Video Kill (26 page)

Read Video Kill Online

Authors: Joanne Fluke

“Do you mean the shot where he tracked backward and zoomed forward?”
“Yes. That's the one.” Allison beamed at him. “And I did think the plot line was quite unbelievable, although I'm not sure how it could have been improved.”
“But
I
know!”
He smiled at her, and Allison almost cried in relief as he started to lecture on the film. He certainly wouldn't kill her while he was in the middle of an explanation. She had to stock up enough questions to keep him occupied until . . . until what? Tony wouldn't be home until late, if he came home at all. And the police had no way of knowing that the Video Killer was stalking her. There was no one who would come in to save her. She was alone, all alone, and she had to make her move soon or he'd grow bored and tired of talking to his next victim.
“. . . and so naturally, I would have turned Kim Novak's suicide attempt into an actual drowning.”
“Brilliant!” Allison got to her feet as gracefully as she could and inched carefully toward the door. “I'd love to hear your analysis of
Notorious
right after I slip into my best Joan Fontaine costume. It just happens to be a copy of something she wore in
Suspicion
. Would you excuse me for just a moment?”
“But, Miss Greene, you haven't even tasted the drink I made for you.”
“It looks delicious.” Allison gave him her most innocent smile. She knew what was in that drink. Joan Fontaine had been poisoned. “Could you put it right there on the table by the couch? I promise to enjoy every drop, the moment I come back.”
Allison's legs were shaking as she fled to the bedroom and locked the door behind her. Then she raced to the phone to call the police. No dial tone. She pressed the buttons frantically, but there was only the distant crackling of an open line. And then . . . the sound of someone breathing?
“Hello? Hello? Who's there?” Her voice was a terrified whisper.
“This is Brother, Miss Greene. You tricked Lon, but I know how to deal with reluctant actresses. Now, be a good girl and come out. Or I'll be forced to come in and get you.”
The phone fell from Allison's nerveless fingers and landed with a clatter on the night table. She was trapped! She ran into the bathroom and threw the lock on that door, too. It would take him a while to get through two locked doors. And then . . . Allison's mind went absolutely blank as she huddled in a corner and let terror wash over in waves.
 
 
Katy and Sam were pouring over pictures of actresses when Sam looked up.
“Do you know an Allison Greene? The name's familiar.”
“Allison Greene?” Katy grabbed the pile of background material she'd gathered on Tony and paged through it quickly. “Oh, my God, Sam! Allison Greene is Tony's wife!”
 
