Margaret Mizushima
TRACKING GAME
In memory of my parents, Norman and Gwendolyn Minks
ONE
Saturday night, early June
Tonight, the stage had been set for love. The ladies of the Saturday Evening Club had transformed the Timber Creek community building into a tropical island for the Celebration of Summer dance. Romance mingled in the air with the scent from huge flower bouquets that towered in each corner of the hardwood dance floor. Brilliant-orange bird of paradise and scarlet ginger plants spiked from vases above purple hibiscus and the draping spray of rosy bougainvillea. Smaller arrangements graced the bandstand, which framed a local group who specialized in country and pop hits.
Deputy Mattie Cobb stood by the refreshment table, watching the dancers, with her date Cole Walker. Though she’d set her law enforcement duties aside for the evening, she was finding it hard to relax and have fun. Her relationship with Cole had grown more serious during the past few weeks, which should have been fine, since it was what she wanted. But she felt like she was harboring a secret that she needed to get out in the open, and the right time had yet to arise.
“Let’s dance,” Cole said, slipping his arm around her. But before they could move to the dance floor, he stopped and reached for the cell phone in his shirt pocket. Frowning, he glanced at the screen. “Sorry, Mattie. I have to go outside to take this call.”
“No problem.” Mattie leaned against the wall while she waited. She’d learned that interruptions often accompanied a relationship with the only veterinarian in town, and she truly didn’t mind. She loved her German shepherd partner, Robo, more than life itself, and she understood how Cole’s clients must feel when they needed help for their animals.
Soft light from a hundred faux candles flickered throughout the room. Couples circled the floor, their feet gliding in various versions of the two-step, performing single and double turns and reversing direction, each pair executing their own signature moves while keeping up with the ceaseless counterclockwise flow.
Mattie’s friend Rainbow danced past, resplendent in a flaring tie-dyed chiffon tunic over tight-fitting jeans. She snuggled close to an unfamiliar, rangy cowboy, her blond ponytail swinging as she leaned back to say something to him. The man, dressed in jeans and a turquoise western shirt with a black thunderbird on the back, bent to listen to what Rainbow was saying, his Stetson tipped low to cover their faces. He threw back his head and laughed, then stole a quick kiss before he twirled her away into the crowd.
Mattie sighed. Rainbow, dispatcher at the Timber Creek County Sheriff’s Department and the daughter of two hippies, loved almost everyone. It was all so easy for this friend of hers—crossing over from friendship to love and then back again.
Not so for Mattie. Despite the festive atmosphere, she couldn’t shake the ache in her chest that had been with her for weeks. It felt terrible to be so confused about something that should be so simple. Falling in love wasn’t supposed to be this painful, was it?
The band ended a lively number and began to play the opening melody of a love song. Its melancholy strains touched her, making her yearn for an emotional lightness she’d never experienced. During her childhood, love and intimacy had meant secrecy and pain; in high school, rebellion and excitement; in junior college, escape and a numbing of bitterness.
What did love mean to her now? Cole had said the words I love you several times during the past weeks, but for the life of her, she hadn’t been able to say them back. Why did it all have to be so complicated?
She wanted to move forward in her relationship with Cole, but her childhood loomed between them like the two-way mirror Sheriff McCoy had recently installed in one of their interrogation rooms at the station. She could see Cole clearly, but she and her baggage remained hidden from him.
Cole didn’t seem to sense the barrier between them like she did. She needed to confess to him how Harold Cobb, a man she no longer considered her father, had abused her when she was only six years old, and she needed to do it tonight. She hoped it wouldn’t change things between them.
Cole returned, taking her hand to lead her to the dance floor.
She hesitated. “Do you have an emergency?”
“No, a client called to report. Everything sounds good.”
Although part of her wished they had to leave, she followed him until he turned toward her to dance.
She suppressed a shiver of pleasure as she moved into his arms. Cole was a good dancer, and she swayed with him, his dark eyes holding her until he flattened her palm against his chest, covered her hand with his, and drew her closer. She rested her cheek against him, letting the music take over.
Even though they’d been building a relationship for months, tonight was their first official date in public, and he didn’t seem to mind showing the world that they were a couple. Timber Creek would be abuzz with the news next week, because nothing escaped the small-town party line.
Quit thinking so much, she told herself. Just feel.
The band played their version of “Hello,” a classic love song originally recorded by Lionel Richie. She concentrated on Cole’s solid chest beneath her fingertips, the music’s slow rhythm, his hand on her back—until the song’s lyric lured her into thinking again.
The lead singer was begging his sweetheart to tell him how to win her love. Was she herself too damaged to return Cole’s love in a way he deserved? Would he grow tired of dealing with her issues?
The walls moved closer; dancers pressed against her. Sweat popped on her brow, and her heart tripped a panicky tattoo as her claustrophobia kicked in. They were dancing near the entryway, so she seized Cole’s hand to take him with her as she marched toward the open door.
When she reached the concrete porch, she slowed. “I need to catch my breath.”
Cole slipped his arm around her waist. “It’s stuffy in there.”
She went down the few steps off the porch and skirted around the edge of the building, slipping between the cars in the parking lot. “I get a little claustrophobic sometimes.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean.”
Cole didn’t know the extent of how bad it could be. She led him through the cars to the grassy park behind the building, choosing a towering cottonwood to lean against. The rough ridges from the old tree’s bark grounded her as they pressed against her shoulders.
Cole rubbed her bare arm beneath her short-sleeved tee. “Are you warm enough? It’s chilly out here.”
“It feels good. It was too warm inside.”
He faced her, moonlight filtering through the tree’s canopy to cast shadows on the planes of his face. No doubt this man was handsome, with his dark chocolate eyes, close-cut brown hair, and easy smile. Last summer, they’d met through police business, and she’d thought he was married instead of recently divorced. Neither of them had sought a relationship, but they’d been drawn to each other from the start.
He turned to lean against the tree beside her, his arm brushing hers lightly.
She grasped at something to say and thought of his daughters, who were out of town visiting their mom. “When will the girls come home?”
“They’ll be with Olivia until the middle of next week. After that they’ll stay with Jessie a couple days. She’ll bring them home a week from today and then stay to visit Mom and Dad.”