In the Bleak Midwinter

“Of course. It was on the news. Unidentified body fished out of the kill, that’s not something you see everyday around here.” Mindy’s eyes widened as she listened to herself. She clapped her hands over her stomach. “God in heaven, don’t tell me you think my boy had something to do with that!”

“Calm down, Mindy, I’m not here to arrest him for murder. This is a warrant for a blood test. The murdered girl had a baby about a week before she was killed, and I have reason to suspect that Ethan may be the father.”

Mindy sank into a ladderback chair. “Dear Lord,” she said. “Dear Lord.” She looked up at him. “Who . . . ?”

“It was Katie McWhorter.”

Mindy pressed her hands more tightly to her stomach. “Oh. No. Oh, no. That sweet girl.” She shook her head back and forth. “That sweet girl . . .” She covered her eyes with one hand, screening any tears from his view. Russ’s hands twitched, caught between maintaining some sort of professional detachment and reaching out to comfort this woman he had known since his high school days.

She slapped her hand on the oilcloth suddenly, startling Russ into stepping back. “As far as I knew, Ethan broke up with Katie last year. If he was sneaking around without us knowing, and got her pregnant, we’ll have the truth out. And he’ll take responsibility for it.” She rose slowly from her chair, glaring at Russ. “But you listen to me, Russ Van Alstyne. My boy didn’t have anything to do with killing anybody, least of all Katie McWhorter.”

“What’s going on?” Wayne Stoner stood in the mudroom door, prying off his boots with the jack. “Russ?” Wayne had the round reddened cheeks and the ice-pale blue eyes that marked so many people of Dutch descent in the county. He reached out and shook Russ’s hand firmly before he crossed to his wife’s side. “What’s that boy gotten into now?”

“Russ wants to take Ethan for a blood test,” Mindy said. “Seems Katie McWhorter had a baby a few weeks back and Ethan might be responsible.”

“Aw, Christ,” Wayne said, pulling off his hat and slapping it onto the table. “What a damn fool thing to do. Jesus, you can practically buy condoms at the feed store nowadays!”

Hannah had slipped in and was watching round-eyed from beside the woodstove. “Did Ethan get some girl pregnant?” she asked. “Whoa. No wonder he’s been acting so weird.”

“There’s more,” Mindy said to her husband, ignoring her daughter. “Katie is the girl they found dead down by the kill. The one that was in the news?”

Wayne shook his head as if he were checking it for loose wiring. He shook it again. He squinted at Russ. “You think Ethan had something to do with that?”

Russ spread his hands. “Wayne, I don’t know. First step is to get this blood test and see if he could be the baby’s father. Then we’ll take if from there.”

“I’m calling our lawyer,” Wayne said. “I don’t want Ethan leaving this property until I’ve talked to him.” He pivoted to the phone table between the two windows looking out onto the dooryard. Russ heard the slap of the phone book opening.

“Wait a minute,” Mindy said, “wasn’t she killed on Friday? Isn’t that what it said on the news? You saw Ethan on Friday. Remember? We had to come pick him up from that video game place. He couldn’t possibly have . . . he didn’t kill Katie.”

“The girl died sometime after sundown, Mindy. I didn’t see Ethan until well after ten o’clock.” He looked out the windows. The sky was darkening, blue to lavender, masses of pink clouds floating on the icy air. He turned to Hannah, who had lost the gloating look of a younger sister seeing her big brother about to get it from the grown-ups. It was sinking in that Ethan might be in a whole lot more trouble than she had ever imagined. “Hannah, did you tell Ethan I was here when you got your father?”

She nodded. “He said he’d be right down.”

Russ looked up to the barn. It wasn’t dark enough yet to need lights on, but it would be in half an hour or so. He wanted to get this over with. “I guess I’d better walk up there myself.”

“I’ll come with you,” Mindy said, pulling on her jacket. Outside, they crossed the path separating the barn drive from the house driveway and tramped up the well-plowed gravel road. To the northwest, the clouds were dark blue and heavy, rising from behind the mountains in a solid mass. Snow later tonight or tomorrow.

“You can’t tell for sure from a blood test if Ethan’s the father,” Mindy said.

“No. It’s more in the way of eliminating or confirming him as a possibility. If he has the right blood type, they’ll send his sample down to a lab in Albany that can compare his DNA to the baby’s.”

Mindy opened the cattle gate to the barnyard. “If he has the right blood type, what are you going to do?”

“Ask him some questions. He can have a lawyer present. Depending on what he tells me, we’ll go from there.” He stepped carefully, avoiding half-frozen cow patties.