The Post …
Meg checked her make-up one more time before Fraser arrived. She looked forward to seeing Ben again. Looking at him was like looking at a younger Benton Fraser. Taking a look at the original copy, Meg's breath caught. He stood behind her as she faced the window behind her desk, checking her reflection in the mirror.
"Constable Fraser, you caught me unaware." Meg turned around, snapping her compact closed and shoving it into her pocket.
"My apologies, Inspector Thatcher." Constable Fraser looked properly contrite when she studied his features. She saw a mischievous twinkle in Ben's eyes. Maggie stood neutral.
"Good morning, Constables, Ben. I've called George Daniels, he's expecting us at nine o'clock." Meg checked her watch, eight-thirty. "We have just enough time if we leave now." She pulled her small purse from the top drawer of her desk.
"I'll see you at lunch, Benton?" Maggie asked with a smile. She wanted to stay behind and get a feel for the place.
"Yes" Benton nodded, toying with his Stetson. Fraser and Ben both followed Meg out the post door.
George Daniels' Camp …
Camp Cumberbatch housed fifty boys, ages seven to fourteen. George Daniels had been running the summer camp for the last twenty years. He had been a friend to Inspector Thatcher when she first arrived in Spencer Falls, introducing her around to the important members of the community. He had kept an eye on the lady Mountie since.
The fifty-something mountain man stood over six feet with a thick, white beard he kept neatly trimmed. George loved kids like most people love ice cream. He and his wife could never have any, so they hosted and tried to help as many as they could.
The camp sat on forty acres of gently rolling hills with the three acre lake in the center. It was a technology-free zone while the boys were in camp. They could call home once a day, if they chose. When it rained, they played board games, cards, or something non-electronic. Inspector Thatcher had helped out, going on a camp-out at least once a summer with George and his wife along with the boys. She pulled up in front of the Cumberbatch Club, the dining and recreation area for the camp. The large, log structure faced south, warming it for most of the day.
"Hey, Meg, you're early." A big guy waved.
"George, I'd like to introduce you to Constable Benton Fraser and his son, Ben." Meg met the big guy on the front steps and shook hands.
"Mr. Daniels, hello." Fraser shook hands with him. Three boys came running out past him. "Whoa, slow down, fellas, it'll still be there in a minute." All three of them turned and waved, slowing to a jog.
"You must have your hands full." Constable Fraser grinned, as Daniels shook his head.
"Yea, I stay busy, so Meg filled me in, she said you were here for an RCMP officer swap and that you didn't have anyone for Ben here." George's brown eyes took in the curious teen as he looked around him at the bunk houses and the lake beyond.
"That's correct. I appreciate you allowing Ben to join after the summer session has started." The big guy waved him away with a good natured grin.
"Anything for Miss Meg here, that's what the boys call her." George saw the pleading expression on her face, begging him to talk about anything else.
"What will Ben need for camp, Mr. Daniels?" Fraser, thankfully for Meg, changed the subject. George thought for a moment.
"Ah, not much I'd imagine, a pair of swim trunks, a spare pair of tennis shoes, the boys like to stomp around in the mud surrounding the lake, we've found that a spare pair is good to have on hand."
"Thank you again, George. I'll see you the third week in July for the yearly camping trip." Meg hoped to cut the conversation as short as possible, before the big guy could start telling stories. They'd be there all day if he did, not to mention there were a few on her that she hoped Fraser never heard.
"That I will, Meg, don't forget the marshmallows." George grinned. He hadn't seen Meg this nervous in a while. There was something about this constable that had her on edge.
"I won't, you don't forget the graham crackers. Tell Tootie hello for me." The lady Mountie edged toward the top step of the porch.
"Well, Constable Fraser, I'll have Ben here call you this evening so he can tell you about camp." George shook hands with Fraser again.
"Thank you kindly, Mr. Daniels." Fraser felt his throat closing at the thought of Ben spending a night away from him.
"Ben, you can reach me on my cell phone or contact me at the post. I've put Inspector Thatcher's number, as well as the post's number in your duffel bag. Oh, there's also Maggie's number if you should need anything." Fraser wracked his brain to think if there was anything he'd forgotten to tell the boy.
"I'll be okay, Dad, I have your number, Aunt Maggie's, the Inspector's, the post's, I even have Uncle Ray's and Francesca's if I need it. Push comes to shove and I'll call Constable Turnbull." Ben reassured him. The boy wore a patient expression, like they'd gone through this on a routine basis.
"I know, Ben, I just want you safe." Benton pulled his boy into a quick hug, ruffling his short, dark hair.
"Be careful, Dad." Ben pulled away, his duffel bag on one shoulder.
