“Calm down. I'll bet he never associated the bodies with Gemma. She's been missing for three years and her car was found in Eau Claire. From the looks of this report, that's where most of the investigation took place. No one, except the killer, would have linked Gemma to the skeleton we found here. There's no reason to. Big Oak isn't exactly on the way to Eau Claire from Madison.”
“You're right. I just don't want anything to go wrong with this investigation. I'd kind of like to be here for a while, and if this is botched that may not happen.”
“It looks like we've got one more name from up here,” she said, concentrating on the fax. “Ron Chevsky.”
“You're shitting me. How the hell would he know Gemma Patterson?”
“Well, let's see what we've got here.” Lacey read the interview details. “They took business classes together and dated a few times. He told the officer that it was casual and her friends agreed. She spent a few weekends up here with Katey Lowery and Sandi Waltner, and she met Ron when she was out with them at one of the supper clubs.”
“I just met Ron Chevsky. He was hunting illegally with his father on the Ransons' property. He and his father were both drunk and obnoxious. I have a strong suspicion he's an alcoholic, probably a mean one, too.” Lark's voice was full of concern. “He doesn't look like the type of guy who would run in this crowd.”
“Want me to go over any others in detail?” she asked, gathering the pages together.
“Only Jim's.”
“Says here that he went out with Gemma twice, once up here and once in Madison. He denies anything more than just a friendly relationship. Says there wasn't anything physical between them. He claims the only other time they met outside of class was to carpool home on the
weekends. He doesn't remember seeing her at all the weekend she went missing, although he was up here deer hunting and working for his parents.”
“Sounds innocent enough. Let's take a break. We've got another forty-five minutes before we get to Rhinelander. If you're still tired, that would make for a nice nap. There are blankets and a pillow in the back if you want them.”
“I don't need a blanket. In fact, I'm kind of hot. I'd love to just relax and listen to some music if that won't disrupt your thinking,” Lacey said, squirming out of her coat.
Lark tuned the radio to the Ojibwa reservation station. “This is it up here at night, a mix of rock and country oldies. If that doesn't sound good, there are some tapes in the glove box,” he said.
The old Grass Roots song, “Two Divided by Love,” was just finishing and was followed by Crystal Gayle singing “Don't It Make My Brown Eyes Blue.” Lacey pulled off her boots and tucked her legs up underneath her. She settled back into the seat and pulled her coat over her like a blanket, snugging it up around her shoulders. “This is great. I love riding in a car in the dark listening to oldies. I always feel like nothing in the world can get to me here.”
Lark listened to the music while his mind wandered. He suspected that he needed some food in his stomach to get himself back on track. He thought about how women behaved in cars. Maria used to take her shoes and coat off and snuggle up like she was home on the sofa, just like Lacey was doing. He didn't know a single man who would do that. He shook his head to rid it of painful memories and concentrated on the snow pelting the windshield.
He thought about how many kids from prominent families were mixed up in this investigation. For the first time in his career he had to be concerned about politics, and he didn't like it one damn bit. He thought about all the years he'd looked down on his superiors who had worried about the fallout from investigations. He knew, as with so many things in life, he was finally getting his comeuppance for some of the snide remarks he'd made about them.
Jim's involvement raised a red flag. Even without obvious links between the Gemma Patterson case and the skeleton in the swamp, he felt he should have known that Jim had been questioned in a criminal case. He wondered if Sheriff Dodge had known anything about it.
One of Maria's favorite songs, “Ain't No Mountain High Enough” by Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell, came on the radio. Lark was flooded with wonderful memories. He reached over and patted Lacey's arm. “Hey, wake up, sleepyhead, your song's on.”
Horrified, he realized his mistake as soon as he'd made it. Lacey opened her eyes and straightened up in the seat. “Jeez, I must have fallen asleep. Is everything OK?”
“Everything's fine,” he said, looking straight ahead out the windshield.
Lacey reached out and touched his arm. “Are you all right? Do you want me to drive for a while?”
“Heavens no. I'm wide awake. Get a little more rest before we get to Rhinelander,” he said, staring out into the darkness.
“What did you wake me up for?” Lacey asked as she fumbled back under her coat. “I heard you say something.”
“Nothing important. I was just thinking out loud.”
“You shook my arm.”
“Jesus Christ, it was nothing. There was a deer at the side of the road and I didn't want you to get hurt if it ran out in front of us,” Lark said, exasperated at having to lie.
“All right, all right. You don't need to get so irritated.” She glanced over at him. “You startled me and I thought something was wrong. I guess the lack of sleep is making both of us irritable.” She rooted around in the seat trying to get comfortable. “Let's both shut up so I can listen to the end of this song. It's one of my favorites.”
Lacey was so intent on getting herself situated that she didn't see the look of surprise Lark shot her way. He was relieved to see her settle down for a nap. He passed the last thirty minutes of the trip deep in thought. He tried to focus on the case, but he was flooded with thoughts about the woman sitting next to him intermixed with flashbacks to his life with Maria.
Although he had dated a couple of women in Chicago after Maria died, he hadn't been serious about either of them and they'd felt the same way about him. They had provided companionship, someone to go to dinner and a movie with, and occasionally sleep with. He reminded himself that Lacey was way too young for him and scolded himself for thinking about sex and not focusing on the case. He breathed a sigh of relief when the sign for Highway 8 to Rhinelander came into view.
He leaned over and patted Lacey on the arm again. “Time to wake up. I need you to tell me how to get to the Sportsman's before I pass out from hunger.”
