Part 32 (1/2)

At a few minutes after six with the rain still pouring down, there were only a half-dozen vehicles on Alpine's main drag. Just to be on the safe side, I pulled over to the curb in front of the PUD office. Straining to see through the winds.h.i.+eld where the wipers couldn't work as fast as the falling rain, I saw that the first set of flas.h.i.+ng lights was on a patrol car. The medic van followed and just before I was about to pull back out onto the street, a fire engine turned off Sixth and onto Front. Looking in the rearview mirror, I saw the patrol car and then the medic van take a left onto the Icicle Creek Road. I set the emergency brake, got out my cell phone, and called the sheriff's office.

Sam Heppner answered. ”What's going on?” I asked.

”We've got a situation,” Sam replied.

”No kidding. Come on, Sam, I'm up against deadline.”

”Not my problem,” he responded in his usual taciturn manner. ”Hang up, Emma. We need to keep the lines clear.”

Badgering Sam wouldn't do any good. I knew that from past experiences with the tight-lipped, sometimes surly deputy. I disconnected the call before he could do the same at his end.

The fire engine had also turned onto the Icicle Creek Road. Even in light traffic I didn't dare make a U-turn on the slippery street. Instead, I went right at Sixth and again at Railroad Avenue. With any luck I could catch up with the emergency vehicles by following the sirens.

I was retracing the route Kip and I'd taken to get to Bert's chop shop, but that wasn't the site of the ”situation.” Neither was Swanson Toyota. I'd reached the Icicle Creek Road, pausing at the arterial sign and trying to determine where the sirens were coming from. To my dismay, they'd stopped. I considered my options. The Icicle Creek Road dead-ended north of town. Wherever the crisis was, it had to be either across the bridge to River Road or straight ahead. I was still mulling as an SUV rushed past me, made a sharp turn onto the other side of the railroad tracks, and sped east. Despite the vehicle's speed, I recognized Milo's Grand Cherokee. I followed him as he pa.s.sed Gas 'n Go and the ICT and crossed Icicle Creek.

I fought back a rising sense of panic. All I could think of was that Vida might somehow be involved. But Milo was slowing down as he went past the small older homes huddled close together on the other side of the railroad tracks. Although the sirens had gone mute, I could see the cl.u.s.ter of flas.h.i.+ng red lights off to the left. Milo's Grand Cherokee stopped on the muddy verge that separated patchy stands of gra.s.s from the asphalt road. By the time I drove up behind his SUV, he was already striding up the short driveway of a frame bungalow.

”Milo!” I called as I got out of the car, ”wait!”

The sheriff stopped, turning to look in my direction. ”Oh, for ... Emma, get your a.s.s back in that Honda and move on out!”

I ignored his order. By the time I reached him, he was on his cell. ”Okay,” he said, turning his back on me. ”Then I'm coming in.”

Milo's long legs covered the short distance to the front porch before I could argue with him. I was too worried to care what he wanted or didn't want me to do. The flashers from the three emergency vehicles blinded me momentarily, but I caught up with the sheriff just as he went inside the house.

Jack Mullins was in the living room along with Del Amundson and another medic. The firefighters were either still outside or in another part of the small house. Under a striped afghan, a s.h.i.+vering figure on the sofa made strange little mewing noises. It took me a few seconds before I realized it was Norene Anderson.

I hung back near the open door. My initial reaction was relief that Vida wasn't the one in apparent distress. I remembered that the Andersons lived in this part of town, but I'd never been inside their house. Del and the other medic were trying to talk to Norene. Jack's eyes slid in my direction, but he didn't say a word. Milo's back was still turned, seemingly unaware that I was on the premises.

”How bad is it?” he asked the medics.

”We won't know until we get her to the hospital,” Del replied, lowering his voice. ”Fractured cheekbone maybe, multiple bruises, cut lip. We don't need the firefighters. Tony and I can handle it. This room's not very big. We need some maneuvering s.p.a.ce with the gurney.”

Milo looked at Jack. ”Tell the firemen they can go. Where's Julie?”

”In the kitchen,” Jack said, starting for the door. ”Should we put out an APB for Bert?”

”Hold off on that,” the sheriff replied and turned around. ”Oh, for chrissakes!” he shouted as he finally spotted me. ”Didn't you hear me?”

”The whole neighborhood can hear you now,” I said quietly as Jack hurried outside. I gestured at Norene. ”Is this what it looks like?”

