Hunted in Conard County Read online

  Not to mention the people who felt uneasy around her because she was a reminder of the danger they all faced. She couldn’t blame any of them for that. In fact, she understood it perfectly. There was a huge leap from theory to fact. Every cop knew he or she was taking risks, that they could be hurt. Until someone was, they managed to mostly ignore that part or they’d never be able to walk out onto the streets.

  Then you had someone in the office who was living proof that the danger could become personal. Very personal. And all the while she received sympathy and kindness and respect—and even a medal—she knew there was hardly a cop in her station who didn’t think about walking in her shoes, or worse.

  She sipped more coffee, sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. All this thinking was going to cost her the sunrise. The sky flamed now, sunlight catching streamers of cloud and tinting them red and orange. In a little while she’d be seeing the incredible blue that still amazed her. There was a brightness to the color, a clarity especially in the morning before dust began to rise, that was stunning.

  Something to smile about. God, she needed to come out of this shell and start meeting more people. Give herself something to think about beyond her own problems and adjustments.

  Very soon she was going to have to find a way to get around here. No taxi service. Unthinkable. Did everyone here have a friend or neighbor to drive them if they couldn’t do it themselves?

  Still, as small as the population here was, she guessed a taxi business might not survive. Why pay money for a ride if Bob or Judith next door offered to take you where you needed to go?

  She needed to make a lot of adjustments and they didn’t all involve her illness.

  “We’ve been dallying,” she remarked to Snowy. He lifted his head and looked at her. “Procrastinating,” she clarified as if that would help him understand. He tilted his head quizzically. She loved that look. He often seemed to understand more than she would have expected, then other times she was sure she just confused him.

  The colors in the sky began to fade, and finally she rose. “Time for my breakfast, Snowy.” As the blanket fell from her, the cold crept in. Yeah, she was going to spend a whole lot of money today. Clothes and more clothes.

  Stu’s idea about cross-country skiing had appealed to her, too. It wasn’t like zipping down a slope at sixty miles an hour. If she blinked out on a fairly level surface, she doubted she could get terribly hurt. She’d give that some more thought. Plus, Snowy would warn her. He always did. Inside, the apartment was toasty and she was glad of it. She tossed the blanket over the arm of the couch, leaving her jacket on for the moment, and headed into the kitchen.

  She didn’t usually bring eggs home from the market. They’d be too easy to drop and break if she had a seizure. But this week she had risked it. The eggs had arrived in one piece, and the idea of a veggie-and-ham omelet appealed to her.

  “Ready to cook, Snowy?”

  He wagged his tail.

  “I thought so.” Maybe on her next grocery trip she’d get him some chicken livers. He apparently thought they were a taste of heaven.

  And that was another thing. Feeding the dog. Carrying home five-pound bags of dog food might help keep her arms toned, but it interfered with other items and she had to do it too often.

  Heck, she thought. Just heck. She really had to spend some time thinking about the logistics of her current situation. Being independent had once been easy. Now it required planning.

  * * *

  It might be early Saturday morning, but a sheriff’s office never slept. Stu dropped in, risked a cup of coffee and hoped it wouldn’t eat a hole in his stomach. Maude’s diner, just down the street, did quite a big business selling coffee to cops. Maybe she should put that on a sign, he thought with a wry smile.

  As he entered, the relief dispatcher, a middle-aged woman named Joyce, gave him a wave from her desk where she sat with a headset on and several microphones in front of her. They’d been talking about setting up a separate dispatch office, but so far they’d never been able to fund it. So the dispatcher sat to one side in the bullpen and during a busy time she could get swamped. When she did, a deputy or two would help her out.

  Five other uniformed officers sat at desks, but most of them were paying attention to a prerecorded football game. When he came in, however, they soon looked toward him.

  “Hey, guys,” he said.

  “Hey,” came the chorus of replies.

  He sat in one of the swivel chairs. “Got a minute?”

  It sometimes amazed him how many vets filled positions in this department. The previous sheriff, Nate Tate, had started it all back after Vietnam, and as vets came home they often filled vacancies here. It made the place chummy.

  Sarah Ironheart walked in, uniformed and ready to go. “Regular patrol?” she asked Joyce.

  “It’s been as quiet as a cemetery since I got in this morning,” Joyce answered. “Regular everything, I guess.”

  “What’s going on?” Sarah asked, joining Stu and the other guys. She’d already gotten her coffee from Maude’s. Smart woman. Nearing retirement, he guessed.

  “I was just going to ask a favor,” Stu said. “You all hear about the new criminal justice instructor at the junior college?”

  Guy Redwing nodded. “I have. Wasn’t she a cop?”

  “Yeah. Shot in the head when she was trying to deescalate a domestic.”

  Silence filled the room, except for a creak as one of the guys leaned over to grab the remote and turn the volume off on the game.

  “Bad?” Beau Beauregard asked. He was one of the older cops, too.

  “Bad enough. She has some kind of epilepsy now. Apparently, no convulsions but she loses contact with the world. Enough that she can’t drive. So I was wondering if we could start some kind of car pool for her before it gets much colder.”

