Chapter 7 Cosi
Cosi
Sweat beaded at my temples as I dug my shovel into the snow, tossing a clump onto the heap I’d been building. Spencer and I had been out here for an hour, clearing the sidewalks and driveway so I could get the Bronco out of the garage.
This storm had blown in with a vengeance, burying Dalton in snow. The plows were out but they were struggling to keep Main and the highways clear, let alone any of the side streets or neighborhoods.
When the snow had finally stopped falling midmorning, I’d breathed a sigh of relief.
Then I’d gotten to work. First, I’d walked to Mom’s place a few blocks over and shoveled her driveway.
I’d thought for sure I’d find Spencer still in bed when I came back, enjoying a break from school and sleeping past noon.
But he’d been up and clearing the front stoop.
It took three more shovels to finish my side of the driveway. I wiped the sweat from my brow with the sleeve of my flannel—I’d abandoned my coat a while ago, too warm to keep it on. My insulated canvas pants and Sorel boots were plenty to chase away the cold.
Spencer, wearing a pair of my old bibs and his own snow boots, finished his section of the driveway and yanked off his stocking hat. Steam wafted from his sweaty brown hair.
I propped an elbow on my shovel’s handle, taking a moment to catch my breath. “I’m going to head to the station next. See if I can’t get the truck with the plow started.”
The old Chevy was reliable, for the most part, but the storm had come in so fast that I doubted anyone had thought to plug it in, and with the below-zero temperatures, it might not start. But if we could get it going, I could help out around town and blaze a few paths in the roads.
Thankfully, most people had been smart and stayed home during the blizzard.
Other than a few people whose vehicles had gone off the road into ditches, there hadn’t been many calls to the station.
But now that the snow was letting up, more people would be venturing outside.
It was just a matter of time before there were accidents.
Having a truck with a plow blade mounted to the front was going to come in handy.
“I’ll come with you,” Spencer said.
“Really?”
He shrugged. “Nothing else to do.”
It had been a hell of a long time since Spencer had willingly come to work with me.
When he was a kid, the station had been one of his favorite places.
If there was a day when I was off duty but needed to go in to catch up on reports, he’d tag along.
He’d kept his own special spot in the bullpen and would spend hours filling coloring books or playing with the stash of Hot Wheels he’d kept in my desk drawer.
Even though my desk was different, I still had those little cars in a drawer. I had the coloring books too because I hadn’t been able to throw them away.
“I’m going to get a cup of coffee,” I said. “Want anything?”
“Can I have a Coke?”
“Sure.” I set my shovel inside the detached garage, then walked down the sidewalk to the door and inside to get our drinks.
Spencer was waiting beside the Bronco when I returned, his hat covering his hair again. “Think we can drive to the station? Or will we have to walk?”
“We’d better walk. I’m worried the plows have created a berm along the highway that’ll be pretty tough to break through.”
“Okay.” He pulled on his coat as I did the same, then together, we headed for the station.
The snow came up to my knees in a few places, but we trudged through it, leaving twin trails as we headed down Pine Street.
As expected, the berm of snow blocking the junction to Main was thick and tall enough that we probably would have gotten stuck. Spencer and I clambered over it, then set out along the plowed edge of the road, sipping our drinks as we passed the café and post office—both closed.
The station was only seven blocks from home, part of the reason I’d bought my house ten years ago. I could be at work or my mother’s house in minutes. And Spencer could walk to school, five blocks in the other direction.
Someday, I’d love to have a place out of town. A bigger house with some acreage, a place with room to breathe and where I didn’t have neighbors too close. But that was a dream I might never be able to afford.
My salary meant Spencer and I were comfortable. Because my schedule could be erratic, Mom only worked part-time at the hospital in their filing department. She wanted the flexibility to help with Spencer, and I made enough to pitch in with her expenses too. Anything extra, I squirreled away.
Spencer hadn’t once mentioned college, but if he actually decided to go, I didn’t want him graduating with a mountain of debt, so I’d been saving a little every month for his future.
I didn’t need to be a wealthy man. I was rich in other ways. Mostly, I was rich because of the kid at my side.
There was a hint of peach fuzz along his jaw that he hadn’t shaved this week. Spencer’s face had changed too quickly from little boy to young man. He was growing up, and while I didn’t want to talk about Gwen, we couldn’t avoid the topic of his mother forever.
