In the Bleak Midwinter

Russ unlaced his hands. “No offense, Mr. Fowler, but your son has already lied through omission about a lot of things, including his relationship with Katie, his whereabouts, and the fact that he’s now a father. You’ll understand why I have to take what he says with a grain of salt.” He turned to Wesley. “The way I see it, you were desperate to keep the existence of Katie and Cody under wraps. You thought the Burnses would step in and take care of your responsibilities for you. My guess is, sometime between the night you dropped Cody off at the church and the night Katie’s body was found, she got in touch with you and said she had changed her mind.” The young man’s face flinched almost imperceptibly. “Your plan for getting on with your life was about to be royally screwed. So you told Katie to meet you back in Millers Kill, drove her out to Payson’s Park to discuss things, brained her with a tire iron, and rolled her down the hill into the river.”

“No!”

“It wasn’t the blow to the head that killed her, you know. She froze to death.”

“No!” Wesley erupted from his chair, lurching toward Russ.

His father moved like an uncoiling spring, seizing his son by the arms. “Stop it, Wes! Stop it.”

“This is what we’re going to do,” Russ said, standing slowly. “Wesley, you and I are going to the station, where we’ll have a talk with Mr. Kaminsky of the D.A.’s office. If we decide we have enough to hold you on, we’re going to charge you.” Russ’s gaze flicked from the young man’s pale face to that of his father. “Mr. Fowler, I suggest you call your lawyer and meet us at the station.”

“You can’t question him without the presence of one of his parents.”

“He’s over eighteen.”

“I didn’t do it,” Wesley said. “I didn’t do it.” He shook himself free of his father’s restraint and turned to the older man. “What if I refuse to go?”

Russ broke in. “I’ll arrest you right here.”

Vaughn looked at his son for a long moment. “You go with him, Wes.” The young man opened his mouth in protest. “It’ll be for the best. We’ll get a lawyer over there and have you back out by dinnertime.”

“I didn’t kill her, Dad. I couldn’t have.”

Vaughn squeezed his son’s shoulders. “I know you didn’t, Wes.”

“Let’s get your coat, Wesley.” Russ stepped out of the way, keeping behind and to the side of the young man. He looked as if he sorely wanted to use his handcuffs.

“Mr. Fowler,” Clare said quietly, “I didn’t drive myself here. If you’d like me to, I’d be happy to stay here with you and Mrs. Fowler and come back to town with you. If you think I could be of some help.”

Vaughn Fowler looked toward her, his gaze already a thousand yards ahead of him. He shook his head. “Thank you, Reverend, but under the circumstances . . .”

“Of course. The last thing I want to do is be intrusive.” She impulsively took one of his hands between hers. “If I can do anything, please. Please give me a call.”

From the hallway, Mrs. Fowler wailed. Vaughn Fowler jerked his hand from Clare’s grasp and strode toward the sound.

“No, no, no,” Wesley’s mother said, clutching at her parka-clad son. “You can’t take him! You can’t take him!”

“Edith!” Vaughn Fowler grasped her upper arms firmly and tugged her away from Wesley. “Edith.” He spoke quietly, almost intimately. “I’m calling the lawyer right now. Wes will be back home with us tonight.”

“Mom, I’ll be okay. Please.”

“This can’t be happening, not to us, not to our son—” Edith Fowler pressed one hand over her mouth, shuddering. She blinked hard, but no tears fell.

Her husband glared at Russ. “If anything happens to my son while he’s in your care, I’ll have your job.”

Russ bristled. “I don’t allow police brutality in my force, Mr. Fowler. Come on, Wesley. Clare, are you riding with me?”

She snatched her coat from the hall closet.

“Don’t say anything until our lawyer gets there, Wes. Understand me?” Wesley nodded to his father as Russ led him down the steps toward the squad car.

Clare stood on the threshold. She spread her hands, miserably aware of how much she had contributed to these people’s unhappiness and how little she could do to comfort them. “I’m so sorry. At times like these, it’s tempting to feel as if you’ve been abandoned, by God and by your friends. Please remember that’s not true.”

Edith Fowler blinked again and wiped her eyes. “This whole thing is like a nightmare.” She looked at her husband. “My God, Vaughn, do you realize we’re grandparents?”

“I guess you’re right.” His face tightened. “Clare, will we be able to see the child? Or do we have to jump through some bureaucratic hoops now that he’s in foster care? Where is he?”

“I don’t know what sort of requirements the Department of Human Services will have. I suspect that if you two feel up to it, they’d be happy to have you serve as Cody’s foster parents. His caseworker’s name is Angela Dunkling, and right now he’s fostering with Deborah McDonald, out toward Ft. Henry. I’ll call you with their phone numbers as soon as I get back to my office.”