Read Cold Hunter's Moon Online
Authors: K. C. Greenlief
Cold Hunter's Moon (11 page)
“Gee, thanks ever so much for setting a great dinner mood,” Lark said, popping a piece of chicken into his mouth. “How did you go from teaching to being a homicide detective for the state police?”
“Funny how many people ask me that question,” Lacey said, dipping a breadstick in the sauce from her lasagna. “It's probably not the best dinner conversation topic.”
“Go for it. Just about anything will beat a discussion about veal hutches.”
“After my parents died I had to deal with their estate. I was an only child and they left me everything, including their home and a cabin in the Adirondacks. I was living in an apartment in Rochester and decided to move back home. They'd lived most of their married lives in a big old Victorian farmhouse on a two-hundred-acre farm. Both of them were pack rats and antique buffs so the house was jammed to the rafters. I discovered some letters packed away in my mom's things. I took them to my parent's attorney and got the shock of my life.” Lacey paused to tackle another bite of lasagna. “I found out I was adopted.”
“You didn't have any idea before that?” Lark asked, stunned.
“None. I couldn't believe my parents would keep something like that from me. It turned out to be like some gothic novel. They left a letter with their attorney. He was supposed to give it to me if I asked about being adopted or got engaged. I was adopted in Wausau, Wisconsin, when I was one week old. They assured me that my birth parents were intelligent, healthy people. My biological parents also left me a nest egg that my parents invested. It did very well.”
“You came to Wisconsin to find your birth parents?” Lark asked, winding up a forkful of pasta.
“Clichéd but true. The more I thought about it, the more I just had to know. I moved to Madison and applied for a job on the city police force. The timing was right for women with degrees. I got a second master's in criminal justice at UW-Madison. In my spare time I tried to track down my biological parents.”
“Have you had any luck?”
“There isn't any birth-documented-in-Wisconsin records with the exact date and time listed on my birth certificate. I've tracked all Wisconsin births for a week in either direction and can't find any discrepancies that point to me. I'm beginning to think I was born out of state.”
“This must be really important to you.”
Lacey took the last bite of her lasagna. “I loved my parents very much. We almost never had a disagreement, even when I was teenager.
They couldn't have loved me more or treated me better. No one can ever take their place; they'll always be my real parents. But I need to know who my biological parents were.” Before she could go on, the waitress cleared their plates and offered dessert. They settled on coffee and a shared piece of chocolate silk pie.
They couldn't have loved me more or treated me better. No one can ever take their place; they'll always be my real parents. But I need to know who my biological parents were.” Before she could go on, the waitress cleared their plates and offered dessert. They settled on coffee and a shared piece of chocolate silk pie.
Lacey smiled at Lark. “Let's change the subject. You know things that even Joel hasn't pried out of me. Tell me about yourself.”
“Well, my life has been rather boring in comparison to yours. I'm the oldest of six kids. I have three brothers and two sisters. We were like stair steps, all one or two years apart.”
“I always wanted a sister or a brother.”
“Well, there were times when I was desperate to be an only child,” Lark said, amused. “It just goes to show you that we're never happy with what we have. I was born in Chicago and always lived there until I took this job. My dad was a firefighter and my mom was a nurse. We were comfortably middle class with both my parents working a lot of overtime and each of us going to work when we were sixteen.” Lark paused as the waitress brought their dessert and coffee.
“You go first,” Lark said, shoving the decadent-looking pie towards her. “I've never known a woman who wouldn't all but kill for a good piece of chocolate.”
“What a dangerous remark to make to a woman with a gun.”
“Whoa,” he said, raising his hands. “No offense meant. Feel free to slide it right back over here if I misspoke.”
“Bullshit,” Lacey said, pulling the pie towards her. “If you think you're getting first dibs on this, you've got another thing coming.” She forked a large piece into her mouth and moaned with delight. “Just one more reason why all roads lead to the Sportsman's. They have heavenly desserts.” She shoved the pie towards Lark.
He tried a piece. “This is good, but I'll never understand why women are so obsessed with chocolate.”
Lacey snatched the plate back. “I guess that means you won't mind if that's the last bite you get.” Her eyes twinkled. “I thought about getting my own piece but I didn't want to be a pig about it.”
“By all means, enjoy it.”
“You really don't know about the connection between women and chocolate?”
“Never understood it. My wife had to have chocolate every day.”
“That speaks volumes,” Lacey quipped, carving off another bite. “While I eat this, finish telling me about yourself.”
