Mountain Angel

One Any day that involved closing a case or didn’t involve opening a new one was a good day. By that rule, today had been a good day, but from the moment he’d opened his eyes with that long-familiar tension coiled tightly in his neck, nothing else about today had been particularly agreeable. It was just one of those days that had no reason to be bad beyond the inexplicable fog of depression. Pat was eager to go home, fix himself something for dinner, sit on his well-worn couch with a book, and wait for the day to be over. He was just getting ready to head out the door when a request from his boss put his grandiose plans on hold. “Pat, meet me in my office in a minute.” Pat, his boss had called him, not O’Neil. Whatever Bill Granger wanted to discuss, it was personal. Anxiety curled more tightly in his gut. One subject had been flirting with his mind all day, and he had no desire to be dragged down that road right now. On a good day, a trip down that bleak alley was a painful experience, but on a day like today, such a trip would leave him exhausted and incapable of doing more than pulling the covers of his bed over himself with a prayer that sleep would relieve him from the bitter memories and empty stomach. To pass the time, Pat studied the photographs in Bill’s office. In a log frame on the wall behind the desk was a poster-sized photograph of a two-story cabin illuminated by filtered rays of golden sunlight. The structure was nearly an A-frame, but the peak was not as steep as the sides. In other photographs, Pat recognized Bill’s incredible, dark-haired wife and his sister and brother-in-law. There was a new picture of a beautiful young woman with strawberry-blonde hair and striking, deep green eyes wearing a DayGlo orange vest and matching stocking hat. There was a rifle slung over her shoulder and a triumphant smile on her face as she knelt beside a magnificent four-point whitetail buck. She gripped the antlers with long, graceful fingers to hold the animal’s head up for the camera. Pat knew she was his boss’s niece and had seen her face smiling from a multitude of other photos, but he hadn’t yet met her. Pat turned his attention from the pictures to the matching pair of four-tiered, wrought-iron filing shelves. He hadn’t seen them before. The craftsmanship was stunning and, along with the collection of rustic picture frames, did a lot to reduce the beige sterility of the room. Bill’s boisterous laughter rumbled through the closed door from the workroom. With his back to the door, Pat smiled as his boss entered noisily. “Afternoon, Pat,” was his greeting. “Afternoon, Bill,” Pat replied as the older man sat down behind his desk. “Sorry about the delay, but Garrity made another smart remark about my age, so I had to remind him of how thoroughly I trounced him at racquetball over the weekend.” Pat chuckled. Bill was only fifty-three and still had the body he’d had during his enlistment in the navy. His rich brown hair was only starting to gray on the sides and in his short beard, and he looked anything but old. “He’ll learn one of these days,” Pat remarked. He inclined his head toward the filing shelves. “Did your niece make those, too?” “She did. She’s had a lot more time to build since she went back to Montana.” Bill paused to look at the photograph of his niece. “Her friend June took this picture and the one of my sister’s cabin on the wall behind me. So, Pat, you don’t have any plans tonight, do you?” “No more than usual.” “Good. Mary wanted me to invite you over for dinner. She said something about not bothering to come home tonight unless I brought you with me.” Pat chuckled. “I suppose I shouldn’t keep you from your wife’s good cooking… not that you couldn’t stand to miss a meal or two.” “Keep it up, smart ass.” Bill opened one of the drawers on the desk and took out a manila envelope. “See you at the house?” Pat nodded and left. As he drove to Bill’s house, he decided that an evening with Bill and Mary was the perfect medicine for his ailments. So long as that subject wasn’t broached. However, Mary was always careful to steer Bill clear of it, especially on days like this one. As much as he didn’t like talking about that weekend three years ago or the miserable months leading up to it, he knew he’d have been lost if Bill and Mary Granger hadn’t been there to pull him back from the proverbial cliff’s edge. As it was, he still wasn’t too many steps back from it. “Pat, welcome!” Mary greeted him with a warm hug when he arrived at the Grangers’ modest house on the bluff overlooking the Indianola beach. “I’m so glad you came.” So am I, he thought. “Can I help with anything?” “No. Everything’s ready. We’ll just wait for Bill to get home. He called a few minutes ago to say he was leaving. Would you like anything to drink? Beer? Wine? Juice?” “Water would be fine, Mary,” he replied. He followed her through the house to the back deck. The handiwork of Bill’s niece was everywhere. More frames of weathered wood, like those on Bill’s desk at the sheriff’s department, hung on the walls, filled with family photos and more of his sister’s cabin in Montana. Walking through the Grangers’ home was a stroll through a Rocky Mountain dream. Mary dabbled in interior design as a hobby, and she’d put the rustic furniture and decorations to perfect uses. Her house could have graced the pages of a magazine devoted to Western living. Pat would love to meet Bill’s niece someday. Bill had tried to introduce them in the past, but work, school, distance, or something else had always prevented it. Admiring her work, he got the sense that she was dedicated, driven, and artistic but also giving, loyal, and he suspected a little stubborn. Any woman who chose to make her living in a field that traditionally belonged to men was no soft lady to take what life handed her. Pat followed Mary outside to the deck. Below him, the tide washed up the broad sand spit, reaching toward the