Death Angel (40 page)

Reminded that she would be spending the
night in a marsh, she changed into jeans and a long sleeved blouse. It was
still hot, but the outfit would give her some protection against the bugs.

By the time she finished, she began to
view the place in a more favorable light. She’d camped enough with Richard to
feel undaunted by the lack of plumbing. Mike had set the cooler, a five-gallon
water jug, and the rest of the equipment on the long shelf. The Coleman lantern
was in the center of the table, warm light lending a bit of charm to the inside
of the cabin.

“The place looks downright homey,” she
said as she turned over the bedroom to him.

“I hope you’re hungry,” he said. “The
place we’re going has the best walleye in the area.”

She had just finished brushing her hair
when she heard Mike swear. He came through the doorway from the bedroom, a
puzzled expression on his face.

“I found this when I knocked your duffle
off the shelf,” he said, his eyes dropping to the unzipped leather gun case in
his hands. “Where the hell did you get this?”

“From Richard. It was his dad’s.” Kate
couldn’t believe she’d forgotten to take out the gun before they left. She
tried to appear nonchalant beneath Mike’s searching gaze. “I thought it might
be a good idea to do a little target shooting while I’m up here.”

“What for?” he said as he set the case
on the table.

“All right, I’ll admit it. I’ve been
scared ever since I found that candy in my purse. I thought I’d feel safer with
the gun.”

The cabin was silent as Mike digested
her words.

“I’ve never even seen a gun up close and
personal.”

He reached out, but before he could
touch it, Kate pulled the case across the table.

“Don’t, Mike. It’s loaded.” She knew he
was angry at her admonition, but she didn’t waver. “It’s not safe unless you
know what you’re doing. If you can find a place where we can shoot it, I’ll
show you how to use it. For now it’s better left alone.”

Folding over the leather flap, she zipped
up the case, and then set it on the shelf behind the cooler.

“Will it be safe enough here?” she
asked.

“Sure. We’ll lock the place, when we go
out.”

“I’m done dressing if you want to
change,” she said.

Kate caught the speculative look on
Mike’s face, but he went into the bedroom without comment. She was left alone
to contemplate her own stupidity. How could she have forgotten the gun?
Although he hadn’t challenged her, she knew the discussion of the gun was not
over.
     
 

When he returned, he opened the front
door for a quick check of the sky.
 

“It’s starting to cloud over. We better
close up the place before we leave. They’re predicting a storm, but we should
be back from dinner before it hits.”

The answering machine clicked on and Carl
swore, slamming the phone down. Judas H. Priest! Ten o’clock on a Friday night.
Where the hell is Kate at this hour? Reaching for a stick of gum, he wadded up
the foil and flicked it across his desk in the direction of the wastebasket.
After a cursory knock on the door, Bea put her head inside.

“There’s someone to see you,” she said.
“A Glen Sather.”

“Sather? Can’t place the name.” Carl
looked over her shoulder at the man standing in the waiting area. He shook his
head. “Never saw him before. What’s he want?”

“He wouldn’t say. He asked for you by
name. He said he had some information about the Warner case. When I suggested
he tell me, he said he preferred talking to you.”

“A kook?”

Bea chuckled. “It’s always possible, but
he didn’t drool or foam at the mouth.”

“Well, that’s a definite plus.” He gave
a long suffering sigh. “Send him in.”

Carl returned to his desk, opened his
leather notebook, and set a freshly sharpened pencil on top of the yellow pad.
He stood when the man entered.
 

Sather was in his late twenties, good
looking although his features were so perfect that his face had an artificial
look. He was dressed formally for this time of night, Carl thought. The rich
tones of his flowered tie softened the severity of the starched white shirt,
conservative navy suit, and the mirrored shine of his shoes. After a darting
glance around the office, he crossed the floor and shook Carl’s hand, his grip
loose, a mere brushing of palms.
 

“Evening, Mr. Sather.” Carl waved to a
chair. “I understand you wanted to talk to me about the Warner case.”
 

“Yes, I do.” He sat down and crossed his
legs, smoothing the material over his knee. “It’s late, but when I discovered
you were still here, I thought it best to see you. You’re the chief of police
so I wanted to speak directly to you.”

Noting the nervous gestures, Carl nodded
and leaned back, letting the man get comfortable with the surroundings.
 

“Now, Mr. Sather, was there something in
particular you wanted to discuss?”

“Call me Glen. Then it won’t seem so
official,” the man said. “I wanted to come in sooner, but Richard made me
promise that I wouldn’t. Since he’s been declared dead, I don’t feel bound
anymore. I have evidence that will prove that Richard Warner did not kill his
daughter.”

Carl felt a tingling across his shoulders
and up his neck. He’d felt all along that the only way Warner could be innocent
was if a vital detail was yet to be discovered. He held perfectly still,
convinced that the missing piece of the puzzle was about to drop into place.
 

“The day Jennifer Warner was killed,
Richard was with me in Rockford,” Sather said. “We spent the entire afternoon
together at Napp’s Motel.”

Twenty-six

T
he low rumble of thunder
growled closer.
Outside the restaurant, the wind had picked up and a flash of lightning lit up
the sky over the lake. The rain was falling in a light drizzle, but it was just
a matter of time before the storm broke.

“I hate to rush you after such a good
dinner, but I think we better get moving,” Mike said.

Kate nodded, teeth chattering from the
chill that invaded her body at the thought of the return trip to the cabin. She
took Mike’s hand and ran along the wooden planking to the boat.

He untied the boat, jumped aboard, and
pushed away from the dock. Once the motor caught, he eased the throttle back
and turned the boat into the wind.

“You may have to earn your keep.” He
spoke over his shoulder. “There’s a bailing can up in the bow. You may need it
if the storm hits.”