She smiled sleepily and sat up, stretching her arms towards the windshield. “Just keep going east. Believe me, you can't miss it. Wow, I slept like a log.” She stifled a yawn with the back of her hand. “Now I'm raring to go. I'll be happy to drive back so you can get some sleep.” She bent down to pull on her boots.
Before he could answer, a huge, neon red fish splashing up out of neon blue water came into view.
Noticing Lark's shock, Lacey poked him in the arm. “I told you you couldn't miss it.”
“Hell, a blind man couldn't miss this. It's a wonder the neighbors don't complain,” Lark said, alternating between watching the road and glancing up at the enormous sign.
They pulled into the Sportsman's parking lot at nine-forty-five. Despite the late hour, it was jam-packed with cars from Illinois, Minnesota, and Wisconsin.
“I think they serve dinner until eleven but we should probably get seated immediately if we're going to pick up the Lands' End data on time,” Lacey said, climbing out of the Jeep. Grill smoke permeated the air and the restaurant sign proclaimed charbroiled steaks in bright red neon just below the fish. It was quite a sight with the snow swirling around it.
“I can just about guarantee that this will be one of the best meals I've ever eaten,” Lark said, taking her elbow and steering her towards the entrance.
“The food's good, but I don't know if I'd go that far,” Lacey said, trying not to slip on the snow-covered blacktop.
“Shoe leather would be a gourmet treat right now, I'm so hungry.”
The entrance of the Sportsman's split off in two directions. To the right was the typical northwoods dark-paneled, smoke-filled bar, swarming with people who weren't feeling any pain. The walls were covered with mounted trophy Muskie and Pike mingled with large antlered deer and the occasional bear head. A few mounted raccoons and one stuffed owl rounded out the menagerie.
The dining room entrance was on the left. Lark was shocked by the difference in the decor. The walls were covered in a large floral creamand-rose-flocked
wallpaper. Rose damask tablecloths fell to the rose carpeted floor and fan-folded, rose cloth napkins sat at each place setting. A fat rose-colored candle nestled in a clear crystal hurricane in the center of each table. They were immediately seated in a quiet corner booth. The hostess gave them their menus, lit their candle, and took off to get their Leinenkugels.
“This place must be owned by someone with multiple personalities,” Lark said looking around the room in wonderment.
“Why do you think that?” Lacey asked, her eyes twinkling.
“I've never seen two parts of the same restaurant look more different than that bar and this dining room.”
“You men are all alike. You wouldn't have thought a thing about it if I'd taken you to a restaurant decorated like that bar, but because this place looks so elegant,” Lacey said, sweeping her arm around the room, “you're ready to say the owner must be crazy.”
“Come on,” Lark said, putting down his menu. “Don't you find this a little strange? Across the hall we have northwoods hunt camp decor and here we have”âhe looked around the room, searching for the right wordsâ“well, some sort of northwoods bordello motif?”
“Oh, for God's sake, I didn't take you for this kind of guy. Didn't you eat anywhere but sports bars in Chicago?”
“I've eaten in some of the best places in Chicago. That's not the point. You have to admit, these two restaurants, in a building topped by the largest red neon fish in North America, is pretty strange. And what did you mean by that remark?”
“Come again,” Lacey said, her eyebrows raised in question.
“You know, that crack about what kind of guy I am.”
“I just meant that when I first met you, you seemed like a pretty enlightened guy.” She glanced at him over the top of her menu. “You don't seem at all like the typical male chauvinist cops I run into all the time.”
“And now what do you think?”
She leaned back against the booth, tapping her lips in thought, her green eyes twinkling. “Let's see. You seem a little old-fashioned, kind of uptight and straight-arrow.” She stared into his eyes. “The kind of guy Mom would have wanted me to bring home.”
Lark was saved from the need to reply by the waitress bringing their beer. After giving their dinner orders, chicken parmigiana for Lark and lasagna for Lacey, they settled into an awkward silence. They had exhausted
their discussion about the case on the drive and there was nothing left to talk about but themselves. They spoke at once and then stopped, laughing nervously. The tension was broken when the waitress brought their bread basket.
“How did you end up working for the Wisconsin State Police?” Lark asked, munching on a breadstick that he could have sworn was baked in heaven.
“I'm originally from Rochester, New York, but I got my bachelor's and master's in education at Penn State. When I was a student, I worked as a dispatcher for the Penn State University Police. I went back to Rochester and taught junior high math. Two years later both my parents were killed in a high-speed chase.”
“The cops were after your parents?” Lark asked, as the waitress brought their salads.
“No, no,” Lacey said, waving her salad fork. “My parents had gone to New York City to Christmas shop and see a couple of plays, one of their holiday traditions. The police were chasing some guys who had robbed a gas station. The thieves ran a red light and broadsided my parents' car. Dad was dead at the scene and Mom died a week later. She never regained consciousness.” Lacey paused to eat a forkful of salad.
Lark tried to ward off thoughts of the loss of his wife.
“My parents were very much in love. They told me once that they wanted to die together and they wanted it to be quick. I remember them joking that when they got old and feeble, they would just drive off a cliff together like a modern-day Butch Cassidy and Sundance team. They almost got their wish. I don't think they ever knew what hit them.”
“I'm so very sorry,” Lark said, watching her fight to hold back tears. “It must have been terrible. I had a couple of high-speed chases on the interstate in Chicago, and as badly as I wanted to catch the bastards, I was always nervous that someone might get hurt.”
They finished their salads just in time for their main courses.
“Your food looks delicious,” Lacey said as she watched Lark dive into his meal. “I almost ordered the chicken parmigiana but it always reminds me of veal parmigiana, and I've seen one too many veal hutches up here to ever eat veal again.”