Harlan intervened. "Rodd, you've met Wendy, but you haven't met my other granddaughter, Sage, and her friend Trav Dietz."
The introductions took place. Rodd found himself near the center of attention as everyone chatted with Zak, congratulating him on his success at sitting quietly. Wendy stood just in front of Rodd, wearing a soft red dress of some kind of knit. He had to keep his hand down at his side to keep from touching her shoulder to feel its softness under his palm.
He tried several times to catch Wendy's eye, but she never quite made eye contact with him. Finally, they all moved up the aisle to greet the pastor, Wendy just to Rodd's right.
During more friendly greetings and chatter, Rodd eased closer to Wendy. He whispered in her ear, "I need a favor."
She looked up, startled. "What?"
He read caution in her eyes. "Walk with me a ways." He motioned toward the church entrance.
She hesitated.
But Harlan must have overheard him because he nodded at them, then turned back to Zak. In the church foyer, beside the long coat rack, they paused. As Rodd helped her don a long, blue, down coat, he breathed in her light fragrance, something like fresh strawberries. She appeared uncomfortable with his help—or was it just him? She led him outside into bright, freezing sunshine.
"What favor do you need, Sheriff?"
Last night in his barn, he had been "Rodd," not "Sheriff." He tried to think of something to say that would bring back that casual friendliness he'd enjoyed with her before seeing her uncle at Flanagan's. Maybe the direct approach would be best. "I need your help with the investigation."
She looked down. "What do you need?"
Good. She believed in the direct approach too. He started, "First of all, have you mentioned your connection to the burglaries to anyone?"
She folded her arms and eyed him. "You probably haven't thought about it, but my profession is very similar to yours. I have to keep a great deal of information confidential."
He grinned, hoping to put her at ease. He lowered his voice. "I want you to call me the next time you take another patient into the clinic for a night of observation."
She stared up into his eyes. "You think there will be another burglary?"
He wished they could be talking about anything else, anything to ease her defensive posture. But he had to concentrate on the crimes, which had pulled them together. His tone was grim. "I'm sure there will be. Thieves don't give up until they're caught."
"I was hoping ..." She gave a little shake of her head, as though wishing away the trouble they had to confront. "I just hate to think of this happening again." Her voice caught with raw distress. "Isn't there anything else I could do to help you?"
He patted her shoulder, trying to reassure her. "No, just leave everything else to me." He left unsaid his worry that the thief could guess that his MO had been figured out and adopt a new one.
She gave him a tremulous smile.
He found himself looking at her face, examining its oval contour, the soft pale skin. He tightened his hold on her and smiled, encouraging her.
The church doors behind them burst open. "Hey!" Zak shouted as he rushed up to them. "We're going for pizza. Wanna come?"
Rodd dropped his hands and turned. From the corner of his eye, he noted Wendy's cheeks turn pink.
In a wink, Harlan, Sage, Trav, the pastor, and his wife surrounded Rodd and Wendy. Before Rodd could make an excuse and leave, he found himself walking the few blocks to the local pizzeria along with the rest. He willed his eyes not to keep shifting to where Wendy walked beside him. Finally, he gave up and let his gaze linger on her soft profile.
"I like pepperoni." Zak tugged at his sleeve.
"What?" Rodd looked down; then he took the red-mittened hand Zak offered him. The small hand in his felt good.
"I like pepperoni; do you?" Zak gave a jump, then a hop on the sidewalk packed with a layer of frozen gray snow.
"Sure, I like pepperoni." He glanced over to Wendy. "Do you like pepperoni, Wendy?" he asked in a conspiratorial murmur.
"Not alone." She gave a determined shake of her head. "I'm definitely a deluxe-pizza woman."
"Deluxe pizza! Yuck!" Zak declared. "Daddy calls that garbage pizza!"
This outburst was so unexpected and comical, Rodd laughed out loud.