 
Tony screeched around the corner and pulled up with one wheel resting on the curb.
“Let's go, Erik!” Tony reached under the seat and pulled out the little twenty-five automatic he'd been carrying ever since he started working at sleazy motels for the porn job. “Take this, I've got the tire iron.”
“You take that pop gun. I'll handle the tire iron and go in from the front.”
“Okay. We'll cover the house fast and meet in the master bedroom.”
Tony crouched as he ran around the corner of the house and crossed the back patio. He unlocked the kitchen door noiselessly and eased it open. The breakfast nook was deserted. No sign of struggle in the living room, but there was a carton of cream on the bar. Allison hated drinks with cream, and she'd never make one for herself.
Suddenly a scene from
Suspicion
came back to Tony in horrifying detail. He could see Cary Grant walking up the staircase with a glass of milk for Joan Fontaine. It had been poisoned milk in the original ending.
Tony raced through the deserted hallway and met Erik in front of the bedroom door. He started to push the door open, but Erik held him back with a gesture. Faint voices carried through the heavy oak door. Allison's voice, desperate. She was still alive! And the deeper, ominous tones of a man.
Erik pushed Tony to the side with one well-placed shove and barreled into the room in a frontal assault. Tony caught a glimpse of a man in a black executioner's hood. He was bending over Allison, holding a glass to her lips.
Erik yelled and the man whirled, dropping the glass to the rug. A knife appeared in his hand, and he slashed out as Erik tackled him, drawing blood.
“Take cover, Allison!”
Allison scrambled from the bed and rolled under it as Tony leveled the gun. Erik and the Video Killer were grappling in a deadly contest, and he couldn't get a clear shot.
The knife flashed again, and Tony heard Erik grunt in pain. Then the Video Killer moved into his sights, and Tony squeezed the trigger. Once. Twice.
The sound of his little automatic echoed off the walls of the room and the Video Killer dropped to the rug, still clutching Erik. In the sudden silence Tony rushed to his friend and freed him.
Sirens sounded faintly in the distance, then louder as Tony grabbed a towel and tried to staunch the flow of Erik's blood. A moment later police cars screeched up in front.
“Erik. Hang on, buddy. Help's coming.”
“Allison?” Erik's voice was so weak that Tony could barely hear him.
“She's all right. You saved her life, Erik.”
“Jamie . . . ?” Erik said weakly. “Promise, Tony!”
“Sure, Erik. I'll take care of Jamie for you. I promise.”
Tony didn't even feel the tears that were streaking down his face. Erik looked bad. Very bad. His face was pasty and his skin was cold to the touch. And his blood was soaking through the towel, even though Tony kept up a steady pressure on the wound.
At that instant Sam Ladera rushed in, followed by a full complement of his men. Tony stood by helplessly while the paramedics loaded Erik onto a stretcher and carried him out to a waiting ambulance. He turned just in time to see Katy with her arms around Allison, leading her from the room.
“Allison?” Tony rushed up to her, but Allison stared right through him with wide, unfocused eyes. She seemed not to recognize him at all. “Allison, honey, you're not hurt, are you?”
“It's the shock, Tony.” Katy squeezed her arm.
“I'm taking her to the hospital for a thorough check, but it wouldn't be good for her to come back here tonight.”
“No. Of course not. Thanks, Katy.”
“Tony?” Sam was standing next to two paramedics who were removing the Video Killer's body. “Bad news, Tony. He's going to make it. Both of your chest shots were deflected by ribs. If I'd known, I would have given you my forty-five.”
Tony knelt to stare down at the Video Killer's exposed face. He gasped as he recognized him.
“Lon? Lon Michaels!”
Lon looked up, and then he tried to smile.
“Tony. I'm sorry. I wanted to work on your project, but Brother had to finish his first. Maybe you can . . .”
Lon's voice trailed off and his face changed into a fierce mask of hatred. Tony stepped back involuntarily as a raspy voice spoke from Lon's lips.
“Lon's gone away. Forever. I'm Brother.”
Epilogue
One Year Later
 