Lark leaned back against the booth. “I always wanted to be a cop, but my parents wanted us to be professionalsâlawyers, doctors, or engineers. Everyone met my parents' expectations but me. My parents are retired and living in Goshen, Indiana, on a hobby farm most of the year, and in Cabo San Lucas, in a place we kids bought them in the winter. I'm the oddball of the family.”
“Why do you think you're odd?”
“As I said, my parents never wanted me to be a cop. They insisted that I get my degree, so I got it in criminal justice. When I joined the Chicago police force, my mother almost fell over. She was sure I'd be shot dead in days. Then they nearly drove me crazy insisting that I go to law school. They thought the reality of police work would hit me and I'd finally wake up. Much to their amazement, I got my master's in criminal justice.”
“Parents are like that,” Lacey said, polishing off the last bite of pie. “What brought you up here?”
He looked down at the table, lost in thought. Lacey was surprised by the sadness in his face. “My wife died two years ago. Nothing felt the same after that. I was a captain in Homicide and took early retirement when they offered me this job. Maria and I vacationed up here and talked about buying a cottage. We never did it because we were too busy, and I guess because we always thought we had all the time in the world. I had some of the best times of my life up here. This is one of the few places where I only have happy memories.”
Lacey put her hands around his clenched fists in the center of the table. “I am so very sorry. She must have been a wonderful woman.”
“She was the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“It's ten-thirty,” Lacey said, glancing at her watch. “We'd better go if we're going to find this house on time.” She picked up the bill and scanned the numbers for her part of the total. Lark snatched it out of her hands.
“My treat,” Lark said, pulling several bills out of his wallet.
“Wait a minute, this is business.” Lacey reached for the bill. “Let me total up my half and we can each get a receipt.”
Lark gave the bill and money to the waitress. “I'm just living up to my old-fashioned, straight-arrow image.”
They walked out into a blowing, swirling mass of white. Lacey flipped up the hood on her coat and they hurried to the Jeep.
“God, this is awful,” she said as they settled into their seats.
“If this doesn't quit, we may be stuck up here overnight,” Lark said. He powered the side windows up and down and turned on the front and rear windshield wipers and defrosters.
“Big Oak, Rhinelander, who cares, as long as I have a warm place to sleep, and a bathroom,” Lacey said as she dug out the directions to the Dawes' house.
“Are you familiar enough with Rhinelander to know where we're going?” Lark asked, studying the widening defroster pattern on the windshield.
“No, Captain, but I'm an excellent navigator.”
“What did you say?” Lark asked, glaring over at her.
“I said I'm an excellent navigator,” Lacey repeated, looking at him with concern. “Lark, are you all right?”
“I'm fine,” he said, staring at the windshield. “Sorry I snapped at you. It was uncalled for. That's almost exactly what my wife used to say to me when we traveled. She was an airline pilot. The captain-navigator thing was a joke between us.” He kneaded his forehead. “All this personal conversation seems to have brought back a lot of memories.”
“You don't have to apologize,” Lacey said, leaning over and squeezing his arm. “I've had such a sense of emptiness since my parents died. They were both only children and my grandparents died when I was very young, so I don't have any family. Sometimes the loneliness is overwhelming. I can't imagine what it must be like to lose a spouse. How long were you married?”
“Ten years,” Lark mumbled. Lacey frowned down at the floor of the Jeep trying to think of something comforting to say.
Lark's voice interrupted her thoughts. “Let's get moving. Give me some directions, Navigator.”
NOVEMBER 22âRHINELANDER
The Dawes' house turned out to be on the opposite side of town. Nearly every Christmas figure from Santa and his reindeer to Jesus in the manger were located somewhere on the house, the roof, or the lawn.
“I'd hate to pay this electric bill,” Lacey said when they pulled into the driveway. “I wonder what the inside looks like.”
“Let's go find out.”
“I'll stay here. Maybe things will go faster if they know you've left someone in the car.” She looked out the windshield at the big fat snowflakes coming down. “If you don't get going we're going to get stuck here.”
Lark turned the ignition on and reached into the backseat. “Wrap yourself up in this if you get cold.” He handed her a soft, plaid blanket.
Lacey watched Lark trudge up the driveway lit with red luminaries. It was time for her to be honest with herself. She had been attracted to him from the minute they met. She was used to guys coming on to her, but Lark was different; he didn't seem to notice her. She'd never had to compete with someone's dead wife and she didn't think she was up to
it. She had just finished giving herself a lecture on getting her hormones under control when the car door opened and he climbed in the Jeep.
it. She had just finished giving herself a lecture on getting her hormones under control when the car door opened and he climbed in the Jeep.
