Green Lake by S.K. Epperson Page B

questions, questions, questions, and much interest and curiosity in the dozens of sheriff s department cruisers now parked around Diamond Bay. As they were ready to begin their evening sing-along, Denise's husband, Tim, arrived. After staying for one or two songs, Madeleine bid everyone goodbye and slipped away, refusing payment for the day or a ride back to her cabin. She had seen Eris's truck parked at the dock, and she figured to ride back with him. It was late, nearing dusk, and he would be going home soon.
    She found the truck and opened the unlocked passenger door to climb inside. There were people milling around on the dock, uniforms of all sorts, deputies, morgue assistants, and people from the coroner. She couldn't see Eris.
    Madeleine settled herself against the seat and looked around the interior of the truck. It was clean, like his house. The dashboard was free of dust and had a freshly washed look to it.
    No wonder he eats over the sink, she thought. He doesn't want to get anything dirty.
    She opened his glove compartment and was stunned to find his wallet inside.
    How careless, Madeleine thought, leaving his wallet inside an unlocked truck at a busy dock.
    But it was an official truck, and Eris had probably been in a hurry to get out on the water, which explained why his wallet was there. He didn't want it to get wet.
    Hating herself for doing it, but eaten with curiosity, Madeleine opened the wallet. Inside she found fifty-nine dollars and a ticket stub from a music theatre presentation of Man of La Mancha. There were no pictures of anyone in his wallet. He had a driver's license, an insurance card, a social security card, a library card, various official-looking permits and things…and that was it. She looked at the driver's license again to find his birth date. After doing some quick figuring in her head, she realized he was going to turn twenty-seven the following Friday.
    She did some more figuring and began to frown. Madeleine was exactly eight years and two months older than him. Sighing, she put his wallet back into the glove compartment and closed it up tight. She leaned back against the seat and allowed her lids to drift shut while she waited.
    In the next moment she jerked awake as the overhead light in the cab came on and Eris stood with his hand on the door, looking in at her.
    “If you're going home, I need a ride,” she said, and after a pause he got in the cab.
    Madeleine buckled in as he turned the ignition. She eyed his profile and found his eyes straying to the glove compartment.
    It's still there, she wanted to tell him, but she didn't. He looked more tired than she had ever seen him, and she wondered what kind of man he was to enjoy working himself to exhaustion day after day.
    ‘‘You're sunburned,” he commented as he drove the truck up and away from the dock.
    She glanced at the pink tops of her thighs and felt the tenderness of her arms. “I don't tan. I never have.”
    They rode quietly along, and on impulse she reached across the seat to gently touch his arm. She felt him flinch, but went on. “You did a good job today, Eris. I want you to know that. I don't know anyone who could have handled the situation as well as you did today.”
    For several moments he was silent. Then he asked, “You saw her?”
    “I did, yes. I won't forget it any time soon.”
    There was silence between them again, until he looked at her suddenly and asked in a rough voice if she had a specialty in anthropology.
    Madeleine looked at him in surprise, and then understood by the swift change of subject that he was trying to guide his thoughts away from the day's events and his part in them.
    “Native-American languages,” she answered. “And some music.”
    Eris turned full face to look at her, his surprise apparent by the action.
    Are you Lakota?” she asked.
    “Fox,” he said, turning back to the road again.
    “ Minnesota? Canada?”
    “The white people who adopted me said I was born here in