Allison's high heels sank into the grass as she walked across the rolling green lawn toward the entrance to Pine Ridge. One year had passed since she had narrowly escaped becoming the Video Killer's sixth victim.
It had been a year filled with grief and pain. Erik had been flown to a veteran's hospital in the East, a place that specialized in the care he needed. He was recovering, but it would be months before he was on his feet again. The Video Killer's knife had caused massive damage, and he'd undergone several bouts of reconstructive surgery.
From the very first, Katy Brannigan had taken charge, letting Allison stay in her old apartment until she felt well enough to face the world again. Allison had gone back to the expensive house in Studio City only once, to pack her belongings. She'd known that she needed time away from Tony.
Allison had visited her mother every morning, managing somehow to hold down the job that Katy had gotten her. She was just beginning to get back to normal, to feel the nightmare receding, when her mother had died. Then there were more months of grief and work, work and grief, refusing to answer the calls she received from Tony and hiding from the world in the cramped little apartment she'd rented.
She hadn't asked, but Katy had told her that Tony had finished the movie and sold the house. He was living in Northern California now, somewhere in the foothills above Sacramento on a ranch he'd bought with his share of the movie money. No one seemed to know his exact whereabouts, not even Ginger Watson.
Ginger had arrived on Allison's doorstep yesterday, and Allison had recognized the redhead from Donny's immediately, even though she hadn't seen her in almost a year, as the woman who'd been with Tony that afternoon at the Traveler Motel, Tony's mistress. Allison's first impulse had been to shut the door in her face, but something had stopped her.
Ginger had told her everything. That was the reason she had driven to Pine Ridge today. She had to visit Jamie, to see if she could help. Then she had to find Tony to tell him that she'd made a dreadful mistake.
As Allison reached the front entrance, she straightened her shoulders and pulled open the door. The reception area had a homey touch with braided rugs and a fireplace. A gray-haired, motherly woman sat behind a desk by the window.
“I'd like to see Jamie Nielsen. My name is Allison Greene.”
“Jamie?” The older woman smiled. “He's lucky today. Two visitors.”
“Shall I wait until his other visitor has left?”
“Oh, no. I'm sure Jamie will be delighted to see you. They're out by the pool, enjoying the sun. I'll call for an aide to show you the way.”
A moment later Allison was back outside again, following a smiling man down a flagstone path to the pool area.
“Are you a member of Jamie's family?”
“No.” Allison couldn't help but respond to the man's friendly smile. “I'm a friend of his father's.”
“A terrible tragedy.” The man's face grew sober. “Jamie had a rough few months, but having his father's cat helped a lot and he's making wonderful progress now. He's done so well, we hope to release him in six months or so.”
“Where will he go? Erik's still in the hospital.”
“It seems Mr. Nielsen has some very generous friends. There's a man who's been paying all the bills for Jamie's care, and he's going to look after him until his father comes home. There they are, over there, under the blue awning.”
Allison's breath caught in her throat as she saw a smiling blond boy sitting at a table. He looked so much like Erik. He was talking to a man whose back was turned toward Allison, and their body postures indicated that they were fast friends.
“But Jamie looks almost . . .” Allison stopped, suddenly ashamed of her expectations.
“Normal? Yes, he's come a long way, and most of it's due to the man you see with him. He's been here every weekend. Last year, at this time, Jamie was just beginning to speak. Now he's up to grade level on all his subjects except math. We think he'll be ready for a regular public school very soon.”
“The math part may run in the family. Erik always claimed he'd flunked algebra three times. That man, is he the one who's going to take care of Jamie?”
“Yes. I'll have Jamie introduce you. They've just come back from a fishing trip. Two weeks in a cabin by a stream in Oregon.”
The aide crossed the last few yards and tapped Jamie on the shoulder.
“Jamie? You have another visitor. This is Miss Greene. She's a friend of your father's.”
“Hi, Jamie.” Allison smiled as the boy stood up to shake her hand. His eyes were the same shade of blue as Erik's.
“I'm glad to meet you, Miss Greene. And this is my best friend. He's going to be my stand-in dad.”
“That's wonderful, Jamie.” Allison turned with a smile on her face. Then she froze and time seemed to stop. It was Tony.
“Allison?”
Tony stood up, and Allison saw her uncertainty mirrored on his face. Although the actual distance was only inches, there was a wide gulf that separated them. It was filled with grief and guilt and misunderstanding. Could she cross it?
Allison swayed slightly on her feet. She still loved Tony. She had never stopped loving him. And she could see very plainly that he loved her, too.
Tony moved then. It was just a simple gesture, but it broke her awful inertia. He held out his hand.
And Allison took one step forward to find that she'd hurtled over the immense gulf. She was safe at last, in Tony's arms.
Dimly she heard Jamie's voice. “Hey, Tony, is that Allison?”
And Tony's answer.
“Yes, Jamie. And I think you just got yourself a stand-in mom.”
A SMALL TOWN . . .
The moment Marian Larsen sees the patrol car
stop outside her house, she feels a shiver of
foreboding. The news is even worse than she
fears. Marian's husband and young daughter
have been in a snowmobile crash.
Dan is paralyzed and Laura is dead,
her body broken on the icy ground
 
. . . WITH A CHILLING SECRET
Friends and colleagues in Marian's Minnesota
town rally around to try and ease her grief.
But soon there are more horrible accidents. Then
the rumors start—that these are no coincidences
at all, that someone is picking off victims one
by one. And as winter deepens, the search
for answers will reveal a killer whose blood
runs colder than the blinding snow . . .
 
