SIXTEEN

The cell phone on the table next to Kevin finally penetrated the near coma he was in. He knocked his watch to the floor as he fumbled for it. “Game warden.” His voice was hoarse.

“Adelaide Wilson here, Kevin. You need to go to Dixie’s house right away.”

“Dixie?” Righting the clock, he saw it was eleven. He hadn’t been asleep all that long.

“She runs the post office on Walker’s Roost. She posted on Facebook that there was an intruder in her yard.”

He rubbed his head. “Oh, right, sorry, I wasn’t thinking. She hasn’t called me.”

“I tried calling her and she didn’t answer. I think something is wrong.” Adelaide sounded even more upset than she usually was.

His feet landed on the floor. “I’ll run out there, but it’s going to be a good hour before I arrive so don’t go calling anyone else.”

“I won’t. You’re a good boy, Kevin.”

He grinned. She was eighty-five if she was a day, and he didn’t mind that she called him a boy. Some days he wondered where the years had gone. After jerking on his jeans and a sweatshirt, he grabbed his gun and headed for the door. A light was on under Mallory’s door, but instead of disturbing her, he left a note by the coffeepot, then drove to the harbor and boarded his boat.

The stars were out in abundance as he rode the choppy waves and drank in the scent of the sea. Some days he wished his job involved a little less babysitting and a lot more action. He’d likely get there and find Dixie fast asleep. At least he hoped so.

He docked his boat and climbed the hillside to the post office. Dixie’s house was behind the older building, and as he approached, he saw the porch light on and her front door standing open. The hair on the back of his neck prickled, and he unsnapped his holster and put his hand on the grip of his gun.

Mounting the steps, he peered through the open door but didn’t see anyone. “Dixie? It’s Game Warden O’Connor.”

No answer. He pushed open the screen door and stepped into the entry. The house was small and a little ramshackle on the outside with clapboards that hadn’t seen a paintbrush in at least twenty years. In spite of its exterior, the inside was neat and clean and smelled of lemon wax. The floors were old pine but shiny with care.

He moved through the house, checking both bedrooms, the kitchen, and the living room. No one was inside the place. Back outside, he went around the side of the house to the small barn that housed her goats. The things were nuisances, often escaping their pens. He’d lost track of how many times he’d come over to help her herd them back inside. The barn door hung open, too, and a dim bulb tried valiantly to illuminate the cavernous interior.

“Dixie?” He stopped and listened. Was that a groan?

He quickly stepped inside and called for her again. This time he heard the groan quite clearly from one of the stalls to his right. Still on alert with his gun at the ready, he stepped to the back stall, past the one that housed the goats. They milled restlessly and bleated as he passed them.

He saw Dixie’s bare foot before he saw her. In a red nylon nightgown, she lay crumpled in some old hay. He knelt by her side and touched her arm. It was cold so he knew she’d been out here awhile. A horse blanket hung on the wall, and he grabbed it and spread it out over her. Did he dare turn her? He pulled out his flashlight and flipped it on.

A gash bled on her left temple, but he saw no other injuries in a cursory inspection. Her gray hair lay spread out around her. He gently rolled her over, and she winced at the light in her face, then opened her eyes. “Don’t move, Dixie. It’s the game warden.”

“Warden.” She rolled her head from side to side. “Hurts like a nettle.”

“What happened?”

“There was a man.” She swallowed and lifted her head a bit. “Don’t just stand there eyeing me like a calf looking at a new gate. Help me up. I’m indecent.” She tugged at the hem of her nightgown.

“I’m not sure you should move yet. Your head is still bleeding.”

She made a shooing motion and sat up. “You’re as bad as an old woman. I need some tea in my belly and some ice on my head. I’m going to the house. You can come along, or stand there looking silly.”

Shaking his head, he helped her to her feet. “Let me carry you.” He made a move to sweep her into his arms, but she smacked his arm.

“You’ll do no such thing. There will be rumors flying that we’re having an affair before you know it. Next thing I know, Walker will throw me over.” Her back erect, she marched toward the door, though she wobbled just a little.

Grinning, Kevin caught up with her. “There could be worse things said about me.”

A hint of a smile lifted her weathered face. “You should be married. A tongue as glib as yours shouldn’t be loosed on single women.”

He chuckled as he glanced around the moonlit yard. There was no sign of whoever had struck her. He waited to ask more questions until they were inside her neat kitchen sipping hot tea and eating homemade chocolate-chip cookies.

He put down his cup. “Now tell me what happened here tonight.”

She fixed him with a stare. “You’d better take good care of your lady, Warden. I think she’s in trouble.”

Kevin had gotten Dixie to the sofa and had pulled a beige afghan over her. She already had more color in her cheeks, and her eyes were bright and alert. She’d already wound her gray hair into a bun and stuck a pencil in it to hold it tight. He handed her a cold washcloth.

