65
June 2003
.
Gulls screamed over the waterfront in the lazy summer sun. Zenna slipped off her shoes and felt the cool green grass between her toes. She nibbled some salted nuts, grateful she’d listened to Julie’s advice.
Her husband, Matt, sat on one side of her, his arm around her – or otherwise on her swollen tummy, feeling the occasional kicks of their unborn child. On the other side sat their baby’s namesake, Sidney Clay, Ash Creek’s sheriff. Behind them, sat Steve and Julie Nygaard with most of their children. Zenna had noticed that Julie sat with a small bag of gingersnaps, apparently struggling with morning sickness.
The town meeting was already ten minutes late in starting. There was a saying in the area, which nestled near the boundary between Central and Eastern time: “There’s your time and my time… or there’s Ash Creek time.” Zenna knew the truth as she waited for the town council to begin the meeting.
At last a middle-aged tall, slender man got up and stood at the podium. Dave Hill had been the chair for the town council for about a decade. “Only because no one else wanted da job!” he always protested when someone objected to how long he’d held the position.
He adjusted the microphone up and began speaking with a sniffle. “I tink everyone here today knows why we called dis town meetin’. And maybe dat was a good ting.
“Da past few monts have been stressful fer all of Ash Creek. But if it weren’t fer dese stresses, certain truts would have never come ta light… an’ certain criminals would still be in our midst.”
Dave sniffed again.
“Oh!” he sighed. “Dis is so hard!”
“Take yer time, mayor!” John Baxter encouraged across the aisle from Zenna and Matt.
A slight chuckle went around the audience. It had been a long-running joke that David Hill would be their first mayor.
“Five years ago, a liddle robbery shook our town. Dey didn’t git much, but dey did great harm ta our community,” Dave continued. “One of our best young men was framed in an elaborate setup designed ta hide anoder, older crime. In fact, da men who were most deeply involved in da scheme had many crimes ta hide. Tankfully, last November, dey made some mistakes… an’ tipped off some of our best people.
“At last, dere net fell apart,” Dave said, sniffling again. He pulled out his handkerchief and blew his nose. “After Garth an’ Keith Cowan as well as John McNally showed up in court, facts began ta rain down all over dis community. Dose tree men are all in jail now, serving twenny ta turdy years a piece – which isn’t enough, in my opinion.
“Andrew Cowan an’ Len Johnson ended up in hospital along wid several officers on loan from Ontonagon. Dey remained der until someteen happened. No one will ever know how dey both ended up dead, but many of us will always believe dat dis was too good fer dem. Len Johnson was facin’ twenny years himself; Andy would likely have seen life… which, again, was bedder dan da sentence he gave Sheriff Newton, our wonderful teacher, Debbie Maxwell, an’ my sister, Patty.”
David continued with tributes for each of the victims of Andrew Cowan.
Zenna felt herself tearing up – especially as she learned more about her mother-in-law as well as the teenager who had also fallen prey to Andy. “I love yer mother,” she told Matt. He replied with a kiss, but returned to listening to David Hill.
“Let’s hear from John Baxter next. He knew Andy bedder dan almost anyone.”
David sat on a chair on the stage and John stood, adjusting the microphone down. He shared the story of a young man with great promise until tragedy had befallen him. A fire had killed his family, leaving him as the sole survivor and heir.
“I feel sorry for him,” Zenna whispered to Matt.
“Everyone has a choice on how ta respond ta tragedy. Dad an’ I chose ta be good. Andy didn’t. Andy chose ta hate.” He fingered the grapevine pattern on the ring on her finger – the ring his father had intended to give his mother once she was free of Andy.
Zenna felt their unborn child kick at their hands.
“Tank ya, Mr. Baxter,” David Hill continued as John sat down again. “I tink Rachel Johnson had someteen ta say.”
“Thank you, Mr. Hill,” the pretty young woman said, looking somewhat frightened by the crowd. “Sorry, I’m used to talking on radio, not on stage,” she began. “I remember my uncle Len from a young age. Although he always seemed a little weird, I remember some good things too – like teaching me how to pick locks.”
A chuckle went around the summery crowd, settling on Sheriff Clay.
“I’ve been the night-time dispatcher for Ash Creek for about ten years – which means I have no time to date!” she complained lightly, bringing another round of laughter. “I started getting weird vibes about John McNally almost as soon as he became a cadet. He would ask for strange favors – like looking at the record files. Of course, I refused him. I think he somehow managed to get in there anyway. He had a way of sweet-talking things out of people – like Molly Smith, our receptionist at the time and Missy’s sister. I’m glad Molly didn’t get into too much trouble over all of this. She was just as blinded by John’s charms as the rest of us were.” Her gaze fell on the sisters. Missy was too busy giving her baby daughter, Johanna, a bottle of milk. Her sister, Molly, looked embarrassed at the attention, her hand resting on her swollen abdomen – rumor had it that her baby was also John McNally’s. Once again, Zenna was grateful she had escaped being bred by her ex-boyfriend. Instead, she had her lovely Matt. She clutched at his hand gratefully.
On stage, Rachel continued. “I remembered filing away the pictures Matthew Nygaard had taken of his mother’s submerged truck. At the time, I didn’t know they were important and Sheriff Newton didn’t seem too interested in them – until about a month before he was killed. Then, the pictures were forgotten until last November.”
“Remind me ta give her a raise!” Sidney murmured next to Zenna.
The meeting continued with many more tributes to one or more of the murdered Ash Creek citizens. At last, David Hill stood again. “I’d like ta call da sheriff ta da stage.”
♥♥♥
Back to chapter 1
Character Info and Notes
Available to purchase (in print) at Amazon. Ebook version coming soon. (As soon as Draft2Digital formulates the link.)
Image Credits
Matthew Nygaard
Genesis 8 by DAZ 3D Studio
Myles Beard by AprilYSH (sold through DAZ)
Adrian Hair by yitao0526 (sold through DAZ)
Hunt Pants by DragonBreath
Native American top by Pusey Designs
.
Zenna Williams
Genesis 8
Mitzy hair
Basic Wear by DAZ
Set
willow trees by Stonemason
fallen tree by Hivewire
grass by Erock 3D
background image from Pixabay
Previous Stories:
Catch up on LBRY.
Location:
Ash Creek is a fictitious town in the western Upper Peninsula of Michigan. I've attempted to keep the spirit of the people as well as make liberal use of the Yooper accent/dialect. Yes, I've heard it spoken, but it's an inexact science, so please forgive me any errors and enjoy this work in the spirit with which I write... with deep love and affection for the area.
Please read my note on romance, teenage intimate relationships and underage sex. I apologize if my understanding conflicts with your sense of morality, but I'm only looking at things realistically, not ideologically. I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoy writing!
Writing and artwork copyright myself 2005-2105 – all rights reserved.
If you are interested in helping me publish these works, please contact me on Facebook or Discord, viking-ventures#2883.
Lori Svensen
author/designer at A'mara Books
photographer/graphic artist for Viking Visual
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