Please turn the page for an exciting sneak peek of Joanne Fluke's
WINTER CHILL
coming in August 2013!
Prologue
Her cheeks were red from the cold and she grinned up at him as he turned on the seat. “Come on, daddy . . . just once more. Please?”
“Better make it quick.” Ronnie Powell snapped his visor down and glanced at his watch. “It's coming down pretty heavy and you two are novices. Five minutes more and we start for home.”
“You heard the boss,” Dan put his machine in gear as Laura clasped her hands around his waist. “Hang on tight, honey. Here we go!”
They left Jenny and her dad in a cloud of white snow. The wind rushed past her stinging cheeks and she laughed out loud. Jenny was right. Riding on a snowmobile was almost like flying. The cold took her breath away and she narrowed her eyes to slits, squinting into the frozen brightness. They were rounding the far corner of the trail now, between the tall pines, and she didn't want ever to go home. If only she had wings and could fly through the snow forever!
She gave a delighted squeal as the machine made a sharp turn to the right, cutting across uncharged snow between the trails. They were taking a shortcut directly through the center of a deserted field. She could barely see now, the snow was swirling so fiercely. The wind tugged at her blue and white stocking cap and threatened to blow it off her head.
“Oh!” Laura let go for an instant, pulling at her knitted hat with both hands. It was an early Christmas present from her mom and she didn't want to lose it.
“Hang on, Laura!” Dan turned for only an instant but that was enough. The heavy Snow-Cat crashed headlong into an innocent mound of snow covering an abandoned harrowing machine.
“Daddy!” He sensed rather than heard her cry. Somehow he managed to hang on to the snowmobile with one hand, but she was gone, tipped out in a tumbling arc, propelled forward by the force of the crash. There was a sickening lurch as the machine toppled, and he heard a snap like a firecracker as pain exploded in his head. His last sight was of his small daughter's body caught fast, impaled on the old farm implement's sharp, rusty prongs. It seemed to take forever for the darkness to come, rolling over him in deep compassionate waves.
The wind picked up around two thirty and blew the snow in rattling gusts past the kitchen window. Soon ice crystals were pinging against the glass and Marian peered out into the blinding swirls, listening for the car in the driveway. They should be on their way home by now. It was rotten weather for snowmobiling. She put on the coffee and poured milk into a saucepan for hot chocolate. Dan and Laura would be cold when they came in.
An hour passed as she paced between the stove and the window. Perhaps they had stopped on the way. It was just like Ronnie Powell to convince Dan that they needed a hot brandy. Laura and Jenny were probably munching hamburgers at the truck stop right now while their fathers sat in the bar. There was really nothing to worry about.
Why didn't he call? At four o'clock Marian began to worry in earnest. She tried dialing Sally to see if she'd heard from Ronnie, but the lines were down. The phone was dead, except for a faint mechanical crackling. It was turning bitter cold now and the wind chill factor was rising. Marian wished that she'd given in and let Laura wear her new blue coat. It was warmer than the old parka. What if they were stuck out there in the middle of the frozen snow?
Marian forced herself to calm down. Of course they were fine. She was just borrowing trouble. But the heavy curtain of snow outside the glass was an impenetrable barrier and she couldn't help feeling that somewhere in that wall of icy white, her husband and daughter were in trouble.
Her worst fears were realized when the patrol car drove up outside. They were hesitant about getting out of the car, Sheriff Bates first and then Sally. There was something they didn't want to tell her, something awful about Dan and Laura. Marian threw open the door and stood waiting, alone and fearful in the numbing cold.
1
Lord we commit unto Thee this body . . . ashes to ashes, dust to dust . . .
Marian shuddered, turning her face away from the small white coffin. Freshly falling snow left her face wet with the tears she could not shed. She leaned against Sally Powell's supporting arm and shut her eyes tightly. This wasn't real. It was only a dream and she would wake soon to put on the coffee and call Laura and Dan for school.
Last night she had driven home from the hospital after hours of watching Dan in his merciful coma. As she turned past the small cemetery, she saw with horror that one section was in flames. The men at the fire department were kind. They explained haltingly, embarrassed at her ignorance. The ground was frozen; it had to be thawed before a new grave could be excavated.
In the darkness of her living room she had peered through the windowpane, watching the banked fire cast a flickering red glow on the fresh snow. She had hugged herself there in the empty house, pretending that Laura was upstairs sleeping in her yellow-curtained room, that it was all a terrible mistake. But when she looked again, the fire was still there thawing the ground for her baby's grave.
“Hang on, Marian . . . It's almost over.” Sally's arm tightened around her shoulders. Tears were running down her friend's face and Marian felt a stab of resentment. She should be the one to cry, not Sally. She had lost her baby and Jenny was still alive. But it wasn't right to resent Sally. Her grief was real. Sally had loved Laura too.
It popped into her mind with sudden clarity, her high school's production of
Our Town
. She had played the part of Rebecca, Emily's sister-in-law. The night of the performance was a revelation. These were the same friends she had shared sandwiches and class notes with. Then, in costumes and stage makeup, they were total strangers.
It was the same feeling she had now, the same sense of unreality as she faced her neighbors and co-workers. She was playing the part of a grief-stricken mother, delivering the correct lines, making the proper gestures to an audience of nameless strangers. She was incapable of honest emotion. This was merely a performance. It was not real. She was not real.
He had been aware of the voice for some time now, but he was too tired to care.
Vital signs are normal, Doctor. Are there any further instructions?
Continue with the IV and turn him once an hour. The funeral's this afternoon. Marian's coming in later. Run the blood work again and call me immediately if there's any change.
He tried to open his eyes, but there was something heavy on his eyelids. All he could do was listen, barely breathing, as footsteps receded. There was a stabbing pain in his arm and realization that the voices had been talking about him!
This time it worked. He opened his eyes and stared at the white-clad figure leaning over him.
“It's Joyce Meiers.” The nurse leaned closer. “Just relax, Mr. Larsen. You're doing fine. I'll get the doctor.”
He was in a hospital. It was clear now, the small room with white furnishings. He was in a room at the Nisswa Clinic, on the far edge of town. But what was he doing here?
“Well, well . . . you finally decided to join us!” Dr. Hinkley's face swam into focus. “One more little pinprick and we'll talk . . . All right?”
There was another stab in his arm and Dan flinched. “What am I doing here? What happened?”
As he asked the questions, he knew. The snowmobile. The sudden storm. The accident. And Laura. What had happened to Laura!
“She's dead, isn't she.” His voice was slow and thick as the shot took effect. Tranquilizer. “You said something about a . . . a funeral. Laura's dead.”
“I'm afraid so, Dan.” Dr. Hinkley reached for his hand, practiced fingers taking his pulse. “Would you like something to put you back to sleep?”
“No.” Even though his voice was weak, the word was definite. “I've slept enough. How long?”
“You've been in a coma for three days.” The doctor's voice was kind. “You had a nasty blow to the head, Dan. Now that you're awake, we'll do some tests.”
Laura was dead. His baby was dead. Dan tried to think, but his mind was fuzzy. “Marian?” he asked. “Where's Marian?”
“She'll be here in a few hours.” Dr. Hinkley released his wrist and wrote something on the chart at the foot of his bed. “Don't try to think about anything now, Dan. Just concentrate on getting well.”
Was he dying? His body was numb. His legs felt like lead. He tried tentatively to move but nothing happened.
“My legs!” Dan's eyes widened. “They're gone!”
“No . . . It's all right, Dan,” Dr. Hinkley said soothingly. “Your legs are fine . . . nothing wrong at all. You're just experiencing some difficulty in moving, that's all. It's probably a simple blockage caused by the accident. Nothing to worry about. Now relax and let us take care of you.”
Just as panic started to set in, there was another prick in his arm and a wave of soft grayness settled down over his mind. Another shot. Don't think. It was all a bad dream.
 
