Misty Lake: Book One in the Misty Lake Series (12 page)

Jake returned with the knife, safely encased inside a plastic evidence bag, and held it out for Sam. She didn’t take it but inched closer to get a better view. It was silver, the blade anyway, the handle black. The blade was extended but looked like it would fit into the handle. “Is this a switchblade?” Sam asked, not exactly sure what a switchblade even was.

“That’s one name for it. And it’s illegal in Minnesota. Could it be what you saw?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t know. I told you, I didn’t see much more than a flash of something silver. It was small, could have been a knife but I’d have said it could have been a phone, too, if I hadn’t seen Zach’s phone a dozen times before and known he has a green case on it. I’m sorry I can’t be more help.”

“It’s okay, it was a long shot.”             

The conversation stalled and Marc cleared his throat. “If there’s nothing more here, Sheriff, maybe I’ll head back?”

“Sure, Marc. Take this stuff back to the office and lock it up until we can ship it out on Monday then take off. You’re already pulling overtime tonight.”

“Thanks, Boss. Ms. Taylor,” he tipped his hat at Sam as he grabbed the gear and made his way back out into the rain, a little spring in his step if Sam wasn’t mistaken.

She was smiling when she turned to Jake. “Nice kid. He’s in love, you know.”

“In love?” Perplexed, he looked at Sam. “Who? You mean Marc?”

“Yes, I mean Marc. He has a date with his girlfriend Sarah tonight so he was anxious to get out of here. They’ve been dating for five years and from the impression I got, he’s head-over-heels in love with her.”

“And you learned all that when?”

“Just a minute ago when you were digging the knife out of your case over there.” She waved toward the door while Jake continued to stare at her.

“He told you all that in the two minutes it took me to get the knife?”

“It doesn’t take long to learn about someone. Don’t you ever ask him about his life outside of work?”

“Sure. I know he likes to fish, both in the summer and in the winter. Puts a fish house out on the lake every winter as soon as the ice is thick enough. He may have mentioned a girl going fishing with him…” He scratched his head trying to remember if he had ever asked about a girlfriend and decided probably not. That was personal, not like talking fishing or baseball.

“Oh, Jake.” She shook her head and chuckled. “Have a sandwich. Those burgers are going to have to wait for another day.”

After they had eaten, cleaned up, and agreed to stop discussing police business for the evening, they sat in the living room and watched the storm rage. Lighting crackled in the inky sky and thunder shook the house. Rigi paced nervously, returning frequently to Sam for a reassuring pat.

Jake loved this, sitting in the dark, watching the storm with Sam snuggled next to him on the sofa. He imagined them doing the same when the leaves changed to crimson and gold, when the snow fell, when the ice turned black before it melted into spring. He caught himself.  Since when did he think about being with a woman and imagine just sitting on the sofa? He wasn’t quite sure what it was about Sam that made him think of those things, of doing the everyday things together, but it seemed natural. To get his mind away from bizarre domestic fantasies, he asked, “Was today really the first time you’ve been on, or in, the lake since you moved here?”

“Yes, I guess I just didn’t want to face it and all the memories. I need to get past it, it’s just taking some time.”

“Did you learn to swim here? Looked to me like you could have kept going clear across the lake this afternoon.”

Sam smiled at that, recalling her embarrassment and the fact that the thought had crossed her mind. “Learned to swim and learned to love it here. My older cousins didn’t know what hit them the year I outswam all of them. It was fun having something I was the best at, we were pretty competitive.”

“I get that. Growing up with three brothers, and a feisty little sister, more or less everything we did was a contest. I don’t think any of us could ever come close to keeping up with you in the water, though.”

“I guess I was fast, once. Now it’s more for exercise. My days of competing are long behind me.”

“Tell me about it. Where did you compete?”

“You don’t really want to hear my boring stories,” but she continued when he nodded his encouragement. “I started swimming competitively when I was about eleven, I guess. Age group stuff with the local swim club. I swam all through high school, went to state, got a couple medals, then went down to Florida at my grandfather’s insistence and swam one year in college. That’s about it.”

“Why just one year?”

She sighed. “I didn’t want to go…didn’t want to go to college or be away from home. I told my grandfather I would make a living doing woodworking. He wouldn’t hear of it. I was offered a scholarship to swim in Florida, he insisted I go, give it a try. It was a long, miserable year for me. I didn’t swim well, mostly because I didn’t want to be there, and I needed to be home with my grandfather and my brother.”

Jake noticed the sadness creep back into her voice when she spoke of her brother and grandfather and gave her hand a squeeze. “When you came home after the first year did you start a woodworking business?” He was curious about her past, the good and the bad.

