The Alpine Uproar (39 page)

“Want to ride with the medics?” he said in a dour tone. “They haven’t left yet.”

“I’m fine,” I snapped.

“Hmmph.” Studying me from head to foot, he scratched his head. “You don’t look it. I’ve seen drowned rats in better shape.”

He was right, of course. My hair was bedraggled, my makeup was long gone, and my jacket had gotten dirty somewhere along the way. But his remark riled me. A snicker from Jack Mullins annoyed me even more. “It hasn’t been a good day.” I said grimly.

“No shit.” Milo turned away to stare out the window again.

Just as I was swallowing the second pill, Del Amundson called out from the living room. “All clear. We’re out of here.”

Julie was observing me with a slight frown. “You don’t seem like yourself, Emma. Can you drive?”

It was another question she’d probably asked hundreds of times at the tavern. “I’ll be okay,” I assured her. “Maybe I should sit for a few minutes until the meds kick in. I’ll go into the living room.”

I avoided the sofa where Norene had been lying. Instead, I sat in a well-worn recliner that I assumed was Bert’s usual place. I’d just gotten into what felt like the least uncomfortable position when the medics turned on the siren as they drove off. My irritation with Milo hadn’t ebbed. It struck me that ever since I’d heard about his plans to reconcile with Tricia he’d been treating me like cat dirt. Maybe he’d never really cared for me. I was a convenience, an occasional substitute for the real thing, a bench player who got into the game when the star athlete went down with an injury.

Jack Mullins snapped me back into reality. “Hey,” he said, standing next to the recliner, “I’m sorry for laughing about Boss Man’s big, bad mouth. He’s probably sorry, too. It’s just that he …”

Boss Man lurched into the room. “Saddle up,” he said to Jack. “I’ll take my car. We’ve got a hostage situation at First and Spruce.”

Jack looked dazed. “Hostage? Who? What?”

Milo had already reached the front door. “I’ll alert the rest of the troops. Get going. It’s at the trailer park, Space Fourteen. It belongs to Holly Gross and she’s got Vida Runkel.”

“H
OLY CRAP!”
J
ACK CRIED, GRABBING HIS JACKET OFF OF A
hat rack by the door. “What the hell is that all about?”

He hadn’t posed the question to me, and even if he had, I was too stunned to say anything. As Jack hurried off, Julie came into the living room. “What’s happening?” she asked, her composure finally wavering.

“I wish I knew,” I murmured. “I’m going to find out. Are you staying here or going back to the tavern?”

Julie made a face. “I’m not sure. Are you okay?”

“Not really,” I said, struggling to get out of the recliner.

“Wait.” Julie pulled a lever on the chair’s side. “I’ll get this thing more upright. Then I can help you stand.”

“Thanks.” I let her take both of my hands and carefully put me on my feet. “Ah,” I said, trying to judge the level of pain. “Thanks again.”

She shrugged. “No problem.”

“I’ve got to call the office,” I said. “Could you hand me my cell? It’s in my purse, but I’m afraid to bend down to reach it.”

It took Julie only a moment to find the phone. My fingers
were shaking along with the rest of me. After three abortive attempts, Kip answered. “What’s going on?” he asked. “I keep hearing sirens.”

“I’ll give you details later. Put the paper on hold. This sounds insane, but Vida’s being held hostage by Holly Gross at the trailer park, Bert Anderson’s missing, and his wife is in the ER.”

Kip didn’t respond for so long that I thought we’d been cut off—or he’d passed out. When he finally spoke, his voice was almost unrecognizable. “I can’t wrap my head around this.
Vida’s a hostage?”

“So it seems. I’ve got to go. Stand by.”

Julie was staring at me as if she thought I’d lost my mind. “Emma! What did you say about Mrs. Runkel?”

I shook my head. “Don’t ask,” I said, dialing Mitch’s number. His phone rang six times before switching over to voice mail. “Damnit,” I said, moving toward the door while trying to ignore the pain that hadn’t begun to ease yet. “I’m sorry, I have to go. Thanks for your help.”

But Julie wasn’t put off easily. “Wait!” she called after me as I limped down the front steps. “I’ll go with you.”

My first reaction was an emphatic
no
. But Julie was a nurse. Maybe it wasn’t a bad idea. “Okay,” I shouted back at her.

