Where the Forest Meets the Stars(43)

She folded the top layer of egg slices into the heart of her salad. A few weeks back, she’d never have believed the enigmatic Egg Man would be a part of her daily life. Something that improbable almost had to be caused by an alien’s intervention. She smiled, remembering how Ursa had snuggled up to Gabe that morning, fully trusting in his gentle nature.
She stopped eating to focus on a surprising sensation. The kind of inner warmth she used to feel when she was attracted to a man. She was relieved her body could still feel that way. But maybe it wasn’t her body. It was probably the replacement hormones.
The warmth faded with her cold appraisal. Such was life with a double dose of analytical genes. Falling for Gabe would be too inconvenient anyway. Her research was an ambitious project that normally would require at least one assistant. And why risk her emotional recovery when he’d shown no interest beyond friendship? He’d slept over twice and hadn’t made even the slightest move.
Not one move. Maybe he was turned off by her body. Or simply by the idea of the cancer. As compassionate as he was, he was unlikely to want a woman who lacked the usual anatomy. She let her fork fall into the last bit of her salad, paid the bill, and left.
The last of the gray rain clouds finally cleared away as she arrived home. The forest around Kinney Cottage was glorious, every leaf and bough sparkling with raindrop jewels of golden sun.
Gabe and Ursa weren’t in the house. Gabe’s note read,
We’re at the creek catching fish with a holey net. Understandably, this may take some time. Come join us if you enjoy frustration.
Ursa left a note next to it that said,
I hope you got pie!!!!

Jo had bought a pie, dutch apple, and vanilla ice cream to go with it. After she put groceries and laundry away, she decided to start a spaghetti dinner rather than go down to the creek. At around seven, Ursa burst in the front door shouting, “Did you get pie? We caught these pretty fish called darters! And Gabe showed me water beetles! They carry a bubble of air under their body to give them oxygen underwater.”
“How cool is that?” Jo said.
“And we found these larvae called caddis flies that can build a house that moves! They make a tube of silky stuff and stick sand and little pieces of rocks and wood on it. They use it to keep their soft bodies safe from predators.”
“I’ve seen those,” Jo said. “They’re amazing.”
Gabe arrived in the kitchen and set two sandy jars in the sink, his clothing as wet and muddy as Ursa’s. Jo tried not to think about how good forest and stream looked on him. “I didn’t know you were an aquatic insect expert,” she said.
“I’m not,” he said.
“He is,” Ursa said. “He knows the names of everything!”
“Are you self-taught, or did someone show you?” Jo asked.
“George Kinney did. It smells great in here. What is it?” He lifted the lid on the skillet.
“Spaghetti sauce with turkey sausage,” Jo said.
“Yay, pie!” Ursa said, lifting the pastry off the counter.
“Put it back,” Jo said. “It’s dessert. But you can only have it if you eat your green stuff.”
Outside, Little Bear started going berserk.
“Damn it. It’s Lacey again,” Gabe said. The three of them went to the front window, and when they saw the sheriff’s car rolling down the gravel lane, Ursa vanished. Jo experienced something like déjà vu as the rear screen door creaked opened and banged shut.
“Fucking Lacey!” Gabe said. “I knew she was up to something when she came over here.”
“What will we say?”
“Tell the truth, as much as possible.”
Jo walked outside and tried to call Little Bear off the cop. Gabe stayed on the front walkway. The deputy wasn’t K. Dean. He was older, in his midforties, but leaner and fitter than most twenty-year-olds. His dark-brown eyes had an alarming look, sharp with accusation.
“Would you be Joanne Teale?” the deputy asked.
“Yes, Joanna ,” Jo said. “How can I help you?”
The deputy walked toward her, unconcerned by the half-grown mongrel barking at him, his gaze fixed on Gabe.
“Is there a problem?” Jo asked.
“Maybe you can tell me,” the deputy drawled. “I was told to look for an injured girl at this property.”
“Who said that?”
“Why would you need to know? Is the report true or not?”
“There is a girl who comes around,” she said. “I called the sheriff about her a few weeks ago.”
He hadn’t expected her to say that.
“Deputy Dean came out,” she said.
He nodded, his stern demeanor softening. He was clearly familiar with Dean.
“But the girl saw him coming and ran away.”
“Why would she do that?”
“Maybe she was afraid he would make her go home. She had bruises on her.”
“You told Kyle—Deputy Dean—about that?”
“I did.”
“She still comes around?” he asked.
“She does. Has someone reported her missing?”
“Someone’s reported her as endangered. Last you saw her, was she hurt?”
“She had a cut on her head yesterday. I cleaned it up for her.”
“Did the cut look like it was from abuse?”
“It wasn’t. It was from a tree branch that fell during the big storm.” Jo’s stomach muscles clenched. Maybe she’d said too much. How would she answer if he asked where that had happened?
“Have you met her family?” the deputy asked.