“No, not right away. My grandfather and I argued fiercely about school. He felt so strongly I should have an education that I finally gave in. We compromised on a technical school that offered classes in woodworking, among other things, along with business classes. It ended up being a good thing. I even told my grandfather so…after about five years.” She laughed at the memory. “I couldn’t let him know too soon that he had been right.”

It didn’t take much imagination to picture Sam ten years younger and fighting with her grandfather about her future. If she was half as stubborn and determined as she was now, her grandfather must have been a hell of a man to have won the argument.

“How about you, Mr. Sheriff? How’d you end up doing what you’re doing?”

“I guess I always wanted to do what my dad did. I watched him go to work every day dressed in his uniform, carrying a gun, and I thought he was so cool. Pretty heady stuff for a kid. What I didn’t see was the worry my mom dealt with on a daily basis. Looking back, I can see that she did a good job of hiding it from us. Being the wife, or mother, of a cop isn’t easy. I didn’t learn that until I told her I wanted to go to school for a degree in law enforcement. It took me, with a lot of help from my dad, weeks to convince her it wasn’t the dumbest idea I had ever come up with.”

She sat up straighter and looked at him. “I didn’t know your dad was the sheriff before you. How didn’t I know that? It seems like everyone I talk to is more than anxious to share town lore and gossip.”

He nodded at her assessment of the town’s residents. Pretty accurate, he figured. “It’s no secret, I’m not sure why it hasn’t come up until now. My father retired about three years ago, I ran for sheriff and was elected. My brothers would tell you the only reason I won was that half the people who voted saw the name McCabe and assumed they were voting for my father again. I suppose there could be something to that, not that I’d ever admit it to them.”

Sam laughed as she considered this new information. She wasn’t sure why, but the fact that Jake followed in his father’s footsteps made her look at him a little differently. She had always viewed cops as distant, tough, if not harsh, cold, and unemotional. They would have to be in order to do their job. Even without having met his father, she felt certain he wasn’t like that. It would take loving parents to raise a big family with children like Jake…and Joe. And a child didn’t want to be like his father unless he admired his father.

“What are you thinking so hard about?” Jake asked, taking in her furrowed brow and slightly narrowed eyes.

“Nothing,” she lied. Then, before he could ask any more questions, “Did you work with your dad before he retired?”

“I worked as a cop for a couple years in the Twin Cities after I got through school then came back up here and, yeah, worked as a deputy for my dad. I learned a lot from him in a few years. Things are different here than in the Cities, a slower way of life, but people still do stupid and dangerous things. My dad taught me how to separate the stupid but harmless from the stupid and not so harmless.”

She nodded and leaned her head on his shoulder, gazing back out the window at the lake, lit up with frequent flashes of lightning. She was starting to see him, and maybe all cops, in a little different light. She had always respected police officers, realized their job was a difficult, dangerous, and often thankless one, but had had some negative experiences that weren’t so easy to put behind her. It was easier to think of them not as fathers, mothers, sons, and daughters but rather as autonomous, even faceless, individuals. Not fair, she decided.

She turned her head, looked into Jake’s dark eyes, barely visible in the dark of the storm, and made a quick decision. She was lonely, had been for a long time, and the companionship of a man, a good man, didn’t seem like such a bad idea any more. Nothing serious, she told herself, she’d see to that, but maybe a date here and there, someone to spend a warm day on the lake or a stormy evening with, someone to talk to, surely there wasn’t any harm in that. Keeping her eyes on his, she slowly leaned her head down and pressed her lips to his.

The fact that this was the first time Sam had initiated any sort of physical contact other than the simplest hand holding was not lost on Jake as he put his arms around her, ran one hand up her back and into her long, thick hair. The kiss deepened and Jake fought for control as he fisted his hand in her hair and gently pulled. His lips traced a line down her neck and he felt her tremble under his hands.

The lightning and thunder had nothing on the feelings pounding through her, Sam thought, as Jake trailed kisses down her neck, onto her shoulder. A soft moan escaped her lips as his hand found its way under her shirt and caressed her back. She shifted her weight to mold herself more tightly to Jake when all at once the room lit up in a flash, thunder cracked so loudly the pictures on the wall shook, and Rigi propelled herself from the floor onto the couch landing right on top of Sam. Whining and panting, the dog wedged her way between Sam and Jake and buried her head in Sam’s lap.

