that would not let go until he acted on it. And that had to be soon.
As with all parties, the guests seemed to swarm in so immediately that one minute the air was charged with intimacy as the two of them sipped champagne – next minute the room was filled with all the familiar faces from Nick’s life in Silver Narrows. But instead of enjoying the chatter and the broad holiday smiles, Nick felt irritated at the interruption. He’d seen enough of these people every day and
now they were invading his privacy, prying on his new relationship with the most incredible woman he’d ever met.
Ike Dewar showed up alone, then five minutes later Betsy Thorson dressed in a tight, black, sequined top and silver embellished jeans just happened to come by. Ike looked suitably surprised but nobody else was fooled when he escorted her to the bar, clutching his beer and made sure she got a frosted Peach Bellini with two cherries. Ray Gorman was accompanied by a slim, long-legged blonde girl in red that looked no more than twenty two. He introduced her as Brandy, a new agent from Minot, which according to Ray was becoming a boom town what with all the money flowing from the oil patch nearby.
“I’m even considering moving there myself,” said Gorman, chugging back half a bottle of beer in one go. “Brandy says there’s so much demand for housing because there’s nothing left in Williston – rentals there are going for over two grand for 700 square feet.”
“I can’t keep up with the demand,” said Brandy. “You’d think it’d be a real estate agent’s dream to have more customers than properties, but it’s actually a nightmare.”
Nick found himself warming to this girl whose observations about the benefits and disadvantages of the oil boom on the old, established farm economy, were so incisive he realized she was a lot brighter than he’d initially given her credit for. He chastised himself for thinking like a sexist pig and operating on such a superficial level. By now he should’ve realized that appearances were deceptive and first impressions could be way off the mark, though he hadn’t gone far wrong with Ray Gorman who had already placed a proprietary hand on Brandy’s shoulder and was guiding her away from her conversation with Nick.
“Should we warn her about Gorman?” Nick said to Lilah when he managed to collar her for a brief moment. “She’s too bright and smart to be with that loser.”
Lilah kissed Nick’s cheek and whispered in his ear, “Should I be jealous?”
“No need,” he said, nuzzling her neck. “I only have eyes for you. That’s my New Year’s resolution.”
“That just happens to be one of my favourite songs,” she said, her eyes shining. “Remind me to play it later. I’ll dance with you.”
“Promise?” he said.
“Promise – and in the meantime I’ll keep a close eye on cute little Brandy.” Then she was gone in a whirl of cream silk and Givenchy perfume. Normally Nick didn’t usually notice details like perfume, but he’d lifted the crystal stopper and sniffed the scent from the slim bottle of Irresistible on Lilah’s dressing table when she was in the shower. The name was an understatement.
Glasses chinked, the conversations ebbed and flowed, Lilah flitted from one group to the other like a gorgeous pinup, but Nick skirted the edge of ragged clusters of guests as if he was outside them, oblivious to the buzz of conversation within the tight groups. Something about the story he was writing made him uneasy about the small town that had once seemed to welcome him into its friendly bosom. Suddenly it seemed as if everyone there was in on a secret and was damn well going to keep it quiet. Even Cole Schuler had the balls to make an appearance. Of course he barely met Nick’s eyes when he reached for a cold beer, but Jennie had enough holiday spirit for both of them and was all over Nick and Lilah, hugging them and kissing their cheeks as if they were old friends.
Nick swilled down one glass after another of champagne, but instead of bringing him closer it drove him even further away from the heart of the company. Even the arrival of Danny Johnson carrying a huge gift bag of coffee and Violet Olson tailing her beaming comedian of a husband failed to cheer him up. He must have had a pretty black scowl on his face because Lilah shot a puzzled look in his direction and pushed through the crowd towards him.
“You okay?” she asked, catching hold of his hand. “Midnight’s soon and I wanna be happy when I welcome in the New Year.”
He shrugged. “Sorry babe, my head’s in a fog,” he said. “Ever since I got back from Chicago I can’t think straight. Like some cold, heavy hand is resting on my heart.”
She wrapped her arms around him and leaned her head against his neck. His breathlessness subsided. “It’s not surprising considering the story you’re writing,” she whispered. “But just remember – it’s a tough lesson when you realize things aren’t exactly as sweet and peachy as you always thought they were. It’s like the shades have been pulled up and suddenly you see everything so clearly it hurts. Especially when the reality is dark and ugly.”
“How do you know all this?” he said, incredulous at the way she could read his thoughts. As if she just looked into his eyes and the images unfurled like scenes from a movie.
“We’ll talk later. In the meantime I see Shayla Reid and her fiancé,” she said, turning him around to witness the entrance of the golden couple. Jeff’s hair was as blond and well groomed as his date’s. Slim, toned and dressed in figure-hugging clothes they looked like the prom king and queen as they waved at all the adoring faces that turned their way.
