Cold Hunter's Moon Page 2

  She raised up and wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. “Please call me Ann and I’ll call you”—more giggles—“I’ll just call you Sheriff.”

  Ann walked the sheriff into the living room, and between laughing and wiping tears from her eyes, offered him something to drink. He accepted, and she escaped to the kitchen to get herself together.

  When she returned with his coffee and her cocoa, he was standing in front of one of the corner cupboards looking at Ann’s collection of carnival glass. “My grandmother had some of this glass. I’ve always thought it was very colorful.” he said.

  Ann laughed. “I love carnival glass but it isn’t everyone’s cup of tea.” She smiled calmly at him. “Please accept my apologies for my earlier behavior; this hasn’t been one of my better days. I just built a fire in the family room. Let’s go back there and I’ll tell you about the boot.”

  Lark took the tray and followed her. He stopped in front of the sofa table and set the tray down to pick up a blue pitcher she had just unpacked.

  “Bleeding Heart,” he murmured, staring at the pitcher.

  Watching sadness play across his face, Ann asked him if he collected Roseville.

  “My wife collected it,” he said, gently setting the pitcher back down.

  He walked over to the wall of windows and stood silently, looking out at Big Oak Lake. Ann sat on the sofa watching him. As she looked more closely, she saw a few threads of silver in his dark curly hair. She willed herself to stop staring when he sat down on the sofa and began his interview.

  It didn’t take Ann long to tell him the details of finding the boot. Lark then began asking questions about her and her husband. Ann told him the basics. She and John were married shortly after they met in West Virginia. After several job-related moves, they ended up in Madison, Wisconsin. Three years ago, one of John’s clients left them land in Big Oak. Shortly after that, the hospital administrator position opened at Mason County Memorial Hospital. Ann got the job and John started his own residential design and construction company. They moved to Big Oak and built their house.

  Once the sheriff was done questioning her, he asked to take a look at the boot. The dogs, still shut up in the garage, started barking when Ann and Lark got to the laundry room. Just as he unwrapped the boot, they heard a car pull up the driveway.

  “That’s probably John coming home for lunch,” Ann said, glancing at her watch. “He’ll think I’ve been speeding again when he sees a police car in the driveway.”

  “I’m driving my own car today,” Lark said, studying the boot. “Everyone’s working overtime and all the official cars were in use.” He was putting on a pair of surgical gloves he’d pulled from his pants pocket when Ann left the room.

  “Whose car is out front?” John yelled before she could get to the front door.

  She rounded the corner as he hung his coat in the closet. “Who’s here?” he asked, glancing at the boot tray.

  She folded her arms and leaned against the wall. “You remember telling me about the red thing up by the pond?”

  John nodded.

  “It was a boot, and I think it had some bones in it. The car in the driveway belongs to the sheriff. He’s in the laundry room looking at it.”

  “This is a joke, right?” John said, staring at Ann like she was crazy.

  “No, I’m afraid it isn’t,” Lark said as he came around the corner. He shook hands with John and introduced himself. John didn’t seem to notice his first name, which told Ann he was feeling the shock of this turn of events.

  “Ann, I think you’re right,” Lark said. “I’m pretty sure it’s the remains of a human foot. I’m going to send it to the state forensics lab in Wausau.”

  “Jesus Christ! A human foot? I don’t believe it,” John said as he walked into the kitchen and sat down at the table. “How long has it been out there?”

  “I don’t know, but I’d say quite a while,” Lark said, sitting down across from him. “I’m wondering how it got into your yard and where it’s been all this time.”

  “Uh, I’m pretty sure I know how it got here, but I don’t have any idea where it came from,” Ann said, sitting down. “The dogs probably found it and dragged it in.” She fidgeted with the placemat on the table in front of her. “We didn’t get home from Wausau until after eleven on Saturday night. It was so late, we figured it was safe to let the dogs out. Unfortunately, they took off towards the marsh, barking like hell. Remember,” Ann said, looking over at John, “we thought we heard a snowmobile but didn’t see any lights.”

  “I forgot about that,” John replied. “You think that’s when they found the boot?”

  “They were out for three hours; they had to be into something.”

