Autumn's Shadow (2 page)

"You're the new principal, but not new to town, right?" he asked in the quiet.

"Right. My grandfather started the paper mill here."

He nodded.

"And you have a nephew Nick Fleming who's just transferred here."

"Nicky's mine all right."

She tried to analyze what his odd tone meant but then leaned her head back against the head rest, suddenly drained.

A few hours later, Burke remained on a hard seat in the ER reception area. Ms. Turner sat beside him even though he'd tried to get her to go home. They were waiting for someone from county social services to take charge of Carrie for the night. The young girl, who fortunately hadn't suffered anything worse than bruised ribs and a battered face, was resting in an ER bed.

Burke's jaw hardened. During his years as a cop in Milwaukee, he'd seen all too many domestic abuse victims. Thinking of his sister and his failure to come to her and his nephew's aid stirred smoldering embers inside him. He was grateful that tonight Nick was safely in bed at Harlan's.

Ms. Turner sighed and shifted in her seat. Now that he had time, out, he studied her but only of the corner of his eye. . On his way to the meeting he'd never reached, he'd expected to be dealing with a middle-aged woman in orthopedic shoes. Instead, he was sitting beside a classy lady with long brown hair streaked with blonde and large hazel eyes.

Did she even realize how incongruous it was to him that she was a principal? She looked the ultra-professional type—with all that hair pulled up into a severe topknot and dressed in a white blouse, gray vest, and skirt. But tonight, he was caught up short—by the long elegant calves showing beneath her hem. How had such a young woman become the high school principal? He'd have to ask Rodd because she sure hadn't been forthcoming.

Beside him, Ms. Turner sighed softly again. The sound curled through him, sensitizing him to her, an unusual reaction for him. Maybe it was because she didn't fit his stereotype. More likely it was because of all the changes he'd survived this past month—moving, Nicky, everything. He glanced at her again. Another thing about her intrigued him: a small incongruous white scar at the corner of her lower lip. It lent an unexpected vulnerability to her calm, assured manner.

She stretched as though her back muscles were tight, revealing her fatigue. He was impressed by her genuine concern over one of her students. She didn't act like she was staying because she thought it wouldn't look right to leave. In Milwaukee, he couldn't remember any incident like this where a principal ever behaved as Ms. Turner had.

The principals he was used to dealing with were concerned more about liability and negative news coverage. Maybe this was more evidence of small town differences in action. Keely Turner was certainly showing herself as a caring principal. Fatigue made his neck ache. His new job was a world away from the MPD. Would he adjust to this or not?

The woman beside him tugged at his curiosity—against his will. To keep his gaze from straying to her again, Burke went over tonight's episode in his mind, making sure he'd tied up all the loose ends. On his way to the ER, he'd arranged for the sheriff to take Walachek into custody for the night. The man would be arraigned sometime tomorrow and be behind bars for a while.

He'd been putting it off, but he had to discourage Ms. Turner from getting herself in dangerous situations like the one with Walachek tonight. Might as well be now. "I've been meaning to ask you, Ms. Turner," he said, glancing at her, "why did the boys call their principal instead of their parents or the police?"

The woman beside him didn't hesitate. "When I was his teacher, Shane had some difficulties settling in when he was a freshman. That's when I gave him my cell phone number and that's probably why he called me." She gave him an even look. "I want you to know that I've never done anything like this before. And I promise you I won't again."

He studied her. Her pat answer revealed that she'd been anticipating this question. He hoped she'd keep her promise. "Good."

A county social worker bustled into the ER. Within minutes, she left, taking Carrie with her.

"Come on." Sloan stood and said, "I'll walk you to your car."

Without reply, she walked beside him out into the cooler August night. "You really don't need to walk me—"

He paused. "Ms. Turner, you've just been a target of someone pretty nasty. He should be in custody by now, but I'm going to follow you home just to be safe."

She gave him a guarded look. "All right."

Waving one hand behind her head to thank Sloan for his escort, Keely pushed the garage door opener on her dash and drove inside her family's four car garage. Trying to be quiet in the late hour, she made her way through the dim garage around her mother's white BMW, her dad's dark green SUV, and her brother's red Jeep Wrangler.

