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“Hip dysplasia? Wonderful,” she said with a touch of frustration. She rubbed her arms for warmth despite her thick woolen peacoat. “Old and crippled. What are the chances of finding her a home within a few days?”
Not good, he communicated with a look.
“That’s what I thought,” she said, following him into the house. At the sound of the door opening, the dog raised her head and peered expectantly into the hallway. As if believing it was her job to greet guests, she struggled to her feet and walked over to them. Erin’s forehead furrowed and her gaze softened ever so slightly. She cast a worried glance his way. “She does seem a bit stiff… is there a vet in town who could look at her?”
Ridiculously relieved, he nodded. “Doc Archer can probably take a look at her first thing in the morning.” At her glance, he explained. “Doc closes shop at noon, and he’s the only vet in town.”
She accepted his answer, but from her expression he could tell she wasn’t pleased. It was clear she wanted her stay in Granite Hills to be as brief as possible and a crippled dog only hindered that plan.
“I figure you’ll be staying out at Caroline’s place?” he said, leaning down to gently click the leash into place and handing it to her.
“No,” she answered, the tone of her voice suggesting the thought was too much to bear. She added hastily, “There’s bound to be a hotel that has a room available. It’ll be easier if I stay in town.”
He frowned and she queried sharply, “What?”
“I don’t know how long you’ve been gone but around this time of year the hotels are all full. Winter Festival. It’s one of our biggest tourist attractions,” he said.
She swore under her breath. Obviously, she hadn’t taken that into consideration. Her voice took on an incredulous tone. “All the hotels? Even Buttercreek?”
“No, that one closed about a year ago. Mr. Grogan died from congestive heart failure and his wife went to live with their daughter over in Ironwood,” he answered, surprised by her stricken expression.
“I hadn’t heard,” she murmured, something, regret perhaps, catching in her throat. “The Grogans were nice people. They used to let me swim in their pool during the summer and Mrs. Grogan always had a small something for me at Christmastime. Well, that’s too bad about the hotel closing. It was a special place.”
He didn’t disagree with her. Danni had learned to swim in the Grogans’ pool. When Cappy Grogan died, he’d been one of the pallbearers.
Eyes suddenly clearing, Erin looked down at the dog, who was watching the exchange with a soft intelligence that was almost startling, and reluctantly relented, though he could tell it was the least desirable option. “I guess it’s back to Caroline’s then…for the time being,” she said, focusing for a moment on the leash in her hand before meeting his gaze again. “Thanks…for taking care of her.”
“No problem,” he answered, noting that the brief smile she offered was pained around the edges. “She’s a good dog. I hope you can find her a good home.”
“Me, too,” she said, sincerity evident in her tone, as she headed toward the door. Suddenly, she paused and twisted to face him wearing a drawn and pinched expression, as if whatever she was about to say tasted bitter on her tongue. “When I used to live here, the Barstow family owned the mortuary…is that still the place to go to make…funeral arrangements?”
He answered her with a short nod, his gut reacting to the almost palpable sense of sorrow that surrounded her like a cloud. She drew a deep breath, as if she needed the extra oxygen for strength, and offered her thanks in a husky murmur before turning and leading the old dog carefully down the snow-covered steps to the front walk. Within minutes they were gone.
He stared after the retreating back end of the Tahoe and pressed his lips together in silent commiseration. He didn’t envy her homecoming.
What had gone wrong between her and her father? He only knew Charlie McNulty in a peripheral fashion but the man seemed harmless enough. He’d picked him up a few times when Charlie had had one too many, but it’d been a while since he’d had to do that. Someone had said something about Charlie finally joining AA. He chewed absentmindedly on his lower lip. After years of more than likely driving drunk, Charlie McNulty got in a wreck stone-cold sober. The irony was tragic.
Locking up quickly, he returned to the station, detouring briefly to grab a cup of coffee from the carafe that some blessed, probably underpaid, junior officer kept gurgling at all hours of the night, before making his way back to his desk.
“Sorry to hear about Danni,” he heard Max Stubberd, a patrol officer, call out as he walked by. Colin acknowledged the man with a nod. He was sorry, too.
