Sarah Climmer pulled into the dirt lot beside Wally’s Shop ‘n Save and let her car roll to a stop. There were no lines or curbs here and yet people didn’t seem to have a problem parking straight and leaving enough room for their neighbor. That fact, along with the three Erie clock faces sitting in front of the store, reminded her she wasn’t in the City anymore.  

The vintage pumps and the red truck parked in front of them brought back bittersweet memories of her father. He had always parked in front of the old gas pumps when they stopped at the store. Sarah knew they reminded him of his own childhood. With a sigh born of acceptance she reached over and picked up the Associated Press article off the passenger seat; reading it again for what seemed like the hundredth time. 

As we near the one-year anniversary of the tragic deaths of Dr. and

Mrs. Climmer, investigators seem no closer to making a determination

in the case. Tangled in the lines of their diving equipment the world-renowned

arch aeologist and his wife’s bloated bodies were discovered by a family

picnicking at Russian Lake in late August of last year. Was it a careless

mistake or foul play that ended the lives of these two scientists who had

dedicated their lives to the examination and preservation of historic record?

Shaking her head to dispel the ghastly images conjured up by the article, Sarah tossed it down and threw open the door of her black Ford Mustang convertible. Her joints protested as she stepped out into the late afternoon sun. It had been a long drive up from the city and Sarah was anxious to get to the lake and take a quick swim to work out her stiffness. Knowing her grandfather, Jumping Joe as the locals called him, was not expecting her until tomorrow she hurried into the store to pick up a few things for the evening meal.

Her grandfather had earned his nickname during a long and distinguished military career. As far as she knew, her grandfather had never bemoaned her father his chosen profession, and Sarah could not think of anyone she knew that was more respected and well liked, except maybe her boss, H.C.

Close was not a good enough word to describe her own relationship with her grandfather. Since her parents had traveled frequently when she was growing up, Gramps had been like a second father to her. She deeply regretted the distance she had put between them this past year.

“You’ve got to be kidding! They’re out of bottled water?” she mumbled, looking at the empty space between the Gatorade and the Perrier. Realizing she had spoken aloud, Sarah quickly glanced around and was embarrassed to find a pair of ebony eyes looking at her over the top of the next aisle. The man's chiseled features reminded her of a Roman god, but his ruddy skin tone denied such a heritage.

He was such a textbook example of the Hau de no sau nee, the people of the long house that all Sarah could do was stare. Most people referred to them collectively as the Iroquois, but if her father had been with her, he would have been able to make an educated guess as to which of the five tribes this man belonged.

True to form, the Native stared back at her, his expression unreadable until Sarah finally found her voice. “I didn’t think bottled water was such an oddity around here,” she commented, thoughts of her father adding a rough edge to her voice.

“It’s not.”

He smiled then and Sarah was instantly warmed by the twinkle that lit his eyes.

“But seeing someone in a three piece suit shopping at Wally’s is a little unusual.”

Sarah frowned as she looked down at what she was wearing. Her client had called at the last minute to say they were willing to settle. After making a quick call to the opposing attorney she had grabbed her bags and headed for the mountains without even bothering to change.

“You got me there,” she shook her head, laughing, “but I still can’t believe they’re out of water.”

“Actually they’re not. Wally’s got Avian on sale this week, so there’s a big display up front.”

“Oh, thanks.” Sarah smiled again, briefly, before wheeling her cart around and heading for the check out. She immediately regretted her abruptness. It wasn’t his fault she had made a fool of herself, and she needed to remember she wasn't in the city anymore. Chances were it was safe to talk to a good-looking guy in the grocery store and not have to worry about him following you home. She refused to admit that his being a Native had anything to do with her sudden urge to flee.

Daniel watched the woman walk away. Even in her stiff suit and high heels, she moved gracefully. Definitely up from the City, but he liked a woman who could laugh at herself. In an uncharacteristic move, he let his eyes linger on her shapely legs. He hoped she had packed another pair of shoes. She wouldn't get around very well up here in those little spiky things.