Conard County Witness Page 4

  “Maybe so.” He glanced her way. “And you. Losing your parents in the Bermuda Triangle.”

  A laugh escaped her. “It was a long time ago, Jess. But it sounds like the punch line to a joke, doesn’t it?”

  “You ever wonder?”

  “Constantly. It’s not easy to accept that I’ll never know what happened. I console myself with the fact that they were doing what they loved. My dad should have been born with webbed feet. Or born in the days of sailing ships. He and mom were fortunate to have enough money to pursue their dreams. It’s odd, though.”

  “What?”

  “That sail to Bermuda was something they’d done so many times. I was more worried about their plan to sail around the entire globe the next year. Never occurred to me that something they’d done so often would be what killed them.”

  “Like driving a car.”

  “Exactly. When somebody runs to the store, you never imagine they won’t come back.” She shrugged. “They sailed to the Bahamas several times a year and I thought of it the same way as you would running across town to pick something up. Or they sailed into the South Caribbean. It was hard to keep them on dry land.”

  “Then I went into the Navy and hardly ever saw water.” He spoke with humor, eliciting another laugh from her. “Do you like sailing, too?”

  She answered melodramatically. “I get seasick.”

  He laughed. “Motion sickness patches?”

  “They only work for me if it’s calm. Pitch me around a bit and it’s not pretty.”

  He fell silent while she looked around as they drove through residential streets. People had built close together for the most part, probably for mutual support, because there sure wasn’t a lack of land surrounding the town.

  Then they hit a street that was wider than the rest, lined with large, gracious houses and tall trees that were probably breathtaking in the spring and summer. Some people around here at one time or another had done very well.

  Next came the town center and she was surprised. It didn’t look Western, but rather like many old small towns she had seen in the east, with a central courthouse square, the requisite soldier statue out front, and a pretty park surrounding it with paths and stone benches and tables. Inviting. Storefronts surrounded the entire square, but before she could identify more than the one labeled “Sheriff’s Office,” they turned a corner.

  Now she knew where she was. She recognized the bus stop down the street, but Jess pulled them into a space in front of the City Diner.

  “Everyone refers to this by the owner’s name, Maude. So you won’t get confused if someone refers to Maude’s diner. The woman is a bear, she seems perpetually in a bad mood, and her daughters take after her both in appearance and manner. Just ignore it. It’s local color.”

  “Gotcha. Why are we stopping?”

  “Because you need more than toast for breakfast and so do I. I’m up for steak and eggs right now. Then we can wander around a bit and hit Freitag’s for that parka.”

  Lacy wasn’t in any particular rush to get a parka—until she stepped out of the car and the wind hit her. It zipped down the street like a demon on a mission, slicing through her coat like a knife. Her eyes watered and she gasped. “When did it turn so cold?” It hadn’t been this cold when they left the house, surely.

  “In the last ten minutes,” he answered, taking her arm and drawing her to the diner’s door. “Ever heard of a clipper?”

  “Which kind?”

  “Weather. Bet we’re getting one. Sudden influx of Arctic air. It can move in fast.”

  “I need an igloo,” she retorted as he opened the door.

  Inside she saw a spotlessly clean, if tattered, area of tables and booths, along with a counter and stools. Delicious aromas issued from the kitchen, and the place was half-full. They found a booth by the window unoccupied, but as soon as they sat Lacy wondered if that was wise. She could feel cold coming from that window.

  But as she settled, she became aware of the conversation around her. Everyone was talking about the coming change in the weather. Most were older men, probably retired now, and they all seemed to know each other, calling back and forth freely between tables and booths.

  “It might take us to twenty or thirty below,” said one man.

  “But not much snow,” answered another. “Still, you don’t want to be having car trouble in this. Best eat up fast, George.”

  Jess spoke to her. “Might be good advice for us, too. We really need to get you something warmer. Soon.”

  Cups suddenly slammed down on the table in front of them. Lacy almost jumped, then looked up at a large, frowning woman who could have been any age at all past sixty.

  “What’ll it be, Jess?”

  “Steak and eggs for me, the usual. But Lacy hasn’t had a chance to look at the menu yet. Could you give us a few, Maude?”

  “Don’t be taking all morning. Weather’s turning bad. Real bad.”

  “I noticed,” Lacy offered with a tentative smile. “It got a lot colder just since we left the house.”

  Maude grunted and moved on.

  “I see what you mean,” Lacy told Jess, keeping her voice low. She was glad to see his eyes dance.

  “Just one of the entertaining things about living here.”

  She decided on an omelet and Maude wasted no time collecting the order and heading for the kitchen. A younger clone of her with a name tag that said Mavis filled their coffee cups from a fresh pot.

  Lacy noticed that the sky outside was growing increasingly leaden. “Do you think it will snow?” The idea of seeing some real snow excited her.

  “We might get a little,” Jess answered. “When it turns this cold this fast, though, it’s usually just a few inches. These fronts are often dry.”

  “I bet it’s pretty, though.”

  “But you get snow at home, don’t you?”

  She nodded. “Not a whole lot, but during December and January we might see it once or twice, and it never lasts long. We’re more likely to have ice than snow.”

