by Lyn Cote
Wendy smiled. "I think so."
Dutch eyed the sheriff and gave him a cocky grin. "I been hearing you're sweet on my niece."
A few men around the pool table sniggered at this. The fierce urge to shut their mouths arced through Rodd. But a law against being a jerk hadn't been passed yet.
As though he hadn't heard the sniggering, Rodd kept his voice neutral. "Happy Thanksgiving, Rieker."
"Well," Wendy, blushing, stammered, "we'll be going."
Dutch pulled Wendy into another brief, one-armed embrace and kissed her cheek. "Bye, Wendy girl. Bye, Sheriff. Happy Thanksgiving!"
Wendy looked troubled but gave her uncle another hug, then turned and led Rodd outside to the Jeep.
Relieved to be done with Flanagan's, he drove away, heading back to town for their dinner at church.
Staring straight ahead, Wendy said in an odd tone, "Uncle Dutch whispered something to me. He said I should tell you there's going to be a kegger out at Dietz's tonight."
The urge to slam on the brakes hit Rodd. Three separate sources clinched it. Later, he'd be dealing with a kegger. Outwardly calm, he asked, "Why would he think that?"
Wendy gathered her pride around her, stung fresh every time something like this happened to stir it up again. "Uncle Dutch and Elroy Dietz are enemies. In fact, the Dietz and Rieker families haven't gotten along for two, maybe three, generations." Wendy considered bringing up the fact that Sage and Trav had defied this feud but decided it wasn't the time.
"Why are your uncle and Elroy Dietz enemies?"
Wendy hated to bring up the past. "I don't know the whole story. It has something to do with my mom when she was young." The sheriff didn't need to hear that story.
"I see." Rodd fell silent.
Uneasy, Wendy squirmed inside. But she wouldn't disown her mother's family, especially Uncle Dutch, who had helped support her when her "God-fearing" father's mother had refused to admit she existed. And Veda who never missed a Sunday at church had done everything possible to make Wendy's mother's life miserable.
"How would your uncle know about what Dietz is up to?"
Wendy sighed and smoothed the skirt of her dress with both hands. "He makes it his business to know."
"I see."
Wendy didn't like the sheriff's disapproving tone. She pushed it aside. The meals were all delivered. Thanksgiving dinner awaited them at the church. She couldn't change her uncle or the feud with the Dietzes. She just wished she weren't so aware of Rodd sitting next to her.
Ever since those few moments alone with him that night in Good Hope, she'd had to fight her growing attraction to the sheriff. The more she tried to avoid him, the more they were thrown together. At least it seemed that way to her. As if with a will of their own, her eyes turned to him. His freshly shaven jaw with the small white scar drew her attention. Her unruly mind brought back the sensation of his lips grazing her sensitive nape that night at the church.
With determination, she turned her gaze to the familiar scenes passing by the window on the way back to town. The sheriff seemed preoccupied. Her thoughts jumped ahead to dinner. Today, she'd spend the first Thanksgiving without her mother. That fact kept trying to drag her emotions into the minus column. But she, Sage, and Trav would have Thanksgiving with her grandfather at church. Lord, this can be a good day; make it so. And please help Mom and Jim adjust to their move.
Once again, her disobedient mind brought Rodd into her thoughts. Why couldn't she stay neutral toward him?
Rodd broke the silence. "As long as you know about the kegger anyway," he said, "can I ask you for some more information?"
"Sure." She felt for him, having to spend his holiday dealing with this.
"Have these keggers taken place at Dietzes' before?"
"Yes. Sometimes at Dietzes', but other places too." She gazed at his hard jaw that showed his intensity. The sheriff certainly never took life lightly. She liked that "What are you going to do?"
"Not much I can do right now. Having a keg or two of beer on your property isn't against the law."
She frowned. "That means another stakeout?"
He nodded. "The trick is letting the kegger get started, then moving in before everyone gets there. A bunch of drunk kids are a danger to themselves and to others. One of them could simply wander outside, pass out, and freeze to death by morning."
