Chapter 8
EIGHT
CASEY
“If I’m too full for dinner, I’m blaming the French,” Greta said between bites of fresh bread topped with a thick slab of soft French cheese.
Casey had finished filling Greta in on what he’d seen at the Snowcap site, David Warner’s delicate state of mind, the discovery of Peter Vale’s vehicle, and his call to the Sheriff’s Office on his way back down.
“I kind of doubt a standard tow is going to be able to retrieve it,” Casey said.
“One of us should reach out to Mercy,” Greta continued. “If Mr. Warner poses a danger, we need to alert authorities.”
“I don’t know that he’s a danger to anyone but himself.” Frowning, Casey asked, “But Mercy? Why her?”
He watched as Greta inhaled the last of her snack. There were going to be crumbs everywhere.
When Mercy Dawson came to mind, it was along the lines of: Did Norskland General Store have a new flavor of ice cream to bring home to Gabe? Not: Does Mercy have something to do with a trespasser up at Snowcap?
“Mercy is Suzie’s sister. Younger, I’m pretty sure. I thought you knew that.” She frowned at him.
Casey blinked and swallowed his last bite of cheese and bread. He wasn’t sure if he’d known and forgotten or had just been that unaware growing up. Mercy herself had certainly never mentioned to Casey that Suzie had been her sister.
“What do you think Mercy could do about her dad?”
“Maybe talk some sense into him, find him the help he clearly needs? Although I don’t know if they have a relationship,” Greta finished thoughtfully.
“I can’t recall if the Warners still live on Heartstone or if her parents are still married.
For some reason, I don’t think so. Gosh, I might have heard that her mom passed away several years ago.
Even though everyone—except for that fucker Rizzi, may he rot in hell—thought Suzie had gone missing on the Pacific Crest Trail and not around here, it must have been hard to face the memories every day. ”
What he and Mickie had endured for almost twenty years had been traumatic—in many ways, Mickie had handled the incarceration better than Casey had—and Casey still had nightmares. He couldn’t imagine the pain of losing a child.
“You’re right. Someone needs to talk some sense into him. I’ll stop by the store on my way home. If Mercy’s there, I’ll mention what happened today. There are probably resources his family can access for him,” Casey said.
“We’ll do it together. I’ll follow you in my car.” She swept the pile of crumbs off her desk and into her trash, for which Casey was exceedingly thankful. Then she shut down her computer and rose to her feet.
“You just want a chance to check the ice cream situation.” Greta was the only person Casey knew who loved ice cream almost as much as Gabe did, especially the Jewel Creamery ice cream that came directly from Piedras Island and was always fully stocked at Norskland’s.
“Maybe I do?” Greta smiled and arched a pointy eyebrow. “You have a problem with that?”
“Nope.” Casey was pleased to be tagging along and letting Greta do the peopling. Sure, he knew Mercy and Barry, but this was a delicate subject.
Following Greta’s lead, Casey powered off his workstation and stood up, shaking his car keys. Bowie, who’d been sleeping off his afternoon with the Newfies, heaved to his feet, shook himself awake, and trotted to point at the door with his nose.
“It’s just not fair how quickly Bowie is ready to go.”
Mercy was at the back when they arrived at Norskland General Store.
A group of off-island visitors roamed through the aisles like feral raccoons on the prowl, loudly dismissive of the prices of the locally sourced vegetables and freshly baked bread.
Greta glared at them, so Casey tapped her on the shoulder to keep her on task.
He didn’t need to hear her lecture on sustainability and manners.
“Can you believe this?” one person almost shrieked, holding up a bag of organic broccoli.
Casey knew, even without looking closely at the bag, that the veggies were local, sourced from the Barnaby farm on the south end of Heartstone, so of course they were pricey.
He could hear Gabriel telling him to take a deep breath—a fucking deep breath.
Tourist season was officially kicking off, and Casey’s job depended on them.
This didn’t mean that he didn’t want to launch most of them into the sun, but it was good to occasionally remind himself that they funded his and Greta’s paychecks.
“Hey, Mercy,” Greta said when they reached the counter at the back of the grocery.
The store owner turned her attention away from the annoying shoppers and toward Greta and Casey. “Hey, if it isn’t our resident rangers,” she said with a smile.
Casey nodded. “Mercy.”
“What’s up? You two need a late coffee?” She eyed the gleaming commercial machine with distrust. “I suppose I could try, but you know it hates me.” She leaned forward. “Personally, I think it’s possessed,” she whispered.
Greta chuckled. “Actually, we want to have a quick chat, if that works. Is there someone who can watch the counter?”
“What’s this about? Is it Brooklyn?” She shook her head. “No, I just talked to her, and it wouldn’t be you two coming here anyway. Just a sec, Barry’s in back.”
Mercy disappeared through swinging doors marked Private. A minute later, Barry Dawson emerged and held the doors open for them to pass through.
“Is everything okay?” Barry whispered, his expression tight with concern.
Greta nodded, throwing him a gentle smile, another reason Casey was happy to be backup and not first contact. “Yes, everything is okay, sorry to scare you. We’ll only be a minute, I promise.”
The stockroom was organized chaos, featuring stacks of cardboard boxes, presumably filled with snack items, and long wooden shelving packed with canned goods, camping supplies, beer, and wine. Mercy leaned against a table that had been tucked into a corner and gestured them both to an empty area.
“This is the best I can do. So? What’s this about?”
“Casey, do you want to do the talking?” Greta asked. “You were there.”
Not really, but he did anyway.