  “I’ve heard Texans say the roads get slipperier there than elsewhere.”

  “Everything is bigger in Texas,” she said drily. “Including the ice. Honestly, I don’t know if it’s true, or if it’s just because people don’t know how to drive on it. It’s possible, I suppose, given the way the sun bakes the roads most of the year. There might be a lot of oil on them.”

  “Or maybe because the roads don’t really get a chance to get cold, a layer of ice forms on them under the snow.”

  “I truly don’t know. I spent most of my life in Oregon and Miami until I took the job in Texas. When it got icy or snowed, we delayed the opening of business a few hours until the roads cleared. In short, I don’t have anything to compare it to.”

  “If you hang around here for a while, you’ll have a comparison.”

  She returned his smile just as plates were dropped in front of them with a clatter. His steak and eggs looked perfectly done, as did her omelet. It looked so light she thought it might deflate if she put her fork in it. A tall stack of toast arrived and was set between them like the Leaning Tower of Pisa.

  “Dig in,” he said. “You’re about to find out why everyone puts up with Maude.”

  The omelet was incredible, amazingly fluffy without being dry. She closed her eyes with pleasure as it almost seemed to melt in her mouth. “All sins are forgiven,” she said after she swallowed.

  Jess cracked a laugh. “Exactly.” He glanced out the window again. “Let’s not take too long, though. We need to get you a jacket quickly. Then we’ll see if you’re warm enough to continue to the grocery.”

  It seemed almost heretical to hurry, but she did. It was clear others around them were as concerned about the incoming weather, and the place began to empty o
ut before she was half done with her omelet.

  “I’m full,” she said regretfully. “And it won’t keep well.”

  “If you’re ready, let’s go. We need to get some food in that house. Really need. If the weather turns seriously bad, we’d better be prepared.”

  She pulled on her own coat while he paid the bill, then he drove them around the corner and a little way down the main street.

  “Ordinarily I’d walk this distance,” he remarked. “But today’s not the day for it.”

  She agreed. Just her brief exposure had left her feeling chilled, and her eyes were watering again.

  One step into Freitag’s Mercantile made her want to stay and browse forever, though. It reminded her of older times with its jammed racks and shelves, piled tables and creaky wooden floors. Jess was a man on a mission, however. He led her straight back to the parkas, eyed her and pulled a small one off the rack. Electric blue.

  “Try this.”

  It was puffy with fiberfill, and the hood had gray fur around it. When fully zipped up, she was peeking out a tunnel. “Wow,” she said from the depths.

  “You’ll understand the need when it gets really cold.” Reaching out, he unzipped it a bit and pushed the hood back. “Now for some insulated underclothes.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope. Long johns for sure. Layers are good unless you’re planning to spend much time outside. Then we’ll need to take some added steps.”

  He pointed to a rack of silky thermal undergarments. “Shirts and pants both. You might even find you like lounging around in them. Then for some decent gloves or mittens.”

  She emerged from the store wearing her new parka and was immediately grateful for it. The difference was remarkable. Jess tossed her coat into the back along with her bags of thermal underwear and they climbed quickly into his SUV. “The market,” he said. “And I don’t like the look of the sky to the northwest. When we get to the grocery parking lot, you can get a full view. Ugly would be a good word for it.”

  “So we need to keep hurrying?”

  “Double-time.”

  “I can do that.” Deciding this was fun, probably because she didn’t have to go anywhere, she leaned back and prepared to enjoy her first experience of a clipper. Well, that, and Jess’s company.

  * * *

  Neither of them noticed the car that followed at a distance to the grocery parking lot. It settled into a space away from the front door, near the street, and eyes followed them as they climbed out and went inside.

  The new jacket was a sign, the hunter thought. This was no short visit; she wouldn’t be gone in a few days. He, too, had heard the weather warnings, and decided the extreme cold would work against him. The tinny radio station said it should warm up to safer temperatures in a few days. Safer to operate then, when he wouldn’t be risking his own life in temperatures well below zero.

  He could wait. He’d waited a long time already. He could afford a few more days, or even a few weeks, if that seemed best.

  He’d learned to bide his time, not to leap too quickly at opportunities. Which made him ever so much more effective, he figured.

  More time to gather intelligence. More time to see if the woman showed any signs of moving on. More time to pick his place and means. More time to play with his prey.

  More time. He savored the idea. With each additional day, he could build his strategy, make it better. Make it more foolproof. And he could terrorize them even longer.

  Yes, he liked that very much. Whistling again, he ignored the stiffening wind even when it rocked his car a bit, and waited for the two to emerge from the grocery.

  Chapter 3

  “Go put your thermals on,” Jess said as they piled out of the car. “I’ll bring in the groceries.”

  She might have argued out of sheer politeness, but it seemed to have grown even colder, and the wind cut through her jeans. She grabbed the bag from Freitag’s and headed inside, running upstairs to hurry so she could help Jess with the ton of groceries he’d bought. It seemed like a lot to her, but she usually shopped for one, and didn’t know the size of Jess’s appetite. Besides, apparently he didn’t want to get caught short if the weather turned really bad and stayed that way.