By the time I got settled behind the wheel, Julie had gathered up her jacket and purse, shut the front door, and slid into the passenger seat. “How’s Holly involved in all this?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I replied. “None of this makes sense.”
It’s a wonder I’m making sense
, I told myself.
I can’t get rattled, I have to stay focused, I can’t think about Vida being in danger
. Realizing I was driving too fast, I eased off on the gas pedal.
Keep talking, Emma. Change the subject
. “Tell me more about Bert and Norene. Did they fight a lot?”

“I don’t think so,” Julie answered after a pause. “Norene
complained about various health problems, but they were minor. I’d listen and give advice she probably didn’t follow.” She glanced at the ICT as we drove by. “Poor Spike. He’s on his own tonight unless he can find subs for Norene and me.” Julie sighed before continuing. “Norene isn’t a happy person, but she puts on a cheerful face for the customers.”

I winced as I made a sharp turn onto Icicle Creek Road. “Not happy? How come?”

“You know how some people enjoy their misery?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Norene is like that. I almost feel sorry for Bert.”

“Almost?” I gritted my teeth before making the turn onto Spruce.

“Bert’s a peculiar guy,” Julie said. “Their house is a dump. Yet he often tosses money around as if he were printing it in the backyard. He claims it’s from his rich aunt in Canada.”

“Maybe it is,” I said as we passed by the high school’s football and baseball fields. “Did you know Al De Muth was married?”

“You’re kidding.” Julie sounded incredulous. “Al always seemed so lonely. Or at least
alone
. Where is Mrs. De Muth?”

“Heading back to Colorado to bury the body,” I replied. “Did you ever run into a waitress named Liz who …”

I lost my train of thought as we crossed Fourth Street. My log cabin was a block and a half away on Fir. Ten minutes ago, I would’ve gladly gone home to collapse. But the shocking news about Vida had triggered an adrenaline rush. Surely she wasn’t really being held hostage. It was too outrageous, too inexplicable, too preposterous. There was no reason for her to get involved with Holly Gross. Despite my incredulity, I felt my heart pounding faster as we approached the trailer park.

Two patrol cars barred the way to the thirty-odd mobile
homes behind the tall wood fence. The third patrol car and Milo’s Grand Cherokee were pulled up in the driveway. Jack Mullins and Doe Jamison were putting up yellow crime scene tape. I pulled onto the verge, avoiding the ditch next to the property. The medic van arrived, stopping under the streetlight on the other side of Spruce. Rain was pelting the emergency vehicle’s roof like so many transparent pebbles.

“Sleet,” Julie said. “I can hear it on the roof of your car. What now?” she asked, leaning forward to peer through the curtain of rain.

I turned off the engine. “I’m calling my reporter,” I said, dialing his number. “If he doesn’t answer this time I’ll leave a message.” After six rings followed by voice mail, I told Mitch that his lead story about De Muth’s death might have slipped into second place. “This is no joke,” I emphasized. “And bring a camera.” I disconnected before turning to Julie. “Stay put. I’m going to see what’s happening.”

“I’ll come, too,” she said, unbuckling her seat belt.

“No. Please don’t.” I saw Del Amundson and the younger man he’d referred to as Tony get out of the van. “Maybe you’ll be needed by those two. Just wait.”

If Julie resented my officious attitude, it didn’t show. It fleetingly crossed my mind that she was enjoying herself. I, however, wasn’t. Jack and Doe had been joined by the medics. My walk was a bit unsteady, but the Demerol was finally working to ease the pain.

“Hey!” Jack called to me, “shouldn’t you be in the ER?”

“It’s probably filling up,” I responded, my beat-up shoes getting sucked into the mud by the ditch. “What’s going on?”

“We’re not sure,” Doe replied. “Somebody in the trailer next to Holly’s reported a commotion. Dwight went to check it out and saw Bert’s car parked outside. When he knocked, there
was no response except for Vida, shrieking her head off. Dwight phoned Holly, who told him to buzz off. She insisted everything was just fine. Dwight didn’t believe her. He could hear Vida in the background yelling ‘hostage.’”

“Incredible.” At least Vida was able to yell. “Is Bert in there, too?”

“We don’t know,” Jack answered. “Dodge is trying to find out.”

Del Amundson was huddled inside his red-and-white raingear. “All we need is a big wreck out on Highway 2. What a crappy night.”

“How’s Norene?” I asked.

“She’ll live,” Del said. “Dr. Sung’s seeing to her.”

“Did she say Bert beat her up?”

Del shrugged. “She’s incoherent, kept jabbering about barbecues or some damned thing.” He shook his head. “Poor Tony,” he said, gesturing at the other medic who was still standing near the van. “It’s his first week on the job. He’s from Sultan, got home a couple of months ago from medevac duty in Iraq. Maybe he figures it was quieter over there. Hey, Tony—meet the folks before the bullets start flying.”

