Soon after that, the mother packed up and moved with Victoria to another state. Two years later she heard her husband had died. A relief to everyone, Mikel was sure.
Mikel had then checked with the police in what had been the Reynauds’ New Jersey hometown. He learned that the same night Renee had disappeared there had been a shooting in town. A drug dealer had been killed by a bullet from a Colt .45, which was never found. Although Mikel had learned that Rusty Reynaud had been chummy with the dead man, there was no concrete evidence to connect him to the shooting, especially since another thug had left town just about the same time.
With that lead a dead end, Mikel had checked the school Renee had attended. The principal had told him that Leo Saari had resigned the month before Renee had disappeared to care for his sick wife. Saari had given Ojibway, Michigan, as his forwarding address. Although the principal had no idea when Saari had left town, he thought it seemed logical it would’ve been not too long after he resigned.
This brought Mikel’s attention back to what Renee’s mother had confessed to him. She’d never told her husband where their daughter was headed that fateful afternoon for fear of his rage. Renee had gone off by herself to baby-sit the Saari child, making Mikel wonder if she’d ever arrived. No one had asked at the time, because Renee’s mother had been afraid to speak up.
But it meant Saari had still been in town on that day. Though it didn’t pinpoint the exact date of his departure, the coincidence had made Mikel suspicious. So, fourteen years later, he was here in Ojibway, where Leo Saari moved to, trying to trace a possible connection between Saari and the missing girl. Though Leo was no longer alive now, surely if he’d brought a red-haired girl with him all those years ago some people around here would remember.
Certainly his father would. Unfortunately, at the moment, Aino was in no condition to be asked questions. But Rachel Hill was available. For questioning, that is. Not for anything else, Mikel cautioned himself, no matter how well she’d fit into his arms.
The chair was so comfortable and the fire so pleasantly warm that he hated to move. All the cottage lacked was someone for him to share this interlude with.
A female someone. In his mind’s eye he pictured a leggy brunette whose soft brown eyes promised a sweetness he didn’t see too much of in the women he knew. She wasn’t all that far away, either.
What harm was there in imagining her here with him? In reality, far from practical, but no problem at all in a daydream. Rachel had worn no makeup, her pink lips, free of gloss, had looked eminently kissable. He recalled her scent, something faintly flowery but elusive, an enticing fragrance that was on the tip of his memory.
If she were here in this chair with him, he might be able to place that elusive scent. And taste those enticing pink lips. Among other things that he’d best not dwell on or he’d be in no shape to go to the farmhouse for supper.
Chapter Two
Once the pasties were in the oven, Rachel went out, collected the cow from the field and led her to her stall in the barn. There, she pulled on her coveralls and sat down to milk her. When she finished she placed the milk in the cooler, shed the coveralls and returned to the house where she washed up.
Eyeing her jeans and T-shirt, she decided to change to a pants outfit more intermediate—not jeans, but not dressy, either. She had no need, or reason, to dress up for Mikel, though she did need a few dabs of makeup. But when she found herself fussing with her hair, she made a face at herself in the mirror, put the brush away and marched out of her bedroom.
In the big old farm kitchen, she set the pine table with everyday dishes and silverware, not wanting Mikel to get the idea the meal was a special event for his sake. It was merely the supper she’d planned for herself and Aino, not a good-china-and-silver-dining-room dinner.
As she finished making the salad the oven chime went off, telling her the meal was cooked. After setting the salad bowl on the table she grabbed a hot pad and removed the sheet of pasties from the oven. She glanced at the phone, which hadn’t rung since the doctor had called to tell her Aino’s prognosis looked promising. He’d said he believed the immediate treatment he’d been able to give Aino had prevented a more serious stroke. And, yes, she’d be notified if there was any change for the worse—which he didn’t expect.
Of course she was still worried about Aino, but that wasn’t why she was as jittery as a teenager on a first date. Which this certainly wasn’t. Inviting Mikel to supper was a mere courtesy and bore no possible resemblance to a date. Well, maybe a little something other than courtesy. She needed to discover exactly why he’d come here to locate a man who’d been dead for seven years, and a good way to find out was to be casually friendly over food.
Transferring five of the pasties to a plate, she set it on the table next to the salad, then plucked the ketchup bottle from the refrigerator and added that. Aino always slathered ketchup on his pasty. Never mind what Martha Stewart might say, the bottle on the table made it all the more casual.
Even though she’d been expecting it, when she heard the tap at the kitchen door she started and had to clear her throat before calling, “Come in.”
“Something smells mouthwatering good in here,” Mikel said as he entered.
She gestured toward the table, wordlessly inviting him to be seated.
“Anything I can do?” he asked, hovering instead of sitting, looking at her with those green hunter’s eyes.
“Just tell me if you want coffee with supper or afterward.”
“After, please.”
When she started toward the table, he held her chair out for her and pushed it in once she sat down, just as though they were in some fancy restaurant. She appreciated his gesture, even though it made her more nervous for some reason.
“I hope you like the pasties,” she said.
“My grandmother taught me early to approach any new dish with a confident heart, as she put it, meaning that I should expect it to be delicious.”
As he spoke, he slid a pasty onto his plate. Picking up his fork, he used it to break through the crust and lifted out a portion filled with vegetables and meat. As he chewed he raised his left hand and formed an approving circle with his thumb and forefinger.
She gestured toward the ketchup bottle. “Aino likes to pour ketchup over his pasty.”
Mikel shook his head. “I don’t fool with perfection.”
Though pleased, she told herself she wasn’t getting any further with her plan to find out why he’d come here. What did he want to know about Leo?
He looked out a window, saying, “Even on a cloudy day you have long summer twilights here.”
Rather than wasting time commenting on northern summer evenings, she tried to find an opening that wasn’t too obvious. “Have you ever visited the U.P. before?” she asked finally.
“No. Do you always get these cold rains in August?”
“Some years. It’ll warm up.” How could she ease him off small talk?
“Did you hear how your grandfather is doing?” he said after a short silence.
“The doctor is optimistic.”
“So that means you won’t have to call his granddaughter in Finland right away. How long before she comes back to the States?”
She had her opening. “Why do you ask?”
“Because I’d like to talk to her.”
“About what?”
He