Ingress

by Mary Ann Poll

  “Not to mention, that congregation of mine came together and somehow convinced the council and mayor to let us have that abandoned building south of town. They took to it and that place shines. Heat was installed this week so we are on propane now and aren’t all bundled up. By the way, where have you been? I miss seeing your smiling faces.”

  “Oh, you know, things keep coming up even for a small-town cop like me.”

  Kat nodded. Not really having an excuse except that her warm bed kept her from venturing into the cold.

  “Well, we’d sure love to see you again. Come by when you can.” Paul and Tanya walked to the counter.

  “I feel so guilty.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Gonna go?”

  “You gonna go?”

  “If you do, I will.”

  The old sibling gauntlet had been thrown. Bart sighed. He felt responsible for Kat in all ways, even spiritually. He couldn’t shake his need to protect her.

  “I’ll pick you up Sunday.”

  They ventured back out into the night, back to the task at hand. Just as they reached the all-familiar truck and as Kat was steadying herself for another jolting ride out of town, the mayor ran up.

  “Come quick. Someone has broken into the mercantile.”

  “What?”

  “I said, come. I saw a light in the window.”

  “Go back inside.” Kat, glad for the reprieve, moved toward Jo’s.

  She turned. “Call me later? I don’t want you disappearing on me tonight.”

  “I do this for a living, you know.”

  “I know and that’s what makes me worry.”

  “I’ll call. Go.”

  The old mercantile was silent and made eerie by the darkness and shadow play from a full moon’s light coming through the windows. Bart and Tommy Orthell walked into the empty room that had been off limits to Bart earlier in the day.

  “There.” The mayor pointed toward the left wall.

  Bart squinted in the direction of the mayor’s finger. He walked to the back wall, a portion of which now protruded into the room. “Hidden clapboard?”

  The mayor nodded.

  Bart shone his flashlight all around the small storage space. The light unveiled footprints in the dusty cabinet. Two large shoe prints made their way into the small space, then turned and stopped at the back wall. Another distinct set of footprints led back to the main room.

  Bart unsnapped his holster. “You stay down here. I’m going up to take a look around.”

  “You don’t know the upstairs, sheriff. You could get hurt, there’s still construction stuff everywhere not to mention loose floorboards.” Mayor Orthell’s voice sounded like he was using a megaphone.

  The sheriff put a finger to his lips and motioned the mayor to follow. The old steps creaked and moaned under their weight. Bart paused on each tread and listened.

  Orthell hung back in the hallway while Bart checked each room.

  “Haven’t found anyone yet. That’s a good thing, right?”

  “I’d say so.”

  Orthell thought a moment. “There is one more place.”

  Bart threw Orthell a questioning look.

  “The attic. It’s well hidden because the original mercantile owners needed to keep valuables in a safe place.” Fear gripped the mayor. “That must be where the thief is.” He hurried to the end of the hallway, grabbed and pulled the latch. The small doorway popped open.

  Bart heard a sickly thud, then a thump. Mayor Orthell let out a bloodcurdling scream and Bart broke from a fast walk to a run. He skidded to a halt as the mayor jumped backward, turned, and screamed again, this time in Bart’s face. A large, mushy object lay at their feet. Bart shone his light on it.

  Orthell threw a hand over his mouth to stifle another scream. He excused himself and ran for the stairs and out the door.

  Bart turned to the corpse. It lay face up, staring at the ceiling through cloudy eyes. The arms were splayed to the side. So were the legs, but their position was unnatural, both broken from the knees down. Other than that, the body was intact. The fear in the vacant eyes sent a chill through Bart.

  He squatted, bringing the flashlight closer to the body. There were definable indents around the torso and neck. He looked closer at the face. He released the cell phone from its holder on his belt and dialed.

  “Getting ready to close up. Need a ride?” Kat was enjoying her second mocha, a real treat at the end of a busy, tiring day.

  “Might. Let me give Bart a call.” Bart had been gone more than two hours when it should have taken half that to look over a building.