She opened the kitchen door and was greeted by angry voices from the front hall. She halted, suddenly wishing she had somewhere else to go tonight. Ever since spring when Grady had been sent home from his fourth prep school, life at Chez Turner had become increasingly volatile.

"Where have you been, Grady? You know you were supposed to head straight home after we'd finished at the target range," her father shouted, sprinkling his accusations liberally with curses. "Don't make me ask again."

Keely stayed where she was. She didn't want to get caught in the cross fire between her father and brother.

"Franklin, it's not that late."

Keely caught her mother's coaxing voice and cringed. Did the three of them realize that they were playing a scene from some 1950s melodrama—overbearing father enforcing will on rebel without a cause son over the interference from coddling mother? Keely thought about driving to a friend's house. But at half past midnight now, it was too late to bother anyone. She leaned her forehead against a kitchen cabinet.

The three voices rattled on, sticking to the same old boring script. Did they have to fight at the bottom of the only staircase to her suite? This could go on all night. I have to work tomorrow.

Making a sound of disgust, Keely headed into the battle zone. Without a word, she walked around the three of them—her tall ramrod straight father, her fashionably thin mother, and Grady—a younger version of their father but with his blond hair spiked in a bristling hairstyle. She mounted the stairs.

"Well, Keely!" her mother called after her. "You could say something—not just walk right past your parents—"

"Good night, Mother, Father, and Grady." She kept on climbing.

"Don't be flippant," her father barked.

"I'm tired and I wish you all a good night." She reached the second floor landing and looked out the huge arched window over the front door. She glimpsed Sloan walking away from the house to his vehicle. Had he come to the door? Why? Why hadn't he just driven away as she'd expected?

She paused and watched him drive away from the house into the darkness. Whatever his business had been, she didn't blame him for turning tail. She couldn't wait for the day she moved into her first home. Sweet independence.

Late the next afternoon at a cabin that he was thinking of renting, Burke hid his aggravation over Walachek under a noncommittal mask. The dapper, silver-haired owner named Bruno interrupted Burke's thoughts, showing a reluctant Nicky and him the utility room. In court today, how could the judge justify what he'd done? He and Rodd would just have trouble with Walachek again. The man was a trouble waiting to happen. It was just a matter of time.

Burke tried to bring his mind back to looking over the house. Until they found something to rent, his boss Rodd had arranged for Burke and Nicky to stay with Harlan Carey. But they couldn't board at Harlan's forever.

"Here's the water heater and propane furnace," Bruno said. " I usually heat with the wood in the fireplace. It saves money and I enjoy watching the fire. But you're both young and you'll be out on the job and at school, not sitting home by the fire."

Burke nodded.

"Well, I'm going out to the garage and pack some tools I want to move over to my bride's house. I'll let you get a feel for the place. You could move in the day of my wedding. In fact, I wish you would, so the place will be occupied." In his seventies, the man was going to marry a second time. Definitely braver than Burke. He wondered why a man would chance marriage after losing a wife. But Burke thanked him as he left. Then Burke looked over his shoulder. "So what do you think, Nicky?"

"I'm not Nicky. I haven't been Nicky for years," the teen replied with a surly edge.

"Sorry. I'll try to remember it's Nick." He didn't want to irritate his nephew. The years of Nick's growing up had gone so fast. His slip in calling Nick the childish nickname showed just how far he'd kept himself from his nephew in the recent past. "We would be renting it furnished—"

"It only has one bedroom." Nick glared at him—as usual.

The three-room cabin was just a large kitchen-sitting room, a bedroom, and a bath. "I was going to get myself a daybed for that wall in the living room." Burke pointed to the back wall. "You'd have the bedroom."

His nephew looked surprised. "How come?"

"Because you're at that age. You need privacy."

Nick snorted. "Yeah, right. This little house will be private all right."

Burke ignored Nick's sarcasm. The cabin with its log walls had a cozy feel and was spotless, scrubbed to within an inch of its life. "You're staying for the year with me so get used to it."