Sipping his coffee, he winced just a little as his muscles protested his early-morning snow shovel duty. He supposed he could pay someone to do it but it seemed like throwing away good money when he was just as capable. He rotated his shoulder and stretched the muscle. As much as he hated to admit it, paying someone was beginning to have some appeal. Reaching in his bottom drawer for a bottle of aspirin, the voice of Detective Leslie O’Bannon, a native of Granite Hills and one of his good friends, sounded at his shoulder.
“Here’s that supplemental from the state trooper, Col,” Leslie said, handing him the two-page report. Crossing her arms, she leaned against the partition separating their desks, her expression solemn. “So, you were the first on the scene, huh? Pretty bad, I take it?”
He nodded. “One of the worst I’ve seen in a long time. Caroline Walker died on scene, poor gal, and Charlie’s over in the ICU at GH Medical.”
“Think he’s going to make it?”
“Hard to say. He’s pretty banged up.”
“Man, can you imagine going sober after all those years only to have this happen? Doesn’t seem fair.” She shook her head. “Caroline was about the sweetest person I’d ever known, too. I remember she used to volunteer at the schools when I went to Granite Hills Elementary, always brought homemade cookies for the holidays. Every kid went home with a small bag of goodies.” Leslie frowned at the memory. “Geez, she must’ve been baking for days, but she never complained. In fact, she always seemed to enjoy doing something for everyone.” She was quiet for a moment, her expression full of sorrow. “What a crying shame.…”
Colin nodded in agreement. Caroline would surely be missed in this town. Leslie sighed, the sound echoing the emotion he felt in his chest at the tragedy. “So, is Erin coming back for the funeral and to take care of her dad?”
Leslie’s inquiry summoned the image of Erin’s shuttered expression when it came to the subject of her father and the corners of his lips twisted. “She’s already in town, but I get the impression that as soon as the funeral is over, she’ll be on the first plane out of here. Seems she and her dad don’t get along so well.”
“Yeah, that family’s had it rough. I guess you can’t blame Erin for wanting to get the hell out of here.”
Leslie’s tone suggested that she knew what Colin was referring to but before he could prompt her for more details, she was paged to the front desk and she turned to leave. “Well, let me know if you need any help,” she said, gesturing to the paperwork before hurrying down the hall.
He knew the offer was made in light of Danni’s escapade and, although he appreciated everyone’s concern, it chafed more than a little that everyone knew his business. He couldn’t hold it against anyone, though. Colin had moved to Granite Hills when Danni had still been in diapers. As a single father, sometimes without daycare to fall back on, Danni had been a frequent visitor to the station. This recent turn of events probably had everyone alarmed, he realized.
Returning to the case in his hand, he grabbed the hospital report to attach to the file and his eyes focused on the BAC levels.
Totally sober.
He had to admit, he’d been surprised. The discovery certainly begged a few questions.
If the man hadn’t been impaired and, as evidenced by the supplemental report, the roads had been clear, what had sent the old Ford into that tree? He flipped through the medical evaluation, but there was no indication that Charlie had had a stroke or heart attack, no medical reason for him to lose control. Then he thumbed through the state trooper’s report, looking for the skid-mark pattern, but came up empty. Puzzled, he checked again, thinking he might have missed it, until he realized with a perplexed frown that there weren’t any to find. Charlie McNulty had plowed headlong into that birch…for no apparent reason.
What was he looking at?
Something didn’t sit right with Colin about this accident. His mind was moving in circles, but he couldn’t put a voice to his suspicions.
The unanswered questions prevented him from filing the case as closed.
He needed more information, preferably background, to see if he had cause to dig a little deeper. A pair of vivid blue eyes appeared in his mind and an electric thrill followed that was both unexpected and startling. If he hadn’t been annoyed at his own reaction, he might’ve chuckled at the absurdity. Erin McNulty? She was about as warm as the waters in Lake Superior at this time of year. Anyone willing to walk out on family like she was itching to do could use a little help in the compassion department. He’d do well to nip that attraction in the bud. He had enough problems.
From what he could gather from people who’d known Erin’s family, he found that while the McNulty side had been hard workers, they played equally as hard. Erin’s mother Rose had come from an upper middle class family. Rose Rawlins’s father had been a businessman, and her mother a homemaker, but both had perished in a house fire when Rose had been seventeen. Rose had been sleeping over at a friend’s house when it happened. It seems that family was a magnet for trouble.