Sam couldn’t help herself, she started laughing. Jake’s expression went from shocked to frustrated to annoyed in a matter of seconds. He let his head fall back onto the pillow and blew out a deep breath before looking at her and shrugging. Still laughing, Sam settled the dog between them and stroked her silky fur until she calmed. Together, the three watched the storm run its course until, at some point, all three relaxed enough to fall asleep.

He sat in the car, far enough around the curve in the road that he couldn’t be seen from the house. He tipped the bottle to his lips again, and fumed. He’d seen the kid from the sheriff’s office show up, knew they were heading back out to the woods. Damn, he should have realized before today that he’d left the t-shirt and knife behind.  But when that stupid mutt had come charging into the woods when he had been there with the raccoons, his only choice had been to run. He figured he was lucky it had been late and the woman had called the dog back inside quickly or he may have had to act sooner than planned.

No more mistakes, he promised himself. He’d be more careful. Besides, what could they learn from the knife and an old t-shirt? He had worn gloves, there’d be no fingerprints. He was smarter than they were, he knew that. Idiot backwoods cops, he’d outsmart all of them. Just like he had outsmarted the big city cops. His confidence buoyed as the bottle emptied.

10

Sam let herself sleep in a little on Sunday morning. She wasn’t sure who had stirred first last night, although she knew it wasn’t the dog. Sometime around one o’clock Sam had realized she could no longer feel her leg below the point where Rigi had decided she needed to lie. She squirmed to free herself and had discovered Jake looking at her in the dark. The night had cleared and the moonlight lit his face enough for her to make out the sharp angles and sleepy eyes. Once they untangled themselves from the dog, Jake had decided he had better head home. It had been a good night and Sam smiled remembering the long, slow kiss on the dock and the brief, but passionate one, on the sofa.

It was the in between that had her frowning, climbing out of bed, and wincing as her sore muscles reminded her of the terrifying tube ride. The discovery in the woods concerned her, more than she had let on the night before. Easier to act angry than have Jake worrying she was going to collapse into a helpless heap. She hoped he had some answers soon as the uncertainty was starting to take its toll.

The morning was clear, all traces of the previous night’s storm gone, and as she made her way to the shop she couldn’t help but pause to take in the fresh, clean smell and the sounds of the birds chirping happily in the trees. The temperature had dropped considerably and the oppressive humidity had vanished along with the storm. The lake shone a brilliant blue again, a far cry from the dark grey churning monster of the night before. Sam unlocked the door to the shop and couldn’t stop the sigh when she took in the chaos…much more orderly chaos than a couple of days ago, but chaos nonetheless. Well, no point in crying over spilt milk, as her grandfather used to say. She pushed up her sleeves and got to work.

She spent a couple of hours repairing and rebuilding parts of the kids’ projects. After discussing it with Jake, she had reluctantly agreed not to try to hide the vandalism from them, rather tell them straight out what had happened and watch for reactions. She still didn’t like it, it seemed like setting them up, but he had convinced her that finding out who was responsible was the main priority right now. She was going to do some repairs to their projects but decided to leave some of the work for the kids themselves. A good lesson, she figured, as there was always something that needed fixing and knowing how to do it was not only satisfying, it was just plain smart.

She hammered, sawed, sanded, and glued, working not only on the repair work for her class, but also further repairing her workbenches and cabinets. Tired and ready for a lunch break, she muttered an oath as the last bolt she needed to reattach the vise to the workbench slipped out of her hand and rolled out of sight. Sighing heavily, she got down on her knees to locate the errant bolt. Out of reach, of course. She crawled under the bench, stretched, and got it with her fingertips. Pulling back, her head brushed the underside of the bench and something rustled. Paper, probably a receipt or warranty document, she figured. Feeling her way above her head, she ripped the paper loose, stole a glance, and froze.

She recognized the writing immediately, she had seen it her whole life. And her grandfather had always called her Samantha, never Sam. Her hand shook and she sat where she was, still half under the bench. How long she looked at the envelope, she would never recall. A thousand thoughts flashed through her mind and nearly as many emotions. She wanted to tear it up, almost did, but deep down knew she wouldn’t, couldn’t. It had to be her ‘letter,’ the one she had wanted so badly eight months ago.

Why here? Why hide it from her? The answers were inside, she guessed, but wasn’t sure she was ready for them.  She finally crawled out from under the bench, shoved the envelope in her pocket, and headed for the house.

Sam made herself a sandwich, sorted her mail, tidied the kitchen, and brushed Rigi. And gave the letter a wide berth. Sure she glanced at it when she passed the table, who wouldn’t? And she may have picked it up and held it up to the light when she was wiping down the table but it had to be moved in order to clean and it wasn’t her fault the sun was shining so brightly through the kitchen window. But, she didn’t open it. Eventually she went back to the shop and worked, hard, trying to put it out of her mind.

