Hunted in Conard County

by Rachel Lee

  “Yeah, I’ve got a couple of sets of washers and dryers,” Les assured him. “At least a couple, all good brands. They’ll fit in those apartments. I’ve delivered them before.”

  When he called Kerri, she was grateful and eager. Now he had plans for the evening, which meant he could get out of the mire of thinking about this rape. He’d even told her he’d buy her dinner after she had a look.

  “I’m not going to be picky,” she’d promised him.

  “With Les you don’t have to be.”

  Relieved, he went by his house to change into civvies, noting the changing weather yet again. Too cold too soon. He wondered if that was an omen for the coming winter.

  Oh, well. He wondered how many times he’d have to clear the same few inches of snow. A lot or little didn’t seem to matter much. When it was dry enough, even a few inches of snow kept blowing around making daily shoveling necessary.

  Because of a back injury he’d suffered in Afghanistan, shoveling was out for him. So he had a nice little snowblower, and he often helped his neighbors out, too. Although one crotchety guy kept insisting it was good exercise. Yeah, unless the seventy-year-old dropped with a heart attack. The guy’s wife kept nagging him to either let Stu help or get his own snowblower, but Haney was truly set in his ways. Or implacably stubborn.

  Kerri seemed happy to see him when she opened her door, and even Snowy offered a tail wag and a doggy grin, although he remained close to Kerri.

  “This’ll be fun,” she said, looking honestly happy about it. “I took a walk earlier and kept thinking about how nice it would be not to have to walk to the laundry.”

  “Well, grab your jacket and let’s go. It’s getting colder out there. I’m wondering if we’re heading into a really bad winter.”

  “Of course we are,” she answered pertly. “I’m here. It’s going to teach me a lesson.”

  Man, when she let go, she had a good sense of humor. Snowy was certainly ready to go. He took a minute out front to attend to his business, and Kerri quickly cleaned up after him, tossing it in the nearby trash bin.

  “Did you have a nice walk?” he asked as they drove across town to the lumberyard.

  “Very nice. I met Jane Jessup. You know her?”

  “Kinda.”

  “She was nice. Her son, Scott, is in my class and she’s nervous about him wanting to go into law enforcement. I assured her most of us make it to retirement in one piece.”

  “True.” He glanced at her as they stopped at the town’s one traffic light. “Must have been difficult for you to say.”

  She shrugged with a small shake of her head. “No reason worrying about it if that’s what he wants to do. You get into a tense situation or standoff and you deal with it. Part of the job. What happened to me doesn’t happen to many despite public perceptions.”

  Still levelheaded about the job even after what she had suffered. He was impressed.

  She spoke again. “What you did, however, must have been a whole lot more dangerous.”

  “As an MP? Yeah, at times. Try dealing with a bunch of heavily armed people who have become tightly bonded in the face of death and danger. They’ll protect each other no matter what.”

  “Sounds familiar,” she replied.

  “I’m sure it does.”

  * * *

  Les was waiting for them in the front of the store. Being a Monday night, things were quieting down. Come Friday evening, this place would start buzzing with people who had home projects.

  Les, a lean man with a lovingly tended gray mustache, shook hands with Kerri as Stu introduced them. “Have I got some deals for you,” he said with a wink. “Okay, I’ve got deals but I’m no used car salesman. Come on to the back.”

  Beneath a sign announcing Dings, Dents and 30% Off there was an array of appliances, from refrigerators to stoves and even microwaves.

  “I’ve always loved the smell of lumber,” Kerri confided to the two men. “When I was growing up, it permeated the house because my dad always had a project in the works.”

  Les flashed her a smile. “It’s like perfume. Wonderful. Except the years have kind of stifled my nose. I notice a whiff when I first arrive in the morning, then nothing. When I was younger, a deep sniff would do it.”

  The purchase didn’t take long. There were three sets to choose from, all recognized brand names. Les asked a few questions, then suggested the model with the biggest capacity. “You don’t have to, of course, but when it comes to washing heavy winter gear or a good-size comforter, the larger capacity will do it. Smaller models not so much. Plus, you can adjust the water level to the load size.” Then he shrugged. “Of course, that’s a feature on all these models. And you’re just one person, right? For regular laundry you might want something smaller.”

  At home—well, back in Florida—she’d had a smaller capacity machine, which was just fine for most things. Her uniforms, her shorts and tees. But then there were jeans and she’d probably wear a lot of them in a colder climate. And she hadn’t really thought there’d be much of a decision? Hah! A washer was a washer, right? Last time she’d shopped, she’d gone by price and nothing else except that she recognized the brand name.

  Les clearly sensed her hesitation. “How about I leave you alone for ten or fifteen minutes? You can look through the manuals and see what you think.”

  He wandered off and she was left staring at a bank of white machines. “I said this wouldn’t take long,” she remarked. “That I wouldn’t be picky.”

  “It takes as long as it takes,” Stu answered. “Just keep in mind that you don’t have to buy a matched set. If you don’t want the large capacity, there’s always the coin laundry for the biggest things.”