Wendy chuckled too. He liked the soft feminine laugh. It took the sharp edge off the heavy burden he'd been carrying since yesterday when he'd examined the crime scene at Ma Ukkonen's. He'd intended to go to his office immediately after church, but now he was glad he had come along. Wendy and Zak lifted his spirits. Besides, a man had to eat.
Zak saw the pizzeria ahead. He yelped happily. "I'm cold! Let's run!" Zak tugged on Rodd's hand and started forward.
Rodd automatically reached for Wendy's hand, and the three of them ran together. Zak squealed and Rodd grinned, liking the feel of Wendy's gloved hand in his.
Wendy stood at the wall phone in the care-center side of the clinic lobby. Behind her, Olie Olson grumbled loudly at the day nurse admitting him. Wendy punched in the sheriff's number while her nerves did funny little hops and jumps inside her.
"Durand speaking."
Hearing Rodd's voice made the little hops and jumps spike like the readings on a heart monitor. Wendy cleared her dry throat. "Hi, it's Wendy."
"Wendy?" The sudden hope in his voice was unmistakable.
"This is the call you've been waiting for, Sheriff." And the one I've been dreading to make.
"You've brought a patient to the clinic?"
"Yes, Olie Olson from out on Winneshiek Road."
"He'll be in for the night?"
She fiddled with the twisted phone cord, trying to untangle it along with her hope and fear. "Yes, I brought him in for observation for heart arrhythmia."
"Have you told anyone else?"
"No one." She gave up and let the knotted phone cord drop.
"Good. Has anyone seen you bring him in, Wendy?"
She pictured the sheriff's face, how eager it must be. Still, her mood was as tangled as the phone cord. Would this put Rodd in danger?
"Wendy?"
"I don't know. You didn't tell me to try to hide—"
"Right. You followed your regular routine then?"
"Exactly as always, Sheriff."
Except that I feel like I'm going to jump out of my skin
.
"Good."
"Good?" How could Rodd stay so calm? Another burglary might happen tonight. "What do I do now?"
"What would you normally do after bringing a patient in?"
"I'd get him settled and go on with my calls." Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Olie eluding the nurse's attempts to get him to sit in the wheelchair. Olie, not now.
"Then do that."
"Is that all you want me to do?" Let down, she thought he'd have another duty for her to carry out.
"I want you to act as normal as you can."
His words spoken so seriously hit her sense of humor. What had he expected her to do—start toting her grandfather's rifle? break into song? She grinned and said in an exaggerated tone, "Well, Sheriff, I'll do my best at acting
normal
."
There was a pause. "Sorry." His voice sounded sheepish. "I didn't think about how that sounded."
"That's all right." Her grin waned. Even in the midst of her anxiety, she wished she didn't feel so unsure around this man who kept creeping into her thoughts regardless. Just the sound of his voice shredded her resistance. "Isn't there anything else I can do?"
"I'll take it from here. Just act—"
"I know, act normal. Okay." The nurse was waving for her. "I'll let you go, Sheriff, but I expect you to call me tomorrow." She found herself almost shaking her finger at the phone. "And I mean it."
"I will."
"I'll be praying for you."
"Good-bye and thanks."
Act like nothing is going to happen—how can I do that?
What if someone gets hurt tonight
?
The other nurse squawked with frustration.
Wendy hung up and hurried over to help the agitated nurse.
"Mr. Olson, please!" the nurse said, still trying to corral Olie into the wheelchair.
"I don't need any wheelchair. I can walk, lady." Olie sidestepped the nurse again.
"Olie Olson!" Wendy barked. "Sit down."
The grizzled gray-haired man paused.
"Now/" Wendy finished.
The old man, still grumbling and frowning furiously, sat down.
Wendy reached his side and bent to adjust his foot supports on the chair. "If you didn't need to be here, I wouldn't have brought you in."
"My heart may not be ticking just right, but I'm not crippled, Wendy."
