Dead Renegade Read Online Free PDF Page B

shrugged. “I tried.” C.J. laughed and he winked at her. Then he got to his feet to help Erin move dishes to the sink.
    “So I’ve got some interesting news,” he said. “You heard Loon Lake is going to host the North American Ice Fishing Circuit Championship this winter, right?”
    “I didn’t know that,” said Osborne. “Right here on our Loon Lake?” He nodded at CJ. and said, “Wisconsin has fourteen Loon Lakes.”
    “Yep, but you had to qualify last year.”
    “Oh. Guess that means none of us can fish it?”
    “Well, yeah, but that’s not all bad. I got three calls this morning from pros asking me to help ‘em learn the honey holes. I’ll charge good money for that, too, doncha know.”
    “Like how much?” asked Erin, reaching for the plate in front of C.J., who refused to take her eyes off Ray. Osborne had to admit his neighbor was looking particularly good in crisp khaki shorts and a dark green T-shirt. But it wasn’t until he carried the kids’ milk glasses to the sink that they could see the orange lettering across the back of the shirt, which read: “Why are men are like ceramic tile? If you lay ‘em right, you can walk over ‘em for years.”
    “Did Mrs. Taggert make your shirt, too?” asked C.J.
    “Ah, no,” said Ray, turning around with a chuckle. Osborne suspected it was a gift from a former girlfriend. Ray chose to answer Erin’s question instead: “Oh, I’m thinking a hundred bucks an hour or so. What do you think? Erin? Doc?”
    “That’s a lot of money for a guy who makes ten bucks an hour digging graves,” said Erin.
    “You dig graves?” said C.J., her eyes widening.
    “Only … when the fishing is … slow,” said Ray, sitting back down in his chair, thrusting out his long legs and settling into a speech pattern he knew would drive Osborne and Erin nuts. “I … happen to have multiple … pursuits and my … cemetery responsibilities’ … are likely to come off my list this year.
    “That is …” he waved an index finger, which Osborne recognized as the Ray Pradt signal that he was about to deliver words of wisdom, if not national importance, “… if a … par-tic-u-lar new opportunity works out … as … I believe it will. Could be … I’ll end the winter … ahead so to speak.”
    “And that new opportunity —is that the guiding?” Osborne asked, checking his watch. It was nearly time to head back to Nystrom’s for the meeting with Lew.
    “O-o-o-h-h-h, no,” said Ray, each vowel elongated for maximum impact. “ Ice Men is what it is.” Sitting up and splaying his hands across the kitchen table, he dropped the slow cadence to say, “a new reality show that is going to be shot up here. Auditions are being held here next week and …” he lifted both eyebrows as he grinned, “I’m all signed up.”
    “You mean you could be on TV?” said C.J.
    “I surely could. On the Sportsman’s Channel, no less. And that …”—another wave of the index finger—”is a gig made for me.”
    “A jig, did you say?” said Erin, teasing. She tipped her head towards C.J., “You fish walleyes with a jig. Ray’s a walleye expert—aren’t you, Ray?”
    “You heard me, Erin. I’m not kidding—a gig is what I said. Paid work … fame … fortune … all the good stuff. Seriously,” said Ray, leaning forward on his elbows, “this could be my big break.”
    “Wow!” said C.J. “That is s-o-o-o exciting.” The expression in her eyes had to make Ray’s day. Osborne repressed a smile as she checked her watch, “Oh gosh! I better get going. Curt is going to wonder …”
    “Before you leave,” said Erin, “tell me how I can reach you. I am so worried about Mason. If I can get her to talk about whatever it was that scared her this morning, I might have a few questions for you.” She handed C J. a piece of paper for her to write down her number. Erin turned to her father, and frustration clouded her face. “Dad, would you see if you can get her to