Keeping the Peace (34 page)

Cully was pulling on a harness. “Lower me down there,” he said, tossing the end of a rope to Jason.

John stepped forward. “You can’t do that, Cully. Not in that water with no protective gear. You know that. There’s a guy at the fire station who’s a diver. They’re on the way.”

Cully writhed and struggled with the harness.

“Cully, stop.”

The younger man looked at John and finally ceased his efforts. He took a deep breath. “Ken Fellows,” Cully said, still looking down into the water.

“What?” John asked.

“The diver’s Ken Fellows.”

“Hmm, okay,” John said.

He put his hand on Cully’s shoulder and turned him back toward the street. As they all turned, the ambulance came shrieking up the road and stopped at the junction of River Street and the damaged bridge. The diver, unrecognizable in his wetsuit, was already being lowered down the steep river bank by the time the group of police reached them. Caleb stepped up to John.

“Strand will be fine, John,” he said. “He’s dealing with a little bit of shock, but otherwise seems okay. I had him taken to the hospital to get checked out.”

John and Caleb stood side by side as the men on the road lowered a basket-like stretcher down into the ravine. The diver, steadied by ropes held by more men on top of the embankment, pulled the stretcher toward himself with one arm. Now they could see by the sporadic illumination of the several hand-held spotlights that the diver clutched a man with his other arm. With a great effort, the diver heaved the body onto the stretcher and waved. Slowly, both the stretcher and the diver were pulled up out of the river.

John and Caleb walked over to the diver as he peeled back the head covering of the wetsuit. The three of them looked in the direction of the ambulance. Inside, first responders were working on the man furiously. The drivers were closing the doors. The lights began to flash, the wailing of the siren split the frigid air, and the ambulance pulled away, headed for the hospital.

“What’ve we got?” Caleb asked the diver.

“I think we got a corpse,” he answered.

There was a clanking and grinding and the sound of a large laboring engine behind them. John turned around to see Larry Sample and his beast of a wrecker. The wrecker came to a tenuous stop and stood shuddering on the bank of the river. The door of the cab creaked open, and Larry jumped lightly to the ground. He was dressed in the same greasy hat and clothes he’d worn days ago when he hauled Melanie’s Jeep away. He sauntered over to the men, the ever-present tobacco wadded in his cheek.

“What’s going on?” he said to John.

“We were in pursuit of a suspect, and he screamed right through the barricade and into the river.”

“I gotta get inside,” said Ken. “Good to see you, Larry.”

Larry nodded as the diver left the group. “Dead?”

“We think so. Ambulance took him away.”

“Hmm. Think it was an accident or suicide?”

“I don’t know, Larry,” John said, shaking his head.

“Well, I’ll get the winch cranking and drag her out.” He spat reflectively over the bank and walked back to the truck.

“Chief?”

John looked up. “What is it, Cully?”

“Becky radioed in and said your whole family is stranded on the widow’s walk.”

John wiped his hand across his face, but he smiled. “Think you can get me a ladder, Caleb?”

Caleb smiled back. “Right away.”

John turned to Steve Bruno. “I’m going back to get my wife. Wrap things up here.”

The young officer nodded acknowledgment.

Chapter Twenty-Five

J
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OAD
and got back into his Suburban.

Caleb climbed into the passenger side. “I’ll ride up with you, John,” he said. “We’ll meet the guys up there.”

John nodded and turned the vehicle around, heading back into town. They could see the small fire truck as they approached. Two men were carrying a long ladder over the deep snow to the south side of the big brick building. John parked the police vehicle and left the lights flashing, and he and Caleb climbed out. They ran to catch up to the two men carrying the ladder—Cully and Strand. He wanted to ask the musician what was he doing here when he was supposed to be getting checked out at the hospital, but he didn’t care anymore. The four of them lifted the ladder into place.

“I’ll go up,” Cully said and was three rungs up before John could comment.

He watched as the young officer scaled the ladder and reached the top. Looking up, he saw the enormous sweep of the Milky Way. He could see the outlines of his family against the starry sky. The next thing he saw made his heart leap: Melanie was stepping over the railing and coming down the ladder.

“John,” she called before she had reached the bottom.

“I’m right here.” He held his arms up.

She turned on the ladder, two rungs from the bottom, and he caught her as she reached out to him. They held each other.

“The kids are okay?” he said in her ear.

“Yes, the kids are wonderful.” Her tears were hot on his neck, but her body shivered.

“You’re freezing,” he said, pulling off his jacket. Her teeth were chattering. He wrapped the jacket around her and held her close.

“So, the guy went into the river?” Peter asked.

John looked up and saw his two boys approaching. Beyond them, he could see Cully and Mia standing close together. Some dim realization raised itself in his mind, and his forehead furrowed, but he squelched the feeling immediately. Whatever it was, it would have to wait for another day.

“Peter,” he said and wrapped an arm around his youngest son. “Yes, he drove into the river. The diver thinks he’s dead. I’m going to have to go to the hospital and confirm it, but I’m going to get you all home first. Where’s Gabriel?”

“I don’t know,” Michael answered. “I kinda forgot about him. He was with Caleb. Do you know, Mom?”

“He was here, I thought, a minute ago.”

“I had sent him to the hospital,” remarked Caleb as he, Cully, and Mia joined the group. “I don’t think he went. He was here helping with the ladder a minute ago.”

“I’ll have to talk to him at some point,” John said. “Let’s just get home. Michael, leave your car here. We’ll get it tomorrow. Is everyone all right?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Mia said. “Everybody’s fine.”