”Work it out.” The sheriff turned on his heel and left the room.

I followed him. The kitchen was separated from the living room by an inglenook. Julie Canby was closing the refrigerator. ”Coffee coming up,” she said, seemingly unruffled. ”How's Norene?”

Milo shrugged. ”Pretty banged up, but at least she's alive. They're taking her to the hospital.”

”Good,” Julie said. ”That's the best place for her. Thank G.o.d she was able to call us. Spike couldn't understand a word she said. Just as well.” She checked the coffeemaker. ”I can cope better with a crisis than he can. Anyway, Spike has to hold down the fort at the tavern. Thank goodness we're so close to Bert and Norene's house.”

I finally spoke up. ”What was Norene able to tell you?”

”That she got beat up,” Julie replied. Given the circ.u.mstances, I found her aplomb admirable. Being a nurse, she was accustomed to crises. ”Or so I pieced together,” she added. ”Poor Norene.”

I ignored the dark glare the sheriff was giving me. ”By Bert?”

Julie shrugged. ”I guess. He wasn't around when I got here. For all I know, it was a burglar. Norene's car is gone. I suppose Bert took it-or the burglar stole it.” She looked again at the coffeemaker. ”Who wants java?”

I said no; Milo said yes. While Julie poured coffee into two mugs, the sheriff was still glowering at me. ”Have you got some kind of death wish? You could've been killed, you moron.”

”So could you,” I retorted. ”I didn't see you pull a gun before you came into the house.”

Milo sighed. ”I suppose you'll put this in the d.a.m.ned paper.”

”I will if it goes in the log,” I said. ”Where's Vida?”

”How the h.e.l.l do I know?” the sheriff shot back. ”I'm surprised she didn't get here before I did.”

”She's still missing.” I paused as Jack entered the kitchen.

”Coffee,” he said after giving Milo and me a curious glance. ”Good idea, Julie. I'll have some. Bit of sugar, no cream.”

Just another day with law enforcement, I thought, and got to my feet. ”Okay,” I said to Milo, ”I'm leaving. If you don't care what's happened to Vida, I do. Meanwhile, you'll be hearing from me again before eleven. Whatever went on here has to be in the Advocate.”

”Knock yourself out,” Milo muttered before turning to Jack. ”We'll stay on the job until we find Bert. I'm going to let the other deputies know what's going on and make sure we're all up to speed.”

”Overtime,” Jack said. ”That's ...”

Not wanting to get in the way of the medics, I decided to leave via the back door. It wasn't easy to see through the heavy rain, but the Andersons' backyard looked neglected. There was nothing but overgrown gra.s.s, untended berry vines, and weeds. As I started down the unpaved driveway, I heard a sudden loud rumble that made me jump. Calm down, I lectured myself, realizing the noise signaled the fire engine's departure. Still unsteady, I stumbled on a rock, but awkwardly regained my balance. The twisting movement caused sharp pains in my back. ”d.a.m.n,” I said under my breath. I'd forgotten to ask Julie for water so I could wash down my pill. Taking a few tentative steps, I headed back inside. Climbing the four wooden stairs leading to the door made me wince. I rapped twice; within a few seconds Julie let me in.

My return didn't seem to surprise her. ”Forget something?” she asked. No doubt it was a frequent query for ICT patrons who left all sorts of belongings at the tavern-including their spouses.

I explained about needing some water. Milo was standing up, looking out the window on the west side of the house and talking on his cell phone. ”No,” he was saying, ”let's not drag in the state patrol yet. Bert's got to be around here someplace.”

Julie poured me a gla.s.s of water. I thanked her before taking both a methocarbamol and a Demerol. If the pain didn't ease quickly, I wasn't sure I could drive home.

”What happened?” she asked.

”I reinjured my back,” I said after gulping down the first pill. ”I pulled something a few days ago.” I couldn't stop my eyes from veering in Milo's direction. He'd just rung off and had turned around.

”Want to ride with the medics?” he said in a dour tone. ”They haven't left yet.”

”I'm fine,” I snapped.

”Hmmph.” Studying me from head to foot, he scratched his head. ”You don't look it. I've seen drowned rats in better shape.”

He was right, of course. My hair was bedraggled, my makeup was long gone, and my jacket had gotten dirty somewhere along the way. But his remark riled me. A snicker from Jack Mullins annoyed me even more. ”It hasn't been a good day.” I said grimly.