 
The sun reflecting against the highly polished desk top hurt her eyes and Marian shut them for a moment. She wished the sun weren't shining. Something should be changed, in honor of her grief. The scene outside the plate-glass hospital window was straight out of a Currier & Ives Christmas card, but her baby was dead. How could this afternoon be so beautiful when Laura was lying in the frozen ground?
“Marian?” Dr. Hinkley pushed a box of Kleenex across the desk top and Marian realized that tears were running down her cheeks. Why now? And not at the funeral?
“Do you want a tranquilizer for tonight? It helps sometimes, just to get a good night's sleep.”
“No, thank you.” She had the insane urge to giggle. He sounded as if he were offering her a pastel mint at a party.
Would you like a mint, Marian? No? Then perhaps you'd care for an after-funeral pill.
Marian realized with a start that she wasn't paying attention. Dr. Hinkley was trying to tell her something.
“. . . We think it might be conversion hysteria, Marian.” She tried her best to concentrate. “That's a term for acute anxiety converted to dysfunction of parts of the body. In Dan's case the problem is his legs. He regained consciousness briefly this morning and we immediately ran tests. There's no sensation in the lower extremities. Even though the paralysis is only in his mind, it has the same effect as a break in the spinal column.”
“Wait a minute.” Marian tried hard to understand. “Are you saying Dan can't walk?”
Dr. Hinkley nodded slowly. “I'm afraid so, Marian.”
It was just too much to take. Laura was dead now and Dan was paralyzed. The bright room was closing in on her. There was a sound growing around her, a thin high-pitched wail. She was shocked to find it was coming from her own throat. And then the afternoon sun began to darken alarmingly and she was pitching forward, falling into Dr. Hinkley's arms.
 