  “Well, if that’s what happened, the rest of the body, if there’s more, could be anywhere,” John said, looking out the sliders. He glanced over at Lark. “I can’t imagine trying to search all three hundred and sixty acres in this snow. In the spring you might have a chance, but I doubt it this time of year.”

  “How far do your dogs roam?” Lark asked.

  “We don’t watch them every minute but I doubt they leave the property. I’ve never seen them at the Lowerys’, have you?” John asked Ann.

  Frowning, she shook her head. “Nope, and I’ve never seen them at the Banskis’ either. I think Duke and Buck routinely cover about twenty acres and range out around eighty to a hundred when they have time to fool around. They also wander out to the marsh when it’s frozen.”

  Lark got up from the table and walked over to look out the sliding glass door at the lake. The sun was gone, hidden behind gunmetal gray clouds, and big, heavy snowflakes were rapidly falling. It was only one o’clock in the afternoon but it looked like it would soon be dark.

  “I wonder if you’d even have a chance of finding the rest of the body right now. The dog tracks will be covered with the new snow and deer hunting season must be keeping all your people very busy,” Ann said.

  “I’ll try to get some extra help from the state,” Lark said, rubbing his forehead. He walked back over and sat down at the table.

  “John, your crew can spare you for a day,” Ann said. “If our dogs found that boot, why don’t we see if they can lead us to the rest of the body.”

  “You’ve read one too many mysteries, sweetheart,” John said.

  She gave him a withering look.

  “All right, all right. If the sheriff’s interested, we’ll give it a try”

  “Give what a try?” Lark asked, not following their conversation.

  “We’ll see if the dogs can find the rest of the bones,” John said. “Golden retrievers have a nose about three hundred times as sensitive as humans. I can pick up a rock from the gravel drive, roll it around in my hands, throw it a couple hundred feet, and they’ll find the exact stone and bring it back. If there’s more where that boot came from, they can find it.”

  Lark looked skeptical. John chuckled and shook his head “I wouldn’t believe it either if I hadn’t see it with my own eyes. It’s the damnedest thing.”

  “While we’re talking, I’m going to fix lunch,” Ann said, heading for the pantry. “It’s terrible to think about food at a time like this, but I’m famished.” She heated up chicken noodle soup and made grilled ham-and-cheese sandwiches. They wolfed down the food and talked about hunting season accidents.

  “I can’t believe we’ve had the helicopter up here five times,” Ann said.

  “Believe it,” Lark replied. “We’ve already had three tree stand falls, two of them with broken backs. We also had a woman shoot herself in the leg and hit her femoral artery She damn near bled to death before her drunken hunting buddies got her to the ER. Pete Williams missed a deer he was shooting at from his kitchen window. His bullet ended up in Mrs. Hartley’s sewing room wall after it went through her shoulder.”

  “Did Gus come down to take care of his father-in-law?” Ann asked John.

  “He came down to check on the hous
e. They want me to finish it in time for their big Christmas party,” John replied. “He ended up bailing Pete out because Cathy was shopping. Cathy offered to come home, but he told her he’d deal with Pete. He said Pete is mad as hell. He has to go to Rhinelander for a psychiatric evaluation or stay in jail.”

  “The Lowerys go skiing at their cabin in Bessemer, Michigan, every Thanksgiving. Cathy spends most of the week shopping in Chicago because she hates to ski,” Ann explained to Lark. “John’s remodeling their house, so they’re staying in Bessemer until it’s done.”

  “Gus said Pete called Judge Holten every name in the book, right in the courtroom.” John said, finishing his sandwich. “Pete told Holten that he got him elected and threatened to reverse that the next time he runs.”

  “Well, they’re the richest family in Big Oak County, maybe even northern Wisconsin, so that’s probably no exaggeration,” Ann said. “Who knew you could make so much money with a string of sawmills and paper mills.”

  Lark changed the subject. He told the Ransons he would bring a team out first thing the following morning to search their property. He also told them that he was going to inquire about a police tracking dog from one of the neighboring counties or the state, although he didn’t rule out trying to use their dogs if one wasn’t available.

  Before the sheriff left, he fingerprinted Ann and John, explaining that since Ann had handled the boot, he needed to eliminate her prints.