  Her phone trilled before she could dial. Bart’s number was in the display.

  “Where are you?”

  “Found Gary.”

  “Good. Come get me.”

  “I found Gary—dead.”

  The color bled from Kat’s face. This town was becoming a real live horror movie—again.

  “Frozen?” She hoped, because the alternative was frightening.

  “Nope. Body’s in a bad way. I’m calling doc. I’ll be staying a while. Can you get a ride?”

  Kat looked at an impatient Jo.

  “Yep. I got a ride.” Jo nodded.

  “Good.” The phone went dead.

  Doc Billings’ well-known Audi slid to a stop. He hurried up the porch stairs and into the now brightly lit mercantile.

  “Where?”

  Bart pointed up the stairs. “I’ll go before you. The floor’s a little tricky.”

  Billings pulled on a pair of white latex gloves and removed what looked like a meat thermometer from his black bag. He placed the thermometer over the liver.

  Bart could not stand watching this part. He couldn’t shake the thought of how that would feel. “I’ll be downstairs. The funeral home’s on its way for the body.”

  “Good. I’ll get more from there.”

  Bart headed out the door to his truck for his fingerprint equipment. His head popped out of the truck when he heard a car engine. His face flushed with anger when he saw Kat.

  “Thanks, Jo.” She gave a cheery wave to the red taillights receding down Willowbend Circle, and then headed for Bart at a fast clip.

  “Going home, I thought,” Bart growled.

  “Didn’t say that. Said I could get a ride. I thought you could use some help.”

  “Didn’t say that.”

  “You never do. Changing the subject, this place is spookier in the dark.”

  Kat looked at the houses. Each was lit by a single spot. The skull-rock was the center of attention with two spots. Everything between the skull and the houses was pitch-black. The wind had calmed to a breeze. Instead of making it more inviting, the slight movement of the trees, highlighted by the houses’ spotlights, pitched shadows left and right on the roofs. The birch limbs portraying skinny, knobbed arms bent upward and waved for help as if they were being held hostage by an invisible villain. The darkness behind the windows of the log cabin, cannery, main house, and old hotel drank up the light like a black sponge.

  “Yep,” said Bart. “But, then again, I think that bout last fall heightened the ole survival instincts.

  Kat let out a nervous laugh. “Probably.”

  Bart started back toward the mercantile building. Kat jogged up beside him. Bart stopped, blocked Kat and stared a challenge at her.

  “I’ll stay out of the way. I won’t go up or anything. I just don’t want you here by yourself.”

  “I’m not alone. Doc Billings is here.”

  “Great. He can autopsy you and himself with as much help as he can give.”

  “How you going to stop a big, bad murderer?”

  Kat reached behind her back and pulled out a small .22 caliber revolver.

  “Put that thing away! Where did you get it anyway?”

  “Last trip into Anchorage. Makes me feel safer.”

  “For the safety of us all Kat, just put it away.”

  Kat slipped the small gun into t
he holster behind her back. After another blazing-eyed reprimand, Bart turned and motioned her to follow.

  Kat waited at the bottom of the mercantile stairs, perusing the rock, the courtyard, and the buildings. Movement next to the log cabin caught her eye. She looked with intent as the shadow disappeared behind the building and then appeared again between the cabin and the old hotel.

  “Bart,” she whispered from the left side of her mouth.

  “Bart,” louder this time.

  Bart was in a crouch, working to get a good fingerprint from the brass knob on the front door. He jerked his head over his shoulder.

  “This is exactly why you should have gone home. What is it!”

  “Lower your voice. There’s someone over there between the cabin and hotel.”

  Bart stood up and turned to face the direction of Kat’s finger.

  “Don’t see anything.”

  “There is! Wait.”

  “Your eyes are playing tricks on you—I’ll be a monkey’s uncle, I see it.” Bart watched as the shadow, definitely a two-legged one, made its way from behind the hotel to the woods. For the second time this evening, he unclasped the holster and, this time, pulled the gun and pointed it in the direction of the spruce and birch.