“Boy, did you miss out,” he said, laying a thick manila envelope and a large Christmas-wrapped box between them in the seat. “The inside's worse than the outside. Every surface had Christmas stuff on it and the walls were covered with Christmas pictures and quilts.” He backed the Jeep out of the driveway.
“That sounds just like my childhood. Every holiday was an excuse for my parents to go berserk. Halloween was beyond belief, all the other kids used to love to come over.”
Lark swung the Jeep onto Highway 8, sliding on the snow-covered blacktop. “We never had time for that, but we had neighbors who decorated and I always loved their houses. I like a happy medium.”
“Me, too,” Lacey said, rummaging in the seat for her flashlight. “What's in the box?”
“Homemade cookies,” he said, wagging his eyebrows. “At least we won't starve if we get stuck. There are several chocolate ones in there.”
“Thank you, Jesus. As long as there's chocolate, nothing can go wrong.”
She pulled a sheaf of pages out of the envelope. “Holy Toledo, look at all these names. I had no idea Lands' End did this much business.”
“Let's not mess with this anymore tonight. I draw the line at eighteen-hour days and it's eleven-thirty now,” Lark said as he pulled into the gas pumps at a brightly lit Stop and Go.
“Fine by me.” Lacey stuffed the papers in the envelope. They were back on the road within five minutes, Lacey with a Diet Coke and Lark with a large coffee.
“You must be dog tired,” Lacey said. “Why don't you let me drive?”
“Not on your life. I'm wide awake.”
“I'm too tired to argue about it,” she said, slipping off her boots and coat. “Wake me up when we get home.”
Lark watched her rat around as he tuned in the radio. In a matter of seconds the snow went from large, slow flakes to near blizzard proportions.
“Jesus Christ,” Lacey said. “I'm going to get an assignment with
Hawaii Five
O
if this keeps up.” A few minutes later, they burst into
laughter when the radio announcer played Elvis Presley singing “Blue Hawaii” as a special request.
Hawaii Five
O
if this keeps up.” A few minutes later, they burst into
laughter when the radio announcer played Elvis Presley singing “Blue Hawaii” as a special request.
The trip back to Big Oak was uneventful. Lacey dozed and Lark listened to the radio. It was one of those nights when nearly every song brought back fond memories.
They pulled into Lark's garage just before 1 A.M. He realized how tired he was when it was almost too big an effort to get out of the Jeep. He called to Lacey but she didn't budge. She was sleeping soundly, her head resting against the door. When he shook her arm, she moaned and burrowed further into her coat and blanket.
“Lacey,” he said, scooting over in the seat to shake her shoulder. “We're home. Let's go in the house.”
“Um, let's just stay here where it's warm,” she said drowsily, leaning into him. His arms went out to steady her and she snuggled against him, fitting her head against his shoulder. He was sitting there holding her, wondering what to do next, when she woke up.
“Jesus, I must have really been out.” She pushed herself away from him.
Lark picked up the envelope and the box and got out of the Jeep.
Lacey opened her door and jumped down, letting out a howl. He rushed around the Jeep to see what was wrong.
“I forgot to put my boots back on,” she said, rummaging around in the car. She grabbed her coat, boots, and purse and ran into the house muttering “Shit, shit, shit.”
“That'll teach you to take your shoes off,” Lark chuckled, watching her scuttle to get off the cold concrete.
“Hell, now I'm wide awake. I'll never get to sleep without some hot chocolate. Do you have cocoa and marshmallows around here somewhere?” she asked, rocking from foot to foot.
“Somewhere in the pantry,” Lark replied, motioning towards the kitchen as he put his coat and boots in the closet.
Lacey dropped her boots and coat in the laundry room and went to search the pantry. “I don't believe this. You have Hershey's cocoa, sugar, and marshmallows. The marshmallows are old, but who cares. You've set a record,” she said, looking for a pan.
“What kind of a record?” he asked, sitting down at the bar across from her.
“I've never known a single man to have all these ingredients.” She glanced over at him on her way to the refrigerator for milk. “I'm impressed and I take back almost every chauvinistic word I said about you. Crap! You have regular milk instead of one percent.”
“I hate low fat milk.”
“Figures,” she said, pouring the milk into the pan. “We need to have a little chat about men, dairy products, and heart disease.”
