Misty Lake: Book One in the Misty Lake Series (3 page)

4

After a quick lunch and a little time spent throwing sticks for Rigi, Sam was back in the shop finally getting to the cabinet doors. Her saw was humming away beautifully and thoughts of the morning were long forgotten. As Sam ran her hand over the smooth oak she smiled. While her favorite projects were those she designed and brought to life, reviving and saving a piece of furniture from the fire pit was rewarding as well. “A little more sanding right here,” she mumbled as she slid her hand along the edge and headed back to the workbench. After wiping a little sweat and sawdust from her brow, taking a swig of Diet Coke, and cranking up her iPod, she set to work with the sandpaper.

That’s how Jake found her, standing with her back to the door, gently sanding and hips swaying along with The Rolling Stones. The music was loud and she hadn’t heard when he’d knocked and called her name. Not wanting to startle her, he decided to wait the song out and enjoy the view. It was her hair he noticed first, well…after her hips. It was brown with hints of gold and deep auburn twining through the ponytail that curled half way down her back. He could see tendrils of curls that had escaped the hair band and hung alongside a long, slender neck. His eyes made their way down a graceful back to the narrow hips that had picked up the pace and to some of the longest legs he had ever seen. He felt an inexplicable desire to loosen her hair band and let those curls spill through his fingers. He wanted to run his hands along her arms and feel the skin he knew would be like silk.

Ah, hell, what was he thinking? He was here to do his job and check on a resident of Misty Lake who had been the target of vandalism, not to behave like a schoolboy taken with the cutest girl in the class. He tried to put his less-than-professional thoughts out of his head and as Mick finished belting out one last ‘start me up’ and the song faded, he gave a soft rap on the door and announced his presence. “Excuse me, Ms. Taylor?”

Sam jerked and whirled around at the interruption. “How long have you been standing there?” she demanded when she saw the uniformed man in her doorway. All at once she noticed his dark hair, broad shoulders, trim waist, and casual stance. Sheriff McCabe, no doubt. She wasn’t surprised, it seemed as though half the town knew her business, and she had expected the sheriff to show up sooner or later.

“Just a minute or two. I knocked but you didn’t hear me over the music,” he answered with a glance toward her iPod.

“Well, yes, I, maybe…” Since she didn’t seem capable of forming a coherent sentence, she turned her back and lowered the volume. And knocked over her Diet Coke. Damn, what was wrong with her? She hated being caught off guard, that was all.

“I just wanted to stop by and make sure everything was okay out here. I heard you had some trouble this morning. Heard it from several people, as a matter of fact.”

Slightly calmer after a few deep breaths, she turned back to face him. “Sheriff, it appears your town’s residents are looking for some excitement. Nothing happened here except a little vandalism. I’m not happy to be the target but I’m also not terrified to stay in my home, as some people seem to think I should be. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself and I’m sorry to have troubled you. Samantha Taylor, by the way,” she added, extending her hand.

“Ms. Taylor, a pleasure to meet you. Jake McCabe. And it’s no trouble. Would you care to go over the details with me and let me make my own decision on whether I wasted my time with a drive out here?” The jolt he felt when he shook her hand was real, he felt it down to his toes, and from the look of surprise on her face she felt it, too. He gave her a curious look as she quickly pulled her hand away.

“Call me Sam, please,” she said, wondering what the hell was happening. She glanced briefly at her hand as she shoved it in her pocket. The last thing she needed was some local cop doing things to her head. She had no time for anything other than her work, her students, and her dog. And she didn’t need anything else. Especially anything like the man standing in her doorway. The man who was at least 6’-2” and all lean muscle. The man with hair that looked like fine walnut and that curled at the top of his collar. The man with eyes like brown gems flecked with gold. The man whose handshake almost had her knees buckling. Oh, for crying out loud, she silently scolded herself, get it together.