  She shook her head. “You just persuaded me. If I never have to go to the coin laundry again, I’ll be happy. Sitting there for a couple of hours, even with a good book or my laptop, isn’t my idea of fun. And the place is usually deserted.” She looked at him. “Isn’t that odd?”

  “Depends on when you go, I suppose.”

  “Yeah.” She did have more free time than most people.

  An hour later, having agreed to take delivery of the set the next morning around nine, Stu and Kerri sat once again in Maude’s diner. That, too, was awfully quiet. Just one man sitting in the farthest corner, nursing a hot drink. Maude stomped over to them, slamming down two coffee cups, and eyed Kerri. “We do have salads. Good ones.”

  Kerri blinked, astonished by this. “I saw them on the menu.”

  Maude nodded. “These men will eat fried food every day of the week, but most women like to be more careful some of the time. Just wanted you to know I can serve a Cobb salad or some pretty good cod. Gotta get the fish frozen, sadly, but I have it.”

  “Oh, I love cod,” Kerri said, smiling at the gorgon.

  “I can make it poached or fried.”

  “Dang,” said Stu. “Where have you been hiding these talents?”

  Maude scowled. “On the back side of the menu. I got a bunch of them. Not my fault nobody turns the damn thing over.” She eyed Kerri again. “If you’re in the mood, let me have some fun.”

  At that Kerri laughed. “Cod, it is. Fried, please. And is there any way I could have a small Cobb salad?”

  “Take a big one,” Maude advised. “It’ll make a good lunch tomorrow.”

  “Make that two,” Stu said.

  Maude’s scowl deepened. “Men. Think they’ll live on that.”

  Kerri had to cover her mouth to keep from laughing again. Who ordered all the fried steak and burgers here?

  “Whatever you think I need, Maude. Never ate a thing from your menu and regretted it.”

  Maude nodded. “As it should be.”

  “Oh my God,” Kerri said, her quiet voice trembling with laughter after Maude disappeared into the kitchen.

  “She’s som
ething else. I’ll grant you that. Folks say she’s mellowed a lot. Maybe so. After only four years, I couldn’t judge, but she’s tough.”

  “Maybe that’s necessary running a small operation like this.”

  “I don’t know, but I’ve heard people got used to having their meals served with a slam and a glare. Then she had a heart attack. Maybe that changes you.”

  Lots of things could change you forever, Kerri thought, lifting her coffee cup.

  “You met Jane Jessup today, right? Anyone else?”

  “A few people, briefly. Everyone’s talking about what happened. I started to feel warned. I can’t explain it better than that.”

  He nodded slowly. “Making sure you didn’t miss it, maybe? Hinting that you might need to take precautions? That sounds like a lot of people around here.”

  “The hardest part for me was not being able to question anyone.” She pursed her lips and for just an instant allowed the pain of losing her career to pinch her. “Imagine how those people would have reacted to that. They don’t even know me.”

  A badge would have helped, she thought. At least she wouldn’t have sounded like a ghoul.

  Dinner arrived, including a burger patty for Snowy. The Cobb salad was huge, more than a lunch for tomorrow, and the fish had been fried in a light, fluffy batter. It nearly melted in her mouth. Despite her comments, Maude had brought Stu the same.

  “This is fantastic,” Stu remarked. Then he looked across the table at Kerri. “You’re having a hard time not being able to help out, aren’t you?”

  “Well, yeah. Hardly surprising.” She stabbed her fork into the salad and came up with lettuce, turkey and a bit of bacon. “I suppose I should stir the dressing around.”

  “I think I see guacamole, too. I never connected Maude with that. Speaking of which, I heard today that we might have a Tex-Mex restaurant opening soon. Brave people in a town like this.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we’re so small. Maude is an institution. That’s how she makes it. The truck stop caters mostly to out-of-towners who find it an easy place to park their rigs. But another restaurant? Even the pizza place at the edge of town is hanging by a thread, I hear.”

  He was trying to distract her, she realized. She appreciated it. She just wished the distraction would continue when she got home alone.

  “Well, I love Tex-Mex,” she said. “It wasn’t always easy to find the good stuff, not when I was a kid, but these days we have lots of good Tex-Mex places. Then there’s Cuban. If you ever get to Florida, remind me to tell you where to buy the best Cuban sandwiches. They don’t taste the same anywhere else, from what I’ve heard. Partly because they don’t make real Cuban bread, and partly because it requires mojo marinated pork. Anyway, every so often you stumble on the real thing. I’m going to miss those.”

  “I can’t believe I’m eating and you’re making my mouth water.”

  She was grateful for the laughter that bubbled up inside her. “They are to die for.” Then she hesitated. “Is there anything at all I can do to help with the case?”

  He paused with a piece of fish on his fork. “This is flaky fish. Kerri, I don’t know. You were a cop. You know how close to the vest we have to play it.” He shook his head. “Listen. Just listen to what people say to you. Maybe because you’re not a cop, someone will reveal something that doesn’t seem important enough to mention to us, but it could be useful.”

  “I can do that.” Well, that made her feel a bit better.

  “You could just relax, though.”

  Her headshake was a definite no. “It’s not in my DNA.”

