A Death in Lionel's Woods by Christine Husom

Author:Christine Husom
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: mystery and investigation, mystery suspense thriller romance
Publisher: Christine Husom

11

On Wednesday morning I was waiting by the garage for Vince Weber and punched in the code to close the overhead door when he pulled up to my house at 6:55. I’d secured Queenie in her kennel, and would take her to Gramps’ house when we’d finished our search. I climbed in his squad car.

Weber raised his hands toward the sky, palms up. “Should we linger here for a few minutes to watch the sunrise?” He was full of his usual vinegar.

In place of an answer, I lifted my closed hand, and pointed my thumb backward toward the road.

He nodded. “It’s like that this morning, huh?”

I turned to him with a slight frown. “We can catch the sunrise on the other side of the lake.”

He put the car in reverse and backed out to the road. “Hey, I guess you’re right. Now I feel better. I noticed that almost-hidden camera on your garage. So what’s been goin’ on?” He waited for a vehicle to pass before entering the roadway.

On the few minutes’ drive to the public access on the other side of Bebee Lake, I summarized the phone messages I’d received, the trespassing at my house, and the acts of vandalism I’d been the victim of the past week. When he stopped at the intersection of Brandt and County Road 35, there was a line of cars, no doubt the early morning commuters. And per usual, each one slowed down when they spotted the squad car sitting at the stop sign.

Weber glanced at me with raised eyebrows. The lines across his forehead extended up to his shaved, bald head. “Huh. That’s some weird shit, all right. And doesn’t seem to be all that organized. You know, like a guy that breaks the windows on a bunch of cars. Or smashes the mailboxes in a neighborhood with a baseball bat. Or starts fires in old buildings. That kind of stuff.” Weber finally had an opening and turned right on 35.

“I agree.”

“It sounds like he’s after you all right. Tryin’ to get your attention.”

“It does, I know. But why? Until last week, I’d been off the road, working in the office for months. I haven’t made an arrest, or even written a ticket, since last spring.”

Weber turned right on Beacon, a gravel road a mile east of the one I lived on. He followed the path that wasn’t more than a tractor trail in the middle of a cornfield. “So it could be the reason you’re targeted is because you’re a cop. Plain and simple.”

“I thought of that, too. But what about those messages left on my voicemail?”

“Huh. Yeah, that’s the part that doesn’t fit with the theory.” Weber stopped the car about twenty feet from the lake and parked. The road and lake access had been deeded for public use by the property owner, which a number of fishers greatly appreciated. I sent a message to Communications via the mobile laptop, advising them of our location, and then we got out of the car.

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