The House on Hancock Hill (4 page)

“Thanks,” I told him. My reflection in the passenger window looked pale under the bruises.

We passed a sign for the Portage Canal lift bridge and I said, “We should probably go to the sheriff first, if you don’t mind. They wanted to see me as soon as possible.”

“Jason, you’re in no state to sit in a police station for God knows how long.” He was right. The ride was killing my ribs, but I wanted this over with.

“I’ll be fine. Unless you don’t have the time. I can probably call them and have them come to me.”

Henry seemed to think that over. “I have time if you’re sure you’re up for it.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about me.” I could do plenty of that all by myself.

T
HE
H
OUGHTON
County Sheriff’s Office was across the Portage Canal lift bridge, and I wondered if it would be open after yesterday’s storm. I’d never spent a winter up here before, so I had no idea.

“Will we be able to go across?” I asked Henry. I thought I saw him look away a bit sheepishly when I turned my head. Maybe he’d been staring at my bruises.

“Sure.” The corners of his mouth turned down like he was trying not to laugh. “I forget you were only here during the summer. You were such a big part of my life.” A thick silence fell, and not only due to the lull in Morrissey’s crooning. His words made my heart thump painfully against my ribs. I was about to confess he’d been important to me too, something I probably shouldn’t say this soon after admitting I hadn’t recognized him, when he picked up the thread. “But yeah, the bridge is open. It’s lower than in summer because there’s no boat traffic. The upper section is for cars and the lower one for snowmobiles.”

“Nice.”

He nodded, opened his mouth to say something else, changed his mind, and closed it again.

“Morrissey fan, huh?” I asked. Awkward pauses kept falling like rocks in a pool in a way they never had when we were kids.

Henry grinned lazily. “My dad,” he said by way of explanation. I understood what he meant. Parents’ musical tastes tended to rub off on their kids like a genetic trait. In my case, it was Perry Como, to the great hilarity of Tom, my ex-boyfriend.

The sudden invasion of that name in my thoughts jolted me so badly, I visibly flinched.

“You okay?” Henry glanced at me, eyebrows drawn together.

“Yeah, I just twisted the wrong way.” What the hell? I hadn’t thought of Tom in years. I’d met him during my junior year in college, and we’d split up the day before my final in culinary school. After I’d found him riding a twink bareback. In our bed. How I’d still managed to graduate with honors was beyond me, and the six months of awful medical testing that followed were among the most unpleasant of my life.

I’d been crushed, but I’d focused on getting a job, on finding a place to live, on getting through the day one minute at a time until it hurt less and eventually not at all.

“I don’t remember you being this quiet.” Henry kept his eyes on the road but there was a wry smile lurking at the corner of his mouth.

“I’m sorry. I’m not the best company, am I?” I instantly felt guilty. “You’ve been doing me one favor after another, and all I’m doing in return is sitting here sulking.”

“You’ve got the right to sulk after the twenty-four hours you’ve had.”

“Do you know why we never came back, after that last summer?” I had no idea where the question came from, but it spilled out like it’d been living on the tip of my tongue for years. Henry jumped a little and looked at me.

“No,” he said, turning his gaze back to the road, eyes intent. His fingers tightened around the steering wheel until his knuckles were white, and I wondered if he was lying, but why would he?

“I don’t know either,” I said slowly. “Dad never told me.”

“Did you ask?”

Did I? I must’ve, but I couldn’t remember. Henry didn’t press when I gave him no answer.

We crossed the bridge, and I had my face practically pressed against the passenger window. The view was breathtaking. I’d seen it hundreds of times as a child, but this was a different country entirely. If I hadn’t known we were crossing a canal, I’d have thought it was just a flat, snowed-under stretch of fields. A perfectly white divide between Hancock and Houghton glistening like it was covered with diamond dust.

Less than a mile later, we arrived at the sheriff’s office, and I was glad to get out of the truck. My ribs ached, my face hurt, and my mind was spinning in strange directions. It had thrown me that I’d suddenly thought about Tom. Was it being back here? Did this place that had been such a part of my youth bring on an urge to reminisce? Henry locked the Avalanche and caught up with me, so I shrugged it off.

“If it takes forever, you don’t have to wait,” I told him. “I’m sure someone here can offer me a ride.”

The one-shouldered shrug he gave me was a bit too casual to match the look that followed it. “Do you know why they made you come all the way here?”