  “Stay.” Bart raised a tense outstretched hand at Kat.

  He strode in giant steps toward the hotel, the crunching snow announcing his movements. He ducked behind the hotel, then headed into the woods and disappeared.

  Kat stared after him, as if she could will protection over him. She heard a tussle in the woods, then saw a tall spruce shake from the weight of someone or something being thrown into it. She reached behind her back, brought out her .22 and started running. She stopped at the edge of the clearing and took careful strides, trying with all her might to silence her footsteps.

  Movement caught her attention and she swung to her right. Two tall shapes came into view, one holding the other against a tree, its arm pushed up under the second person’s neck.

  Kat held the gun with both hands and stretched out her arms.

  “Back off!” she yelled at the form. The unidentifiable head snapped around.

  “Put that blasted thing away, Kat, now.”

  She knew that voice. She wavered and lowered the gun a slight way toward her legs, still holding it with both hands at the ready.

  The shadow on the tree pushed the other off and straightened.

  “Yeah, put that blasted thing away.” That was Bart.

  Ken and Bart sauntered to the light looking like two kids who had just had a fight in the schoolyard—disheveled, heightened color and smiling like only men do when they’ve just had a fight, the rules are understood, and they are best buds again. Kat continued to hold the gun in front of her, looking as if she might bring it up and shoot. She thought better of it and lowered it to her side.

  “Good evening,” Ken flashed a smile. Kat ignored the electric impulses that shot through her.

  “What are you doing here?” she spat out.

  “I was taking a walk. Why are you here? Doesn’t BC need your attention?”

  “Why I’m here is none of your concern. Neither is BC, for that matter.”

  Ken tilted his head to the right and gave a slight shrug. Always the sign that he didn’t have a ready retort but didn’t agree just the same. This was the same shrug he’d given Kat at the end of their last conversation. Right before he’d turned and walked out of her cabin and her life.

  Ken turned to Bart. “Why are you here, my friend? Didn’t get enough of Old Town in the daylight?”

  Bart hesitated then launched into his explanation. “Well, seems we have another murder in Ravens Cove.”

  Kat shot an angry, betrayed glance his way. Bart cringed. He knew Kat felt like he had taken sides with the school bully. But he had missed Ken’s insight and intelligence and friendship. It was a lonely life as a small-town police chief. There were not many who understood and shared a passion for it.

  Ken’s raised his eyebrows. “You don’t say.”

  “I do say.”

  They all stood in silence, Kat feeling like the odd man out and wishing she’d had Jo deliver her to the cabin.

  “Well, I’ll be meandering on home now. You surely don’t need little ole me to hold your hand. You have a big, strong man here for that.” She paused. “Watch your back, cousin. This one’s not good at following through.”

  She spun on her heel and walked toward Main before either of them could respond. Bart found his voice first.

  “Hey,” Bart yelled to her back. “It’s cold. It’s dark. There’s a murderer on the loose.”

  Kat kept walking. She reached into her left pocket and pulled something out and a beam of light appeared. She pointed the beam at her right hand and waved the gun back and forth.

  “I’ll be okay. You do what you need to do. It’s not like I’ve never walked home in the dark before.” She lowered the gun and placed it in her right pocket. She tightened her hood with a firm gesture and picked up her pace.

  Ken took a step toward Kat. Bart blocked him with an arm. “She is strong-willed and feisty. She’s okay. Call me when you get home,” he yelled after her.

  Kat threw her right hand in the air and waved.

  “Maybe she will, maybe she won’t.” Bart looked at his watch. “If she’s not home in thirty minutes, I’ll go find her.”

  A van pulled up to the curb. Black with baby-blue lettering announced, “Ravens Cove Mortuary.”

  “Well, the boys have arrived and that means we can get the body out and the rest of the investigation started.”

  Bart opened the mercantile door. “Van’s here, Doc.”