“So . . . we haven’t talked about the letter,” I said.
The easy expression he wore vanished and he shot me a glare. “Dad.”
“Sorry, pal. I know you don’t want to talk about it.”
“I don’t,” he snapped, twisting to look over his shoulder, like he was going to turn around and go home.
“Hey.” I stopped walking and put my hand on his shoulder. “You don’t have to see her if you don’t want to. No matter what you decide, I’ll back you up. But you have to tell me what you’re thinking.”
His frame sagged, and for a brief moment, I saw my little boy. Unguarded hazel eyes that looked at me like I was his hero. Like I could solve any problem in the world. “Why couldn’t she just leave us alone?”
“I don’t know.”
Gwen had written me a month ago, asking if she could visit Spencer.
Apologizing for missing his life. Years ago, I would have tossed the letter in the fire and never thought twice.
But he was getting older, and I did my best to treat him like the man he was becoming.
He deserved a choice in this, so I’d given him the letter to read.
And I’d been holding my breath for a month, waiting for him to decide what to do.
He stared at our boots, kicking a scuff in the snow. “I don’t want to see her, Dad.”
“Done. You don’t have to.” I hauled him into my side for a hug that he wiggled out of too soon.
I didn’t give a fuck that Gwen wanted to see Spencer. She’d given up any right to my kid years ago. She might be his mother, but he was mine.
She’d left. Her choice. She’d left Spencer. She’d left me. She’d left Dalton. And this was the consequence.
She’d lost her kid.
“Will you tell her that I don’t want to see her?” Spencer whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of our boots on the ground.
“Yeah.” I nodded. “I’ll take care of it.”
Gwen had left a phone number and return address on her letter. I’d mail a reply first thing tomorrow.
“Thanks, Dad.”
“Welcome, son.”
We walked in silence the rest of the way to the station. Only one vehicle passed us, a pickup heading out of town. Its taillights grew smaller and smaller as it passed the point where Main became the highway and stretched away from Dalton.
When we reached the station, I pulled my keys from my coat pocket to unlock the door. The moment I stomped off my boots on the mat, Alan came marching down the hall, dressed in jeans and his tan uniform shirt, pulling on his black Dalton County Sheriff’s Department coat as he walked.
“Alan.” I dipped my chin. “Thanks for coming in today.”
We’d shuffled the schedule once the storm hit so that any deputies who lived out of town didn’t need to drive in. Alan and his wife were having their fifth kid this spring and he’d been begging for extra hours, so when I’d asked if he’d cover Larry’s shift, he’d volunteered without hesitation.
“You got it, Cosi. I’m actually glad you’re here.
” He frowned. “Just got a call from Ilsa Poe out on Cotters Lake. Said someone is creeping around her place again. Looking in her windows. I just tried your phone and radio. Thought I’d walk over to your place but since you’re here .
. . I’m not sure how to get there. But she’s scared, and I think we ought to try and send someone. ”
“Miss Poe from school?” Spencer asked, looking between Alan and me.
Hell. I dragged a hand through my hair.
If it was bad in town, it would be twice as worse toward the mountains. A truck with a plow blade would probably only get stuck. That road needed bigger equipment.
“No one is getting up that road until a grader can plow through the snow.”
“Yep.” Alan nodded. “I already radioed Hank. You can probably guess what he told me.”
To piss up a rope.
Hank was head of the Highway Department for Dalton County. He did his best with a limited budget, stretching equipment and manpower to keep the gravel roads in good condition and manage snow removal. That road to Cotters Lake was not his priority, not when so few people lived up there.
“Shit,” I muttered.
Ilsa was a gorgeous headache I did not need today. But I couldn’t ignore this. If something happened to her, if someone broke into her cabin and she got hurt, I’d never forgive myself.
Was there really someone sneaking around her cabin? Who? And why? She didn’t strike me as the type to make false claims. Which meant I’d missed something the first time around. Damn it.
Dalton was a fairly safe community. The railroad track a few miles south of town brought in the occasional drifter. Could someone have wandered up to Cotters? Maybe someone who had found an empty summer cabin and was squatting through the winter?
A face like Ilsa’s was sure to draw notice. If a guy decided he wanted more than just a look . . .