There was no time for introductions. Although I couldn’t see Milo, I could hear him through a bullhorn. “You’ve got three minutes to come out of there, Holly. Otherwise we’re coming in. You decide.”

I edged away from the others, trying to get closer to the trailer park entrance. Jack grabbed my arm. “Don’t even think about it, Emma.”

“Where are they?” I asked, wiping rain out of my eyes. “I haven’t been here in ages.”

“Space Fourteen’s on the right, third down from the middle,” Jack replied. “You can only see the front end from here.”

“What about Vida? And Holly’s kids?”

“They’re all crammed in there like sardines as far as we can tell. Bert, too.” He apparently caught my agitated expression. “I don’t know what to tell you. It’s a mess. Oh, hell!” He looked beyond me to the street. I turned to see what had caught his attention. The headlights of at least two other vehicles shone through the rain. “Is that Fleetwood with his remote gear?”

“Yes,” I said, though I couldn’t resent Mr. Radio rushing to the scene. “The fire engine, too, but no sirens.”

“And the state patrol,” Doe announced. “It’s the snoopy citizens we don’t need. I’ll tell the troopers to get them out of here.”

Looking around, I realized that a handful of people were braving the rain to satisfy their curiosity. “Jeez,” Jack muttered, “why don’t those morons stay home and watch cop shows on TV? They’ll get more action and stay dry. This is …” His shoulders slumped. “I don’t know what the hell it is. A farce? Or … what?”

“You tell me,” Spencer Fleetwood said, somehow managing to look suave and sound mellow even with rain dancing off his expensive parka. “Hello, Emma. Mind if I talk to Jack?”

“Go ahead. I’m just here for the excitement.” I turned away. To my surprise, a state trooper was escorting someone who seemed to be in handcuffs. As the pair approached, I didn’t recognize the officer, but to my horror I realized that the other person was Vida’s grandson, Roger.

I hurried to reach them. “What’s going on?” I demanded.

The tall, craggy-faced trooper, whose name tag IDed him as Morrison, frowned at me. “Sorry, ma’am. You have to move along.”

I didn’t budge. “I know this young man,” I said. “I’m Emma
Lord, from the
Advocate
.” I paused to study Roger. He had his head down and seemed to be crying. “His grandmother works for me and she’s—”

“We know,” Morrison broke in. “Please step aside.”

I obeyed. Jack was being interviewed by Fleetwood, Doe and the other state patrolman were trying to disperse the growing numbers of spectators, and Julie had gotten out of my car to talk to the medics. No one was watching me. I crept along a good ten feet behind Morrison and Roger. The big beefy pain-in-the-butt was definitely handcuffed. I should’ve felt pity for Roger, but I didn’t. I was too worried about Vida.

“That’s it!” Milo shouted through the bullhorn. “Send the kids out. Now!”

“Damn,” I said under my breath. How could Holly allow her children to be part of such a volatile situation? I stopped as Morrison and Roger turned into what I assumed was Space Fourteen. I skulked on, keeping to the shadows. I could see the sheriff, Dwight Gould, Sam Heppner, Dustin Fong, and Bill Blatt. Only Milo turned to look at the newcomers.

“What’s this?” He paused. “Roger. I think I get it.”

The trailer door opened. Two small figures—one of them holding the toddler—scurried out. Bill and Dustin rushed to snatch up the trio. When Bill spotted his cousin, he stopped in his tracks. “You asshole!” he yelled at Roger. “I
knew
you were mixed up in this!”

Roger gave a muffled response but didn’t lift his head. I leaned back against the nearest trailer, hoping to stay undetected. As Bill and Dustin hurried away with Holly’s kids, I noticed that a few of the trailer residents were watching the drama from their doorways.

Milo was back on the bullhorn. “One of your customers is here.” He glanced at Roger. “Let Mrs. Runkel out.”

The door remained closed. The only sound I could hear was the rain, slapping away at the trailers and pummeling the ground. I shivered, not from cold so much as from nerves. Milo moved restlessly, but never seemed to take his eyes off the trailer door. I saw him tense, then raise the bullhorn again. “Stop fooling around! Come on. Do it!”

Nothing, just the rain and the dark and the tawdriness of it all. I wondered if Julie had taken charge of the children. I wondered what Vida was doing inside the trailer. I wondered when this nightmare would end and we could all go home and someday laugh about what had happened on this miserable October night.