clear he didn’t want to leave Winfield.
From the next room, the musical theme from a soap opera his mother was watching blared louder, no doubt time for another string of commercials. And though practically every other year-round resident in Winfield was in the community church basement for Ginger’s funeral, his dad was at his grocery store as he was seven days a week every week. Didn’t his parents ever look beyond the caves they’d retreated into?
I can’t take this all out on Ben. But on the way to Winfield just a few days ago, Ridge had felt so confident that everything was working out so well for his getting the kid settled. The opening at the military school, the camp registration. Now all this.
The phone rang. Ridge picked up. What he heard made him rise to his feet.
Ben rose, too, watchful.
Ridge hung up and hurried to the row of wooden pegs by the back door where all the coats hung. Ben rushed up behind him and grabbed his jacket, too.
Ridge stopped and faced Ben. “I’m going out on police business. Stay here.”
Ben shoved ahead of Ridge to the back door. “I’m not staying here.” The kid burst outside and ran down the shoveled sidewalk to Ridge’s SUV. There he grabbed the door handle.
“This is police business,” Ridge barked. “No place for a kid. You can’t come with me.”
“Then drop me at the church where everybody is. I can hang with Milo or a friend. I’ll walk home for supper.”
Ridge had thought Ben going to a funeral so soon after losing his parents would be bad for him. But he couldn’t blame the kid for wanting to get out of his parents’ house. After all, it was exactly what he wanted to do. “Okay. I’ll drop you at the church. Get in.” Ridge got into the car.
“What happened?” Ben said inside, hooking his seat belt.
“I can’t tell you until the sheriff wants it known.”
After dropping Ben at the church, Ridge drove the few blocks to Tom and Shirley’s house. He still couldn’t believe what the sheriff’s dispatch had told him.
Two sheriff’s vehicles were already parked outside the white Victorian. Ridge strode up the freshly shoveled walk to the front door. It opened before he could knock. Keir Harding waited for him just inside. He looked disgruntled and Ridge didn’t blame him. He was disgruntled, too.
“Who notified you?” Ridge asked, looking around at the disarray inside the house.
“Shirley’s foster son, Chad. He came alone to pick up Tom’s wallet. Tom had forgotten it this morning. Chad found the door open. He looked inside, couldn’t believe what he saw and froze up. Finally he ran back to the church and announced what had happened to the general public.”
Great. Nothing like a little discretion. “What do you think? Just an opportunist taking advantage of the funeral?”
“Here in Winfield?” Keir nearly snarled. “This isn’t Madison or Milwaukee. Most of the town is at the funeral. Tom and Shirley, not to mention Ginger, are very well liked. If someone from Winfield did this, I’ll swallow my badge.”
Deputy Trish Lawson walked into the room. Wearing thin plastic gloves, she held up a man’s wallet.
“Where did you find it?” Keir asked.
“On the top of the bedroom dresser. In plain sight.” Trish’s mouth flattened into a grim line. “It hasn’t been touched.” She opened the wallet to show them the credit cards and greenbacks still inside.
Ridge processed what had just been revealed. Someone had broken into Shirley’s Victorian. But they hadn’t bothered to swipe the wallet sitting out or even take the money out of it. He looked at the sheriff. They didn’t need to say it aloud. Both of them wanted to know—what’s going on here?
Later that day, Ridge had tried to beg off from going to Milo’s place to fill in Ginger’s family about this latest development in the case. Neither Ridge nor Keir had even bothered to discuss the possibility that the two break-ins might not be related. Of course they were. And Keir wanted Ridge along. After all, this was what Ridge, a state homicide detective, was being paid to do by the state of Wisconsin.
Now they entered the protected stairwell at the side of Milo’s Bait and Tackle on the waterfront and walked up the one steep flight of stairs to the apartment above the store. The door opened before the sheriff could knock.
Still wearing her dark violet pantsuit, Sylvie stood at the door. Her white-gold hair shimmered in the light. “We heard your footsteps.” She stepped back, allowing the sheriff and Ridge into the kitchen, which opened onto the large front room. Around the crowded table sat Milo, Ginger’s parents, Chad and Ben, who avoided Ridge’s gaze. Ridge looked away, too. Ginger’s mother, Shirley, and her new husband, Tom, were in so much emotional pain that their faces actually looked pasty gray.
Keir cleared his throat. “We’ve gone over your place thoroughly.”
“What was taken?” Milo asked.
“Nothing obvious.” Keir held out Tom’s wallet and Ridge set the small wooden jewelry box on the table in front of Shirley. “Both of you,” the sheriff continued, “please check these out and tell me if you are missing anything.”
Tom stared at the wallet and then opened it. He pulled out the pastor’s check and then counted the bills. At the same time, Shirley opened and closed all the tiny drawers in the jewelry box. Both of them looked up at the same time. “Nothing’s missing,” Tom said.
“Same here,” Shirley agreed.
Ridge felt like throwing something fragile at the wall just to hear the sound of something, anything, breaking. None of this made the least bit of sense, but all of it was keeping him just where he didn’t want to be. Wait until his boss heard this development. He’d insist Ridge stay put. And to make matters worse, he found himself glancing once again toward Sylvie’s cap of shining hair.
“Let’s drive you to the house, then,” Keir said, “and you can look around and tell us if anything is missing.”
“But we didn’t leave valuables at home when we left for our winter break,” Shirley objected. “We have a safety-deposit box in a bank in Ashford. If they didn’t take Tom’s wallet or my few pieces of Black Hills Gold, there isn’t anything of value in the house.”
“Are you sure?” Ridge asked, hoping they’d recall something. Wintry wind gusted against the large front windows overlooking the waterfront.
“We lost nothing of value,” Tom said with finality. “Winfield doesn’t have much crime, but we didn’t want to leave any temptation for anyone—”
“That’s right,” Shirley agreed again, “especially after everything that happened to Rae-Jean last year.”
The two of them couldn’t have said anything that Ridge wanted less to hear. How am I going to get Ben to that school by Sunday, by tomorrow night? Outside the windows, the implacable frozen expanse of the shore of Lake Superior stretched far north on the horizon.
“This couldn’t have anything to do with Rae-Jean coming home this week, could it?” Milo asked.
“I don’t see how,” the sheriff responded. “Her supplier is in prison for a nice long sentence for dealing. And he’s not the kind of person anyone would miss. At least, that’s my take on it. Did Rae-Jean ever stop by your place last year?”
“No,” Tom said.
“So the idea that someone might be looking for a stash of drugs at our place is foolish,” Shirley said, seconding her husband.
“Well, sometimes drug users do really stupid things,” Keir said. “Let’s go. I want you to walk through the house with me just in case you can pinpoint what someone took or might have been looking for. It might be something