Lake Silence (The Others #6)(97)

CHAPTER 57





Grimshaw


Windsday, Sumor 5

Sitting on Julian’s porch, working on his second beer, Grimshaw looked at the nearest cabin. Curtains in the windows; a chair and small table on the porch; the large pots of flowers placed along the walls that bordered the front yard. Vicki’s car was parked on the gravel rectangle that served as a driveway.

He’d eaten dinner at the boardinghouse, mainly to get a look at the new guests. A couple of salesmen who routinely stayed in Sproing to take orders from customers in the area. Two couples who wanted to get away for a few days and chose the village where they could see Sproingers and visit wineries. Nothing about any of those people made him think he needed to take a closer look, so he’d driven over to Julian’s cabin in order to sit back and have a beer—and to check on Vicki DeVine.

“She need any help?” he asked when Julian joined him on the porch.

Julian shook his head. “Yesterday afternoon, Cougar and Conan provided the muscle for setting up the bed and placing the heavier pieces of furniture, and Ineke came over today to help Vicki set up the kitchen and put up curtains, things like that. When I went over after work to see if she needed any help, she sounded shaky, which isn’t surprising, but she said she was okay.”

“I didn’t want to serve that eviction notice. It was bullshit.” Grimshaw took a couple of long swallows of beer. “Got to hand it to the terra indigene, though. They picked up on my warning and got a message to Ilya Sanguinati fast enough for him to arrive at The Jumble by the time Vicki opened the door to that dickhead Yorick Dane and his slimy friends or business partners or whatever they are.”

“You’re letting your ire surface, Wayne.” Julian sipped his beer. Then he sighed. “Truth is, I’m glad she’s out of there.”

“I had the impression that most of the people in the village were glad she had taken over The Jumble, including you.”

“We were all glad to see her doing something with the place. Having The Jumble up and running would be a shot in the arm for all our businesses. I mean, gods, have you seen the public beach on the weekends when everyone is looking to cool off or row out on the lake to fish?”

“I’ve been a little too busy to even think about fishing,” Grimshaw said.

Julian eyed him. “Do you fish?”

“Nope. But I’ve been too busy to even think about it.”

“You should come by some morning. We can walk down to the creek and throw in a couple of lines.”

“Why?”

“To look like we’re doing something in order to do nothing.”

“Ah. Best reason I’ve heard to go fishing.” He spent—or had spent—his workday with his ass planted in the cruiser, so he preferred physical activity during his downtime. In his mind, fishing wasn’t the same as lifting weights, or playing basketball during adults’ night at the school gym.

Did they do that here? Not that he would be around much longer.

Julian snapped upright, tense and alert, a moment before a gust of cold air hit them.

“Crap,” Grimshaw breathed. “I didn’t hear anything in the weather report that said we’d get a blast of air coming out of the north.”

“This isn’t cold air coming from the north,” Julian said quietly. “It’s getting too cold too fast. This isn’t natural. Something’s changed.”

Grimshaw touched the medal under his shirt. Most of the time, weather was just weather. But sometimes it was more—and it was devastating when it struck because there was something guiding it, shaping it. Creating it. “The Elementals?”

Julian nodded. Grimshaw’s mobile phone rang.

“Osgood?” he said, wishing he’d tossed a jacket in the car. “You’re on call tonight.”

“One of the women was attacked.” Osgood’s voice shook. “At The Jumble. They said a hand came out of the bathroom sink and tried to choke her.”

“Did anyone at The Jumble call the EMTs or Dr. Wallace?”

“Don’t think so. One of the men called the station. I’m not sure which one. He was shouting and hung up before I could get any more information.”

“You call Dr. Wallace and the EMTs, then stay at the station as a relay. I’ll head to The Jumble.”

“Yes, sir.”

Julian drained his bottle and picked up the empties. “You’re going to answer a call after having a couple of beers?”

“I’m not sending Osgood out there. Besides, it’s getting dark. I should have been on my way back to the boardinghouse before now.”

“I could make some coffee.”

“You could quit stalling.” He wouldn’t bring the baby cop with him, so why did he expect a man who quit the force years ago to back him up?

Because the man was Julian Farrow.

They stared at each other as the wind that swirled around them carried the sharp, cold bite of winter.

“I told you The Jumble wasn’t a safe place,” Julian said.

“Well, it looks like you were right.”



* * *



? ? ?

The EMT vehicle and Dr. Wallace’s car were parked on the side of the road near the entrance to The Jumble, waiting for him. Their unwillingness to answer a call for medical help without police backup confirmed what Julian had said—The Jumble wasn’t a safe place anymore.