Later that evening after she had finished everything in the shop she wanted to get done before morning, played in the yard with Rigi, showered, and fixed herself some dinner, Sam found herself unable to relax. The movie she tried watching held her interest for all of fifteen minutes before she turned it off. The numbers in her checkbook may have as well been hieroglyphics for as much sense as they made when she attempted to pay bills and balance her accounts. She thought about going for a swim since yesterday had made her realize how much she missed the water and since swimming was always a guaranteed way to zap her stress, but it was getting dark. She considered calling her cousin, Susan. They hadn’t talked in a couple weeks and Sam missed her. But Susan would tell her to open the envelope and get it over with and Sam didn’t know if she could face it alone.

That was it, really. She didn’t want to be alone when she read whatever it was her grandfather had to say. It hit her like a brick to realize how alone she really was. And how much she missed her girlfriends. She hadn’t let herself think about them much, rationalizing that there wasn’t anything she could do about it with all of them in Chicago and she here in the middle of the woods in Minnesota. Sure, they talked on the phone occasionally but she missed the face to face…the girl talk, the laughs, and the unwavering support. They had been there for her when she lost her brother and then her grandfather.  Even when she had been despondent, distant, and sometimes downright mean, her girls got her through. They would get her through this, too, she knew, if they could.

Tina would joke and make light of the situation even when Sam knew, deep down, her heart would be breaking to see Sam hurting. Jess would make pro and con lists, analyzing the situation to death until Sam couldn’t stand it any more and tore the envelope open. And Carrie would hold her hand and support her no matter what her decision. Yes, she missed them.

The decision to keep to herself and avoid any and all personal relationships in Misty Lake seemed less sensible now than it had a few months ago. She had lost so much, all those closest to her. Everyone she had loved the most had been taken from her. If she was being completely honest with herself, leaving her girlfriends, her cousins, her aunt and uncle behind hadn’t really been that hard. She loved them all dearly and realized now that putting some distance between herself and those she cared most about was her way of protecting herself from more hurt. The easy way out, really. If she didn’t care so deeply, it wouldn’t hurt so deeply if—no, when—something happened to another one of them.

As she looked again at the letter, she admitted that maybe she had been wrong. Not having anyone in her life meant facing everything, including this, alone. Was that what she wanted? Is that what her parents, her brother, her grandfather would have wanted for her? No, she was sure of that.

Except for hanging out with Jake a couple of times, she hadn’t spent time with anyone since arriving in town. It was time to move forward with her life, deep down she knew it. Sam furrowed her brow, tapped her nails nervously on the counter, and considered. Could she do it? Could she open herself up again and risk heartache? She poured herself a glass of wine and settled into her favorite chair to think things through, almost pleased to have a problem to chew on so as to forget the letter for a while.

So, how did one even go about making friends? What in theory seemed like something simple, in reality seemed daunting. People made friends at work but she wasn’t working someplace where that was a possibility. She didn’t have any relatives in town to invite her over, introduce her to people. She supposed she could ask Kathleen, the woman really did seem to know everyone in town, but even thinking about it made her laugh to herself. What was she making her out to be? Some kind of girlfriend matchmaker?

Karen, Jake’s sister-in-law, had been friendly, nice. They were about the same age, Sam figured, probably had other things in common. It was a possibility. She had worked with Lynn at First National Bank when she first came to Misty Lake and needed to set up both personal and business accounts. Lynn had been pleasant and talkative, had even asked Sam if she wanted to join her at her monthly Bunco game, but Sam had declined. She wasn’t sure what Bunco was but figured it would have involved socializing which, at the time, was out of the question. She should go back to church, another thing she had avoided since her grandfather’s death. People at church were usually friendly, maybe she could stay for coffee and mingle a little, she’d meet people that way. She promised herself she’d think about it. What else? She knew Jake had a sister…

Then it hit her. She did have one friend—Jake. Granted, not a girlfriend, but someone who had already proven he would listen, offer support if needed. Could she call him? Was it too late? Would he make more of it than she intended? She paced and looked at the clock. Picked up her cell phone then set it down. Talked to Rigi, asked her opinion, and was rewarded with a loud snore. Finally, she picked up the phone again and, this time, dialed. The letter was making her crazy, she reasoned, as evidenced by the last hour spent dreaming up ways to make friends and then talking to her dog and actually expecting a response. Phase one of her ‘Sam Makes Some Friends’ campaign would start now.