"No one said you were. Why are you complaining? The complimentary wheelchair ride is just part of our blue-ribbon service." Wendy winked at the nurse over Olie's head. "Now I'm going to wheel you to your room." She pushed the chair down the hall toward the patients' wing. "Should we call your son at home or at work?"
"Ted's sleeping. They switched him to nights at the truck stop. Don't call him till 4 p.m. That's when he gets up."
"I'll have to give that pleasure to you, Olie. At four, I'll be about done for the day and heading home." About that time the sheriff might be setting up his trap. A shard of fear sliced through her.
Don't take any chances, Rodd.
Olie glanced up at her, his bravado slipping. "Stop back by here then. I'll be ready to leave this place. Old Doc will send me home. You wait and see. You youngsters think you know best, but I know better."
"Old Doc will have you taking tests," Wendy said wryly. She entered his room and stopped beside his bed. "Now put on your hospital gown. I expect you to follow doctor's orders."
Olie stood up and straightened slowly, painfully. "I'll follow doctor's orders, but you tell that woman to steer clear of me." He pointed a finger at the nurse who had followed them.
"The nurse will be following doctor's orders too, so don't you give her any guff." Wendy shook her finger at him. "The sooner you do what you're told, the sooner you get home."
The grumpy man gave her a glum look.
It caught her heart. When she was a child, she'd often spent after-school hours doing homework at the Black Bear Cafe, where her mother had been a waitress. Every time Olie had come into the cafe, he had given Wendy red-and-white-striped mints. She softened her voice. "Promise?"
He hitched up one shoulder. "I ain't makin' any promises."
She leaned over and kissed his deeply lined cheek, then turned to the nurse. "His bark is worse than his bite."
The nurse grimaced. "Better tell him my bark and bite are equally bad."
Wendy shook her head. "You two will have to work it out between you. I've got to go."
Besides, I don't have any patience today. How can I wait until tomorrow to hear if the sheriff's plan worked? Oh, God, calm my spirit and help Rodd catch the thief.
Rodd quietly drove his Jeep into the deep cover of a stand of pines behind the Olson garage. About three hours earlier, dark had fallen on the mid-November night. He'd stayed in his office doing paperwork until he left at his customary time. He'd done nothing out of the ordinary that might be observed. This wasn't the big city. Here people noticed things.
That had been proved already. Someone in the county had noticed Wendy's movements and used them for larcenous purposes. Someone could be watching him too, though that didn't seem to fit the Weasel. But Rodd couldn't take any chances. Three burglaries were three too many. So at the end of his day, he'd driven home as usual, checked on his cattle, and gotten his mail while the moonless night advanced.
Finally, he'd left his home and taken a circuitous route to Winneshiek Road. Then he had turned off his headlights and trusted his luck to get off the road onto Olson's property without being noticed by the distant neighbors. Now he backed his Jeep into a rough but cleared area hidden by the tall pines. The patch of ground looked as if farm machinery had been parked there in the past.
He had planned carefully. Earlier in the daylight, to make sure he would know right where to drive and wouldn't fumble around in the dark, he had driven by and glimpsed this stakeout position. The layout of the property was so perfect for a stakeout and arrest that he'd felt like singing—if he were a man who sang. But the elation still tried to tug his mouth into a grin. The trap had been set and baited.
Ever since Wendy had called him this morning with her news, he'd felt the buzz of adrenaline. Tonight he'd do what he'd promised when he took his oath of office. He'd protect the community. The string of snowmobile burglaries would end—tonight.
If the thief nibbled the bait.
All Rodd had to do was wait. He checked to make certain nothing would beep or ring when he opened his car door; then he sat inside and waited.
Tonight had to succeed—because tonight's stakeout would reveal that he'd figured out the Weasel's MO. If he didn't get the thief tonight, he might not get such a clear-cut chance again. And he wanted to catch the Weasel red-handed, not just scare him out of business.