“Maybe we should also have a little chat about the effects of sugar on a woman's body,” he said as he watched her measure heaping spoonfuls of sugar and cocoa into the milk.
She rolled her eyes in disgust. “Where are your big mugs?”
“I only have beer mugs. Rather chauvinistic, don't you think?” He pointed above his head at the small cabinets over the bar.
“Why don't you go change clothes? Then you can stir while I change.”
“I'm pretty comfortable the way I am, but I'll be glad to take over for you,” he said, joining her at the stove.
By the time she was back downstairs in a pair of sweats, the cocoa was ready. She put some marshmallows in each mug, poured the cocoa over them, and popped in ice teaspoons she'd found in his silverware drawer.
Lark lit a fire and ran upstairs to get the tape from his bedroom VCR. They nestled into opposite ends of the sofa; Lacey curled up in the afghan Lark kept draped over the back. There wasn't anything new on the late news.
“Do you think the Ransons have something to do with these murders?” Lacey asked as the news ended.
“I don't think so,” Lark said, propping his feet up on the coffee table. “They seem very honest.”
“What's the husband like? Could this have anything to do with him screwing around?”
“We hit him pretty hard about extramarital affairs in our interview and he was adamant that he could never do that to his wife.”
“There's a rarity.”
“Contrary to the research done by
Cosmopolitan
magazine and Oprah Winfrey, not all men have affairs,” Lark said, stifling a yawn.
Cosmopolitan
magazine and Oprah Winfrey, not all men have affairs,” Lark said, stifling a yawn.
“You're absolutely right. I believe the data says only about fifty percent of them do. What time is it?”
“One-forty-five and I need to be in the office by eight.”
“On Thanksgiving?”
“Shit,” Lark said, pounding his fist on the arm of the sofa.
Lacey jumped. “What's wrong?”
“I was going to stop and get a turkey but I forgot about it in all the excitement.” Lark shook his head in disgust. “We'll just have to go out to eat.”
“Don't give it a second thought,” Lacey said, getting up and folding the afghan across the back of the sofa. She took their mugs to the kitchen. “We can grocery shop in the morning. Someone's bound to be open. I'll make a turkey dinner that will knock your socks off. We can go over the data and watch the games. Thanksgiving's my favorite holiday. Sports and good food, what more could you ask for?”
Lark followed her into the kitchen and leaned against the bar, watching her rinse the mugs and the cocoa pan. He said nothing until she opened the dishwasher. He rushed around the counter, grabbing a dish towel on his way.
“Maria didn't put those mugs or our pans in the dishwasher. I'll dry them.”
“Sorry about that,” she said, moving away from the sink and going into the foyer to put away her coat and boots, only to find that he'd already done it.
“What time do you want to wake up in the morning?” Lark shouted after her, not realizing she'd walked back into the kitchen.
“You pick, it's your house,” she said, standing behind him, her arms folded across her chest.
“Jesus Christ.” Lark jumped and almost dropped one of the mugs when he realized she was so close. “I thought you'd gone upstairs.”
“What time do you want to go in? I'll set my alarm.”
Lark felt as if he'd suddenly walked from bright sunshine into dark shadows. “How does nine sound?” he asked, trying to read her face.
“Fine by me. See you in the morning.” She turned to go upstairs.
“Lacey, wait a minute, did I say something to upset you?” he asked, puzzled by the change in her behavior.
She turned around, the hint of a smile on her face. “Do you mind if I take a bath? Will that keep you up?”
“The H-bomb wouldn't keep me up. Please, make yourself at home,” he said, sensing her reserve.
“Let me know what you want to do about Thanksgiving dinner and please don't feel like you need to entertain me. I didn't stop to think that you might have other plans. Jim told me the Pine View's open tomorrow.”
“Lacey, wait a minute.” He tossed the dish towel on the counter.
“Lark, we're both overtired and we've been thrown together without knowing each other at all. I apologize for intruding into your routines around here and making assumptions about how you do your dishes or spend your Thanksgiving. See you in the morning.” She trotted up the stairs, not looking back.
He watched her go into her room. He felt as alone as he'd felt in years and couldn't quite figure it out. He sighed and finished straightening up the kitchen before going up to bed. Later, in his room, he listened to the sounds of the water running in Lacey's bathroom and wondered what he'd done to ruin the mood. He told himself he was being ridiculous, that she was way too young for him, and that he had to quit thinking with his dick.
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