On the way out of town, up the hill to their home, John’s family filled him in on the details of the rescue.

He shook his head and fought back tears of emotion. “You were all very brave, very brave,” he said, “and it’s hard for me to even think about any of you being in that kind of danger. Michael, you were driving. You didn’t do what I told you to do. You could have been killed. That person was certifiably insane. He wanted to kill someone and it could have been you.”

His three children were silent.

His wife said, “John, I—” and then was silent too.

John held up his hand. “It’s all right. It’s all right,” he said. “I’ve had to develop a certain resiliency with this job. Mostly, for me, as long as you’re all safe, it’s okay. And I am proud of the way you executed your plan, foolhardy as it was.”

“We got what we wanted,” Peter said sullenly.

“Yes, you did, Peter. The police department couldn’t have done a better job. We didn’t know what was going on, and you three got your mother out of harm’s way. That’s what’s important.”

When he dropped them all off at the house, he hugged each of them. He held his wife for a long time, then finally kissed her and let her go. “Go take a hot bath. I’m not sure when I’ll be home. I’ll have to go to the hospital and then try to catch up with Gabriel. I suspect he’ll be calling you. If you hear from him, let me know.” He kissed her again and watched her until she was inside the house.

At the hospital, John learned from the attending physician in the ER that Richard Seeley was, indeed, dead. He had a wound on his right hand from the explosion of the old revolver, but that had not been life threatening. He had drowned, probably already unconscious from where his head had struck the windshield on impact. John sighed. It was terrible to think of people being so desperate, so unable to communicate their distress, so unable to help themselves. Worse, he was saddened to think that he would have to tell old Bud Seeley, all alone up there on the hill. He could give the nasty job to Steve or one of the state police, but it wouldn’t be right. Because he was chief, and more importantly in a small town, because of the connection with Melanie, as remote as it might be, the job was his, as distasteful as it might be.

“Thank you,” John said, shaking the doctor’s hand on his way out.

“Don’t mention it,” said the doctor automatically. Then he added, “Things have been pretty busy, Chief. I hope they settle down for you now. Are you feeling okay yourself?”

“I hope they settle down, too,” John said, smiling wryly, and he walked out the door into the frigid night. He started the Suburban and headed for the inn. It was ten o’clock, but for some odd reason, he didn’t feel tired, even though he couldn’t remember when he had really last slept. He took a back street and drove past the police station. There was a light still on. He stopped and went in to see who was still there or, as he had to do quite frequently, to shut off the lights the last person to leave had left on.

Steve Bruno and Jason Patterson were pulling on their coats as he opened the door.

“Hey, Chief,” Jason said. “We thought you were still at the hospital. Becky just left. Me and Steve were locking up.”

“Thanks, but you should both be home. State dispatcher will keep an eye on things. Did Cully go home?”

“He went with Caleb to help him with the fire engine. I guess he’ll go home after that. Or sleep at the fire station.”

“Who’s on tomorrow?”

“I think I am,” Jason said.

“Why don’t you call in a couple of the auxiliary guys for the weekend. And you both stay home,” said John. “I don’t anticipate any uproar this weekend.”

“We didn’t anticipate the last three days, either,” Steve said, cramming his hat on.

“You’re right, there. I guess I should keep my mouth shut. Call the auxiliary anyway and go home. I’m going to the inn to speak to Strand, and then I’ve got to go up into the hills and tell old Bud Seeley his grandson is dead.”

“That’s rough,” Jason said.

John nodded, said good night, and took his leave.

The door to the inn was open. There was a dim light at the front desk, but no one was around. John could hear noises from the kitchen, so he went in. The chef and the kitchen crew were cleaning up after the dinner crowd. Bill Noyes was going over receipts at a little desk in the corner.

“Hey, John,” he addressed the chief. “What now?”

“I think everything’s pretty much blown itself out,” John said. “I need to talk to Strand.”

“Not here,” said Noyes.

“Really? Do you know where he went?” John would have put money on finding him at his own house, talking to Melanie.

“A limo came after him a while ago. Here, come with me. He left some stuff for you.”

John followed the innkeeper out to the front desk. Noyes went around back and shuffled through a pile of papers. He surfaced with a large manila envelope. “This is for you. He told me to make sure you got it before tomorrow.”

John took the envelope. “Anything else?”

“He told me to tell you he had to leave tonight. He couldn’t be away from the band any longer, what with the concert coming up tomorrow night. He said to say thanks to you and Melanie. He’s staying at the Hanover Inn if you need to talk to him.”

“Hmm,” John muttered. “Well, thanks, Bill. Good night.”

“Good night, John,” said the innkeeper cordially.

Chapter Twenty-Six

J
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EADED
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. He tossed the envelope on the seat beside him. He would look at it from within the comfort of his own kitchen. As he approached his house and swung the Suburban into the driveway, he could see all the lights on. Debbie Cohen’s car was there, as well as his in-laws’ pickup. The third vehicle he recognized as Tim Cully’s truck. He sighed, but he was grateful to have his family intact and healthy after the threat they faced.

“John.” Surprisingly, it was his mother-in-law who approached him first. She put her arms around him in a light embrace and brushed her cool cheek against his. “I’m glad you’re safe,” she said, releasing him.

John was amused. Catherine Dearborne had touched him only once before in all the time they had known each other. Immediately following Michael’s birth, as she gazed at her first grandchild, she had laid her hand on his arm and told him his son was beautiful. Well, he thought, every twenty years was better than not at all. “Thanks,” he said.