In an attempt to break the tension, Sam headed for the broken window explaining how she had found it shattered. She then went on to explain about the raccoons, even though it made her stomach churn to do so.

“Have there been any incidents before this?” Jake asked, aware of both Sam’s uneasiness talking of the events of the morning and her reaction to him. She really was striking, he thought as he watched her move around her shop, straightening and organizing as she walked. Her eyes were as blue as sapphires and sparkled as brightly though they appeared wary when looking at him.

She hesitated, he noticed, and seemed to be debating with herself on how to reply. “Well, I’m sure it’s not related but there have been a couple of things…” her voice trailed off and she turned toward the window facing the lake. “The garbage cans were tipped over one morning with the trash spread all over the yard but I’m sure that was just animals. My mailbox was knocked off its post but maybe that was just a passing truck or something? An accident?” she responded, trying to convince herself.

“Could be just coincidences but could be more. Anything else, even if you don’t think it could be related?”

“Well, there are dead fish on the beach almost every morning,” she answered jokingly, trying to lighten the mood. “I’m sure that’s something devious, right Sheriff?” 

“I will certainly look into the dead fish, you’re not the first to report something similar,” he deadpanned.

Sam smiled in response and felt herself relax. Just business, she told herself. Answer his questions and that will be the end of it.

“Why don’t I take a look around and see if I notice anything. You’re alone here, is that right?”

“Why is everyone so concerned about the fact that I live alone?” she asked, her voice rising. “I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself as I have had to explain to everyone who’s been out here. What, just because I’m a woman I’m helpless? Really, this isn’t the nineteenth century anymore. And, I bet those women were a lot more capable than men gave them credit for,” she added, well on her way to working up a head of steam.

“I’m not suggesting you can’t take care of yourself,” Jake replied, being certain to keep any trace of a smile off his face or risk, he was sure, another barrage. “I just wondered if there was anyone else I needed to talk to who may have seen something.” And wanted to find out if there was a man in the picture, he admitted to himself.

“There’s Rigi. My dog,” she added, noticing his slightly confused expression. “She’d let me know if there was anyone suspicious around. Should I fetch her so you can interview her?”

“The Golden who ran up to greet me then proceeded to roll over on her back waiting for a belly rub? Yes, I can tell she’s quite the watchdog.”

“She’s friendly, that’s all,” Sam defended the dog. “I’m sure she’d rise to the occasion if necessary.” Right, she thought to herself. Rigi was afraid of the garbage disposal but she wasn’t going to tell the sheriff that.

“It’s good to have a dog around. It’s a fact that prowlers tend to avoid houses with dogs. I’ve known a couple people who have gone so far as to buy dog dishes and dog toys to leave lying around their yard to give the impression a dog lives there in the hopes of deterring potential criminals. Not a bad strategy, really.” When she didn’t reply he realized how badly he wanted to keep her talking, just to hear her voice. “So, Riggy, did you say? Like Ziggy?”

“It’s Rigi, R-i-g-i, sounds like Ziggy, though.”

“Interesting name. Is there a story behind it?” Anything to keep her talking.

He watched her hesitate, seeming to fight some inner battle, then turn back to the window. “I went to Switzerland once,” she started, and he noticed a sadness creep into her voice. “It was a long time ago. We stayed in Lucerne. Have you ever been to Switzerland?” she asked, but didn’t wait for a reply. “One day we went up a mountain, the Rigi, on a cog-wheel train. We wound up the mountain past cows grazing, past hikers. You could see for miles and miles from the top, even into Germany and France. I had never seen anything like it and I couldn’t get enough. The ride down was on a cable car, another first for me and absolutely thrilling. That day was one of the best I had had in a long time and it’s stuck with me over the years. When I brought Rigi home, she was this clumsy little ball of fur with giant feet she kept tripping over but she headed right for some big landscape rocks in the yard and tried and tried to climb up. She’d slide down, tumble head over tail, and try again. My grandfather called her a little mountain climber so I came up with the name Rigi. It just seemed to fit.” Her voice quieted and she seemed lost in her own thoughts.