  “Somehow I was afraid you’d say that.”

  * * *

  On his way home, Stu pondered both the rape case and Kerri’s reaction. Both had him on edge now. The rape case for obvious reasons, but Kerri for another.

  Maybe she’d lost her cop face since she’d been shot, but he suspected she had no idea how much her expression gave away. She might have been calm and considered in her responses but her face was telling a different story. She was desperate to be involved again. She wanted a pathway back to the work she had loved.

  Impossible, though. Even he could figure out that a cop who became essentially unconscious for a minute or two at a time couldn’t be on the streets, couldn’t interview witnesses, hell, couldn’t even take phone calls. It was a tragedy for her, but she’d never forgive herself if she messed up.

  But the push was there, and he had the strongest feeling she was going to try to get involved somehow.

  And that really disturbed him. She had no backup, no official support, and if she did something to draw this creep’s attention, she might get seriously hurt.

  He had to find a way to prevent that. Either that or hope the guy had left town and was hunting elsewhere.

  Because if there was one thing true about people who raped strangers, it was that they’d do it again.

  He had to figure out something. He didn’t want her to be miserable or feeling useless. He wanted her to feel good about herself again.

  Because if there was one thing he’d picked up about her between the lines, it was that she didn’t feel very good about Kerri Addison. She was coping but she’d lost a spark, a part of herself. Hadn’t she said one night when they were together that she felt useless?

  He wouldn’t have described her that way at all, but how he described her and how she felt were two very different things.

  As it turned out, the rapist hadn’t left town. Two nights later, while Sandra Carney still hadn’t recovered enough to be released from the hospital, another rape occurred.

  * * *

  May Broadwyn had been restless and unable to see sleep. After several hours of struggling with a mattress that felt like it was full of gravel rather than padding, and a pillow that had grown some hard lumps, she decided to go for a run.

  She’d loved running since early childhood, and during high school and college she’d joined the track teams. There was nothing like a good run to make her feel better about almost anything, and she had no doubt running would tire her out enough to fall asleep.

  Despite it being the wee hours of the morning, she pulled on her running clothes, topped her head with a knit cap against the night’s chill and set out to run across town.

  Accompanied by only the slap-slap of her feet on pavement, she drank in the town’s silence. People slept all around her and she wished she could join them in slumber. She did have to go to work in the morning, like every other weekday morning, and she’d like to be able to do it with her eyes open. Working as a clerk at the courthouse required a lot of attention to detail and a foggy mind wouldn’t help her.

  Only one car passed her on the street, a city police car. The cop waved and she waved back. She couldn’t see him in the darkness, but she was sure it was someone she knew. One of the perks of her job.

  After reaching the far side of town, she paused to bend and stretch a little, taking a brief breather but not one long enough to allow any muscle to stiffen in the deepening cold.

  Then she set out again, deciding to take a detour through the city park on the way home. It wouldn’t be much out of her way, but the dappled shadows and the fresh scents of loam and changing leaves always pleased her.

  That decision would change her forever.

  There was little moon to guide her, just a sliver to drip silver light through the trees. The paths were lit by small solar lamps at ankle level and their glow hardly disturbed the experience.

  If she hadn’t been so absorbed by the rhythm of her run and the familiar sound of her feet pounding it out, she might have heard something else. She didn’t until it was too late.

  * * *

  Ivan was out prowling for his next target, more interested in the backyards of houses than anything else...until he caught sight of the woman jogging. She couldn’t hav
e made him any happier when she turned into the park.

  Out by herself in the middle of the night. Heading into the deserted park with no one else apt to come upon her. It wasn’t the largest park, but big enough for his needs.

  She must be strong and healthy to judge by the way she was running. That meant she’d probably fight, too, and the idea only whetted his appetite.

  Feeling the leg of his pants, he found the knife in its sheath. Yeah, he could do this now and take home another delicious memory.

  He spared a moment’s thought for how to come at her. There weren’t a lot of choices, but he could run, too. She wasn’t pushing it so he wouldn’t be caught up in a race. He adjusted his ski mask and made sure the Velcro around his gloves was tight. He left his jacket in a tree so it wouldn’t get in his way. The cold air that wiped out the jacket’s warmth only excited him more. She’d feel so warm around him.

  Swing around to the left, he decided. Because the pathways were limited, he’d have no trouble circling her because she wouldn’t go some other direction. Then he’d come after her from the side, his footsteps silenced by the soft earth and the breeze that was beginning to rustle the drying leaves overhead.

  Liking his plan, he put it into action.

  * * *

  Edith Jasper found her around five-thirty in the morning. Edith was out walking her harlequin Great Dane, Bailey, as she did every morning. Edith liked to say that Bailey was going to keep her alive forever because he loved his long walks. That meant Edith did a lot of walks, as well, leaving her in pretty good shape for seventysomething. She’d never tell anyone what that something was. Heck, she rarely admitted to the seventy, either. She got a kick out of it when people pegged her in her sixties.

  It was still dark out, a good time for Bailey to nose around and get whatever news he could from the markings of other dogs. No running, yelling, laughing little kids to keep distracting him. No, this was Bailey’s time.