“No, they wouldn’t tell me over the phone, just that I’d better get here right away.”

“Hmm.” Being the small town it was, I wouldn’t have been surprised if Henry (and everyone else and their grandmothers) knew exactly why I had been dragged here. And if Henry knew my reason for being here now, was it so far-fetched to suspect he knew the reason why Dad and I never came back? It bothered me, but now was not the time to ask, nor did I want to offend Henry after he’d been so helpful.

We walked past a couple of parked cop cars, and I made a surprised noise at the two sheriff’s department snowmobiles. “They use these?”

“For patrolling the trails, sure,” Henry said easily, reaching past me to hold the door. Inside, behind a glass divide, sat a woman who did a double take when she noticed my face. She rose to her feet. “Are you all right?”

I smiled as reassuringly as I could, which wasn’t very, evidently. “I’m fine, thank you,” I told her. “I’m Jason Wood. The sheriff wanted to see me?”

“Ah, the Johnson farm case,” she said, nodding, and my eyes went painfully wide in alarm. What
case
? “I’ll let him know you’re here. Have a seat.” I headed for a set of benches, and she smiled shyly at Henry. “Dr. McCavanaugh.”

Henry smiled. “Hello, Colleen. How’s Zach?”

Colleen held the phone halfway to her ear. “Doing much better. His anal glands don’t bother him anymore at all.”

I smothered a laugh, and it hurt my nose quite a bit. Grinning, Henry sat down while Colleen informed the sheriff of our presence. “Anal glands?” I mouthed at Henry, making a face.

“Pomeranian,” he mouthed back. For some reason that made it even funnier, and I sniggered like I was twelve.

“He’ll be ready for you in five minutes,” Colleen called. Her eyes lingered on Henry, who was completely oblivious. From anyone else, I’d have suspected it to be an act, but it was pretty clear Henry had no idea how gorgeous he was. Stretched out on the bench beside me, legs crossed at the ankles, biceps bunching the fabric of his jacket as he folded his arms, he looked like he was posing for a photoshoot. But he just smiled a bit self-consciously when he caught me staring.

“I wonder how the farm managed to burn down in this weather.” I’d spent most of the night wondering about that, coming up with scenarios of how a house could go up in flames in the middle of winter.

“Hmm,” Henry said, noncommittally.

“I mean, it’s been empty for years, and you’ve had snow up here since, what? November? It’s just weird, that’s all.”

Henry had opened his mouth, eyes wary, when Colleen called over. “Mr. Wood? You can go through.”

Henry straightened. “Do you want me to wait here?”

I stood and looked down at him. His expression was grave. “No.” I hesitated. “I mean, you can wait if you prefer. It’s up to you.”

He searched my face and worry began to niggle at my gut. What was going on? “I’ll go with you.”

Colleen buzzed us through.

B
EHIND
THE
door was a row of offices with walls that were half glass. Through them, we could see a man in uniform wave us in as he talked to someone on the phone.

“I’ll call you later,” I heard the sheriff say. He made an exasperated face and tried to hide it by turning away. “Yes,” he said between his teeth, “I’ll be home for dinner.”

I hid my snort as the sheriff hung up, but Henry did no such thing. He reached across the desk as the sheriff stood and said, “Mrs. Curtis giving you trouble, Sheriff?”

Taking Henry’s hand in a firm grip, the man smiled wryly. “One too many late nights, you know how it is.” The sheriff cut his dark eyes in my direction. He was a handsome man with hair so black, I’d have guessed it came out of a bottle if not for a few distinguished gray streaks around his temple. He had impressive eyebrows and sharp cheekbones. I guessed he was in his late forties or early fifties, the type of guy you wanted to trust on sight: a useful quality in a sheriff, I was sure.

“This is Jason Wood.” Henry introduced us, and I wondered if he knew everyone around here. “Jason, this is Sheriff Ben Curtis.”

“Nice to meet you, sir,” I said, shaking his hand as he studied my face with expertise.

“Mr. Wood.” He indicated the two spare chairs opposite his desk and pressed an intercom button. “Ron, can you come to my office, please?” Releasing the button, he sat and looked at me. “I heard about the accident. Are you doing all right?”

“Thanks to Henry, yes. It could’ve been a lot worse.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Henry duck his head. The fabric of his coat made a soft rustling noise.

