As everyone gathered up their belongings, children, and grandchildren, Rodd's insides were jumping. People streamed out through the exits, laughing and talking. Rodd hung back by the main entrance to the parking lot, nodding to people who greeted him.
BOOM!
The sound of an explosion brought screams and shouts from everyone.
Rodd pushed his way through the crowd out into the parking lot in front of the VFW. Flames lit up the sky farther down the street. Rodd raced toward them, barking into his cell phone, "Fire on Turner Street—LaFollette!"
The crowd ran close to his heels. "It looks like Garvey's Garage!" someone shouted. "Yes!" and "That's right!" others agreed.
He reached the fire, which engulfed a garage behind an aged storefront. "Stand back!" he ordered. "We don't know what kind of fire it is! Get back! There could be another explosion!" Surging in front of the crowd, he had to shove a few men back for their own safety.
BOOM!!!
A second explosion behind the fire detonated. People covered their ears and screamed. A few dropped to the ground, shielding their heads with their hands and arms. Burning debris showered all around. Rodd prodded everyone back farther, helping up an older woman who'd fallen.
"Everyone back to the VFW!" He began herding them back down the street. He bent down and picked up a crying stray child. "Stay in the middle of the street! Something else might explode!"
Fear now ran with the crowd. The people huddled together as they hurried, helping the older ones keep pace, picking up children and running, running. Infected with the alarm of the adults, children screamed and babies cried out, sobbing, "Mommy! Mommy!"
The child trembled against Rodd, clutching his jacket. Protecting the rear of the crowd, Rodd kept urging everyone on with calm, even shouts. "Just head to the VFW! The firefighters are on their way—"
The siren of the LaFollette Volunteer Fire Department drowned out his voice. The sound bolstered the crowd. They ran, but the hysteria waned They funneled back into the VFW hall, suddenly a haven in the chaos. Inside, a mother came and lifted her son from Rodd's arms. She thanked him and wept over the child's head.
In the front, Gus held the proceeds from the fund-raiser in a bank bag and on each side of him, two vets with guns drawn hovered protectively. "No one got the—" Gus's voice was interrupted by an urgent shout.
"Help!" Came a yell from the back door. "Help! I've been robbed!"
On the following wintry Monday morning Wendy met Rodd at the Foodliner on Main Street. Rodd had volunteered to pay for the ingredients for the hot cocoa and fresh gingerbread that would be served at the church caroling party, and Wendy had volunteered to do the actual shopping with him.
Wendy led him down the baking goods aisle. Rodd pushed the cart with one rattling wheel while Wendy chose flour, sugar, baking cocoa, and spices. Performing this domestic chore together gave her a peculiar sensation. What would it be like to be married to Rodd and ... she halted this fairy tale.
She watched him from the corner of her eye. By now, everyone knew what had happened Saturday night. The snowmobile thief had set explosions in LaFollette to distract everyone. The ensuing commotion from the second blast had made the slick theft possible.
Evidently, the thief had been lingering by an exit at the end of Bingo Night, saw who won the money, then targeted that person when everyone ran outside after the first explosion. A man in snowmobile gear had been overlooked in the mad rush. He'd come up behind the woman and knocked her unconscious at the rear of the VFW, then made off with the money on his snowmobile. The woman who'd been robbed hadn't seen her attacker. The only blessing had been that she hadn't been seriously injured.
The whole debacle in LaFollette had left Rodd looking grim. Unreachable.
"That's about it," Wendy said with a bright smile, wishing with all her heart she had some idea to offer him.
Rodd nodded.
In light of his gloom, she reined in her smile. Lord, he's such a good man and he's tried so hard. How could he possibly have known that the burglar would blow up part of LaFollette?
Rodd pushed the noisy, irritating cart to the checkout line. Wendy was very aware of the glances directed at the sheriff. Bruno Havlecek and Leo Schultz had greeted them both. From the other few shoppers, Wendy didn't detect any hostility, only curiosity.