“So this is how you entertain a girl. No
wonder you’re still single.” She dug around under the anchor rope until she
found the can.

“That’s gratitude for you. You ate
enough fish tonight to last you all week,” he yelled above the sound of the
motor. “I’ll have to take on another patient just to cover the dinner
bill.”
 

Mike’s humor lessened some of Kate’s
apprehension. The lake was choppy. The boat bucked up and down in the
wind-driven waves. She clung to the sides of the boat, occasionally reaching up
to wipe rainwater out of her eyes.

“It’s not far now,” Mike shouted as he
pointed to the weed beds just visible on the far shore. “I think we can beat
the storm.”

As if on cue, the storm burst overhead.
Huge raindrops pelted the boat, sounding like pebbles falling on a metal roof.
Kate grabbed the bailing can, scooping the water over the side as it
accumulated in the bottom of the boat.
 

She worked steadily, only vaguely aware
of their progress along the shoreline. She stopped when she felt the boat turn
and recognized the straggle of weeds at the entrance to the marsh. As if to reward
them for finding their way back, the rain tapered off to a misting drizzle and
then stopped.

Inside the channel, the night fog
enclosed them in a gray-white world of blurred shapes. Kate had trouble
breathing in the heavy air and sighed in relief when they broke through into
the lagoon in front of the cabin.

The fog was less dense, dissipating
slightly in the open space. Mike’s expression, which had been tight with
concentration, lightened as he steered toward shore. He gunned the motor then
cut it off, running the boat up onto the mud beach.

The cabin, which had looked so
forbidding the first time Kate saw it, had all the familiarity of home. While
Mike pulled the motor out of the water, she stood up, wet clothes plastered to
her body, and climbed over the side of the boat.

Her shoes slipped on the soft bank.
Before she could grab hold of the side of the boat, her feet shot out from
under her, and she landed on her stomach in the mud.

“Are you all right?” Mike yelled.

He scrambled over the side and the
moment his feet touched the ground he too ended up in the mud.

“I’m fine,” Kate said. “How about you?”

She was propped up on her elbows and
grinned across at Mike. He tried to get to his feet but his shoes couldn’t find
a purchase and slid toward the edge of the lagoon. Laughing now, Kate reached
up to brush the hair out of her eyes, leaving a smear of mud across her
forehead.

Scooting backward, she slid down to the
edge of the water. Struggling upright, she waded out into the lagoon, ignoring
the sickening feeling as her feet sank into the mud.
 

When the water reached her waist, she
dove head first, coming up several yards from the boat where the water was
shoulder height. She stood on the bottom, rubbing her hands over her clothes to
get rid of the mud.
 

“Great idea,” Mike shouted. His voice
was loud in the otherwise silent lagoon.

For an instant, Kate flashed back to a
long ago summer when she and Richard had gone with Mike and his girlfriend of
the moment to the Indiana Dunes. They’d camped in the park and gone to the
beach for a picnic and a swim. When it got dark, they’d gone skinny-dipping,
the four of them frolicking in the water like young otters.

With one final dip, she headed for
shore, moving carefully so that the clinging mud didn’t suck off her shoes.
Mike splashed up behind her. He unlocked the door to the cabin, and she held a
flashlight with shaking hands while he lit the lantern. The small flame
expanded, spreading a warm glow of light around the room.
 

“Better get some dry things on,” Mike
said. “I’ll heat some water.”

Shoes squishing across the floor, she
hurried into the bedroom. She pulled bath towels out of her duffle. Hurrying to
the end of the bed, she peeled off her wet clothes, leaving them in a pile on
the floor. She stood up, jumping when the cold angel charm slapped against her
skin. Her fingers touched it for reassurance. She was lucky she hadn’t lost it
in the water.
 

She toweled her hair with shaking
fingers then rubbed the terry cloth roughly over her body to increase her
circulation. Once she’d wiped the mud from between her toes, she felt clean.
Naked, she pulled on a fleece sweat suit, grateful for its comforting warmth.

“Water’s ready,” Mike called and she
padded barefoot back to the main room.

He finished pouring hot water into two
mugs on the table and flipped her a tea bag. She dunked it, warming her hands
on the mug as she raised it. She took a sip, sighing as the warm liquid found
its way to her stomach. Over the rim, she smiled her gratitude at Mike.

He added instant coffee to his mug,
stirring it only minimally before he raised it to his lips. He took several
quick sips. Setting it on the table, he pulled a bottle of brandy off the shelf
and splashed some into his mug. He held it out to her, but she shook her head.
The brandy must have cooled the coffee because he was able to finish it in
several long swallows. He poured more water into the cup, adding the coffee and
brandy together this time.

“You’d better change or you’ll need a
doctor,” she said.
    

“I’m okay. The coffee’s helping.” He
eyed her in the glow of the lantern. “You look bushed. Why don’t you pile into
bed? I’m going to sit up for a bit.”

“Are you sure you don’t mind? I really
am tired.”

“Go ahead. I’m too keyed up to go to
bed. I’m going to have another coffee and read a medical journal. That’ll put
me to sleep for sure.”

“It was a fun evening. Thanks for
getting us back safe and sound.”

With a final sip of her tea, she set the
mug on the table and returned to the bedroom. She climbed into her sleeping
bag, pulling the edges up around her neck. After being so hot during the day,
she couldn’t believe how cold she was. The hot tea was a center of warmth in
her stomach, and she curled her body into a tight ball.

When Mike came into the bedroom, she was
practically asleep. Nestled under the covers, she heard him change clothes and
was surprised when he returned to the main room. The clink of glass against mug
suggested he was having another brandy and coffee.