  “That’s a great idea,” Sarah remarked. “Only problem is I live too far out to be much help without some early warning.”

  “I don’t think we need everyone on the force,” Stu answered. “Just a handful who can work in getting her to and from the college, to the grocery, stuff like that. Right now she’s walking everywhere with her service dog, but you know how cold it’s going to get. Just not safe.” Unnecessary addendum, but he wanted to emphasize the point.

  “Sure,” said Guy. “There’s enough of us that we can set up regular rides. Wanna pass the word along?” He looked around and everyone nodded. “I think that’s a great idea, Stu. I’ll be the first to volunteer. Helping anyone is good, but it’s a special duty to a disabled cop.”

  “Let’s make a list on the bulletin board,” Beau suggested. “People can sign up to be available according to their duty schedules. We can keep updating as schedules change.”

  “Thanks.” Stu drained the last of his mug, feeling the coffee hit his stomach like battery acid. He rose, preparing to take the mug to the break room and wash it. “I’m picking her up in ten minutes for a trip to Freitag’s. Florida clothing isn’t going to work much longer here.”

  “What’s her name?” Guy asked.

  “Kerri Addison. Nice woman.”

  “Remind her to get some long johns,” Sarah remarked. “Somehow I think that’ll be the last thing she’ll think of.”

  Stu had to laugh. “Already on my mind.”

  Satisfied with the response, he washed his mug, then headed out the door. He just hoped Kerri wouldn’t be annoyed that he’d taken the initiative. She struck him as a woman who wanted to be totally independent. Unfortunately, that was never going to be the case for her.

  Never was a horrible word.

  * * *

  Snowy had enjoyed a share of Kerri’s scrambled eggs, including some of the ham and veggies she’d thrown into it. He sat licking his chops looking mightily pleased with life.

  That dog could make her grin despite almos
t everything. She took a quick shower, made up her bed and wondered if she should get a washer and dryer delivered. There was a small laundry room off the hallway and having to carry a basket of clothes to the coin laundry three blocks over was a nuisance. It would only become more so.

  Well, one thing she could say for this: she was getting far more exercise than she ever had in a patrol car.

  Stu’s knock on the door came shortly after ten. When she opened it, she found him standing there with two tall foam cups.

  “Hot coffee,” he said, holding one of them out to her. “Hey, Snowy, how ya doing?”

  Snowy gave a quiet woof. He wasn’t yet wearing his vest, so he was quasi off duty and that allowed him to go to Stu as Kerri closed the door behind him. His tail wagged happily as Stu scratched around his neck.

  Stu looked up. “I hope I didn’t just break a rule.”

  “Rules are lax at home. Poor boy can’t be on duty every waking moment, although so far he still pays attention to his main job no matter what.”

  Stu gave the dog a last pat and straightened. “How do they think he does it?”

  “Detect my seizures before they happen?” She shrugged. “No one’s certain. They suggested that there’s some minor change in my body scents or maybe I do something minor without realizing it just before a seizure hits. One doc just shook his head and said he thought Snowy could detect a change in my brain waves.” She smiled. “Kinda spooky, huh?”

  “Well, if someone’s going to read my mind, I’d rather it be a dog.”

  Her smile widened. “You have a point. Thanks for the coffee.”

  “You’re welcome. Have you made a shopping list?” He settled on the edge of the couch.

  “I was going to count on you for direction.”

  He nodded. “Maybe a good idea. I have some experience of winter. Do you need to go anywhere in addition to the general store?”

  She hesitated, uncertain how much she wanted to impose.

  “Grocery,” he suggested before she could speak. “You’ve probably been lugging everything the hard way. Want to stock up?”

  “I’d love to. Especially the dog food.”

  That drew a laugh out of him. “As in a forty-pound bag?”

  “I could lift it, but it’s unwieldy to carry, you know?”

  “If that’s all you had and you flung it over your shoulder, you look like you could do it. But then how do you bring anything else home?” He shook his head slightly. “How have you been doing all this?”

  “The hard way. Or maybe I should say the necessary way.” She popped the tab on her coffee and sniffed the wonderful aroma. “This is a treat. I made some this morning, but this smells even better.”

  “Maude grinds her own beans. Of course. No halfway with her.”

  Then she watched him hesitate. Finally, she asked, “Something wrong?”

  “Not really. In fact, not at all unless you want to get mad at me.”

  She tensed. She existed in a state of alert these days, as if she lived in constant anticipation of another bad event. Maybe that was normal. How would she know? But she knew what she feared, that her seizures would get worse or more frequent. Or that she’d find out the hard way that she could fall down and get hurt. Or that Snowy might miss one and fail to give her warning.

  “I kinda stuck my nose in your business,” Stu said. “I think you’re going to discover that a whole lot of cops would be happy to provide rides whenever you might need them. Grocery, doctor, work, whatever.”

  Her jaw nearly dropped open. Part of her wanted to be angry that he’d advertised her problem and asked for help on her behalf, but a more sensible part recognized he might have just solved a huge problem for her. Even in a small town, life could be difficult without local buses or taxis. She’d been learning just how hard since she’d arrived here.

  “You really ought to come down to the office with me,” he continued. “Meet the crew. You might feel more comfortable about what I did.”

