Chapter Four
FOUR
Mac
The air outside Island Adventure Mini Putt was infused with the smell of boiled hot dogs, so salty and pungent that Maureen McIntyre’s mouth watered against her will.
Adding the concession stand had been Woody’s idea: give the people access to food, and they’ll stick around longer.
Make an event of it. Ten days before Memorial Day weekend, though, there were still no takers, the greens empty and the blades on the replica wind turbine making sluggish circles against a pale blue sky.
Not yet the high season, but Woody always opened early for the locals.
Today, the quiet was just what the sheriff of Jefferson County had been hoping for.
She found Nicole’s husband sitting behind the counter, square between a rack of putters and the stainless-steel cooker on which two pathetic-looking sausages glistened with oil.
Woody was watching a game show on the small TV mounted in the corner, the ding-ding-ding of winning answers an assault on Mac’s ears.
“Maureen, hey. You should have called; I’m drowning in here.
” A beat passed before he laughed, the smile falling short of his eyes.
One thing about Woody Durham was that he’d aged well.
Mac’s brother-in-law had always been attractive in a boyish kind of way, with a strong hairline and lively baby blues.
The weight he’d put on since high school suited him, broadening his arms and shoulders rather than settling in his gut.
Men, she thought, have all the luck, and most don’t deserve it.
“Glad I beat the rush,” Mac volleyed. “I was hoping to get you alone.”
“Alone, huh? Sounds ominous. Should I start guessing what I did wrong now, or do you have plans for the rest of the week?”
Mac smiled. Something else about Woody was that he had a nervous tic. As he spoke, he popped his jaw over and over, the sound halfway between the crack of knuckles and the smack of bubblegum. “It’s about Nicole’s party,” she told him. “I wanted to make sure we’re still on track.”
Nearly four years ago, when Mac had turned fifty, her friend and colleague Shana Merchant had organized a surprise celebration.
It was the last thing Mac had been expecting.
The Troop D team had just come off an intense missing person case, the perp still at large, yet Shana—who’d been leading the investigation—had managed to lure Mac to the Riverboat Pub where a dozen of her closest friends waited with drinks and noise makers in hand.
Mac had never been the party type, but she’d had such a good time that she swore she’d pay the effort forward.
Her sister was turning forty-five, not exactly a milestone birthday, but that’s how Mac was going to pull off the surprise.
“We’re all set,” she told Woody. “I’ve got the banquet room at Castle View booked starting at seven, with a buffet dinner and open bar.”
“Jesus,” he said. “That’s going to cost hundreds.”
More like thousands, Mac had thought. “My idea, my treat, remember?” She hadn’t expected an offer of help anyway.
She knew Woody couldn’t afford it, and she really didn’t mind footing the bill.
If Mac couldn’t spend her savings on family, what good was it?
With no long-term partner or kids of her own, she’d always spoiled her sister and two nieces.
Still, Woody’s comment sounded vaguely accusatory, his reaction troubling.
“Seriously,” she said, “I want to do this. All I need is for you to deliver Nicole and the girls.”
“I know,” he said. “I’ll handle it.” His gaze shifted from her face to the walls of the low-ceilinged room.
Island Adventure needed an update, its blue walls with sponge-painted clouds a throwback to the aughts that made the joint feel like a daycare, but it wasn’t her place to criticize Woody’s business.
“Sunday night,” he said, looking at her once more. “We’ll be there.”
“Great. I know Nicole’s having a hard time lately. Hopefully this will cheer her up.”
“A hard time?” Woody said, jaw grinding.
“It’s all the college stuff, right? I’m sure Blair and Alana are struggling too.
” She’d said it quickly, eager to throw Woody off the scent.
He didn’t know how much his wife confided in Mac about their personal lives, and anyway, Mac wasn’t lying.
Her eldest niece Blair’s impending departure for college was affecting them all.
Nicole and Woody’s two daughters were fifteen months apart and wore their sisterhood like a badge.
Ask Blair or Alana, and they’d say they were best friends.
Mac and Nicole’s relationship wasn’t quite like that—the age difference between them sometimes gaped like a torn seam—but the girls had something special.
When Blair left at the end of the summer, it was going to sting. Woody should have known that.
Woody should have known a lot of things.
“Sure. Of course,” he said as his bones clicked into place once more.
“We’re gonna miss Blair like crazy.” His neck and cheeks had turned the same meat-red as the dogs on the grill.
There was a countertop between them, but Mac could feel the heat coming off Woody’s body in waves.
“Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask. How’s the campaign going? ”
Mac held his gaze. As much as possible, she partitioned her job from her personal life, but the screen wasn’t as impenetrable as she would have liked.
Through friends with the state police, she had access to information about all manner of active cases, and often had to beat Woody’s inquiries off with a stick.
This one wasn’t about curiosity, though.
Woody was deflecting, turning the conversation to something he knew made her just as uncomfortable as the subject of his wife made him.
“So far so good,” she said with an ersatz smile, hoping he would buy it.
Mac had announced she was seeking reelection a few months prior, kicking off her campaign with a Facebook post of her smiling face and a community center fundraiser in Watertown.
She hadn’t expected a challenger. Mac had served Jefferson County as sheriff for two consecutive terms, and she felt that she’d done a good job.
It sure as fuck hadn’t been easy. Over the past few years, the region had seen more crime than in the prior two decades.
There was the missing child, snatched from Boldt Castle on a field trip, and a spate of grisly murders.
Three winters ago, Mac had risked her life to neutralize a threat on icebound Running Pine Island.
It all led Mac to wonder if the area was undergoing some kind of fundamental change.
The residents of Jefferson County had always dwelled in a state of relative peace, toiling all winter so they could afford the boats that, in summer, sang their siren song.
Somewhere along the way, distrust and greed had rolled in like a fog in the night.
The problems that had long since plagued other parts of the country were here now, too.
There was no hiding from them anymore, not even at the nation’s outer edge.
One more term before retirement: that had been Mac’s plan.
Then along came Bruce Milton. She knew him already, of course.
Bruce had no law enforcement experience, but he’d been the mayor of Alexandria Bay, and that gave him a platform.
A fan base, too. Though they’d been friendly in the past, even meeting once or twice for dinner, Mac and Bruce hadn’t always seen eye to eye.
And now, Bruce Milton was arguing that it was time for a change.
A Vote for Milton Is a Vote Against Crime.
She’d seen the campaign posters stuck in the grass and splashed on retail shop windows, and they made her blood boil.
Mac had fought violent crime for more than two decades while Bruce pumped hands as a politician.
He had no qualms about using her history against her, though, and that might be her downfall.
“Well, you’ve obviously got our vote,” said Woody. “Blair’s too, now that she’s legal.”
“I appreciate that. Hope it picks up for you. Ah, speaking of which.”
A car was pulling into the lot, and Mac was willing to bet that the shiny white Tesla belonged to a tourist.
“Oh. Nice.” Woody said it tightly, watching through the window as a man flung open the car door. “Hey, thanks for stopping by, Maureen.” He’d come around the counter to guide her outside, suddenly eager for her to get going.
“Yeah. See you,” she told her brother-in-law, her eyes trained on the man in the designer shoes who’d come to putt alone.