“It sure could’ve. I take it you know why you’re here?”

“I don’t, actually.” I was a bit surprised by the look he gave me. “But I’m getting the feeling it’s not just an accidental fire.”

“It’s not, no.”

A guy who was huffing slightly, as if he’d been jogging, joined us, and we were introduced to Deputy Ron with a damp handshake. Ron was a little soft around the middle, but in a way that made him approachable. He had kind eyes and sweat marks under his armpits. He was about a head shorter than me and at least five years younger. In fact, he looked too young to be a deputy already, but a small northern town like this probably didn’t attract a lot of interest from career-seeking cops.

“So the fire was deliberate,” Henry said. “Vandalism?”

“It’s possible,” Curtis said, leaning back in his chair. “But not probable.”

“Why’s that?” I asked, and a tense silence fell. Beside me, Henry shifted in his chair.

“Because we found a body in the ashes.”

My mouth dropped open, and my stomach swooped like I’d toppled off the edge of a roller coaster. “A
what
?”

“A deceased person.” Deputy Ron looked serious.

“Yes,” I managed. “I know what you meant, but… what? Who was it?”

“We sort of hoped you’d be able to tell us.”

“Excuse me?”

Voice gentle, Henry said, “They want you to identify the body, Jay.” Wow, no one had called me that since I was nineteen.

“Holy shit,” I said.

Henry gave me a rueful grin. “Language, buddy.”

“Funny,” I croaked, and then proceeded to jump about a foot when Henry put a hand on my shoulder.

“I’ll come with you.”

“Jesus, don’t you have anything better to do than help me out?” Henry visibly recoiled, and I squeezed my eyes shut, cradling my forehead carefully in the palm of my hand. “Sorry. God, I’m so sorry, I have no idea where that came from. You don’t have to go with me.” I pretended my voice was firm and my knees wouldn’t be knocking together if I were standing.

“I know,” Henry said. Something passed between him and the sheriff, which ended with Henry shaking his head. He squeezed my shoulder. “We don’t have to do it now; you’re only just out of the hospital.”

“I’ll make an appointment for the viewing,” Deputy Ron said. Bile bubbled up my throat. “We’d like it if you stayed available over the next couple of days, Mr. Wood.”

My heartbeat rang hollow in my ears, and my chest contracted painfully. “Am I a suspect?” I managed, but Curtis shook his head.

“Not likely, since the fire happened mere hours before we had to summon you here from Detroit.” Everyone rose to their feet and I followed, dazed.

Somehow, we ended up back in the pickup, although I had no idea if I’d said good-bye to anyone. Henry switched on the engine to warm the cab and turned to face me, left arm hooked over the wheel.

“You all right, Jay?”

“I…. Yeah. Listen, I really am sorry about—”

Henry made a cutting motion with his hand, shutting me up. “No, I’m serious. Are you okay? Because you don’t look well at all. Do you need to go back to the hospital?”

“I’ll be fine. I guess I’m in shock. Why didn’t they tell me this on the phone?
Fuck
.” I rubbed at the cramp in my chest.

“Maybe they thought you wouldn’t have come up, then.”

“They would’ve thought right.” Sighing, I gentled my tone. “Thanks for coming with me.” Something occurred to me. “You knew, didn’t you?”

“It’s a small town.” He spread his hands in apology. “Can’t keep much secret around here.”

“But how can they have no idea who it is?”

“No one’s missing,” Henry said. I blinked in surprise when he leaned into my space, but it was just to pull the seatbelt across. “How are your ribs?”

“Fine,” I told him automatically and he gave me a doubtful look.

“You keep rubbing your chest.”

“I have—” Snapping my mouth shut, I bit back the words. More than likely, Henry already thought I was in a delicate condition. No need to add to that image by blabbing about my anxiety. “I have asthma,” I finished lamely. His frown deepened, but his steady gaze went a long way toward calming me down.

“Do you need anything?”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had an attack,” I told him truthfully. “This is just stress, I guess. They gave me a new prescription in the hospital for my inhaler since the other one is probably on the floor of the rental car.”

“Oh, you mean—” Henry dug my inhaler out of his coat. At my surprised look, he colored a little pink. “I, uh, meant to give you this earlier but I forgot. After I came to see you last night, I went back to the car to make sure I hadn’t missed anything.”