Deer Season (8 page)

14
Monday was preschool yoga morning, a salubrious respite that Marie especially enjoyed. Lynne and the twins seemed to enjoy it as much as she did. They would eat a light breakfast and drive to the yoga studio at the narrows, a strip of land where the shoreline of one of the largest lakes in the region is squeezed down to little more than a river for almost a mile.

The yoga studio was in an old brick building with a stone foundation that dated from the lumber days. In its original iteration the structure had been a bank, the only masonry building in a thriving lumber town that once had two railroads and three mills. The mills closed, their equipment and most of the workers and their families moving up the coast to untouched stands of timber. Farmers settled in the verdant hills, and soon summer communities began to develop along the lakes, the cottagers first coming from the big cities to the south by lake steamer, later by rail, and finally in larger numbers by Mr. Ford’s Model T and the automobiles built by his competitors.

And this morning, like many yoga mornings, they were running late. When they rushed out of the house, they discovered that Dirk had taken Lynne’s SUV, leaving his truck. They found the girls’ car seats tossed in the mudroom and secured them in the back seat of the crew cab. Marie could tell that Lynne was angry, but was doing her best to control her rage.

Marie parked next to the building, and she and Lynne waited as the twins scrambled out of their car seats and collected their yoga mats. The girls knew and followed the routine of the class. They rolled out their mats between Marie and Lynne and settled into Savasana, corpse pose, and did their best not to look around and greet the other children who were entering the studio. They knew that they could socialize with the other kids after the class.

Marie enjoyed watching the girls take various poses over the course of the hour, their pliable, petite bodies easily assuming some poses, yet usually having difficulty with the balance positions, often tumbling to their mats in a chorus of giggles.

At the end of class, after the twins greeted the other children, Marie and Lynne herded them off to the truck and the next stop, a special treat following yoga, a visit to the Bayside Bakery. The twins had muffins and hot chocolate. Marie had tried the muffins early in the fall and found them too sweet and gooey. But she happily discovered that the bakery made acceptable croissants and offered strong, rich dark coffee, one bit of home that she found difficult to replace on the American frontier.

Lynne, aware that Marie was still uncomfortable driving in heavy snow, took the wheel for the trip home. The strong winds were creating blizzard conditions, greatly reducing visibility, and a thick blanket of new snow made the still-unplowed back roads almost impassable.

The last mile on the small country road that led to their house was the most difficult. Lynne had to punch through large drifts that had formed in low spots on the narrow lane. She slowed as they approached the end of the long drive that ran up the hill to their ridge-top home. She pulled a few feet into the drive, stopped, and put the car in park in preparation for getting out to gather the mail. She stepped out of the vehicle, leaving the door slightly ajar, and trudged through the deep snow to the mailbox–a handcrafted, carefully painted structure that closely resembled the restored barn that stood on their property. Lynne pulled a stack of envelopes and catalogs from the box and then turned toward the car.

As she waited, Marie momentarily became lost in the music, a medieval French ballad. She was puzzling over the words, trying to tease the meaning from the five-hundred-year-old phrases composed in an ancient variant of her mother tongue. She could tell it was a song about unrequited love, but she was having difficulty fleshing out the story line, although she had a sense it was about the unfaithfulness of men.

Marie didn’t hear the shot; it was obscured by the sound of the idling engine and the music. But she did see Lynne at the moment she was struck. She saw Lynne’s knees buckle and her arms drop as she fell backwards into the snow. For a few seconds Marie was paralyzed, trying to comprehend what was happening. Then she was out of the car and at Lynne’s side, the blood starting to stain the heavy tan canvas of Lynne’s barn coat. Marie slid her arms under Lynne’s shoulders and dragged her toward the car. Mustering all her strength, she lifted Lynne into the passenger’s seat, bringing her legs in last and closing the door. Then Marie sprinted to the driver’s side of the truck. Once back in the vehicle, she reversed out of the drive and followed the tracks in the new fallen snow. As she raced toward the village, she pulled Lynne’s phone from the tray between the front seats and dialed 911. Her first sentence was in French, then she switched to English. The girls, still secured in their car seats, were crying hysterically for their mother. Marie was struggling to understand the instructions of the calm, female voice on the other end of the line. Finally she got it. The woman was asking her to pull to the side of the road, emergency vehicles would be sent to her.