Colin sat back in his chair, his thoughts returning to Erin. He supposed he was still caught off guard by how different she was. Though he had to admit his assumptions had been ridiculous. What had he expected? A wild-haired, younger version of Charlie? He snorted—well, she was anything but that. She was sleek and refined, whereas Charlie was coarse and crabby. The differences raised more questions than they answered.
Another officer walked by, offering a quick goodbye before heading out the door. Shaking himself out of the useless direction of his thoughts, he proofread his official report of the accident, reviving the memory of that night.
He’d been heading down Old Copper Road when he saw the vapor spiraling from the ruptured radiator into the frigid air. The front end of the older model Ford was wrapped around the solid trunk of an old yellow birch while a fresh drift of snow had started to fall on the wreckage. As Colin picked up speed toward the accident, he radioed for emergency crews and prayed whoever was in that mess was still alive. He glanced at his report again.
Driver #1, 58-year-old male, head lacerations, multiple injuries.
Passenger #1, 54-year-old female, severe head trauma. Dead on arrival.
The sterile report in his hands did little to communicate the horror of the fatal accident. Colin could smell the tang of copper drifting on the wind and mingling with the scent of wintergreen from the injured tree as emergency crews worked to save Charlie, knowing that Caroline was long gone.
Thank God no one else had been traveling that same stretch of highway that night. Colin shifted in his chair and let the paper slip out of his hands. Tomorrow he’d have to stop by the hospital and check Charlie’s status. He couldn’t help but feel bad for the old guy, seeing as he was broken all to hell without a soul in the world to care if he lived or died. The one person who had cared was dead; and the one who should care would rather walk the other way.
Colin could hear the night shift arriving, their voices rising in playful banter with one another. He recognized the voice of Mark Sporlan and the newest officer to join the small department, Missy Reznick. Then, he heard the voice of Roger Hampton, the chief of Granite Hills P. D.
“Got a minute?”
Surprised, Colin swiveled in his chair. “Sure, Chief,” he answered, following him to his office. Normally, the chief left before the night shift came in. The fact that he was still here and wanted a private audience gave Colin pause. Something was up.
“Take a seat, detective.”
“Something wrong?”
“I was hoping you could tell me.” He fixed Colin with a sharp stare that was piercing, yet showed concern. “I’m not one to meddle in personal affairs but I couldn’t help but notice that Danni got hauled in last night on a misdemeanor drug charge. What’s that all about?”
Colin tensed, immediately on the defensive. “Nothing I can’t handle. Just your run-of-the-mill teenage rebellion.”
“I’m sure you’ve got things well in hand, Colin. Look, I know I’m treading on dangerous ground here. No parent likes a meddler. So, I’m not going to do that. But if my officers are having personal problems that might affect their job performance, I like to know ahead of time what I’m dealing with.”
“The problems I’m having with Danni won’t affect my job,” he assured the chief. “She’s a good kid. This is just a phase.”
“What if it isn’t?”
The chief’s blunt question zeroed in on Colin’s worst fear. “Then, I’ll deal with it,” he answered with more confidence than he felt. How he was going to deal with it, he hadn’t a clue, but that was just one more problem he’d work through. If he could handle midnight feedings, diapers and daycare issues as a single father, he could handle this.
“Listen, Colin.” The chief drew himself up as far as his round belly would allow, his finger tapping his desk. “You’re a good cop. I’m only saying this to you because I don’t want to lose you. I’d rather authorize some personal time now so you can figure things out than lose you permanently because the problems have spun out of your control. I already had Bruce look at the books and you have plenty of vacation time banked. If you need it, just say the word and I’ll sign the paperwork.”
At a loss for an appropriate response, he gave the chief a curt nod. “Thanks,” he said. “I’ll keep your offer in mind. If things continue to go downhill…” God, he hoped it didn’t go that way. “Then I’ll take your advice and cash in some of that vacation time.”
“Good. Glad to hear it.” The chief stood and grabbed his jacket. As Colin approached the door, his mind returning to the situation with Danni, the chief’s voice stopped him.