"I'll call Victoria tomorrow and tell her you've settled in." The Mountie tried hard to contain his anxiety.
"Okay, Dad." The boy nodded, knowing that a conversation with her wasn't easy for him.
"Thank you for arranging this, Inspector Thatcher." Ben turned to the lady Mountie, his green eyes catching the morning sunlight.
"Have fun, Ben, I'm glad I was able to meet you. I hope to see you again before the officer swap program is done." Meg shook his hand before he turned to go inside with Mr. Daniels.
Benton put his Stetson on and adjusted it after he took one last look back at Ben. He waved as he stepped into the Jeep Liberty's front seat. Ben waved back.
"He seems to be a level headed, young man, Constable Fraser." Meg said, wishing she didn't have to be so formal. It reminded her of her old, 'Dragon Lady' persona she'd tried to leave in Chicago.
"Ben is, yes. I believe he'll be fine." Fraser stared straight ahead, out the window. He'd laid his Stetson on the back seat, so he twiddled his thumbs to be doing something with his hands.
"I was surprised when I heard you had a child." Meg asked, fishing for the story behind it. She drove slowly, in no hurry to get back to the post.
"As was I, Sir." He gave her a finite answer, on purpose she was certain.
"I hadn't kept up with anyone from the Chicago Consulate. The last I heard you were on a leave of absence." Meg tried a different track. He was once again, her subordinate officer. She couldn't ask the questions she actually wanted the answers to.
"Yes, I was. After a year I resumed my duties at the consulate. Detective Kowalski returned to the Chicago Police Department as well. He was the lieutenant of his precinct before he retired last year and moved up here." Fraser made a mental note to call former Lieutenant Welsh and inquire after his health.
"Constable Fraser, do you realize you just told me more information about Detective Kowalski than you did yourself? I asked about you." Meg asked, exasperated. As much as she secretly loved Benton Fraser, she'd on occasion wanted to strangle him for his evasiveness.
"My apologies, Sir. My life hasn't changed much since we served together in Chicago, until last year." Benton looked over at his boss lady, a bit puzzled at her behavior. He knew she wanted to know how Ben came to be, but he was reluctant to tell the story.
After being shut down twice, Meg didn't try to make conversation again. She drove in silence, her thoughts running as fast as the vehicle. The one person she'd confided in wasn't confiding in her in return. She hated to think that she was just another one of his crusades. Outside the Jeep the hills and valleys sped past. It was a sunny day, with scattered, cotton ball clouds floating overhead. Rabbits and birds moved around almost without a care.
What appeared to be a long, thick snake crossed the lane ahead of them. One either side of the road it was clear for acres. Meg slowed down to avoid it. When she stopped they heard a loud pop and flapping as the rubber began to smack the pavement. Meg had a hard time keeping the vehicle under control. She managed to pull it to the side of the road.
"What was that?" Inspector Thatcher threw off her seat belt and started to open the door. Fraser latched onto her arm.
"It may not be safe, Inspector." He saw her dark eyes flash in anger.
"I must have ran over a nail or something, Constable Fraser." Meg pulled away and opened the door. She heard him get out of the vehicle on the other side. Stepping up to the long, black lump, Meg saw that it was a two by four studded with nails, meant to flatten the tires. It was three feet from the pumper of the Jeep and even farther away from where the tire had begun flattening. Fraser began scanning the horizon as Meg turned to examining the front, driver's side tire. She felt the spray of dirt hit her in the face when a bullet hit the front fender beside her. Meg let out a choked scream. Fraser rounded the end of the Jeep in record time. He half helped, half dragged Meg to the other side of the vehicle. They flattened against the ground as much as possible.
"I shouldn't have gotten out." Meg said in surprise, more to herself than to Fraser. She had turned pale and looked vacantly ahead for a moment.
"That's not important right now, Inspector, what is important is getting help from the post." Ben began digging for his cellular phone.
"It's no use, there's no signal out here." Meg shook her head. She wiped dirt out of her face, tears threatening to spill. Getting Fraser in trouble wasn't part of the deal when she'd called for his help.
"Then we are in trouble, Inspector." Fraser's tone wasn't reassuring like she longed for. A second shot hit the driver's side door.
"What about the radio in the Jeep?" Meg thought, her eyes brightening.
"Good idea, where is it?" Fraser tried to remember the contents of the vehicle.
"It's in the hatch." Meg answered. Another shot punctuated the air between them. Fraser opened the back door and crawled onto the back seat. He hoped that he could reach the radio without being seen.
"Be careful, Fraser, the shooter keeps getting closer." Meg's voice was weak and shrill. Fraser looked back, into her eyes. He smiled his reassuring smile. Without a word, Fraser returned to his mission. Reaching into the standard emergency kit, a shot shattered the back windshield. The bullet exited the front windshield.
