Part 54 (1/2)

”h.e.l.lo, Chief Bradley,” Andrew says, looking over Mouse's shoulder.

”Andrea,” says Chief Bradley, his voice flat. ”I see you're doing better.”

”Yes,” Andrew says. Mouse is amazed at how calm he sounds. ”Better, but not perfect.” He holds up his wounded hand, and a line of blood runs down the inside of his forearm. ”Is the ambulance coming?”

”No,” Chief Bradley says. ”I'm afraid not. I called Seven Lakes EMS, and they said the ambulance is already out on call. The dispatcher was going to try to get another paramedic team out here, but since you're better, I think I'll just run you over to the emergency clinic myself.”

”That's OK. You don't have to bother. Penny can drive me.”

”No, I'll take you. I'll take both of you. Just wait here a moment. . .”

He stalks off through the living room again. Mouse scrambles to her feet the moment he's out of sight; she gets Andrew up, too, and together they move towards the sliding gla.s.s porch doors. But before they can get out, Chief Bradley reappears, corning through the kitchen this time, heading them off. Mouse sees that he is wearing his gunbelt now.

”Wrap your hand in this,” Chief Bradley says brusquely, grabbing a dish-towel off the kitchen counter and tossing it at Andrew. Then he stands back, indicating that they should walk in front of him.

”Let's go.”

And so they do, out onto the porch and down into the open yard where the cars are parked.

Mouse, feeling like she's floating, starts to drift towards her Buick, but Chief Bradley calls out sternly: ”No!” Mouse stops and turns around; the chief steps to the back of his cruiser, opens the door, and gestures for both Andrew and Mouse to get in.

Andrew starts to comply, but Mouse balks. ”No,” she says, in a barely audible refusal, ”no, I, I'll take my car --”

The chief doesn't contradict her, just s.h.i.+fts his stance, giving her a clearer view of the gun on his hip. Then Andrew, perhaps fearing what could happen if Mouse tries to run, says: ”Come on, Penny.

We'll ride in the chief's car.”

”Andrew. . .”

”Come on,” he says, taking her hand. ”It'll be fine.”

Mouse shakes her head: Oh no it won't. Andrew, smiling -- how does he stay so calm? -- leans in close enough to whisper.

”Don't be afraid,” he tells her. ”We have him outnumbered.”

After shutting us in the back of the patrol car, Chief Bradley grabbed a radio from the front seat and stood outside talking into it. I couldn't hear what he was saying, but I could guess: he was calling the paramedics back, telling them his previous call had been a false alarm, and probably telling his own dispatcher not to try contacting him for a while, that he had some private business to take care of.

I waited impa.s.sively for whatever that business might be. Penny was terrified, which was understandable: unlike me, she hadn't just returned from the dead, and didn't have the feeling of invulnerability such an experience confers. That she also hadn't had as much wine with dinner, that she wasn't bleeding, and that her a.s.sessment of our situation might therefore be more clearheaded than my own -- that didn't occur to me.

Chief Bradley finished talking on the radio. He got in the patrol car, glancing at us in the rearview mirror without saying anything, and started the engine. He drove towards town. As we came around the bend onto Alain Street a few moments later, I saw another patrol car up ahead, in front of the police station. I wondered if it was Officer Cahill, and what, if anything, Chief Bradley would say to him.

But Chief Bradley didn't go that way. He turned off Main Street almost immediately, taking a left just past the firehouse. Three blocks along this cross street, we came to the Seven Lakes Emergency Clinic. It was a small but brightly lit building, with a glowing red cross on the front lawn. Chief Bradley slowed the car as we neared the entrance to the parking lot, and I sat up in surprise, thinking I'd had him wrong after all; but then he stepped on the gas again. Penny watched the red cross go by and made an abortive squeak of protest.

”I think you missed a turn, Chief Bradley,” I said.

He kept on driving. The street ended in a T-junction, and Chief Bradley turned right, onto a gently curving road that followed the sh.o.r.eline of yet another lake. Between the bungalows and cabins that cl.u.s.tered along the lakebank, I could see dark water glinting red with the last of the sunset.

From its name, you would think Two Seasons Lake was only full for part of the year, like Thaw Ca.n.a.l back in Autumn Creek. In fact, it is one of the largest and most permanent bodies of water in Seven Lakes; only Greenwater Lake is bigger. The sh.o.r.e around the west end of the lake is well-settled, but the east end, where Hansen's Brook flows in, remains mostly undeveloped except for a few isolated cabins and some hiking trails.

This was where Chief Bradley was taking us. As we continued along the sh.o.r.e road, the houses got fewer and fewer and then disappeared; the road got rougher, and not long after that it appeared to dead-end. But Chief Bradley made a final turn onto an overgrown track; it led straight down to the lake and right on into it. As a warning to drivers of non-amphibious vehicles, a chain with a reflectorized stop sign had been strung across the track just a few yards from the water's edge.