"There you are!" Fletcher Cram's distinctive scratchy baritone boomed through the thin crowd "I saw your Jeep outside. What is going on with you? You let the thief blow up Garvey's Garage! Good heavens! What's next?"
Instinctively, Wendy took a step backward, closer to Rodd.
Rodd stared at Cram. "I didn't let the thief do anything—he doesn't ask my permission—"
"You know what I mean! For the first time in over fifty years I agree with Veda McCracken! You should resign if you can't do the job!"
Bruno, who was in line in front of Wendy, scowled at Cram and demanded, "What makes you think you can speak for us?"
"That's right!" Leo Schultz chimed in. "Just because you run the newspaper don't mean you're in charge of the county!"
Wendy sensed Rodd's discomfort. What could he say in his own defense? What could she say?
"I have the right to demand that a public servant do his job!" Cram retorted.
"I am doing my job." Rodd surprised Wendy by speaking. "I've secured the crime scene around the explosion site. One of my men is standing guard around the clock until the explosives expert from the state crime lab gets here later today to go over the scene for evidence."
"That's all well and good," Cram blustered, "but what are you going to do if that expert doesn't find anything you can use?"
Rodd and Cram faced each other. The rest of the customers watched. Wendy searched her mind for some words to say, something that would support the sheriff without embarrassing him.
"Cram, I would resign right now if I could." Rodd's voice sounded as though it had been ripped from deep inside him.
"What does that mean?" Cram growled. "No one's preventing you!"
"Who would take my place as sheriff?"
Everyone became very quiet. The checker stopped running items over the scanner.
"Who would take my place?" Rodd repeated.
"One of your deputies. Until a special election," Cram complained.
"My deputies are all green. None of them has even a year's experience. I have nearly fifteen years in law enforcement, and I ...haven't been ...able ... to catch him. How would one of them? If I resigned now, it would amount to dereliction of duty. I can't resign now, even if I wanted to."
Cram fell silent. His prominent Adam's apple bobbled, but he said nothing.
"This thief," Rodd continued, "isn't a garden-variety one. He's got brains. He's fearless. And he's very good. I don't have one shred of hard evidence to connect anyone to any of the burglaries, and that isn't because I haven't looked. I don't think, Mr. Cram, that you have a clue as to what law enforcement is all about. So why don't you go write yourself another article about what a bad sheriff I am—but that won't make anything better either. It will just give you another chance to vent your sour spleen."
Applause broke out spontaneously.
"That's tellin' him!" Schultz chortled.
Cram turned on his heel and stomped out of the store.
"Good riddance!" Bruno pronounced.
Wendy stood, shocked. She was speechless.
The checkout line resumed and moved along; the checker tallied the charge for their groceries; they drove to the church.
In the church kitchen, Rodd had carried in the bags and Wendy unloaded them . In the stillness of the empty basement, she could hardly breathe she was so aware of Rodd. She ached to cup his face and bring his lips down to hers. But beyond this grew a sense that she needed to confront Rodd. Over and over when she'd mentioned prayer or asking God for help, he'd pulled back. Lord, am I to say something to him? How can I when everyone's already sniping at him?
Finally, she knew what she had to say. "Rodd, I know you never miss a Sunday here, but have you really learned to turn things over to God?"
He glanced at her, a wariness in his eyes. "What do you mean?"
"Have you asked God to lead you to the thief?"
He made an impatient sound. "I asked God to keep everyone out of my way so I could get a shot at him."
"That's not the same as asking him to help you...."
"God has better things to do than my job. And I can do my job if I just get a chance, just one little piece of evidence."
Wendy shook her head. "God isn't too busy to handle anything that is important to us."
"If God does everything, what am I supposed to be doing here? I'm the sheriff."
She cocked her head to the side, appealing to him to listen to her. "A good sheriff takes all the help he can get, doesn't he?"
Rodd studied her.