"I know. I won't mention it to anyone," she assured him.
He smiled at her. "I didn't think you would."
His quick approval lifted her spirits. She liked Rodd. If only she could control stop there.
He drove them into town and parked near the church. When he opened her door, she heard the lively voices from inside. She led the sheriff down the handicapped ramp to the lower-level doors. Inside, a chorus of cheerful hellos greeted them.
Wendy glanced around the freshly painted basement fellowship hall decorated with pumpkins and fall leaves. She noted the pastor's family, her grandfather, and many others who had come. But what was holding up Sage? Wendy walked over to her grandfather, who looked distinguished in a new gray suit. "Hi! Where's my sister? I thought she'd be here by now."
Her grandfather tugged her close to his side. "Now, pumpkin, don't let this upset you. She and Trav stopped by to tell us that his grandmother had relented and they were invited out to the Dietzes' for Thanksgiving. Sage wasn't too pleased, but I told her to give Mrs. Dietz the benefit of the doubt."
The unwelcome news jolted Wendy. She didn't want her sister or Trav anywhere near the Dietz property today.
She let her eyes drift to the sheriff. He appeared deep in thought. If he'd overheard her grandfather, he'd connect the dots. Her sister had gone with her boyfriend, a Dietz, out to where a kegger might take place later. Would he think Sage and Trav had gone because of the kegger? Well, why wouldn't he? He'd just exchanged greetings with her uncle at Flanagan's. At times like this, Wendy's family burdened her like a heavy yoke around her neck.
If she'd been here when Sage and Trav had stopped in, she'd have tried to persuade them to stay at church today. Sage and Trav were good kids, but even good kids made mistakes in judgment. Closing her eyes, she sent up a prayer: Dear God, stay with them and keep them from making poor choices.
But Wendy's holiday peace lay around her feet in jagged pieces like shattered icicles. Oh, Sage, please come home early tonight. And bring Trav with you.
Chapter Seven
Wendy felt her grandfather's attention on her. Not wanting to worry him, she put a smile on her face.
Another couple walked through the basement door and Wendy exclaimed, "You came!" Tears moistened her eyes.
Ma, leaning on Bruno's arm, looked gratified, but answered gruffly, "Sure, I came. I'm not one to pass up a free meal."
Wendy didn't reply that Ma had passed up these Thanksgiving meals for the past four years. Having Ma here was like having a favorite grandmother come for the holiday. Wendy took a deep breath, calming her runaway emotions.
Bruno solicitously helped Ma off with her coat while she grumbled unconvincingly about his not fussing over her. Ma wore a new navy blue polyester dress. Wendy couldn't remember the last time Ma had bought a new dress.
Penny, wearing a pretty blouse embroidered with fall leaves under a blue denim jumper, came out of the kitchen. Zak bounded up to her. "Is it ready yet, Mama? Is the turkeys cooked?"
Penny dried her hands on her holiday apron. "Yes, Zak. Everyone, please find a place. We'll bring the platters out to the tables now."
After the pastor's kind voice thanked God for the early hay harvest, the warmth of friendship, and the bounty of God's love, a happy rumble of voices swelled around Wendy. But missing her mother, worrying over Sage ...Wendy hid a frown.
Catching her attention, Rodd held her chair for her. .Her grandfather had struck again. He'd placed all the name cards and had put her between Rodd and him. Feeling on display, she sat down, embarrassment over her grandfather's not-very-subtle matchmaking.
As Ro
dd passed her the platter of turkey, his hand brushed hers. A current raced up her arm. She faltered, and the large fork clattered to the floor. Her face burned red.
"No problem!" Penny called out. "I brought extra serving pieces to the table."
Still blushing, Wendy accepted the new fork, which had been passed to Rodd.
"Don't drop the turkey," Zak prompted earnestly, perched on his knees on his chair across from Rodd.
