“You all go do what you have to do,” Rose said. “I’ll clean up here.”
She saw them off, and when Jenny had gone upstairs, Rose took her cell phone from her purse and called her husband. Mal answered in the way she loved: “Hello, light of my life.”
“Oh, Mal, it’s good to hear your voice.”
“Whoa,” he said. “Yours doesn’t sound so good. What’s up?”
She told him all that had occurred. He didn’t interrupt.
“I can leave right away,” he offered.
“At this point, it wouldn’t do any good. I just thought you’d want to know what’s going on. For the time being, just keep us all in your prayers.”
Mal said, “There’s one thing I hope everyone up there understands.”
“What’s that?”
“This Lindsay Harris couldn’t have a better man with her than Cork. If anyone can help her, he can.”
“I’ll pass that along. It’s a good piece of wisdom.”
“I’ll keep everyone in my prayers. You take care of yourself, love.”
“I will, sweetheart.”
She ended the call and slipped the phone back into her purse. Then she sat among all the breakfast mess that needed to be dealt with and offered a silent prayer of thanksgiving. Until she was forty, she’d believed she would never know love, the kind that Mal offered her anyway. She thought of it as a great treasure she’d stumbled upon, a blessing never anticipated, and maybe that was the best kind. She also offered a prayer in gratitude for her sister’s family, which she’d always been a part of. And finally she asked for the grace to accept whatever outcome God had in mind for them all. She might have gone on in her prayers—sometimes they lasted well beyond anything she’d intended—but a knock at the back door took her from her meditations.
She found Daniel’s aunt Leah standing there, looking wild-eyed.
“Can I . . . can I come in?” the woman asked.
“Of course.” Rose brought her inside and took her coat, hung it, and led her to one of the empty chairs. “Can I get you something? Coffee maybe?”
The woman didn’t answer. She stared at Rose with eyes hollowed into deep pits of fear. “I’ve seen something.”
Rose sat down and took Leah’s hands. “What did you see?”
As if completely disoriented, she said, “I don’t know. I don’t understand it.” Tears filled her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. “Oh, Rose, they’re dead. Hundreds and hundreds of them. All dead.”
CHAPTER 30
Pakkala’s Northwoods Outfitters occupied a two-story building in the center of Aurora. Both levels were filled with everything that someone intending to enjoy the great northern wilderness could possibly need—canoes and kayaks, tents, backpacks, clothing, shoes, dehydrated food, cooking utensils, stoves, fishing gear, mosquito netting, insect repellent. They sold books and games and other diversions for rainy days in the great Northwoods. They also offered guide service into the Boundary Waters.
When Daniel and Rainy entered the outfitters, Walt Pakkala, the family patriarch, came to greet them himself and offer his sympathy.
“Christ,” he said, shaking his head. He was a big man with a ruddy face and a full beard, and he spoke with the accent of an old Finn in the North Country. “Cork’s de last man I’d expect to go missin’ out der. We been hearin’ stuff. Not good. So what’s really happenin’?”
“We don’t know, Walt,” Daniel said. “That’s why we’re here. We’d like to talk to Dwight, if he’s around.”
“Sure. In back doin’ some inventory. I’ll get him.”
Pakkala vanished and returned with Dwight Kohler in tow. He was a tall kid, twenty years old, willowy, strong, with coal-black hair and the black shadow of a beard several days old. His eyes were piercing blue and innocent. He wore a green hoodie sweatshirt with BOUNDARY WATERS printed in white across the front. When not working for Walt Pakkala, he attended Aurora Community College, where he took mostly photography classes. Rainy thought his work was pretty good, and a lot of his framed photos were on sale at the outfitters.
“Hey, Rainy. Hey, Daniel,” he said by way of greeting. “What’s up?”
“Morning, Dwight. You’ve heard about Cork, right? And Lindsay Harris?”
“It’s all anybody’s talking about this morning. Jesus, I’m sorry. It’s so weird, you know. Just like John Harris.”
“That’s what we want to talk to you about. Walt, can we go somewhere with Dwight to talk?”
“Sure. Have some coffee on me, and grab a table. I got work to do, but you folks take your time. Give ’em whatever dey need, Dwight.”
Pakkala’s had a little coffee shop in one corner of the store that served up the best kolaches Rainy had ever tasted. They sat and drank coffee, and Daniel said, “We’re rethinking the disappearance of John Harris.”
“Duh,” Dwight said. “I’m kicking myself now. Jesus, I’m thinking, what did I miss out there?”