“I am not stopping,” she said emphatically. “I am coming to the village.”

“Do you know where the fire station is?” came the voice after a brief pause.

“Yes.”

“Drive to that location. I will have vehicles waiting. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Marie answered.

Marie traversed the five miles on the ice and snow covered roads in less then six minutes, but later she would remember it as the longest six minutes of her life. She would occasionally get quick glimpses at Lynne, crumpled in the seat next to her. Marie couldn’t tell whether or not Lynne was still breathing. As she came around the final curve into the village she could see an ambulance and a police car idling in front of the public safety building. She pulled to a stop between them, ran around the car, and opened the door. Two women and a man, all in dark blue coveralls, took control of the situation, quickly moving Lynne onto a gurney and into the waiting ambulance. Two more police cars arrived just as the ambulance, escorted by a police car, both with sirens wailing, roared away from the scene.

Marie felt faint; she wanted to scream and cry and beat her fists on something. Then she remembered the girls.

15
Sheriff Ray Elkins and Detective Sue Lawrence were at Marie’s side as she freed the hysterical little girls from their seats, something that they usually did for themselves. Marie held Amanda, who had leaped into her arms as soon as she was released from her seat. Ray caught Breanne as she slid out of the vehicle. He carried her into the fire hall, followed by Sue and Marie holding Amanda. They settled in a small lounge area of the station on two sagging couches.

The first order of business was to calm the girls and reassure them that their mother would be all right; the adults worked on wiping noses and drying tears.

Both Ray and Sue had met the twins several times before at department picnics and holiday parties, and while they couldn’t distinguish Amanda from Breanne, they knew the girls’ names and had some rapport with them. The twins kept asking for their mother. Ray explained to them that their mother was hurt, and they would see her when things were better.

Ray shuddered after the words were out of his mouth, not knowing what the next few minutes, hours, or days would bring. He didn’t know how seriously Lynne was wounded, or if she was even still alive. And he wondered how anyone could explain this kind of violence to a child, when it was almost inexplicable to the adult mind.

With the arrival of several more of his officers, Ray was able to slide away from the girls for a few minutes. He called dispatch, checking on the whereabouts of Dirk Lowther and was reminded that Dirk was on vacation. He asked the dispatcher to try to reach Lowther on his cell phone.

Then Ray maneuvered Marie Guttard to the side as Sue Lawrence tried to comfort the girls with some cocoa.

“Where did this happen?” Ray asked in a low tone, keeping Marie within the sight of the twins, but beyond their earshot.

“At the house, just at the end of the drive,” she responded. “Lynne got out to get the mail. I saw her fall, but I didn’t understand what was happening. I went to help her; I could see blood and thought she must have been shot. I got her in the car, and we’re here.”

“Did you see the shooter?”

“I saw nothing. I was just trying to get her away.”

“Did you see any other vehicles?”

“None. I think there had only been one car that way. I remember seeing the tracks of the postman, where he had stopped at the box. He must have been there a few minutes before us. It was snowing and difficult to drive.”

“And you saw no one, no other vehicle?” Ray rephrased his earlier questions.

“No. I told you,” she responded with obvious irritation. Then she collapsed in tears and sobbed uncontrollably. She reached out, and Ray held her. Slowly she regained some composure, eventually stifling sobs enough that she could answer Ray’s questions. “I saw no other cars.”

“Where did the shot come from? Do you know where the shooter might have been?”

“No.”

“Was she hit in the front, the back?”

“I do not know. Suddenly she was down. I thought she had slipped. I got out to help her. She was bleeding, going unconscious. I pulled her to the car. I drove fast here. I almost crashed. The girls’ crying was breaking my heart. I was afraid she’d die in the car.” Marie started sobbing again.