“I’m doing the hair and makeup for her wedding, so I’d better schmooze,” said Lilah, lifting her hand in greeting.
“Go ahead,” said Nick spotting Brad Brenner propping up the bar.
“Hey bud,” said Brad as Nick approached. “Nice view, huh?”
Nick, took a slug of beer. “Guess this place has seen some action in its time.”
“So I hear,” said Brad. “But can’t say I spent much time here. Wasn’t into the rave scene.”
“I was going to ask you something about that,” said Nick. “I got some new information and I need to look through some records.”
Brad began to pick at the label on his beer bottle. Two furrows appeared between his eyebrows as he struggled for words. “Not here, Nick. Come see me next week. I’ll see if I can help you.”
He was gone before Nick could suggest a date. Nick felt the dark cloud settling around his head as he leaned against the bar and surveyed the company. Right then he could have put down his beer, walked out and driven all the way to Minneapolis. He’d spent eight years in this godforsaken place and still felt like an outsider. Only Lilah kept him here. Kept things real.
Now the music throbbed louder and Ray Gorman was doing some twisty old-man dance with Brandy who moved her hips with the flexibility of a gymnast. Ike Dewar leaned one hand against the wall, throwing his tall shadow across Betsy Thorson whose arm was around his waist, her hand cradling his bum. Violet Olsen and Tray were twirling ballroom style. Marge Reid was deep in animated conversation with Tracy Ross and Danny Johnson, and Brad was snuggling Rosie Bradley while they chatted with Shayla and Jeff.
Nick’s eyes blurred as the crowd merged into one cackling, frantic haze and he slipped dangerously into belligerent drunkenness. He needed Lilah, but when he scanned the room she was nowhere to be seen. He pushed his way through the crowd asking anyone that looked his way. Have you seen Lilah? Seeing the shrugs, frowns, raised eyebrows, furtive nudges made him more frantic and he barged on through, knocking elbows and shoulders, sloshing drinks onto the polished wood floor.
He needed to be alone with her in the cold moonlight, but when he burst out of the front door, the cold hit him like a punch to the stomach and he doubled over, just making it to the bottom of the stairs before he threw up a bitter stream of beer into the snow. Straightening up, relief washed over him at the sight of the clear sky hung with glittering stars, a white crescent moon and the silent cloak of trees enfolding the cabin. The throbbing in his head subsided and he leaned against the wooden steps, his body tingling but alive with the cold. And then he heard the crunch of footsteps on snow – saw plumes of steamy air rising from the back of the house. As far as he knew he was the only person who’d left the house in the last few minutes.
Feeling suddenly sober, he slunk along the side of the house, his body plastered to the timbered walls, then peeked around the corner to see Lilah approaching from the direction of the lake, stomping through the snow in her parka and boots.
Nick stepped ou
t into a yellow pool of light.
She stopped dead, her eyes wide with surprise. “Jeez Nick – you came out of nowhere.”
“Everything okay?” he asked, taking her arm.
“I thought I saw some lights down there by the lake,” she said, pressing on through the snow.
“Why didn’t you ask me to come with you?” said Nick. “You gotta be careful round here.”
“Really?” she said, looking at him, her head tilted sideways. “You think I might be attacked by wolves?”
“Hey – the more I find out about this place, the less I trust those friendly souls in there,” he said, nodding towards the crowded living room visible through the window.
He was about to bend down and kiss her when there was a massive explosion of sound behind them as something crashed against the French doors flinging them open and sending two bodies hurtling onto the deck.
“What the fuck,” yelled Nick as two figures slithered around on the icy wood surface and slid to the ground with a sickening thump. Rushing towards the deck he made out Ike Dewar’s bulky form crouched above the small, cowering body of Danny Johnson. Ike was winding up one muscled arm ready to smash it downwards. Danny was whimpering with a weird, yelping sound.
“You fucking weasel,” Dewar yelled as bodies spilled out of the house and Brad Brenner and a few others materialized out of the darkness in time to grab him before he pounded his fist square into the smaller guy’s face.
“What the hell did you drink, Dewar?” yelled Brad as he and Cole Schuler and three others struggled to hold him back.
“Fuck you, Brenner,” Dewar growled as Nick reached the deck in time to offer Danny a hand. His face was doughy white, his breath wheezed out in brief gasps.
“You break anything?” Nick asked.
“I should’ve broken his miserable neck,” yelled Dewar, surging forward again and dragging the other guys with him. Quick as a whip, Brad reached into his pocket and pulled out a revolver, raising it to the sky and shooting it upwards. The deafening crack seemed to take all the bluster out of the big man. He slumped back against the railings.
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