I’d thought about suicide off and on since I was very young. The idea is like a drug, addicting, and it lures you to an interesting place.
Needless to say, thinking I didn’t have to worry about what I did because it would no longer affect my life was an intoxicant, but that is all predicated on the assumption that I would end my own life.
I don’t think I’m that generous.
I take life. I do not give it away.
Alicia stopped by her house before work to check on things and was relieved to see everything looked normal and it was even comforting to realize she needed to do laundry, the ordinary chore making the night with Jon, both the good and the bad, seem like a dream.
She ran a load, including her sheets, thinking that a fine autumn day was a good time to have the windows open, but she thought better of it and made sure each was securely latched instead. The weather was supposed to break soon again and a rainy week was predicted with fall temperatures and possible snowfall…
And the idea of open windows was frightening instead of inviting.
They’d discovered the body of the missing young woman. It had been all over the news, especially considering where it was found.
Alicia had done a history report on the Murray family once. None of it was very reassuring about humanity of this world. Not only had he been a big, kindly man outwardly, but all the accounts she’d read postulated maybe his wife had known he was abducting and killing women and just looked the other way.
He’d done some really unspeakable things.
It didn’t end with him either.
Alicia carefully folded a pair of pants and set them on the dryer.
Then there were the missing girls when she was in high school. In truth, she tried not to think about it.
It seemed impossible this sleepy little town could have another killer.
The knock just before she was getting ready to walk out the door startled her, but she was pretty jumpy anyway. Alicia went to open it, stopped and thought better of it, and peered through the top panel of faceted glass instead. “Yes?”
“Alicia, can we have a word?”
The sheriff was with a tall, lanky deputy. She blew out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding and unlocked the deadbolt. “Sure, sorry.”
Troy Walda looked harried, and it was probably a given that he would be under the circumstances. Even his uniform was rumpled when he was normally immaculate. He said, “I’m glad to see you’re being cautious. Can we talk to you for a moment? Given recent developments, I want to review your call of the other evening and maybe see if I can get a better description of the man you saw looking in your window. Sometimes people can remember details a little better after they’ve had time to reflect back on the event when they aren’t so rattled. I just need a few minutes.”
She was going to be late for work, but then again, a woman was dead so that seemed insignificant. “Of course.”
They sat in her living room and she really wished she hadn’t left a pile of laundry on the couch when she realized it, because a pair of panties was right on top. The slinky black lace ones she’d settled on before dinner with Jon the other night. At least they were clean, but she still flushed and picked up the stack to carry it back into the laundry room. “Excuse me for a second.”
When she came back both men had out notebooks and pens. Sheriff Walda asked her, “Obviously your call, as a single young woman who is usually alone, takes on a new significance to us since we have a murder on our hands. Can you describe exactly what happened again?”
Usually alone.
Embarrassment took on a whole new meaning. At least that comment showed that everyone was aware she didn’t sleep around. “I was in bed and I hadn’t closed the curtains, though I usually do.”
Because I was having hot, sweaty sex with Jon Palmer…
She left that part out. Troy Walda already knew it anyway.
“I just happened to roll over and saw someone looking in.”
The deputy asked, “You are sure it was a man?”
She thought about the malignant expression and cold eyes and her throat tightened. “One hundred percent. He had a scar across his right cheek. Very vivid. Pronounced enough I could see it even though the room was dark.”
“But you didn’t recognize him?”
It was difficult to not hesitate. “No.”
He sensed it. She saw it in his sharpened attention. “You’re sure?”
“He looked familiar but I can’t really give you a name.” That was the best she could do. “You know where I work. I see a lot of people. I’m looking back and second guessing myself.”
He knew where she worked, of course. Troy Walda had once been a very loyal customer.
“And Jon Palmer was with you, right?”
“He was asleep.”
“So he told me.” His smile was wry and held no humor. “Okay, so a white male with a scar on his face. Color of his hair?”
“Dark.”
“I don’t suppose you could tell us what he was wearing. Anything else?”
“I’m sorry, but no.”
They both stood. The sheriff said, “We’ll make a note of it. Thank you very much.”
Alicia followed them out the door, locking it carefully, watching them get in the vehicle with the law enforcement logo on the side, talking to each other.
Twenty minutes late to work at least. She’d call from her cell in the car, but the store was only five minutes from her house.
The first person she saw when she hurried through the door was a man standing by the coolers. It looked like he was wondering if he wanted a lager or a stout.
Then he turned slightly and she caught a glimpse of his profile.
She froze, fear crawling up her spine.
The livid scar on his cheek was visible for just a moment as he walked rapidly toward the back of the store and disappeared behind racks of wine.
When her muscles unlocked, Alicia fumbled in her purse for her phone and almost dialed 911 before she changed her mind because this really wasn’t an emergency. She couldn’t even say with any certainty from that glimpse that it was the same face she’d seen in the window.
Still…
“I was getting worried.” Marge, the elderly woman who usually opened, already had her keys on the counter. “You’re never late. I just counted down the drawer, by the way.”
For once Alicia wished her grouchy male co-worker was the one on duty. Manfred didn’t have a lot of bulk to him thanks to the chain-smoking, but he carried a concealed weapon at all times. “Did you see that customer who just went back toward the hard liquor section?”
Marge frowned as she shrugged into her coat. “No, I can’t say I did really. I couldn’t wait any longer and was just in the restroom. I didn’t even hear the bell.”
“Could you wait a minute or two until he leaves?” It wasn’t as if a little old lady who looked like everyone’s vision of a gray-haired grandmother was any protection, but she could be a witness. To say Alicia was uneasy was putting it mildly. “I’m late because I was talking to the cops. I had what they thought was just a peeping Tom the other night, but now with the murder, Troy wanted to go over the incident again.”