rocks farther up the shore. The old ferry dock stretched far out into the glassy ripples beneath a cloudless sky and to his left, Seattle glinted in the distance, bathed in the rich golden light of the westering sun. It was a rare, perfect March day laden with the promise of the warmer months to come. “Oh, I wanted to ask,” Mary said. “Do you know if Shannon got the birthday present we sent? It was supposed to be there yesterday, but I haven’t had a chance to call your mom to ask. I’m sorry it was late, but it took longer than we expected to ship.” “It was waiting for her when she and Mom got home from Seattle. She loved it.” “Did you change your mind and meet them?” Pat shook his head. “No, but I talked to Mom yesterday. I still can’t believe my little sister is seventeen already.” “Neither can I, but I can’t believe you’ll be twenty-nine in a few more months, either. It doesn’t seem like so long ago that your father was more excited about your birth than graduating from college.” Mary smiled fondly and patted his hand. “Are you calling me old, Mary?” She laughed. “Indeed not. You’re just a pup. I’m calling me old. Was Shannon disappointed you didn’t go?” “No. I think she understands.” Mary hesitated a moment, then said quietly, “I’m glad Bill convinced you to come work for the sheriff’s department. I think you’re happier here than you would have been if you’d stayed with the Seattle PD.” “It’s certainly a much quieter job. Grandpa Antony says the Kitsap Peninsula fits me better, and he’s right.” Pat smiled fondly. “He was so proud that I’d seized the opportunity to become a detective and glad that I was happy.” If Mary noticed how his voice hitched on the last word, she didn’t say anything. Instead, she pointed out the beach party below them. A group of teenagers had broken away from the bonfire and were now racing across the sand toward the water’s approaching edge, followed by a black lab, a border collie mix, and two smaller mutts. Their excited, carefree voices rang wonderfully in the still evening, and Pat’s depression slipped away. Bill arrived a scant twenty minutes later to find his wife and Pat laughing uproariously at the antics of the teenagers and dogs. “Glad to see your mood’s improved, Pat,” Bill remarked as he joined them. “Your wife is a charming woman,” Pat said. “I can’t help myself.” “She certainly is.” Mary went back inside, leaving them to talk. Dread wormed its way back into the pit of Pat’s stomach. There was nothing overly prodding about Bill’s demeanor, but Pat suspected his enjoyable evening was about to head in a direction he didn’t want to go. “Before you give me your usual, evasive responses, hear me out.” “Do I have a choice?” “Absolutely not.” Bill took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “You’re regressing. Over the last few months, I’ve watched you slide back down into the pit. I’d be willing to bet a large sum of money that you’ve had as many bad days as good in the last three months. That worries me, Pat. You’ve worked too hard to recover from Sara.” And there it was. “I want you to take a vacation.” “I’m fine, Bill.” “I’d be more convinced by the truth, and we both know that isn’t it.” “C’mon, Bill. It’s been a long, wet, gray winter. Everyone’s been—” The look Bill gave him—brows lifted, mouth flat—silenced him. “There’s a trend here, Pat. Every time something reminds you of Sara, you have one of these days after. What did you see, hear, or do yesterday that reminded you of her?” “My mother mentioned her. First time I’ve talked to my mother in two months, and she came up. She always does.” “What do you mean, mentioned her?” “Mom thought I should be warned, but I wish she hadn’t told me. Apparently, yesterday when she took Shannon shopping for prom in Seattle, they bumped into Sara at the mall. She asked how I’ve been.” “That little….” Bill shook his head. “I’m sorry, Pat. I shouldn’t be dragging you through this tonight. It just makes me so angry. What you need is a good woman like my niece to show you Sara isn’t worth any of the pain she’s caused you.” He cleared his throat, and Pat sensed he was stalling. “My niece is the other reason I wanted you to come to dinner tonight.” Pat sat back in his chair and gaped. The situation had suddenly gone from depressing to absurd. “Oh, no. They’ve finally gotten to you, haven’t they? Listen, I’m sure she’s a very nice girl, but…” Bill’s laughter rang out in the still evening air. He kept laughing until his eyes glittered wetly. “You think that’s what I’m trying to do? You really know how to bring a man to tears, Pat.” He wiped beneath his eyes, still chuckling. “I’d bet my niece would be a much better match for you than any woman anyone in the department can find, and as much as I’d love to have you legally a part of my family as a nephew, I’m afraid my reason for mentioning her is more serious.” Bill pulled the manila envelope out of his bag and handed it to Pat. On the cover was one of the more unique names he’d seen. He knew it was the name of Bill’s niece, but Bill had always pronounced it like the flower alyssum when he wasn’t calling her what sounded like “Allie.” Inside the envelope was what appeared to be a criminal file but less official. It included a sheet of personal data with the last known address, phone number—both of which were months out of date—the physical descriptions of the man, and a photo. Pat narrowed his eyes. There was something about the hazel eyes that hooked his attention, a contained fervor shimmering beneath a placid surface. The man had the look of someone who had spent his entire life reaching for something unattainable and had not yet realized the hopelessness of his endeavor. The longish, messy medium-brown hair was further evidence, but beneath the mop, the man could be called good-looking. What a pity. Behind the photo was a copy of a restraining order. There were a few more pages, but Pat shifted his attention for the time being back to Bill.