“I heard Charlie McNulty was banged up pretty bad in that fatal accident with Caroline Walker on Old Copper. Is he going to make it?”
Colin stopped and turned. “Not sure,” he answered truthfully. “Did you know them?”
His expression guarded, the chief answered with a slow nod. “We used to be buddies. But we had a falling out years ago. Haven’t seen much of either one of them lately. It’s a shame about Caroline, though. She was quite a woman.”
Surprised at this admission, Colin started to ask him some more questions about Charlie, but suddenly Roger winced and rubbed at his breastbone. “You okay?” he asked, not quite liking what he saw.
The chief stopped the motion and waved away Colin’s concern. “Just a little bit of heartburn, is all.” Then, in a characteristic move, he winked. “Had hot sausage for lunch—don’t tell Vera or she’ll have my head.”
Relieved, Colin returned the conspiratorial grin. There wasn’t much he wouldn’t do for Roger Hampton. He was a great guy and a mentor to his officers. “Your secret’s safe with me Chief.”
“I knew I could count on you,” the chief answered, his lips twisting in a smile that was probably meant to be appreciative yet seemed ragged on the edges. A flutter of unease returned to his gut. He had no choice but to shelve it for the time being. The chief had already stayed later than usual on account of Colin and he didn’t want to keep him any longer.
He glanced at his watch and drew a deep breath. It was time to pick up Danni from school. Gathering his coat, he waved goodbye to the night shift and prepared to endure another emotional assault at the hands of his daughter.
CHAPTER FIVE
BY THE TIME ERIN PULLED into Caroline’s driveway, she was bone-tired, but even the fatigue wasn’t enough to dull the shaft of pain that went straight to her heart as she stared at the old house. Shutting off the ignition she pressed herself against the soft seat and fought against the well of tears that sprang to her eyes with the knowledge that Caroline wasn’t coming out to greet her, nor would she ever again. Despite her best efforts, a tear snaked its way down her cheek, and before she knew it, she was holding her face in her hands and sobbing.
Why were you with him, Caroline? What were you doing?
Erin stared into the darkness as the tears continued to fall unchecked. The questions were as endless as they were pointless. Butterscotch whined from the back seat, and Erin realized she was shaking from the cold. Logic dictated that she go inside, but she wasn’t sure if she could. Another whine from Butterscotch sounded, this time more urgent, and Erin reluctantly pocketed her keys. Drawing a deep breath, she ruthlessly shoved her heartbreak into a dark corner of her mind and focused on the situation. If she stayed much longer in the car, someone—more than likely Colin Barrett—would find them frozen to their seats, and dying from hypothermia with an old dog for a companion was not the way she envisioned going out.
A bright porch light illuminated the familiar house against the snow-topped forest and even through the milky light she could see signs of decay that tore at her heart. The house wasn’t what anyone would call fancy, but at one time it had been quite lovely. A frown crossed her face as more guilt pricked her conscience. If she’d known the house was in need of repair she would’ve sent the money. Of course, Erin couldn’t have known because she never came home to visit and Caroline, darn her stubborn soul, would never ask.
Without conscious thought she inhaled deeply the scent of fresh water on the air from Lake Superior as her breath plumed in frosty clouds. The crescent moon sheathed the wooded backdrop in pale light, giving the snow a luminescent glow, like something out of a fairy tale. The quiet stillness was soothing to her ragged nerves and for a moment she just stood and listened. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt such peace. In the city, the constant cacophony of busy streets, honking horns and loud pedestrians filled her apartment despite the windows that she kept closed and locked.
Erin shook her head free of the melancholy that had enveloped her and went to grab her gear. Obviously, jet lag was doing more than tiring her out—it was making her downright loopy. She did not miss this place. Opening the back hatch, she grabbed her suitcase along with her camera bag.
Glancing down at Butterscotch, who was waiting patiently by her side, she shook her head in disgust at herself and made her way to the front door.
She was here to take care of business, not wallow in useless nostalgia. Yet, when she came to the porch steps, she stopped and cast one last look at the wooded shoreline, hating it for its beauty and its ability to move her in spite of everything. She shut her eyes against the ghostly light of the moon and focused on getting through the door without collapsing.
Don’t think of it as Caroline’s house, she told herself fiercely when her breath hitched in her throat as she slid the key into the lock.