“It’s about your father,” Casey started.
When he was finished, Mercy didn’t speak right away. The smile she’d worn minutes ago had disappeared, replaced by a haunted expression.
“Dad and I aren’t close,” she finally offered.
“At all. Things with our family weren’t great before Suzie disappeared and after…
” She shook her head, her lips momentarily pressed together in a firm line.
“Everything went to hell. It took a while because for months we didn’t know that Suz was actually missing, that she wasn’t just staying away.
But when everything became clear, the finger-pointing and blaming began.
I ended up going to live with my grandmother before I left for college.
Mom’s mom. My folks split up eventually, and Mom died years ago. Drunken driving.”
“I’m sorry, Mercy. I didn’t know any of this,” Casey said.
She smiled wanly. “It’s not as if you didn’t have your own problems at home. And I don’t really like to think about it.”
“We can call Sheriff Eagan. Maybe she can get a social worker over to talk to your dad,” Greta offered.
“No, there’s no need. Well, not right away. We’ve talked a bit more often since last fall.” A mirthless chuckle escaped her. “More than in the eighteen years prior, that’s for sure. I’ll track Dad down tomorrow and have a chat with him.”
“Sorry to have to put this burden on you, Mercy,” said Greta.
“Me too, to be honest.”
“What was your sister like?” Casey suddenly asked. “Other than what we’ve heard about her recently, I don’t remember Suzie much.”
Mercy’s front teeth pinched her bottom lip while she contemplated her answer.
Finally, she said, “Suzie was always bigger than life. Not a ‘she lit up every room,’ eye-roll kind of thing that you often hear after someone dies. But she had big emotions and a hard time controlling them. Mind, this is me looking back after raising my own kid.”
“Brooklyn is wonderful.”
“Yeah, well, she’s had her moments too. I’ll admit, Suzie was not the easiest of siblings.
She demanded my parents’ full attention, and when she didn’t get it—let’s just say, there were a lot of fireworks.
On the other hand, she was artistically talented, loved animals of all kinds, and was brave enough to want to go off on her own to explore the world. ”
“Sounds like a hard person to be related to,” said Greta.
“She was. Not nearly as hard as it was once my folks realized she’d vanished into thin air.
I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy.” Mercy stood up and stepped back from the table.
“So yeah, I’ll check in on Dad. Thanks for letting me know.
I, uh, should get back out there so Barry can finish straightening up back here.
We’re getting ready for the Memorial-Day-and-beyond craziness. ”
They followed her out to the public part of the grocery, where Barry shot Mercy another worried glance.
“It’s about Dad,” Mercy explained, crossing to her husband and leaning into the hug he offered up.
Casey felt bad being the bearer of not-so-great news, but at least Mercy had support. Barry was definitely one of the good guys.
“We’re ramping up for the season too, as you know,” said Greta.
“It’s going to be a busy one, for sure, but when is it not anymore?
All the overnight spots that can be reserved in advance are taken and have been since the online thingy opened in January.
Which, of course, means that our few first-come, first-serve sites will be battled over. ”
“And the overflow will think it’s okay to camp wherever they please,” Casey said grimly.
Greta poked him in the side. “Isn’t that how you met Gabe?”
“One Gabriel Karne is enough, please and thank you.”
Everyone laughed at that, including Casey. With a last snort, Greta strode toward the exit. “I gotta go. Abby’s waiting for me,” she said over her shoulder, “but we’ll be back for ice cream later.”
“If there’s any left,” Casey muttered, not at all quietly.
“I heard that!” The door slowly shut behind her.
“Are there new flavors in from Jewel?” Casey asked. “Not that older flavors wouldn’t be just fine.”
Barry beamed at him. “As luck would have it, we just got a shipment in.”
Casey couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm as he followed Barry across to the freezer cases at one side of the small store. Barry pretty much believed that ice cream was the cure for everything. Gabe probably did too.
“Benny’s been busy this winter. The man is an ice cream genius, I swear. When I talked to him recently, he claimed there would be no less than six new flavors making their debut this season.”
Barry pulled one of the glass doors open and bent to pluck a pint container off the shelf. Straightening up, he held it out to Casey like the concoction was something precious and he was Vanna White.
“This one here, Spice Gurl, is fabulous. It’s made with candied ginger and Piedras Island-produced honey, pairs perfectly with a ristretto.
I know you two have a fancy espresso machine at home.
” Returning the container to the freezer, he grabbed another.
“This one is a standalone, but if you need to have a side, I recommend a sliver of New York style cheesecake.”
Casey’s stomach rumbled in agreement; he loved cheesecake but rarely indulged. He departed Norskland’s with a pint of the coffee caramel—Affogato, Baby!—and one of Spice Gurl.
“Great choices, you won’t regret them,” Barry called after him. Casey thought he heard him pat his stomach several times.
Unlocking the Jeep, Casey leaned over and set the ice cream in the passenger footwell. Bowie had crashed out on the back seat, but he hopped up and poked his head between the seats when Casey climbed inside.
“No, this is not for you. Even if you are the very best boy.”
With that, Casey started the engine and pointed himself and his dog toward their new home. Before backing out of the lot, he quickly texted Gabe.
C: Incoming. New flavors from Jewel Creamery. Home in fifteen.
Gabe’s response was immediate.
G: Still at Elton’s. Stop in here. Houston, we have a problem.
Casey gritted his teeth.
What had his partner gotten himself into? Gabe’s texts tended to have a tone to them when trouble was in the air.
Did the man even deserve ice cream?