Authors: K. C. Greenlief

Cold Hunter's Moon (15 page)

BOOK: Cold Hunter's Moon

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The meal was a relaxing time after three stressful days. They tried not to talk about bodies or murder. To make the evening almost perfect, the nursing supervisor at the hospital sent a nurse out to give Ann's IV antibiotic.

By nine-thirty everyone had switched to beer. Ann had taken a couple more pain pills and settled in to try and figure out the football game, which had everyone else on the edge of their seats. She fell asleep against John's shoulder with Sheba curled up in her lap and Duke squeezed into the sofa beside her. She awakened briefly about eleven when Lacey and Lark left.

THURSDAY EVENING

NOVEMBER 23âSWENSON

“What a great meal,” Lacey said, staring up at a midnight-blue sky full of stars and deeply inhaling the cold crisp air.

Lark walked silently beside her.

“No snow. What a great evening,” she said, glancing at him.

He smiled.

“Say something, dammit.”

“It was very enjoyable,” he replied, juggling the bags of leftovers John had given them. “I think you've had just a little too much to drink.” The group had polished off two bottles of wine with dinner and dessert.

“You're right.” She tried to control her smile. “I haven't had this much alcohol in years. It feels kind of good, kind of liberating, kind of like Christmas.” She trotted ahead of him.

“Be careful,” he called out.

Suddenly, she fell back in the snow. He ran to help her, trying to hold onto their leftovers, and found her laughing and making a snow angel. She stepped out of the angel and began brushing the snow from her coat.

“You scared the shit out of me when you fell down like that,” he said, watching her shake the snow out of the hood of her coat.

“Obviously,” she giggled, “you haven't had enough to drink, and I haven't made a snow angel in, um”âshe thought for a moment, sucking in a corner of her lower lipâ“twentyâfive years. You oughta try it. It might loosen you up.” She headed for the Jeep before he could speak.

Lacey hopped up in the seat and Lark gave her their packages. “This smells divine,” she said, burying her nose in the bag. “I need to have some more dressing when we get home.”

Lark groaned. “If I eat another thing my stomach will explode.”

“Suit yourself. You probably can't handle the calories at this point in your life.” She slammed her door shut.

He brushed snow off the windshield and tried to figure out what was going on. It hit him like a brick. She'd made two cracks about age. He realized she must have heard some of his conversation with Joel, probably the part about her being too young for him. If she'd heard that, she'd also heard the part about her not being his type. He groaned and decided to kill Grenfurth when he saw him. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and got in the Jeep.

“Everything OK? I thought maybe something happened, as long as it took you out there.”

“Everything's fine,” he said, starting the car.

“You know, I just can't get over how beautiful it is tonight. Maybe it's just the reprieve from the snow or”âshe giggledâ“maybe it's the wine.”

“Probably a little of both,” he said, not wanting to rock the boat.

He turned on the radio, hoping it would preclude conversation. They listened to a medley of Motown songs and drove home in companionable silence.

Lacey plopped the food down on the bench in the laundry room while she hung up her coat and took off her boots. Then she ferried the packages into the kitchen.

“I'm going upstairs and change clothes, sixteen hours is enough in these jeans,” she said, running upstairs as he walked in the kitchen.

Lark started to put the food away but the smell of the turkey changed his mind. He decided to change clothes, then have a snack. He threw on sweats and beat Lacey downstairs. He was dishing up plates of turkey and stuffing when she trotted onto the landing in emerald green
sweats. Her red hair haloed out around her head as it caught the light from the chandelier. She came into the kitchen and hoisted herself up on the counter.

“I know it's not scientifically possible, but I'm starved.” She flashed a radiant smile. “I think I'll have a beer if you've got any.”

He stopped dead in his tracks, blown away by her beauty. She stared at him, waiting for an answer. He told her to help herself and turned away to get their plates ready.

She jumped down off the counter. “Would it be too much trouble to have a fire? It was great last night,” she said, handing him a beer as she wandered past him into the family room.

“Sure, you finish the food and I'll get one started.” He went out on the deck to get wood.

She watched him stand under the roof overhang, trying not to get his socks wet as he pulled wood from the covered storage bin. When he came back in the house, he brought a gust of bitter cold wind and snowflakes with him.

“Jesus, it's cold out there. Would you believe it's snowing again?”

“You're shitting me,” she said, walking over to cup her face against the glass.

“This'll help,” he said, turning on the deck lights. Lacey looked out beyond his deck just in time to see three deer, stopped in their tracks, mesmerized by the spotlights.

“Lark, get over here,” she yelled, causing the deer to run like hell.

The tension in her voice caused him to drop the wood carrier.

“Shit,” she yelled as she lost sight of the deer.

“What? What the hell is it?” he shouted, sliding up beside her on the hardwood floor.

“You missed them, they ran off,” she said, staring out the door.

He flipped off the indoor and outdoor lights and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her away from the glass. “Who was out there?”

“Deer,” she said, pushing out of his arms and going back to look out the glass. “You missed them. There were three of them, two doe and a buck with a huge rack. Oh, look at your floor,” she said, seeing the firewood strewn all over. She knelt down and began picking up wood.

“This was all about deer?” he bellowed, staring down at her, his arms crossed. “You scared the shit out of me, I thought someone was out there.” He stomped over and began tossing wood on top of the carrier
lying open on the floor. She stooped down to help. “I'll get this,” he snapped. He looked over at her, his eyes flashing, and motioned her back to the kitchen.

“Fine,” she said, storming into the kitchen. “asshole,” she added under her breath, glad she'd overheard him tell Joel she wasn't her type. Funny, she was beginning to think he was just her type until she'd heard that.
Screw it
, she told herself.
Attractions come, attractions go
. Now she just wanted to get through this assignment and move on. She slammed their plates into the microwave.