Then her own conscience hit her. She'd been fretting about her mother and Jim—wasn't that God's business, too?
Holding the warm mug, the smartest man in Wisconsin stood looking out the cracked, taped window. Outside, snow fell dizzily, as if it had a hangover—a lot like he felt. His head ached and the coffee tasted bitter on his tongue, but that didn't dim his amusement. The explosions had been seen for miles!
He sucked in another swallow of the hot murky brew. Picking up his tattered copy of Cram's latest Steadfast Times, he glanced over the letter to the editor again. The old biddy had unloaded both barrels at the sheriff again and she'd been loaded for bear! He tossed the paper back down.
Did the sheriff suspect old Veda of being the Snowmobile Burglar? No doubt Elroy Dietz had made the sheriff's list and even good old Dutch Rieker. What did Durand plan to do next?
His empty stomach burned. No one in the county knew what was behind the burglaries except him. And he wouldn't end it until he'd gotten exactly what he wanted—and that wasn't just a few lousy bucks.
Chapter Thirteen
Feeling a strange mix of emotions, Wendy walked between Sage and Grandfather through the small utilitarian airport, a county away from Steadfast. They'd come to see Sage off on the first leg of her journey to Florida. Grandfather had bought Sage a ticket out of the small airport to Minneapolis, where she'd catch her flight south. Wendy felt tears just waiting to fall. Hurt over being left behind wouldn't leave her in peace and the sadness of being parted from her sister was worse yet.
The sound of many different footsteps on the polished linoleum reminded Wendy that the three of them were not alone. Trav sauntered beside Sage, holding her hand. Behind them came the startling threesome of Elroy Dietz, Sheriff Durand, and Uncle Dutch. The reason for the strange trio accompanying them was purely circumstantial.
Uncle Dutch had been expected to come to see his niece off. Elroy wanted to borrow Trav's truck, so right after Sage took off, he was going to drop Trav at his job on the way back to town and take the truck. Finally, Rodd had called and insisted on driving Wendy and Harlan because the roads were slick again. Wendy had wanted to refuse, but she'd seen that her grandfather had wanted her to accept. She'd wanted it too—though she would never have asked him. The roads had been snow packed. They'd be safer in Rodd's Jeep than in Wendy's Blazer. And Wendy admitted to herself that she drew unexpected strength from Rodd's presence.
The intimate glances that passed between Sage and Trav in some mysterious way heightened Wendy's consciousness of Rodd just a foot behind her. An invisible force seemed to be urging her to turn around and throw herself into Rodd's arms, where she would feel safe and strengthened. She tried to block the feeling, but it persisted.
"I can't believe I'll be in Florida tonight." Sage, wearing a new dark gold slacks-and-jacket outfit, grinned and squeezed Trav's hand.
Trav smiled back "Just don't get sunburned."
Sage chuckled. "I never burn "
"But you'll be out so much," Wendy interrupted. "I just don't want you—"
"You just want me to have the perfect vacation.'' Sage beamed at her.
Sage's excitement proved contagious. In spite of being a mismatched group, Wendy noticed that they were all smiling when they reached the exit where the turboprop commuter plane was preparing to take off. Wendy welcomed the lift of mood. But her gaze wandered to Rodd despite her wish to appear unaffected by him. Lord, she prayed silently, bless Sage and Mom this Christmas.
"Well, Sage," Grandfather said as he opened his eyes, "give your mother our love."
"I will, Gramps." Sage hugged him. "Remember to put the presents I left under your tree. I'll miss you so."
"We'll miss you too." Harlan stepped back.
Wendy blinked away tears. When Rodd rested a comforting hand on her shoulder, her emotions scattered like dry snow before wind.
Uncle Dutch stepped forward. He pulled a smudged envelope from his pocket and handed it to Sage. "You remind that Jim that he'd better be takin' good care of my sister. Here's some cash. Buy your mom something from me and put it under the tree and get yourself something. You know I'm no good at gift wrappin'."