“I don’t think you’re going to need stitches. Once the bleeding eases off, I’ll put some butterfly tape on it. But if you’re dizzy at all or have a headache, you should go to urgent care.”

She pressed the washcloth to her oozing cut. “You sweet thing, I’m not going to the doctor. I’m as healthy as my goats. I’d like another crack at that man though.” She pumped her fist in the air. “I should have taken a shovel to his head.”

He pulled the armchair closer to her and took out a notepad and pencil. “Can you tell me what happened and why you think this has anything to do with Mallory?”

“I couldn’t sleep so I was playing around on Facebook when I heard the back door creak. It only makes that sound when it’s opened so I knew someone was in the house. I shot out a message on Facebook and closed my computer.”

Her hazel eyes narrowed, and she sat up a bit more. “I crept out of my bedroom and into the hall closet. Once I heard his steps go into my room, I went right out the door myself. I have a shotgun in the barn so I was heading for that when he caught me.”

Imagining the scene made him wince. “He caught you in the barn?”

She nodded. “I was just reaching for the shotgun when he grabbed my arm and spun me around. His head was covered with a ski mask so I can’t give you a description beyond the fact that he was about six feet tall and of average build. That’s about as helpful as a hose in a rainstorm though, I know.”

“He mentioned Mallory?”

She nodded and turned the cloth on her head over to the other side. “He asked what I’d told Mallory about him.”

Kevin leaned forward. “What did he mean by that?”

“I think he’s the same fellow who was arguing with Edmund that day out on Mermaid Point. I saw enough of his eyebrows through the mask to know he had gray hair like that guy. That’s the only thing I can come up with. They were both too far away for me to identify him even if he hadn’t been masked. But let me tell you, it sure made me wish I could have read the name of that boat.”

“Me too. What did you tell him when he asked?”

“I told him I gave Mallory his name. He shook me like a rag doll, then threw me into the wall.” She touched her head. “I reckon this was God’s punishment for lying, but the fellow sure got my back up. I wanted to scare him.”

Kevin sat back and frowned. “You might have put Mallory in more danger, Dixie. If this guy thinks she’s after him, he’s likely to intensify his efforts to get to her. He’s already broken into her house in Bangor and burned down Edmund’s house.”

“I heard about the house. It doesn’t seem possible that sweet old cottage could be gone. But the fire doesn’t seem to have been set to try to kill her. She wasn’t even inside.”

“That’s true. We don’t know what this guy is after. I think it might have been to burn up whatever evidence he thought was inside the house.” He picked up the first-aid kit beside him on the table and opened it. “Let’s bandage that cut.”

She didn’t flinch when he sterilized the cut and bandaged it. “I’ll run you to urgent care.”

“I already told you I’m not going anywhere. If I need to I’ll see the doctor tomorrow. Right now all I want to do is go to bed.”

“What if he comes back?”

She swept her arm toward the door. “If you’ll get my shotgun for me, I’ll give him a reception he won’t soon forget. I don’t think he’ll be back though. He could have killed me if he wanted to.”

She had a point. “I’ll get your gun. You go on to bed and I’ll bring it to your room.”

He waited to make sure she could navigate on her own, then slipped out the back door and walked across the moonlit yard to the barn, which was still faintly illuminated with the overhead light. The goats bleated at him as he went to where he’d found Dixie and grabbed the shotgun. As he started to return to the house, he noticed a card on the straw-littered ground and stopped to pick it up.

It was a business card for a restaurant favored by locals called Ruth and Wimpy’s Kitchen. He’d eaten there many times, and it was always packed, thanks to its homegrown fare of lobster prepared in myriad ways and the hefty sandwiches they served. He pocketed it and carried the shotgun back to the house.

He found Dixie in bed with the covers pulled up to her chin. Her gray hair was spread out on the pink pillowcase. Her eyes were sleepy, but she didn’t appear to be in any pain. After making sure the gun was loaded and ready, he propped it in a corner. “Sure you don’t want to go to town?”

“I’m positive.”

“You ever get over Hancock way? I found this.” He pulled the business card from his pocket and showed her.

She wrinkled her forehead. “I’m lucky if I make it to Summer Harbor to the library every six months. I can’t tell you the last time I ate anywhere but Dixie’s Diner. Heck, I feed half the population of Walker’s Roost every Saturday night.”

He’d heard of the ribs she made for family and friends in her kitchen on Saturdays, but he’d never been able to accept an invitation. “I’ll check out the restaurant, but it’s probably a dead end. Call if you hear anything. And you can thank Adelaide Wilson for me turning up. She saw your Facebook post.”

She rolled over on her side, and her eyes drifted shut. “It will just encourage her nosiness.”

She might have a point. Kevin grinned and pulled the bedroom door shut behind him.