Detective Sonja Test needed to hurry.
She browsed the Kids Attik of the Canaan General Store, rummaging through racks of snowsuits for Elizabeth, and had just been told by the owner that the place would close early, in twenty minutes. The torrential rain the past two hours had prompted severe flood warnings and threatened to wash out roads and knock out the power. High winds were predicted, and when the temperature plunged, the town was in for an icy hell.
Claude had driven his Jeep separately from home to haul back the generator Test insisted they rent if the power went out, when it went out.
Twice, the lights in the store had flickered out and left Test standing in the dark wondering if the power was out for the night.
She cursed herself. She should never have wasted her afternoon at the White Mountain Mall across the river, in search of a bargain snowsuit. She knew better. The snowsuits in the mall fit the family budget, but the suits were no bargain. They were cheap, poorly insulated, with cuffs and collars that let in the snow and wind; and the flimsy zippers had broken on two of Elizabeth’s previous bargain suits. Yet the prices at the ski shops for quality snowsuits were absurd, especially since the snowsuits were good for a season, if that, with how fast the kids grew.
So now here Test was, shopping where she should have come first instead of at home getting the kids ready for bed at a reasonable hour so tomorrow morning wouldn’t be a total catastrophe of overtired kids who resisted getting out of bed with the ferocity of one being dragged to a vat of boiling grease.
Test hurried now while Claude occupied the kids downstairs in the Toy Korner, once a wonderland of local wooden handmade toys before kids’ sections everywhere were conquered by Melissa & Doug.
God, she was frayed, not the least due to this mad weather, this climatic bubonic plague; twice on the way from New Hampshire to the house to get the Jeep, visibility had been so poor Claude had needed to pull over.
As Test checked a price on a snowsuit her work cell phone rang in her coat pocket.
Today was supposed to be her day off, though a cop, especially the temporary, sole detective and forensics-team-of-one for the Canaan Police, never had a day off. Test would have it no other way.
She dug around in her coat pockets, retrieving her phone.
Chief Barrons. Test’s spirits were buoyed, believing the chief had decided to promote her to the senior detective position vacated by Detective Grout.
“Chief,” Test said.
“Where are you?” he said, skipping the pleasantries.
This was not a call about a promotion. Bad news was coming.
Then again, when did a chief of police call an officer bearing good news?
“The Kids Attik,” Test said.
“The what?”
“Canaan General Store.”
“I need you over at the home of Tammy Gates.”
“Who? What’s going on?”
“I’m not sure. She called dispatch, frantic. Something about her mother. She fears something’s happened.”
“An Alzheimer’s thing?” Test imagined an elderly woman lost in this fog. It happened too often, the aged wandering off. A dangerous scenario that could prove fatal fast in this weather.
“If that were the case, I’d get Larkin on it and not bother you. Dispatch said the daughter was talking about a strange man.”
“What man?”
“I’m sending Frank Rath out there to help.”
“Rath?” Test stared at the phone as if it had spoken in place of Barrons. She put the phone back to her ear. “Why?”
Barrons did not answer. The chief did not have to justify his decisions.
Test respected Frank Rath. His consultant work had broken two recent, horrific cases, but he’d done it ad hoc while investigating a missing girl as a favor to Detective Grout. In the end, Rath, taciturn as he was, had handed Test the arrest of the girl’s killer when he could just as easily, and more understandably, handed it to Grout. A friend. A man.
Test owed Rath.
But Rath wasn’t on the payroll, consultant or otherwise, as far as Test knew—and she should have known.
“Why Rath?” Test pressed. If Barrons was even considering Rath for the senior detective position, Test deserved—
“I’ll call Rath and get him over,” he said and hung up.
Test aborted her shopping mission; hopefully Elizabeth wouldn’t need a snowsuit for a while if this crazy rain kept up.
Test took the stairs down from the Kids Attik, ducked under the beam at the bottom. Canaan General was housed in an 1800s converted barn, the Kids Attik the old haymow, the stairs’ risers hand-painted with “Caution, steep stairs” and “Watch your head.”
Test found Claude and the kids in the Toy Korner, Elizabeth playing with plush stuffies on a turnstile rack, George sacked out on a beanbag chair in the corner, a Great Brain book splayed on his lap, his open mouth drooling.
“Why’d you let George doze?” Test said. “He’s going to be a nightmare when he wakes up and never go down tonight.”
Claude glanced at George. “He must have just fallen asleep.”
Test rolled her eyes. “With that drool? Well, he’ll be your nightmare. We have to go.”
“We just got here!” Elizabeth complained.
“Mama has to go, OK?” Test knelt and kissed her daughter’s forehead. “The store is going to close in ten minutes and you’ll have to leave then. Leave nicely. Be good for Daddy.”
She stood, kissed Claude on the cheek.
“What is it, car wreck, flooded roads?” Claude asked.
“Not sure. Nothing good.”
“I don’t know how you do it.”
“It’s not how. It’s why.”
“What time do you expect to be back?” Claude said, though he knew estimates were pointless when Test was called out.
“Could be an hour, could be all night,” she said.
“I’ve got to be on the road by five a.m. tomorrow to make it to Burlington on time in this weather.”
Test had forgotten about Claude’s interview for a two-week visiting artist position the next spring at the University of Vermont in Burlington. Not because it wasn’t important. It was. It would give Claude clout, and the stipend was generous, though the two weeks would be a slog for Test alone with the kids. Test had forgotten because it had created no conflict until now. It was possible she wouldn’t make it home in time for Claude to hit the road, and there was nothing she could do about it.
She had to see events to their conclusion if she wanted the vacant senior detective position. Especially as a female detective. A mother.
“I have to be there,” Claude said.
“I’ll do my best. Give me the Jeep keys? By the time I get done, I’ll probably need four-wheel drive to get home.”