"That's out of the question." Meg pulled on his boot frantically. Fraser eased back to the ground outside the Jeep.
"We're running out of options, Fraser." The Inspector turned to him, her eyes wide. She took a deep breath to calm herself down, breaking down in front of Benton was not an option.
"Yes, Sir, we are." Fraser scanned the road in either direction. A passing vehicle could provide assistance or put more people in danger. The latter was unacceptable.
"Do you have any ideas?" Meg asked, lying on her belly in the dirt. Fraser gave her a puzzled expression. He began to rub his ear as he thought of possibilities.
"No, no I don't." He heard Meg groan.
"I've seen you jump off of roof tops, crawl hand over hand beneath a moving train, and now you don't have any ideas!" Meg glared at him for a moment.
"My apologies, Inspector Thatcher, I, uh," He was interrupted.
"Don't do that, Fraser, don't." Meg turned to him, her eyes suddenly tired.
"Don't what?"
"Don't apologize for not being perfect." She sighed. All those years ago, he'd always been apologizing for something.
"Inspector Thatcher, I," She silenced him with a glance.
"We haven't seen each other in over fourteen years, yet we fall into the same pattern as back in Chicago. I was tired of it then, I'm sick of it now." Meg openly wiped the tears from her eyes.
Whatever had held her back before was gone now. It was a different Meg Thatcher laying on her stomach beside him on the side of the road. Fraser had noted the change in her when he heard what George Daniels had said about the yearly camping trip with the boys from the camp. He couldn't say he hadn't changed over the course of the last decade and a half.
"Every time I tried to open myself up to you I was pushed away." Benton shook his head, his gaze looking off into the distance, into the past long buried.
"I'm at fault, I know, Fraser. I had hoped that this time would be different. It's my turn to apologize, to you." Meg swallowed the lump in her throat and forced the apology past her pride.
"It is appreciated but unnecessary, Inspector." When Benton spoke there was no mask of professionalism or neutrality.
"I didn't always push you away, Fraser." Meg remembered one time, if briefly, that she pulled him closer than anyone.
"The train." He looked at his hands lying on the asphalt before looking at her again.
"Yes, the train." Meg repeated. She'd spent many an hour thinking about what had happened on the roof of that runaway train. Sometimes she could almost feel his arms around her again.
"Red still suits you, Sir." Fraser responded with a twinkle in his green eyes. Meg laughed, surprised at his sneaky humor. It made her feel better. A shot blew out one of the few remaining windows, this time from a slightly different angle.
"We have to do something, Fraser, now." Meg froze, her head covered with both hands.
"I have an idea." Fraser pulled his pocket knife and jammed it into the passenger side front tire. It began blowing air and flattening.
"I don't think this is a good idea, Fraser." Meg watched as he opened the passenger door and laid the seat back as far as possible.
"Get into the back seat, on the floor. I'll try to guide the vehicle from here." Fraser hunkered down in the passenger floorboard. Meg shook her head and did as he said. There wasn't much room for her in the shoe box sized backseat. The Jeep roared to life, and with the doors still hanging open, Ben put it in drive and began steering them down the road, toward the post. Fraser depressed the gas feed, hanging over the center console and steered while peeking over the dash. He knew as long as he kept it on the asphalt they'd be fine. Shots began hitting the vehicle as they limped away.
When they were out of range, Fraser slowed down enough to sit up properly, then he slid over the console and into the driver's seat, not an easy task considering that Meg had the seat pulled up to accommodate her shorter stature. He slid the seat back quickly.
"I don't see anyone behind us, Fraser." Meg leaned over the passenger seat. Her face was smudged with dirt and there was glass still in her hair.
"Whomever is trying to kill you meant to ambush us on the way back from the camp. They knew you and I were going there this morning." Fraser's mind began to sort out the culprits.
"I called George Daniels from my house last night after work." Meg ran her hands through her hair, dislodging most of the glass in it.
"I changed the locks on my doors myself after my food was poisoned, Fraser, how did they get in?" The lady Mountie thought back to the safety precautions she'd taken great pains with after poor Perkins' death. She had installed bars on the windows, new locks on the doors and bought a security system.
"We will find this person." Benton stopped short of promising.
"Whoever it is doesn't care if he kills an innocent person, as long as he kills me. I've put you and Constable Kowalski in more danger than I'd anticipated." Meg cursed herself for being so stupid.
"You would have done the same for me, Inspector." Fraser shrugged, glancing over his shoulder at her. Meg wondered if she would have.
"We'll be at the post in a moment, Fraser, at least this time there should be evidence that I'm not crazy." The lady Mountie changed the subject as they neared Spencer Falls.