Penny made him sit back down. "Now mind your manners, young man."
Wendy served herself a small slice of breast and passed the platter on to her grandfather.
"That's not enough!" Zak perched on his knees again. "You gotta have proteem or your bones won't grow."
Wendy laughed out loud. "I'll take seconds later, Zak. Promise."
Penny shushed Zak and sat him back on his seat again.
Rodd glanced down at Wendy. His smile warmed her, head to toe. She ducked her face, trying to hide the overwhelming smile Rodd had sparked. Lord, I'm afraid I'll make a fool of myself or Rodd.
"Since it's the day for saying thanks ..." Ma drew herself up as though facing a challenge. "I want to thank this church. You came out and helped me after Jiggs ..." Obviously fighting tears, she stopped speaking.
"We were glad to help, Lou," Harlan said in his kind voice. "And it won't be long before the sheriff here has these burglaries all sewn up."
"That's right!" Zak in his exuberance stood up on his chair. "The sheriff's going to get the bad guys! Aren't ya, Sheriff?"
Wendy sensed Rodd stiffen and observed the rigid angle of his jaw, the pained expression in his eyes.
Rodd motioned Zak to sit back down. "I'm doing my best."
"I know you are," Ma said testily. "I told that Cram to get off your back. He ought to know a Durand won't come up short."
A murmur of agreement sounded around Wendy. However, she could tell by the rigid way Rodd folded his arms over his chest that he didn't appreciate this discussion of his criminal investigation.
Personally, she wouldn't want to be on the wrong side of the law where Rodd Durand was sheriff. Sitting so close to him made her intensely aware of the restrained power in him. She thought again of the kegger. How would the sheriff handle it? Sad, unpleasant scenes of her mother's drinking and spoiled Thanksgivings from the past spun through her mind.
From the comer of her eye, Wendy saw Ma and Bruno touch hands. Ma blushed. Wendy turned this over in her mind. What had brought Ma and Bruno together now? They'd known each other for years. Their respective spouses had been gone for many years, too. No one would have tried to match them together. Ma was abrupt, overweight, and blowsy. Bruno was dapper, slim, and precise to a pin. Why had they grown closer in just the past few months? What drew a man to a woman and vice versa?
Wendy glanced at the sheriff. Their gazes met. For one wonderful moment, she sensed that he shared the same thoughts as she. She looked away first, breaking their connection.
The dinner, which had taken hours to prepare, lasted only an hour. Still, everyone lingered at the table, sipping coffee or fresh cider. Finally Rodd pushed his chair back and stood up. "I'm sorry to have to leave so soon, but I've got to get back on duty."
"Thank you for coming, Sheriff," Penny said warmly.
"My pleasure." Rodd picked up Zak, tossed him once in the air.
Zak squealed. When Rodd put him down, the boy ran to his father's lap and climbed up.
Worried about the kegger, Wendy popped up. "I'll walk you out to the Jeep. I think I left something in the back."
Outside, with her jacket over her shoulders, Wendy hurried beside Rodd
"What did you leave in my car?" Rodd asked, unlocking the door.
His deep voice snared her, making it doubly hard for her to speak. She shivered under her open coat.
He closed the gap between them, cupped his hands around her shoulders, shielding her from the cutting wind.
His nearness scattered her thoughts. How could she say, "Please watch out for Sage and Trav and if they're at the kegger, please bring them home"? So she replied, "I ...nothing. I ..." She shrugged and then shivered more violently. "I guess ... be careful." Pulling away from his touch, she ran back to the church.
His understanding voice followed her. "Keep warm and don't worry!"
Through the deep nightfall, Rodd drove north. Everything was in place. Right after Thanksgiving dinner, he'd driven through town, then out around the county, past Flanagan's again, keeping an eye on it. Then he'd casually driven by the Dietz property. He'd noted he couldn't hide his vehicle anywhere near the solitary barn, but he'd located where he thought the teens would park and walk through the straggle of pines to the barn. Next he'd stopped in his office to go through the procedure to get a warrant to proceed against the kegger. Finally he'd alerted all his deputies and explained his plan to the two who would work with him on this.