She went to the doorway to ask him to let her know when the fire was set, but instead watched him kneeling down, intent on getting the fire going. He stood up and turned around, blowing out a long fireplace match. Behind him, she saw small wisps of fire licking up around the pile of logs. Lark saw her and started to say something, but she turned around and walked back into the kitchen, hitting the start button on the microwave with just a little more vigor than necessary. When she turned around he was leaning up against the bar, a sheepish grin on his face.

“I'm sorry I yelled at you like that,” he said, trying to catch her eye.

“Forget it.” She walked past him into the family room with their silverware. “No need to apologize. I overdid it when I saw the deer. They caught me off guard.” She walked back into the kitchen. “Care if we eat on the coffee table?”

“Not at all,” he said, unsure of her mood.

“Why don't you get the news tapes and we can watch them while we eat.”

Lark came downstairs just as she carried two aromatic plates of turkey and dressing into the family room. They ate with minimal conversation as they fast-forwarded through the news. Lark got up once to get them each another beer and exchange news tapes. Both stations reported that one of the bodies had been identified but the name was being withheld pending family notification. Lark turned off the VCR and the beginning credits for
Holiday Inn
rolled onto the screen.

“Oh my God, I haven't seen
Holiday Inn
in ages,” Lacey said. “It's one of my favorites.”

“Mine, too,” Lark said, smiling at her.

She snatched up her dishes. “I'll do these quick and go to bed and watch it.”

Lark took her hand as she leaned forward to pick up his plate. “Why don't you stay down here? This isn't a movie to watch alone and I'd like your company.”

She looked into his eyes, not saying a word.

“Look, I'm sorry I yelled at you. You scared the shit out of me. I thought someone was out there and I overreacted.”

“I accept your apology. Let's get this stuff in the kitchen while there's a commercial on. I don't want to miss any of the movie.”

They hurried into the kitchen. Lark rinsed and Lacey loaded the dishwasher. He grabbed a bottle of wine and a couple of glasses. She snagged the corkscrew and they hurried back into the family room just in time for the opening scene.

He sat down beside her. He poured their wine and stretched his arm over the back of the sofa behind her as they settled in to watch the movie. Thirty minutes later they were holding hands and leaning sleepily against each other.

Lark woke to that buzzing sound the television makes when all the programming is over. He needed a few seconds to grasp that it was his bladder, not the television, that had awakened him. It took him a while longer to realize that he and Lacey were twined around each other like pretzels. He tried to disengage himself but she hugged him closer. Freeing his left hand, he checked his watch, discovering that it was 3 A.M. Groaning, he told himself he was too old for this. He shook Lacey's shoulder, murmuring that it was time to go to bed.

“God, I'm beat,” she mumbled, snuggling into him.

“Lacey, let's go upstairs,” he said, shaking her a little harder.

She fluttered her eyes open and kissed him long and hard. “That was nice,” she said dreamily, struggling up from the sofa.

He turned out the light on the end table and stood up. A little woozy himself, he put his arm out to steady her. Before he knew it, he'd pulled her into his arms for another passionate kiss.

“Wow,” she said, leaning against him. “I can't imagine how much better you'd be at this if I was your type or the right age.”

“What?” he squawked, not believing his ears.

“You heard me,” Lacey said, pushing away from him.

“Shit, I had a feeling you overheard me,” he said as she slipped out of his arms. “Listen, let meâ”

Lacey held up her hand. “No explanation needed or for that matter,
wanted.” She stepped away. “I'll just take my thirty-six-year-old body upstairs for a little beauty rest. I've got to be prepared when someone more my age comes along.”

Lark grabbed her upper arms. “Let me explain.”

A thunderous blast went off, blowing out the French doors in the dining area. Glass fell like rain all around them. They dropped to the floor as a second gunshot went off, shattering the television.

“What the fuck,” Lark bellowed, pulling Lacey against him.

“Where's your gun?” she whispered.

“Hall closet, same as yours.” He crawled away from her as a third gun blast went off, ripping through another section of glass and showering the fireplace wall with pellets. A few seconds later, they heard the roar of a snowmobile.

Lark jumped to his feet and ran into the kitchen to look out the window. “He's going like a bat out of hell towards the road,” he yelled as he dialed the station.

Lark fired off a barrage of instructions to the dispatcher. Jim and Paul, doing an overtime night shift, showed up twelve minutes after they received the call. They didn't run into a single vehicle or snowmobile on their way over. Lark was already outside inspecting the area behind the deck where he suspected the shooter had been.

Like the shooting at the Ransons', they found a snowmobile trail leading out of the woods. The area where the shooter had been standing was trampled down with boot prints. They found cigarette butts but no shell casings.

Jim and Paul followed the snowmobile trail and Lark went back inside. Lacey, dressed in her winter coat and boots, was taking pictures while the other night crew collected evidence.

“Did you find anything?” she asked, finishing the evidence photos.

“Same as the Ransons',” he said.

“I called your dispatcher and asked her to get someone to board up this glass,” Lacey said as Lark picked a pottery shard out of the rubble. He told the officer sweeping up that he'd bag the debris. Mary Lou called, telling them that none of their usual glass repair contractors were available.

“Damn it,” Lark yelled, grabbing the receiver from Lacey and banging his fist on the counter so hard the telephone jumped. “We sure as shit can't stay here with this mess.”

“Maybe we can build a fire and dig in until morning,” Lacey said.

“Yeah, right.”

BOOK: Cold Hunter's Moon

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