  MONDAY AFTERNOON

  NOVEMBER 20–SWENSON

  As Lark drove up the driveway, he thought about the Ransons and the trouble he expected was awaiting him somewhere on their property. His first impression of them didn’t set off any alarm bells, but he knew to proceed with caution until he could dig further into their backgrounds. He made a mental note to get the details of their inheritance.

  To his untrained eye, they had a lovely home. Lark thought about how much Maria would have enjoyed all the quilts and glass. He shook off the memories of his dead wife and turned his attention back to the bones. He stopped his car near the pond. As he tramped through the snow, he noticed several bird and deer feeders at the edge of the woods. Despite the snow and cold, birds and squirrels were everywhere.

  He finally reached the area Ann had described. Faint, snow-filled animal tracks meandered from the woods to the edge of the pond. He saw the trampled snow where Ann had fallen. It didn’t make sense that a person would retrieve the bones of someone she’d killed and turn them in to the police, but he’d seen stranger things in his career.

  Lark studied the Ransons’ house as he hiked back to his Jeep. If he didn’t know it was new, he would have sworn the big, two-story, gray farmhouse had been there for decades. Mature trees and landscaping surrounded it. Smoke floated up out of the chimney and an evergreen wreath hung from the bright blue front door. The real show was Big Oak Lake. The twenty-four-hundred-acre lake, the largest in Mason County, spread out behind the house in a sea of white-capped gray

  Nothing had changed when he got back to the office; the place was crazy. He grabbed the messages from his spindle and headed for his office. Flo, the dispatcher, yelled that she needed to see him as soon as possible. He told her to stow it until later unless it was an emergency. She glared but waved him away. He noticed that she had changed the color on her claw-like fingernails. They were orange and decorated with decals of miniature turkeys. The new color scheme was an improvement over the green and yellow Green Bay Packer colors she’d been wearing for the last month.

  Lark escaped into his office and called Joel Grenfurth. Joel and Lark met when Lark joined the Chicago police force. Shortly after they became friends, Joel got married and moved to Wausau. He had been a detective with the Wisconsin State Police for fifteen years. Lark told Joel about the boot and bones and asked him if anything about this situation rang a bell.

  “What a piss-poor time for this to happen,” Joel said. “Can you get the bones and the boot down to our lab? Everything has gone to hell this week. Wisconsin’s full of FIB’s getting drunk and trying to blow each other’s brains out while they’re shooting at the thirty-point buck.” Joel paused. When Lark didn’t say anything he continued, “You have heard that song about the thirty-point buck haven’t you?”

  “Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard the damn song so many times I could probably sing it in my sleep, especially the part about the Illinois lawman. Watch it with that FIB shit,” Lark said, wondering who he could pull off to run to Wausau.

  “You’re exempt from Fucking Illinois Bastard status. The minute you made the move you became a Cheesehead.” Joel chuckled, knowing how much Lark, a diehard Bears fan, hated the Packers.

  “I think I’d rather be an FIB,” Lark grumbled. “Hell will freeze over before I wear a piece of yellow plastic cheese on my head. I’ll get the bones down to you in a few hours, but I need the boot back tomorrow morning. Do you have any tracking dogs we could use?”

  “Tracking dogs? You think that skeleton left you a trail?” Joel asked. “You’ve been in boonie-land way too long.”

  “The people who found the boot think their dogs dragged it into their yard. They think the dogs can lead us back to where they found it,” Lark said, wondering how stupid this sounded.

  “What kind of dogs do they have?” Joel asked. “I’ve got a black Lab that could probably do the same thing.”

  “Golden retrievers.”

  “Smart dogs.”

  “So you think it’s worth a try?” Lark asked, leaning back in his chair.

  “Nothing to lose, is there? Otherwise you could be roaming the countryside until spring thaw. I don’t think our dogs could help—they follow scent trails. Get the bones and the boot down here and we’ll get to work on them ASAP. If your officer can wait, he can bring the boot back tonight. We could probably get you a couple of officers tomorrow, but there’s no one available today. We’re too busy dealing with live, lawbreaking FIBs.”

  “Yeah, yeah, Grenfurth, always the joker. I’m not going out on this until tomorrow morning.” Lark glanced out the window. “It’s snowing like a bitch. It’ll be dark in less than two hours and back down to fifteen below. We’re covered over with deer hunters and problems after bar time. If there’s something else out there, it can wait till tomorrow. It’s been waiting this long.” Lark yelled at an officer passing in the hall and waved him into the chair in front of his desk. “Joel, I’ll get this stuff on the road in half an hour and call you tomorrow if we need help.”