“Before this happened, did she tell you anything? Was she afraid of something?” he asked.

“She seemed like always. She didn’t tell me anything.”

“Lynne’s husband, Dirk?”

“He left this morning to go hunting. He came home from work about six; he had all his gear packed in the mudroom. He came in, got his things, and went away.”

“And you haven’t seen him since?

“That is correct.”

“Marie, the truck outside, isn’t that Dirk’s truck?”

“When we came outside to go to yoga this morning Lynne’s SUV was gone, and Dirk’s truck was sitting there. We had to find the girls’ car seats and get them in place. That’s one of the reasons we were running late, that and the snow.”

“Did they trade vehicles often?”

“Not often, but Lynne would use Dirk’s truck when she was getting gardening supplies or other things too big or messy to carry in her car.”

“Marie, I’m going to have you and the girls driven to my office. You will be safe there. People will be staying with you and looking after your needs. I’ll be back in a few hours and we’ll figure out what to do next.”

Ray and Sue moved off to a corner of the station. “I’ll start organizing our search of the crime scene. While I’m doing that, would you get an APB out on Lowther as a person of interest in a shooting. Also, have both ends of Wildwood Road closed off to protect the scene.”

16
On a large, clear, workbench at the back of the fire hall Ray laid out a detailed map of the section of the county where the Boyd/Lowther residence was located. A fourtube fluorescent fixture suspended by small chains from the ceiling illuminated the top of the bench. A group of deputies, including Sue Lawrence, stood in a semicircle around Ray peering at the map.

“At this point we don’t know whether this shooting was accidental or intentional, but I want all of you to use great caution. And we’re going to be hampered by heavy snow and poor visibility.

Sue and I will follow the Wildwood Road in from the north. Given how much time has gone by, I assume the shooter is long gone. But just in case, we will take the time to secure the area before we start examining the scene. Ben, I want you to follow us and be in a position to provide backup as needed.” Ray pointed to a point on the map. “This is a lightly traveled road, and I’d like to be able to work the scene of the shooting without any traffic going through. Jake, I want you over here at the other end. If anyone comes along, explain that an investigation is in process and that the road will be closed for several hours.

“As you can see, we’ve got state forest on the east and federal land on the west. Brett, I’d like you to cover these roads on the west side of the area; it’s mostly second-growth forests and old farmland. As I remember it, there are a few houses along this road,” he said running his hand along a small wiggle line on the map. And Peter, cover this road on the east. There are some seasonal roads, two tracks, in the area.” Ray traced the area on the west side of the road. “It’s low and swampy in here, and given the rain and snow we’ve had the last few days, this would be tough land to cross. That said, this is prime hunting land, and I imagine there will be some people trying to get through these woods. I don’t know if you guys know this area?” Both men indicated that they didn’t. “Well,” Ray continued, “as you can see this is mostly cedar swamp over here. At the center here is Little Mud Lake. On the other side of the lake, near the victim’s home, the terrain changes and it starts to become hilly; the glaciers churned this land up a bit.”

“Could you do it on an ATV?” asked Brett Carty, new to the area and youngest member of the department.

“I don’t know,” Ray responded. “I haven’t rambled through there since I was a teenager. My memory is that it’s an almost impenetrable bog, lots of standing water, old stumps and debris, and there are some springs and sink holes. I don’t think you’d get a machine through, not now. Maybe in the dead of winter when everything is frozen, someone who knew the area might be able to get through there on foot.”

“What are we looking for, Ray?” asked Brett.

“Anything suspicious. This is not going to be easy. The shooter had lots of time to get out, and what tracks they might have left are now covered with snow. If they didn’t come up Wildwood Road and park nearby, they could have walked in from a variety of places, perhaps used a snowmobile. Like I said, there are lots of small trails and roads into the area that they might have used.” Ray pointed these out on the map. “And please,” said Ray, turning and making eye contact with everyone in the group, “be careful. We’ll all be close by. If you run across anything suspicious, call for backup. If you run across any hunters, ask them if they’ve seen anything and get their names and addresses.