Mind Your Own Beeswax (9 page)

Then I remembered what Holly said about Ali Schmidt being in The Wild Clover when Lauren and Rita came in for the candle-making class.

“Did Ali recognize Lauren when she came into the store?” I asked T. J.

He frowned, puzzled. “What are you talking about?”

“Holly said Ali came because she forgot to buy sugar and was at the register when Lauren arrived. I thought she might have recognized her and mentioned it to you.”

“She must not have noticed,” T. J. said. “Or believe me, she would have told me. What happened?”

So I had to explain to everyone about Lauren joining the class at the last minute after walking right past Holly and Ali. And about the cancer and chemo and how I didn’t recognize her because she’d changed so much.

“She looked ten years older. And way too thin.” I glanced at T. J. “I’m not surprised Ali didn’t know her when she came through. I was in the same room with her for the entire time and didn’t recognize her.”

Hunter stood up and gave my arm a gentle squeeze, which meant he was taking off. “Ben and I need to get to work. Time is critical.”

“I’ll help,” T. J. said.

“I’m going through The Lost Mile,” Hunter warned him.

“In that case, forget it,” T. J. said, putting up his hands like he was warding off evil.

Hunter smiled. “Thought you’d change your mind.”

“Why search there?” T. J. wanted to know.

“Story heard shots from that direction. It’s as good a place to start as any.”

“I still want to find Carrie Ann,” Gunnar said. “I’ll try to meet up with you later.”

“I’ll help,” I said to Hunter, volunteering against my better judgment, partly because I didn’t want him to be alone if he found something awful. And partly because, hey, I had the hots for him. That is to say, whenever I wasn’t considering running in the opposite direction. Call me conflicted. Right now I was in hot mode.

He nodded. “Good.”

Just then Hunter’s cell phone rang and he answered it. “I’m at Stu’s. Weren’t we supposed to meet here?” he said, while the rest of us were silent, trying to glean as much from the one-sided conversation as we could. But all he said was, “Right, I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Now what?” T. J. asked.

“Gus, Rita, and the rest of them are waiting to get started on the north end of The Lost Mile. Let’s go, Story.”

With that, he headed for the door. I scurried along behind. I loved a man on a mission, one who valued my opinion right along with the rest of me.

“Keep me posted,” T. J. called out, ordering another drink. “I’ll be at the bar for a while.”

When Hunter pulled up on the side of the road on the north end of The Lost Mile, a small group of Lauren’s immediate family was waiting near their vehicles, which were lined up in an uneven row. Flashlights and headlights cast them in eerie, murky light. We jumped out of his sheriff’s SUV. Hunter went around to the back and reappeared with Ben harnessed and leashed at his side, two heavy-duty flashlights in his hand. He handed one to me.

A Belgian Malinois looks a lot like a German shepherd. Ben had short, deep brown fur with black tips, a black face mask, and black ears. He gave me a curt tail wag in greeting, which I would have completely missed if I hadn’t been studying the big dog’s ways in the last few months as Hunter and I edged closer to an intimate relationship.

I’d seen Ben in action when he responded to Hunter’s attack commands, several times while they practiced together and once in real-live action. Not only was Ben an amazing animal, Hunter was really good at teaching police dogs to do their stuff, one of the main reasons he’d been put in charge of the K-9 unit. He loved those animals.

When we joined the anxious group, Rita stepped forward and handed Hunter a plastic bag.

“You didn’t touch them?” he asked her.

“No. I did it just like you told me. With gloves.”

Hunter opened the bag, exposing a pair of pink pajama bottoms. He offered Ben the opportunity to explore the contents, adding a one-word command, “Smell.”

I wanted to ask a bunch of questions, but Hunter was in serious work mode and I was just along for the ride, watching the action from the sidelines. Until now I had had no idea Ben could actually track a missing person so I had a bunch of unspoken questions. This was going to be an interesting adventure.

Ben did some sniff-sniffs with the pjs while Hunter outlined his plan to the Kerrigans. “I want all of you to stay right where you are. Story is coming with me. If we find Lauren or any evidence that she passed this way and my cell doesn’t pick up a signal, Story will come out and inform you.”

“I’m going, too,” Gus said, a firm set to his jaw. “Lauren is part of our family.”

Hunter shook his head, just as firmly. “You might confuse Ben.” He went on to tell all of us a few facts about tracking dogs:

Gus held out a walkie-talkie, resigning himself to a more passive role. “Story, you don’t have to go along,” he said to me. “Hunter can take this walkie-talkie with him and use it if he needs to.”

I grabbed the mobile radio. “I’m going. My scent won’t confuse Ben, and I know my way through this area better than most of you.” Which was true. I hiked these woods often. But always in the light of day.

Hunter released Ben from his leash and we headed into the darkness of The Lost Mile, surrounded by a cloak of blackness, dependent on the small halos of light from the flashlights. We moved fast and wordlessly. Ben seemed to know exactly how far ahead of us he should stay, operating just beyond our beams. At times his head was down, nose to the ground, at other times he paused to sniff the air.

But we always kept moving forward, so it seemed Ben knew what he was doing.

I thought about the last time Hunter and I had been together in this spot, sixteen years ago, and about how that one night seemed to be defining the present. And about how I’d left Hunter behind at the end of my senior year when I moved to Milwaukee. Not that our relationship had been in the best shape when I left. We’d both been young and immature and had said and done things we shouldn’t have.