“Oh dear.” Behind her spectacles, Marge’s eyes widened. “Yes, of course I’ll wait.”
Not for the first time, Alicia wished they had surveillance cameras. It had been discussed, just never implemented. Small town store; small town owner. He wasn’t convinced it was necessary.
Still, Alicia had her phone and could take a picture if she could pull it off with enough nonchalance. The way her hands were shaking that seemed unlikely. Besides, if he was the man she’d caught looking in the window, or even worse, the one who’d abducted a woman and murdered her, it might really be a bad idea to give him a reason to think she’d recognized him.
Fifteen minutes later, he still hadn’t come to check out.
When one of their regulars came in, a trucker who ran a route to Minneapolis four days a week, Alicia eyed his bulky shoulders and asked if he would mind taking a look around with her.
“Not at all,” he assured her, as usual looking at her chest and not her face.
“Up here,” she said, pointing at her eyes. “This is kind of serious. Someone might be hiding somewhere. Help me out and I will give you your beer on the house.”
The least the owner could do. She was going to insist on those damn cameras.
The trucker’s smile was sheepish as he met her gaze. “Sounds good to me.”
Only the man wasn’t anywhere. Not in the backroom, not in the bathroom, not in any of the aisles. There was a buzzer on the back door if it opened, but it hadn’t sounded.
Alicia was cold all over as she went behind the counter to start her shift. Her first transaction of the day was to hand over the free beer. She said woodenly, “Thanks so much for your help.”
* * * *
There was a certain freedom in being sure your sanity was slipping.
For one thing, Jon heard the childish laughter again and didn’t blink an eye as he walked along the edge of the lake, crushing wet leaves.
He still needed to wash his boots. This was an interesting way to do it.
There were two loons that had obviously failed to look at the calendar because they’d hung on, bobbing in the water, diving now and then. He idly watched them, hands in his pockets, as he stood there by a stand of swaying birch.
The sunset was lurid, a smear of red above the treetops, and the air smelled like rain. He and George had gotten fairly drunk the night before and as a result, he’d battled a headache all day, completely self-inflicted.
He heard the car pull in with a sense of fatalistic resignation. There were so many things that could go wrong. It would be one thing if he drove a pickup truck, but if anyone had seen his distinctive car on the road near the Murray farm and reported it he’d be under instant suspicion. If Troy didn’t buy George’s explanation about the headstone question and took their friendship into account, maybe the police would look his way. They could probably match his tire tracks to the ones at the farm. He hadn’t expected to find a body so it wasn’t as if he’d parked carefully. There would be footprints too.
And they’d found his bloody shirt. That had been on the late news out of the local affiliate and Jon had to wonder what other mistakes he might have inadvertently made to point a damning finger his direction, whether he deserved it or not.
That was the worst part of it. He only had a shaky conviction of his innocence.
He walked up the hill back toward the cabin, but to his relief, it wasn’t a law enforcement vehicle, but Alicia’s little sedan parked by his car and she was at the cabin door, standing uncertainly on the step.
“I went for a walk by the lake,” he said by way of greeting. Maybe his smile was convincing, but he doubted it. “It’s good to see you. I stopped by your house last night but you weren’t home.”
She was back in her working clothes, but he now understood better why she wore such shapeless clothing. Dressed up, she was something to see, and completely undressed was very memorable. Some women liked that sort of attention drawn from men, but others, like her apparently, didn’t want the wolf whistles and crude remarks. Connie had always dressed to show off her body, but then again, she was undeniably shallow.
It didn’t say much for him that he’d just found that facet of his ex-wife’s personality amusing when they first met.
“I stayed with my parents last night. I don’t have your number or I would have called before just coming by.” Alicia looked apologetic, but she also was visibly upset. “Can we talk for a few minutes?”
“Sure. I forgot to start a fire, but there’s a space heater. Come on in.”
Forgot? It was true. He was getting used to the cold.
Once they were inside, he did go switch on the little fake fireplace, turned the knob to high, and let her have the chair closest to the source of heat. Given how pale she was, not all her shivering was the October evening.
“What happened?”
“I saw him again. That man…or whatever he is.” She rubbed her upper arms. “He was in the liquor store.”
Larimer. Jon wasn’t all that surprised. If he was interested in Alicia Hahn, Larimer would be too.
Given, of course, it wasn’t all just a nightmarish illusion. His voice even sounded disembodied. “I hope you called the police.”
Sweetheart, it might be a dead man with a grudge against me. Yeah, that sounded sane.
She shook her head, her hazel eyes haunted. “And say what? That I thought I saw the same man from the other night and that he came into the store but never left?”
“Never left?”
“I finally went to look for him. I admit I was frightened he might hide and come out at me from behind one of the coolers or something; I don’t know.” She made a helpless gesture with her hand. “He wasn’t anywhere but he couldn’t have left. I can’t explain it.”
He really couldn’t either. Not in a way that made any sense.
“I’m not happy with the events of the past days either.” Jon was telling the absolute truth.
Alicia gazed at him and her voice was hushed and low. “I wished you’d never said what you did about Black Lake to me. Now I’m thinking about it.”
There was a certain incredulity when he asked, “You didn’t before?”
“Maybe,” she admitted, looking back at him. “Just not in the way you put it. I love it here. This is where I grew up, this is my home. It isn’t…cursed.”
“I don’t know about curses.” He met her gaze. “I have lived with evil though. It’s an uncomfortable companion.”