  “Great.” Billings appeared at the top of the stairs pulling latex gloves from his hands.

  “My initial look-over is complete.”

  Bart gave him a quizzical look.

  “All I know so far is that he has two broken legs and a crushed rib cage and he died within the last couple of hours. I’ll know more when I can open him up.”

  “How soon will you have something?”

  “Gordy’s on his way to Anchorage. So, I’ll do an initial review tonight and send Gary on for a consult, hopefully tomorrow. Soon as I hear from the Anchorage M.E., I’ll call.”

  Doc smiled and stuck out his right hand. “Agent Melbourne. How wonderful to see you. What brings you to our small, usually uneventful, town again? Happen to know there was going to be a couple of murders?”

  “No, Doc. Didn’t know that. The mayor asked I come down for the opening of this place, something about a recognition ceremony. Didn’t see you there.”

  “Little tied up.” He motioned to Eric and Jonas Smotherly. “Up the stairs, to the right and watch your step, boys. Some loose floorboards.”

  Eric gave Doc a quick nod. He and Jonas disappeared up the stairs. The next time Bart saw Gary’s corpse, it was neatly wrapped in a black body bag. The pair gently laid it in front of the entry and left to get the gurney. They were gone and back in a flash.

  “Well, better get to work.” Bart said.

  “Feels like old times.” Ken looked like a guy who’d won the lottery.

  “I pray this isn’t like old times.”

  Ken sobered. “Me, too. But for the life of me I can’t shake that déjà vu feeling.” They climbed the staircase in silence and maneuvered the hallway’s rotten boards.

  “No sign of a struggle. Little or no blood. Floor’s almost too clean.”

  “You’d think there’d be something here.”

  “You’d think.”

  Bart gloved his hands and dusted the latch for fingerprints. He took a small sample. Then he turned the knob. “No time like the present.” Bart led the way and Ken followed him up the narrow stairs to the attic.

  Chapter 5

  A Familiar Stranger

  Kat power-walked the icy streets to the edge of town. Her anger and hurt propelled her up the gentle rise that leveled at the top of Ravens Ravine. She pa
used to catch her breath before cutting to her left and taking the small trail that led to the road in front of her cabin.

  The ravine area felt so different than it had a few months earlier. There was lightness to it. She could hear little creaks and snaps coming from a stand of alder bushes that hedged the top of the cleft. She smiled. The familiar sound of small animals settling in their winter homes made her feel warm and secure. It brought the same comfort and the same melancholy that she felt when snuggled into her old quilt from Gran Tovslosky. Gran had passed several years before and she still missed her.

  “Stop it, Katrina Agnes Tovslosky,” she scolded.

  She turned onto the old trail and stopped short. The moon’s light silhouetted the figure of a man ahead of her on the path.

  “Oh for goodness sake. I’ve had enough scares for one evening. This guy had better be ready for a fight because I’m done with this and now!”

  The figure didn’t seem to notice her. She could have circled back and found Bart. Probably the smart thing to do. But I don’t feel like doing the smart thing. That old anger surfaced when she realized she would rather take her chances with this stranger than go back and face Ken Melbourne.

  Kat pulled the .22 and headed down the footpath. When she got close enough, she turned her flashlight’s beam to the stranger’s face. “Who the hell are you and what are you doing here?”

  “Your grandmother would be none too happy with your language, Katrina Agnes Tovslosky.”

  The color drained from Kat’s face. “What did you say?”

  “Your grandmother does not allow such colorful language.”

  “No the other.”

  “Katrina Agnes Tovslosky. That is your name, I believe.”

  The figure turned and faced her. She was confronted by a man clothed in an old, ragged coat and even older boots. She brought her gaze slowly up to the face—a face covered by a long white beard and surrounded by a black fur ruff. The coat was missing a button but otherwise was closed all the way to the hood. What caught her attention was the crystalline blue eyes, dancing in a smile of recognition and friendship.

  Kat’s knees gave and she dropped to the ground, still looking at those eyes. “It can’t be.”