Ten minutes later, fog began to swirl around us.

“Can we talk?” I asked at one point. “Or will that interfere with Ben’s tracking work?”

“He’s been trained to ignore distractions. We can talk all we want.”

“Do we want?”

“Not yet. I’m listening.”

“For what?” But Hunter didn’t answer.

Several times after that, I lost sight of Ben, but every time, just when I was sure we’d lost him for good, he would reappear out of the fog like an apparition.

Speaking of apparitions.

“Any recent Lantern Man sightings?” I asked Hunter in a low voice.

“Nothing new,” Hunter said keeping his voice low, too. There was something about the dark woods and fingers of fog that brought out our caution reflexes.

“But you checked for reports before you came tonight?” I asked him.

“You bet.”

“Not that there would be anything to report, since he managed to scare everybody away a long time ago. Nobody comes in here after dark anymore.”

“
We’re
here. Shhh.” He paused and I could tell he was listening for something.

“What?” I whispered. “What?

“Nothing.”

“You’re creeping me out.”

“Sorry.”

This time when we started moving again, I stayed closer to Hunter. He was as alert for trouble as Ben was. I should have felt very safe with those two. I was working hard to achieve that warm, fuzzy feeling, but it was hard to do in this cold, damp place.

The walkie-talkie clutched in my hand crackled, startling me. I almost dropped it. Robert Kerrigan’s voice came through loud and clear. If wild things roamed in this part of the woods, they had our exact location by now. “Find anything yet?” Robert’s voice boomed.

I fiddled with the controls and answered him, “Nothing.” I looked around as I walked, trying to get my bearings in such low visibility. “I think we’re about halfway through.” Ben came into our circle of light, still working the ground.

“There are more of us gathering here at the road,” Robert said. “Lauren wasn’t anywhere in town and nobody we talked with fired those shots you heard. You and Hunter are our last hope.”

Wonderful! That’s what I always wanted to be, someone’s last hope.

“Any possibility she just drove off?” I said into the radio.

“She didn’t have a car. And none of ours are missing.”

“Oh,” I said. “Okay. Roger. Over and out.”

Hunter chuckled quietly beside me. “Very professional,” he said with a teasing tone. “So who’s Roger? Does that mean I have more competition? I thought I drove them all away for good.”

“I’m a hot babe,” I reminded him in case he hadn’t noticed. Keeping a man on his toes was a full-time job for a woman. I glanced around. “Where’s Ben?”

“Around here somewhere.”

I glanced around again, thinking Ben had been gone longer than usual. Then I heard him bark. Hunter tensed beside me.

When Ben barked again, Hunter moved off the old logging road. I followed, recognizing the decaying white birch with the woodpecker holes. My bee tree! Hunter headed for it, then past it. I could see the dark outline of my bees even in the fog, although it seemed thinner here. The black blob of bees stood out against the cloud cover.

When I drew my eyes back to earth, Hunter was squatting next to a large heap on the ground. Ben was quietly standing guard.

“Stay back,” Hunter called to me, rising and swinging his light away, sweeping the beam high over a clump of trees, so I couldn’t get a good look at what was on the ground. “Don’t use the radio,” he said. “This place will be mobbed with people if you do.” He came over to me. “Here. Hold both flashlights and keep at least one focused on me.”

He studied my bee tree.

“My swarm,” I offered, noting that all the activity on the ground hadn’t fazed the bees at all. The chill and darkness had them tucked in close to each other, virtually immobile.

Hunter moved on to another tree, a maple with lower branches.

I avoided looking at where Ben stood, and instead my eyes and the light beams followed Hunter as he began to climb the maple. He swung effortlessly up from branch to branch. What on earth was he doing? Then I realized he was climbing up the tree to find a cell signal. He needed to make a phone call. Yet Hunter had told me not to notify the search party. Why not?

I found my voice.

“Is that Lauren?” I asked, continuing to shine the light on him as he’d asked me to do. “Is she dead?” If it was Lauren, I figured she must be dead, since Hunter hadn’t bothered to attempt CPR.

But Hunter was intent on other things and he didn’t seem to hear me ask if the body belonged to our high school classmate.

A moment later, one more branch up, he found what he needed. Cell coverage.

“Chief Jay,” he said with more professional courtesy than Johnny Jay had heard all night, or deserved. I groaned inwardly at the thought of having to answer questions from our police chief.

I tried to listen to the one-sided conversation, but my head was spinning. I had started out with Hunter on a lark, never expecting to actually find Lauren, and all I could think of was how sad this all was that she had finally been freed from prison, only to end her life with a bullet.

How lonely and distraught she must have been to take such drastic measures. What should have been a new beginning, a new start, was a final tortured farewell, especially for the family left behind. Briefly, I felt bitter toward her for the pain she continued to inflict on Rita and the rest of the Kerrigans. T. J. was so right. She’d been nothing but trouble.

Hunter gave Johnny our location and warned him about the search party congregating out on the road north of The Lost Mile. He recommended plenty of backup.

Then he started down, jumping to the ground from the lowest branch of the tree.

That’s when I first discovered the dead body we found wasn’t Lauren Kerrigan.

It was Hetty Cross, the Witch.