  Finding a small pair of scissors in her travel sewing kit, she used them to cut off all the tags and then climbed into her new underwear. Man, it was silky on her skin, but in no time at all she could feel how it was capturing her body’s heat. By the time she pulled on her yellow sweater and jeans again, she felt comfortably warm.

  Downstairs, though, she found Jess bringing in the last of the canvas bags of groceries. He had the table and counters full of them.

  “Let me help,” she said.

  “I can do it,” he assured her.

  She hesitated, wondering if his leg made him demand independence, or if he was just being gentlemanly. This could be a minefield. Finally, she said tentatively, “It would be nice if I knew where everything was.”

  He paused, cans in his large hands, then smiled. “You’re right. I’m just used to doing everything myself. Help is welcome.”

  Well, they’d skated over that one, she thought with relief. If any skating had been involved. How would she know? On the phone he cracked jokes about his artificial leg, but maybe it wasn’t so funny in real life. She hoped he’d talk about it at some point so she knew what the safe topics were. More important, she wanted to know how he really felt about it.

  “You’re not worried about the power going out?” she asked as she stacked meat and frozen vegetables in the freezer.

  “Hardly. The back porch makes a great freezer this time of year.”

  She laughed quietly. “I didn’t think of that. Duh.”

  When they’d finished stashing supplies for an army, Jess folded the canvas bags neatly—military training, she supposed—and placed them on a shelf by the side door. “Let’s go check the weather,” he suggested.

  A glance out the window seemed enough. Everything about the day appeared inhospitable, from the darkening sky to the tumbleweeds that blew past so fast she could only imagine the strength of the wind that was driving them.

  In the front room, Jess turned on the TV. The image was a little snowy, but the weather report came across loud and clear. A fast-moving Arctic air mass was pushing south toward Denver, bringing temperatures as low as thirty below in some areas with wind gusts up to fifty miles an hour at the frontal boundary. Residents were advised to stay indoors if at all possible and to try to avoid travel, as a car breakdown could prove deadly. Only two or three inches of snow were expected, but would be accompanied by whiteout conditions, bringing visibility to near zero. The meteorologist moved on to talk about how rare a polar outbreak was this early in the year, explaining it was being caused by a Pacific typhoon that was pushing the jet stream northward with a resultant dip as it tried to swing south again.

  Lacy had paid scant attention to the weather in Dallas unless there was a severe storm or tornado warning, but she’d never really wondered about the mechanics of it all. This global view fascinated her.

  “You look excited,” Jess remarked.

  She glanced away from the TV and saw him smiling at her.

  “I’ve never been through this before,” she answered, “and thirty below sounds more like a movie title to me. Now it’s for real. Can I actually step out into it?”

  “Briefly, when the wind calms a bit. Right now, any exposed skin would be in danger of frostbite faster than you could believe.”

  She nodded, accepting his greater expertise. “What about heat?”

  He pointed to a cast-iron woodstove in one corner. “I’ve got plenty of wood stacked out back. Would you like a fire?”

  Instantly she became enchanted. “Oh yes! I know a lot of people in Dallas and Flo
rida have fireplaces, but they only get used once or twice a year.”

  “This gets a lot more use,” he answered. “If the power goes out I can cook on the propane stove, but running a heater is impossible without a blower. Even so, I prefer using the woodstove. Then I can be as warm as I want.”

  “Is that a problem?”

  She thought he hesitated, then his green eyes met hers forthrightly. “I have an artificial leg, Lacy. And while it’s insulated somewhat from me, it feels like it gets icy and the cold creeps up inside me. I can’t tell you if that’s my imagination or what.”

  She shook her head. “Does it matter? If you feel cold, you feel cold. Just the idea of it after what I felt outside earlier makes me want to shiver.”

  He surprised her with a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. Dang, he was attractive. More attractive, she thought, than when he’d been younger. “Don’t be surprised if I don’t always put it on. Some days it annoys me and I just crutch around.”

  She sat on the edge of a burgundy recliner sofa. “Don’t mind me. Just be comfortable, Jess. Like you told me. But why does it annoy you?”

  He bent to pull some logs out from near the woodstove and bent to put them in the firebox. “Why does it annoy me? Let me count the ways.” Shaved tinder followed, and a couple of twisted newspapers, then a handful of what looked like dryer lint. With the strike of a long match, the lint caught fast and he soon had flames dancing around the logs. Satisfied, he closed the door and she realized it had a window on it, so she could see the fire. She really liked that.

  “Count the ways,” she reminded him as he settled in a padded rocker across from her.

  “As long as you don’t think I’m ungrateful for the prosthesis. But it’s not part of me. I feel it hanging on my thigh like a weight. A lot of the time I don’t notice, but sometimes I do. I can’t feel anything with it, so walking has to be purely out of habit. I can be thrown by stepping on an uneven surface, although I’m getting better at it. I’m supposed to walk as evenly as possible so I don’t damage my back or other joints, but I don’t always succeed, and sometimes by the end of a day I feel the aches and pains. Then there’s the itching and pain.”