Nick lifted a shoulder to him. "I like it at Harlan's. He says he's been really lonely since his dog died this summer. He likes having us. Why can't we stay at his house?"

"Because we need to have a place of our own." That wasn't exactly accurate. Burke was the one who needed a place of his own.

After living alone for nearly five years, he couldn't get used to living in someone else's house with two other people. It made him jumpy—never being by himself. If he rented this place, then he'd only have to deal with Nick. Better odds."My crazy hours aren't good for Harlan. I know he waits up for me when I'm on night duty," Burke relented. "I know you'll have to give up using Harlan's truck and ride the bus to school—"

"No, I won't. He says I can use his truck."

The image of the battered red truck that Nick had driven here came to Burke's mind. "Why?"

"He's gotta have cataract surgery sometime soon. He can't drive until he recovers from that. He says I can use his pickup for school if I come over and cook him dinner when you're on evening duty, and I gotta take him to the clinic when he has an appointment and drive him to the grocery store. But I think we should stay with him. It's a bigger house." Nick glared at Burke, looking as though he expected a fight.

Something in Nicky's—Nick's—voice alerted Burke. Should they stay with Harlan? The only time Nick smiled or relaxed was when he talked with the older man. Burke recalled that Nick still got along with his grandfather in Milwaukee. Maybe he shouldn't uproot Nick a second time. "We can talk about this again later. We don't have to make a snap decision."

Nick's face showed his surprise at his uncle's accommodating reply. "You mean it? You're not just saying it?"

"I never 'just say' anything."

"Okay." Nick studied him.

"How's it going at school?" Burke ventured to ask. Trying to be a parent was akin to walking into an unfamiliar darkened room.

Nick shrugged. "There's a kid who thinks he owns the place. A real jerk."

"The kind you want to steer clear of?" Burke offered his advice in an offhand voice.

"Don't worry about that. He's related to some big shot in town. I'm not impressed. Hey, if we're done here, I'm heading into town then. I gotta get some more school supplies."

"Go ahead. Just remember we're expected at the sheriff's for supper tonight with Harlan."

Nick nodded and left.

Watching Nick drive away in Harlan's truck, Burke was grateful that Nick had taken a liking to Harlan. Maybe the older man would have better luck reaching Nick. Burke's conscience crimped painfully. Can I still make a difference with Nick?. Reconnecting with Nick was his job. The local pastor's Sunday sermon had reminded him of that.

Burke hadn't thought about attending church here. Not until Sheriff Rodd Durand, Burke's old friend who'd asked him to interview for the deputy sheriff position here, had invited him to go that first Sunday.

In Milwaukee, Burke had attended church infrequently, chalking it up to his crazy work schedule. But here, Nick's presence had made it necessary for him to change that. So Burke—with Nick in tow—had accepted Rodd's invitation to church.

And the sermon had been like a finger pointed straight into Burke's heart. The pastor had recounted the story of Cain and Abel, a story of a man who hadn't wanted any restraints from God or family.

Guilt stirred the embers in Burke's stomach. Cain's disrespectful question to God reared in his mind: "Am I my brother's keeper?" It echoed Burke's own previous excuses for not helping Nick. In the past two years, he'd failed his sister and Nick. Would Burke's attention now be too little, too late? Would Nick settle into the high school here? How would this all end?

6:34 p.m.

That evening, Keely walked from the high school to the busy LF Cafe and ordered a chefs salad to go. She didn't want to face going home. Her family drama had stepped up.

Complaining of frazzled nerves, her mother had this afternoon flown out of the small airport in the next county.  Her destination was her favorite California spa for a week's stay. At home, her father would be brooding about Grady, who'd been grounded tonight for staying out too late. Who could blame her from steering clear of home sweet home? Besides, she had enough paperwork to keep her busy all evening. For no reason at all, Burke Sloan's face came to mind—again.

Avoiding this, Keely tuned back into the present. The plump, middle-aged cashier bagged the salad and packets of dressing and handed over the sack and Keely's change. "I really appreciate all the extra work you do, like this—working late."