  Flummoxed, she didn’t know how to respond.

  “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he said quickly. “I just hope you’re not angry with me. There’s a problem that needs solving and I’ve never been one to sit on my hands. I can’t just whistle up a taxi for you.”

  She regarded him wryly. “Still the military man at heart?”

  “Well, yeah. I guess. You can take the bars off the shoulders but you can’t take the bars out of the man, to paraphrase.” Nor could you take the ugliness out of memory. Ugliness that just kept rearing its head in civilian law enforcement. Just like the feeling that something terrible lurked around the next corner.

  She let go of it. “It was kind of you, Stu.”

  “And interfering. Don’t forget that part. But I couldn’t imagine how you could take care of this yourself. You haven’t been here long enough to just call on a friend or neighbor. I also suspect you wouldn’t feel good about it if you had to do it very often. So you’ll have a whole fleet of volunteer drivers, most likely, and it’s pretty hard to impose on one of many. Relax about it. Nobody has to volunteer if they don’t want to.”

  He was right about that.

  Ten minutes later they headed out, Snowy at her side. The morning had warmed some from when she had watched the sunrise, and her light jacket felt almost perfect. Cool. That was going to make selecting warm winter clothing a whole lot easier. She hoped Stu was in a mood to offer advice.

  Freitag’s Mercantile was on the main street, a building that reached back to early in the last century. Painted in dark green and dull red that highlighted its facade beautifully, it beckoned her to come inside. A handful of people walked in and out, but the street was not yet busy.

  Inside, the old wood flooring creaked, and the place smelled just a bit musty with age. Older women walked around, ready to help, and Kerri felt as if she’d stepped back in time.

  “The charm is enough to win me over,” she remarked to Stu.

  “I agree. I’ve loved this place since I arrived. And guess what?”

  “What?”

  “They have an old-fashioned feature called a stockroom. If what you want isn’t available out front, they’ll probably be able to find it in the back. Failing that, they’ll order. They don’t make them like this anymore.”

  She had to agree with that. Snowy at her side, she followed Stu’s directions toward the back.

  “You’ll want a windproof parka, preferably with a snorkel hood. Those hoods are great when the wind’s blowing and they’ll keep your face from freezing. It works by directing the heated air from your breath upward across your face. Get some good snow pants, too. And while you’re at it, take a look at thermal underwear.”

  She looked at him. “Seriously?”

  “The weather’s serious. And the material these days is thin and silky to wear. It won’t drive you nuts.”

  That was good to know. The whole idea of a union suit, as her grandfather had referred to it, had always made her want to itch.

  She hadn’t gone on a shopping spree in ages, and this time she had a good excuse to do it. She enjoyed herself despite the constant uneasiness about whether she might seize again. But maybe the most amazing thing of all was that Stu didn’t grow impatient. For a guy, that must make him one in a million.

  * * *

  They returned home midafternoon with a huge quantity of clothing, a whole bunch of groceries and stomachs full with hamburgers from the diner. All in all, Kerri seemed to be in a pretty good mood. Some of the tension Stu always felt in her had fled, and she laughed easily. Good.

  He insisted on bringing everything up to her apartment, except the few bags she initially carried up with Snowy at her side. “My pleasure,” he said when she insisted she should help more. “Look, you want the truth?”

  She hesitated, appearing to expect something bad. Well,
he didn’t have anything bad to say.

  “It’s simple,” he told her. “I can run up and down those stairs faster than you can with Snowy. And I can carry a whole lot more because I don’t have one hand occupied with a leash. So get upstairs and start unpacking. The exercise will do me good.”

  A smile appeared and she grabbed the handles of three large clothing bags before heading up the stairs.

  Damn, he thought as he continued to unload the back of his truck. The temperature was dropping again. Maybe he’d gotten her to Freitag’s just in time. Early winter? Who knew these days? Most people kept commenting on how the weather in these parts had changed. More snow, more rain, more cold and more heat.

  Kerri was unpacking when he got upstairs with the first load of groceries. Judging by her purchases, she’d been doing without a lot since she got here. She soon had her freezer packed full, a gallon of milk on the top shelf of the fridge and a whole bunch of cheeses and fresh veggies. Her counter now boasted two loaves of rye bread.

  Snowy was interested in the forty-pound bag of dog kibble, but he didn’t notice the container of frozen chicken livers. Kerri had told him what she did with them and he figured Snowy must be living in dog heaven.

  She disappeared into her bedroom to start putting away clothes, and when she reemerged, she was wearing a new hunter green chamois shirt, casually untucked over her jeans. Thick socks covered her feet.

  “Just in time,” she said, echoing his thought. “Maybe this evening I won’t need to sit under a blanket to watch television or read.”

  “You’ll definitely be more comfortable,” he agreed.

  Then he saw it happen. Snowy approached her and prodded her leg with his snout. Attention getting. She looked down, sighing. “Not again,” she muttered. “It’s too soon.”

  But he noticed she headed for the recliner. “Leave any time you want,” she mumbled. “I’m about to take a brief vacation. Thanks for everything, Stu.”

  She turned as if to back into the chair, then froze, upright.