The police car didn't want to obey the sign. When we were still some distance from the chain, Chief Bradley took his foot off the gas, but the car continued to roll forward. The chief let it roll, as if curious to see how far it would go; he let go of the steering wheel too. It looked like we were going to go swimming, but at the last moment Chief Bradley dropped his hand and engaged the parking brake. The police car shuddered to a halt.

Chief Bradley killed the engine but left the headlights on; they shone out over the murky waters. I almost asked the chief what he'd brought us here for, not because I needed to be told, but because I thought the question might shame him into reconsidering. In the end I decided to let him speak first.

Several times he seemed about to say something, only to sigh as if the words had escaped him at the last second.

”Do you know,” he finally said, ”this is where your father drowned.” Penny let out a gasp at the blunt mention of drowning, while I had to think a moment which father he was referring to. ”Not here,'”

Chief Bradley added. ”Out there, in the deep water. There used to be a wooden raft anch.o.r.ed out there, for diving. Kids would go out there sometimes, night-swimming, sometimes drunk, and occasionally there would be accidents.”

”Silas Gage had an accident,” I said, managing to bite off the last word: too?

”Not like that.” He turned around, facing me through the cage that separated the front and back seats, and I was surprised to see what looked like tears starting in his eyes. ”How could you even think.

. .” He trailed off, started to face forward again, then turned back, demanding: ”What are you thinking, Andrea? What do you want from me? This morning, when I came into work and found you talking with Jimmy, I thought. . . and then that crazy story you told, how you were worried maybe you killed Horace.

. .” He shook his head. ”What is it you're after? Is it blackmail? I've already said I'll give you money for the property, and if you want more. . . Or do you just want to punish me for some reason? If that's it, you're too late. Life has already punished me.”

”I don't want to punish you.” I fingered the steel cage-mesh, and wondered how long it would take Seferis to break through it. ”Tell me what happened to Silas Gage.”

”I didn't drown your father, Andrea. He did that on his own.”

”You were jealous of him.”

Chief Bradley sighed. ”Jimmy told you.”

”No,” I said, ”you did. Wanting my mother's house so bad, and before that, arranging her funeral.

. . and her burial. That was you, wasn't it, who had her plot changed?”

”That was just simple decency. I couldn't leave her lying forever next to that man.”

”Or with his name. The tombstone said Althea Gage, not Althea Rollins.”

He chuckled bitterly. ”You have sharp eyes, Andrea.”

”I saw the epitaph, too. So it's kind of obvious that you were in love with her.”

”Yes,” Chief Bradley said. ”Yes, I was, and more fool me. . . but I loved your father, too. I could have put your mother's maiden name on that stone, if I'd wanted -- or my own. There was no one to object. I was the last, the only person who still cared about her at the end. Even if she never. . .

”I suppose I was jealous of your father,” he went on. ”But more than that, I was frustrated by him. I don't know if you can appreciate this, Andrea, but the one thing that is worse than not getting what you want, is seeing someone else get it who doesn't value it the way you do. When we were both courting Althea, Silas worked hard to win her love; but once he had her, in particular once they'd married, it was as if he'd decided he didn't have to try anymore. I would have doted on her. . . and even if I hadn't, even if she weren't special, a woman worth doting on, still. . . when a man takes a wife, starts a family, he's supposed to change. Grow up, for G.o.d's sake! It's what's done. But Silas wouldn't. He was fond of her, and I believe he was faithful, but in other ways he failed to give her the consideration that a wife -- that she, especially -- deserved. And who knows” -- he shrugged -- ”who the h.e.l.l knows, maybe she was attracted to that. Maybe that was part of it, maybe she liked being taken for granted. But it made me see red.

”The night he died, I was working, out on patrol; I met up with your father on the road.

Eleven-thirty on a Tuesday night and he's out driving, with a six-pack on the seat right next to him -- and he's not headed for home.

”I asked him where he was going. He told me he'd had a fight with Althea, and she needed some time to cool down, so he'd decided to come out and have some fun. 'Fun?' I said. 'She's five months pregnant, you mean to say you just left her alone? What if something happens?' He told me she'd be fine -- she'd fume for a while, then be asleep by the time he got back. He asked me if I wanted to go swimming with him. I blew up: told him he needed to start acting like an adult, told him, if she was my wife. . . but he laughed. 'She's not your wife,' he said. 'She picked me, remember? Anyway, you should be happy -- if she divorces me for neglect, you'll get another shot at her.'

”I came close to hauling him out of the car for that. If I had, if I'd beaten the h.e.l.l out of him, like he deserved. . . but I didn't. I told him to get out of my sight before I arrested him. I told him, I told him I hoped he drowned his stupid self. . .