  Jim Kryjack slouched into the chair, draping his arms over the armrests. He stretched out his long legs and poked his huge feet underneath the sheriff’s desk. Despite all the food he packed into his six-foot-five frame, he was beanpole slim. Straight blond hair was combed to the side but occasionally flopped down into bright blue eyes set wide apart in his youthful face.

  Jim could have gotten a law enforcement job just about anywhere but came home because he thought Mason County was the best place on earth. Unlike many of his friends who wanted to escape their roots, Jim just wanted to sink them deeper. His family had lived in northern Wisconsin for more than a century and he couldn’t think of anything better than extending that tradition. He went to the University of Wisconsin in Madison to get a degree in Police Science and came home as quickly as possible. Life in Madison had confirmed that he could not be happy in the city.

  He had expected to work at the family resort until there was a job opening in the area, but Sheriff Dodge hired him right out of college. A couple of months later Dodge had his heart attack and Sheriff Swenson was hired. At first, Jim didn’t think he would like working with a former Chicago cop. That feeling went away in a hurry when he figured out how much he could learn.

  After finishing his conversation, the sheriff turned to Kryjack. Jim agreed to take the evidence to Wausau and bring back the boot. Lark gave him the bag and told him the details.

  Jim looked stunned. “We’ve had the occasional arm or leg taken off in farm accidents, but nothing like this. That
was a pretty isolated piece of property until the Ransons came. Old man Wazowski wasn’t up here much. He allowed a few of us to deer hunt, but otherwise he was pretty strict about trespassers. Everybody was real surprised he let the snowmobile trail go through.”

  “What do you know about the Ransons?” Lark asked.

  Jim thought for a minute. “Not much. My sister Janelle, she runs the restaurant part of Pine View for mom and dad.” Jim continued when Lark nodded. “Well, the Ransons were at the Pine View the other night when I was there and I asked her about them. I’d just given Mrs. Ranson a speeding ticket.”

  “Speeding ticket,” Lark said, and rubbed his hand across his eyes. “Tell me about it.”

  “She was doing seventy on Highway M. I could hear her radio clear back in the cruiser, but she’d turned it off by the time I got to her car. She seemed flustered but didn’t try to lie her way out of the ticket,” Jim said, grinning at Lark. “She said she had to stop listening to Motown when she’s driving. I thought she seemed a little old to be listening to real loud rock.”

  “Jesus,” Lark said, laughing and shaking his head.

  “I thought that was pretty funny, too. Anyway, Janelle says the Ransons come out to eat a couple of times a month. They tip well and treat the waitress great. Mrs. Ranson used to be a waitress. Janelle thought they were middle-aged honeymooners until they celebrated their nineteenth wedding anniversary out there this fall. They’re involved in this?”

  “Yeah, the boot was found on their property.” Lark hustled Jim out the door to Wausau. If the Ransons were middle-aged in Jim’s eyes, then he probably was, as well. He sure felt like it at the moment.

  He was astonished to find that it was almost four-thirty. Where does the time go, he wondered as he dialed the number for Dan Raeburn, the Madison attorney who had probated Wazowski’s will. When he’d told the Ransons he wanted to talk with him about the details of the estate, they had supplied his name and number.

  He was surprised to be put right through to the attorney. Raeburn described the Ransons’ inheritance just as Ann had. They had befriended one of John’s clients, an elderly man named Sam Wazowski, when John remodeled his house in Madison. Ann and Sam shared a fondness for mysteries, art glass, and Italian food. Both the Ransons were estranged from their parents and Sam was estranged from his children, so they became a surrogate family for each other. When he realized how much the Ransons loved to vacation in northern Wisconsin, Sam secretly decided to leave his Big Oak Lake property to them, with the stipulation that they never subdivide it. He also left them an ample trust fund to be used for taxes and property improvements, as well as a couple thousand first-edition mysteries. Raeburn admitted that he had convinced Sam to have the Ransons checked out prior to leaving the property to them, but they had found no financial, business, or social surprises.