He remembered a particularly nasty party near Marquette University in Milwaukee. Girls had been given GHB, the rape drug. He hadn't heard of any of that being passed around here, but keggers were always unpredictable.
Mentally Rodd had made a neat list about handling the kegger, and he'd checked each point off with increasing satisfaction. So while one of his deputies remained on duty for other calls, he and two others would bust the Dietz kegger at just the right moment. Warrant in hand, he'd stopped at home after dark to dress for the long, cold stakeout, and feed and water his breeding stock for the night.
Now in the darkness, Rodd parked his Jeep off the road behind a line of tall, snow-flocked evergreens. He slogged silently to the spot in the woods he'd chosen earlier, which must be on Beltziger property. A clump of pines and a few old leafless maples gave him meager cover. With grim humor, he hoped most of his deputies would park a mile down the road in a stand of pines and walk to a spot near the anticipated parking area. That deputy would await the sheriff's flashlight signal—two flashes—then on foot they'd close in for the bust. The other deputy would cover the rear-access road.
A few moments later, Rodd felt the pager in his pocket vibrate. He illuminated the message: "Number two in place." That meant the officer nearest the parking area had arrived. Rodd flashed his pocket light once in that direction as prearranged. Before long, he received the second pager message alerting him of the other deputy's arrival. Rodd flashed his light once toward the road behind the Dietz property. The half-moon shed an eerie sheen on the surrounding grazing pasture studded with high, rolled hay mounds shrouded in black plastic.
Then the serious waiting began. The frosty cold of night moved in. Even through layers of clothing, insulated socks, boots, and gloves, the near-zero temperature began its silent assault. Rodd wore a knitted ski mask over his face. Soon he felt each little hole in each little knitted stitch as a pinprick of ice. The insidious, persistent cold wrapped itself around him—an icy boa constrictor squeezing the life, the warmth out of him.
Fighting the yawns, which seemed a surrender to the numbing cold, Rodd tried to go over in his mind the events of the day. But Wendy's pretty face imposed itself over everything. The way she'd stood out—innocent and untouched in the murky light of Flanagan's. Her warm glow in the oak red dress. Her smiles over Ma's coming and Zak's chatter. But most of all, her restraint when she walked him out to the car.
He'd caught the fact that Trav and Sage had gone to the Dietz house. When Wendy had walked out to the car with him, he'd thought she'd say something about her sister and boyfriend. In the end, she'd only told him to take care. She hadn't asked the favor he'd feared she would ask. She hadn't asked him to shield Sage and Trav if they turned up at the kegger. He hoped they wouldn't turn up—
The roar of a snowmobile.
Rodd hunched down. The snowmobile's light went straight to the area Rodd had predicted and parked. Silence. Then a glimpse of a bobbing light. Someone with a flashlight was heading for the barn. Elroy Dietz?
The scraping of metal against old wood, a fumbling of a door catch. The dry night ai
r transported the sound, crisp and clear. A noisy truck rattled down the nearby road, masking any other auditory clues. After a deadly quiet lasting several minutes, a clanging sounded, followed by sparks out of a half-tumbled-down chimney on top of the barn. Someone had come to start a fire in what—an old iron stove? So it was to be a heated winter kegger. This arrival bolstered Rodd. He hadn't been able to shake the suspicion that after the Olson stakeout, this might be another wasted effort.
Out of the still darkness, two more snowmobiles barreled over the snow and swerved into the parking area, and then three more snowmobile-suited bodies vanished into the barn. They'd start drinking soon. He could move in anytime now. The two deputies would follow him and make sure no one got away. While one deputy stayed to pick up stragglers, he and the second deputy would cuff the half dozen, take them in and book them, and then call sleeping parents out of bed to come claim their errant offspring. He drew in a deep breath. A fun evening for all.