 
There was a metallic taste in her mouth as Marian struggled to open her eyes. She must have made some sort of sound, because suddenly a nurse was there beside her.
“Good morning, Mrs. Larsen. We had a wonderful night's sleep.”
The nurse was holding a glass of water to her lips. Marian gulped thirstily. Her lips were stiff. The words formed slowly in her mind.
“Dr. Hinkley? I need to see him.”
“He'll be here in a few minutes.” The nurse smiled. “You can doze off again, if you want. Dr. Hinkley said to give you the royal treatment.”
She must have responded somehow, for the nurse left and she was alone again. Marian made herself sit up straighter. She knew she had to play a part again, the part of an alert, competent woman. Then the doctor would let her go home. It was important that she didn't let anyone guess how helpless and frightened she was inside.
Things were better when she had applied the light makeup she carried in her purse. The hospital coffee was weak, but it helped. She was ready when Dr. Hinkley came. This time she would not faint.
“The X rays show no spinal damage, Marian.” Dr. Hinkley was sitting in the chair by the bed and Marian nodded alertly. “In Dan's case, the paralysis is definitely a form of hysterical neurosis. Only his lower extremities are affected. That means he can use a wheelchair, Marian. And he can go home tomorrow, if you think you're up to it.”
“Yes . . . Of course I am.” Marian drew a deep breath. “But when will he recover? You said it wasn't physical. When will Dan be able to walk again?”
“No one knows, Marian.” Dr. Hinkley reached out to pat her hand. “Dan's body is punishing him for the accident. He blames himself for Laura's death. In some cases of Dan's type spontaneous remission has occurred almost overnight. But, Marian . . . Dan may remain paralyzed for the rest of his life.”
“I have to help him.” Marian straightened her shoulders. “What can I do, Dr. Hinkley?”
“Good girl!” Dr. Hinkley nodded. “You're a fighter, Marian, and that's precisely what Dan needs. Take him home with you tomorrow. There's no reason why he can't go back to work in a week or so. He has a commitment to that hockey team of his and that might just pull him out of this. I talked to Jim Sorensen at the Conoco station and he says he can rig your van for a wheelchair. You drive it down there this afternoon, if you feel up to it, and Jim'll work on it tonight. And don't stay alone in that house of yours. I've had calls from half the women in town offering to stay with you until Dan gets home. You take somebody up on that, Marian. Or I can move an extra bed into Dan's room, if you'd rather stay here.”
“I'll stay here with Dan.” Marian's voice was strong. “He'll need me if he wakes up. And thank you, Dr. Hinkley. Thank you for being so kind.”
 
 
She sat in the chair by the window, looking out at the gathering darkness and hearing the deep, even sound of Dan's breathing. He opened his eyes once and saw her sitting there. It seemed to satisfy him, for he had gone straight back to sleep without a word. Marian turned to study her husband's sleeping face. He was a handsome man, rugged and muscular. They'd called him “The Viking” when he'd played for the Northstars in college. But Dan had never wanted to be a professional hockey player. He'd wanted to teach history and coach hockey on the side. He took the job in Nisswa because of Harvey Woodruff's persuasion.
Harvey was a principal in danger of losing his school. There was talk of dissolving the Nisswa district and busing the students to Brainerd or Pequot Lakes. Dan's job was to add prestige to the school and make the community proud to have a winning hockey team. There was no way Harvey wanted the local kids bused away. The Nisswa School was his life. He'd built it into a fine academic institution and Dan could help him save it.
Dan had been coaching for two years when she had joined the Nisswa staff. The hockey team was winning and Dan was the town hero. There was no more talk of busing. Nisswa was proud of its school and even prouder of Dan. It had been exciting to date the most eligible bachelor on the faculty.
Marian hadn't dated much in college. Her particular combination of femininity and brains had served to scare off most of the college men. And she had to admit that she wasn't all that interested in beer parties in student apartments. Marian was convinced she was destined for something more worthwhile than becoming a simple wife and mother. She had dreams of an academic career, perhaps a place on a college faculty, the respect of her colleagues, the publication of her innovative teaching methods.
Then he'd asked her for a date, Marian Walters, newly graduated, her head filled with theories of education, her heart dedicated to bringing enlightenment to the children of America. And Marian realized what she had been missing by pouring every waking hour into her lesson plans and her research. Dan Larsen was fun!
She remembered telling Dan her dreams, how disappointed she was in not landing a job in a warmer climate, how she longed for a break from the endless snows of Minnesota winters. But jobs in better climates were at a premium and elementary school teachers were a dime a dozen. She was lucky to get the position in Nisswa. After two years she thought she would try to move on, perhaps to California where the days were sunny and warm, even in the winter, but there was Dan, and then there was love, and marriage . . . and Laura. Painful tears squeezed out behind Marian's swollen eyelids. Her baby was dead and Dan was paralyzed. It was too much.
“Would you like some coffee, Mrs. Larsen?” A white-uniformed nurse came into the room on silent feet.

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