“I like it. A name that reminds you of something happy is a good name.”

“Thanks, I think so too,” Sam smiled turning back to Jake.

He stared at her for a minute, inexplicably drawn to her and wanting the moment to last. As she shifted from one foot to the other and looked curiously at him, he gave himself a mental slap. “Well, I’ll just go have a look around.”

She followed him out the door, pointing out where the dead animals had been left and answering his questions as to their condition. Jake walked around the shop in front of the broken window, checked the door locks on both the shop and the house, and walked across her lot down to the lake. “So, this is the scene of the mysterious dead fish, I assume, “ Jake joked with her.

“Yes, Sheriff, and if you could solve the mystery I would be forever in your debt. Seems my silly dog likes nothing better than to start her day with a good dose of dead fish. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve hosed her off and given her a bath since we’ve been here.”

“The smellier the better with dogs, it seems.” As they headed back toward the house a pickup truck was pulling into the drive.

Sam squinted to see who it was but didn’t recognize the truck. “Busy place today,” she muttered.

“Looks like Stu. He’s probably here to take care of your broken window. He told me he’d be back out here this afternoon when he stopped by the office this morning.”

“He doesn’t have to fix my window! I was going to get some glass later today,” Sam said, realizing it was nearing evening and she hadn’t given the new glass a thought. “Stu, what are you doing here?” she asked as he climbed out of his truck.

“Just got a piece of glass, ma’am, figured I could help you with that broken window. Jake, give me a hand?” he asked looking toward the sheriff.

“It’s Sam,” she mumbled out of habit, “and I was going to fix it. You’ve got Molly to worry about, you don’t need to be running back out here.”

“Molly’s doing fine, she told me I was ‘hovering’ and shooed me out of the house. Said she can’t rest when I’m there asking her what she needs.”

Sam studied the old man and guessed Molly probably had a point. Some of the worry seemed to have disappeared from Stu’s eyes so he must be feeling confident of Molly’s recovery. “Well, thank you, Stu, that was really very kind of you. What do I owe you? And please don’t say nothing.”

“Nothing. I’m just doing a favor for a friend. Since the sheriff is here, I’m sure he won’t mind lending a hand. We’ll have this window taken care of in no time.”

“I’m not letting you do this for nothing. How about I put together something for your dinner tomorrow night? You can pick it up tomorrow morning when you drop off the kids.”

“Well, now, that’d be mighty kind of you,” Stu grinned. “Molly’s still not up to doing much cooking and I’m not very gifted when it comes to things in the kitchen. I’m afraid Molly’s getting tired of canned soup and my famous grilled cheese sandwiches. The lasagna you sent with me last week? Now that was something special. Molly ate more that night than she had in a long time.”

“Then it’s settled. I’ll have something for you tomorrow. Thank you, Stu. Now, let me get you two some lemonade if you’re going to be out here working in the sun.”

As Sam headed to the house, Jake and Stu got to work on the window. “What do you think happened out here, Jake?” Stu asked.

“I’m not sure. I agree with you that it sounds like more than just kids but I don’t want to worry Sam unnecessarily. I’m going to ask around a little. Usually if it’s kids, one of them can’t keep his mouth shut and pretty soon word gets around about who’s responsible. I’m also going to check into the kids at the camp. Many of them have had some trouble in the past and it’s possible one or more of them was able to make their way out here with the idea of doing some damage.”

“Sam won’t like to hear that, she really cares about those kids,” Stu cautioned. “And I can’t see it being one of her kids, I think she’s getting through to them, Jake.”

“I hope it’s not the case but it’s something I need to look into. Part of my job, Stu. The thought of someone around here torturing animals makes this more than just a case of vandalism.”

“The way Sam described it to me, it was pretty bad. Know anyone around here who’d do something like that?”