It’s just a bed and a place to shower.
No, it was more than that, a voice argued with the same vehemence. Caroline’s house had been the one place she’d felt loved, cherished and safe. The place where she could sleep an entire night without waking in a cold sweat, terrified of the agonizing, drunken bellows that echoed in the still night air. The place that Caroline had insisted she consider home—no matter how old she was.
Erin closed her eyes and swallowed, knowing with a fatal certainty that walking through that door would crack her heart in two, yet also knowing that the pain was inevitable.
She swore softly at the situation. Congratulations. You’ve made it as far as the porch before falling to pieces. Open the damn door already before you and the dog freeze your asses off.
Wiping the residual tears from her eyes, she opened the door and stepped inside as Butterscotch nosed her way past, intent on finding her own bed for the evening. Erin didn’t bother with the hall light. Despite the years that had passed since she’d been back, Erin knew her way around as if she’d never left. The fatigue that had been a constant companion as she drove returned with a vengeance and, for once, she welcomed it.
Walking like a zombie to the bedroom that had once been hers, she stepped over the threshold, flipped the light and sucked in a breath as memories assailed her.
It was exactly as she remembered, as if time had stopped or Caroline had been loath to change anything. It was both oddly comforting and disturbing. She crossed to the wrought-iron bed and sank onto the sturdy mattress, a small smile lifting her lips as the old springs squeaked from disuse.
Erin’s fingers skimmed the soft fabric of the quilt covering the bed, remembering how her aunt had patched it together especially for her from old odds and ends that’d been collected over the years. Erin had spent many a night snuggled into its protective warmth.
The hardwood floor still had a bare spot by the entryway from the many comings and goings throughout the years and the antique armoire that had once been part of a glorious collection of hand-crafted Victorian furniture stood sentinel against the wall near the bed. Caroline had inherited the piece from her mother, who had inherited it from her husband’s family before that. Erin had loved having something with such history. It’d made her feel as if she were someone important instead of always feeling forgotten.
Spurred by the flash of a memory, Erin rose, despite her fatigue, and walked to the armoire. Bracing her hand against the opposite door, she gently opened it and peered inside. The sharp smell of aged wood and dust motes tickled her nose but her gaze immediately fell to the far left corner. She knelt, a pained smile curving her lips, as she traced her fingers over the tiny scratched initials of a lost, scared little girl whose tears were locked deep inside so that no one would know just how much it hurt to feel alone.
E.M.McN.
Erin rocked back on her heels. If it hadn’t been for her Aunt Caroline, she’d often wondered if anyone would have noticed or cared if she’d disappeared. Her father certainly wouldn’t have. An old familiar ache crept into her chest. She groaned when she realized she was doing exactly what she’d sought to avoid for the past fourteen years. Rising, she shut the armoire doors and wearily dusted her knees. She needed sleep, not a trip down memory lane.
After quickly changing, she burrowed under the thick quilt and closed her eyes as she gratefully surrendered to a deep, dark, dreamless exhaustion.
A RESPECTFUL MURMUR filled the air from the crowd that mingled beneath slate-gray skies outside Barstow’s Mortuary as mourners made their way out of the funeral home following Caroline Walker’s services two days later.
The dreary weather seemed to fit the occasion as Caroline had been well-liked within the community despite her brother’s wild reputation and often unpredictable nature, and everyone had come to pay their respects.
As Colin searched the line of mourners for a familiar face, he realized there was only one face he was looking for.
He spotted Erin standing outside the mortuary doors, looking brittle in her stylish, black pantsuit, and nearly frozen to the bone as she accepted hushed words of kindness from virtual strangers. She had grace despite the grief that dragged on her slight shoulders and he was reluctantly drawn to the aura of sadness and vulnerability that she was struggling to hide. As he approached, he noted the quick flare of relief that followed recognition and he was glad he came.
“Quite a turnout,” he acknowledged once he was by her side, his voice low. She nodded, the motion so filled with sorrow he hastened to say something soothing. “Your aunt will be missed in this community.”
Her chin wobbled in a subtle motion but she managed to hold it together. “Did you catch the ceremony?”
He gave a short nod. “It was beautiful. Caroline would’ve been proud, I’m sure.”