“That’s what we’d like to figure out, if we can. We believe somebody kidnapped Harris, and now those same people have taken Cork and Harris’s granddaughter. They knew the family would be out there, and they knew Cork was going back with Lindsay.”
“Like for ransom or something?”
“There’s been no note, so we’re thinking something else is going on.”
“Like what?”
“We’re working on that. Let me show you something.” From his pocket, Daniel pulled the photograph of Trevor Harris with his prize walleye. He laid it on the table. “Tell me about this.”
“Not much to tell. Trevor and his granddad took off to fish. Trevor came back with that walleye and his granddad never did come back. End of story.”
“They went different directions on the lake, right?”
“Raspberry’s horseshoe-shaped, you know. Trevor went down the east side, his granddad went west.”
“It was some kind of contest, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah. Crazy. A thousand dollars.”
“Whose idea was that?”
“Trevor’s. But I kind of got it. The old man, he was on that guy’s case the whole time.”
“About what?”
“You know, being more responsible, growing up, doing manly things. It was the kind of crap you’d give a teenager, not a full-grown adult.”
“Who decided where they’d fish?”
Dwight thought about that a moment. “Seems to me it was Trevor chose first.”
“Did he know anything about fishing?”
“Knew what a rod and reel were but not much beyond that. Surprised the hell out of me when he came back with that fish.”
“Didn’t it seem suspicious to you?”
“Suspicious? Not then. Just damn lucky.”
Rainy said, “What was Lindsay doing this whole time?”
“Hanging out with me. Shooting the breeze, you know. She didn’t have anything to prove. It was clear from the get-go she knew how to handle herself in the woods. Her granddad and her got along pretty well. Not like with Trevor.”
“Did you see anyone else on Raspberry Lake while you were there?”
“Nobody. It’s not a place many go, particularly that late in the season.”
“Did anyone get any cell phone calls out there?”
“On Raspberry? Are you kidding? Sat phones are about the only things’ll connect out there.”
“How long were you on the lake before Harris disappeared?”
“We arrived the evening before. Had just enough time to set up camp, then dark was on us.”
“What was the plan going in?”
“Three nights on Raspberry, then out. Quick trip.”
“Who decided on Raspberry?”
“Don’t know. It was already chosen when they hired me. I liked the idea though, because it’s
not somewhere I get to often. I figured we had a good chance of having the lake to ourselves. And I love Raspberry Island. A great view from the top of that palisade. I thought I might be able to take some nice shots from up there.”
“Did you?”
“Nope. Harris went missing before I had a chance.”
“About that fish. Do you have any idea what Trevor was using on the end of his line?”
“I sure do. I mean, when he came back with that walleye I was, like, astounded. He told me he used a Husky Jerk.”
“Interesting,” Daniel said. “When I asked him last night, he couldn’t remember.”
“Before he caught that fish, if you’d asked me, I would’ve said he’d be lucky not to hook his own ass.”
“Did you like him?”
“Felt sorry for him mostly. I mean, he was really out of his element there. It was clear he was uncomfortable and his granddad was riding him and all. He wasn’t obnoxious or anything, like I sometimes get.” His face drew together in a sudden thought. “But you know, I did have the feeling that he was watching for something. I didn’t think a lot about it then, but now, with the way everything stands, who knows?”
“Yeah,” Daniel agreed. “Who knows?”
Rainy’s cell phone purred and she answered.
“Rainy, it’s Rose. Can you come back to our place? Leah Duling is here, and I think you need to talk to her. She’s had an experience, seen something you need to hear about.”
“All right. Thanks, Rose.” She put away her phone. “We need to get back to Gooseberry Lane. Thank you, Dwight.”
“Wish I could tell you more.”
“You’ve been really helpful,” she assured him.
As they left Pakkala’s, Daniel said, “What’s up with Rose?”
“Aunt Leah’s at the house. Apparently, she’s seen something.”
“The light?”
“We can only hope,” Rainy said.
“Well, I think we know a bit more now.”
“What do we know?”
“That big fish. If I were a betting man, I’d bet Trevor Harris had no part in catching that walleye. Someone supplied it.”
“Who?”
“No idea. But I’m pretty sure of the why. An alibi. How could Trevor have had anything to do with his grandfather’s disappearance if he was out on the other side of the lake catching a prize walleye?”
When they arrived, Jenny opened the door to them. She didn’t say anything, simply nodded toward the kitchen table, where Rose sat with Aunt Leah, who hugged herself as if she were cold or maybe scared. Rainy and Daniel hung their coats and sat down with the women at the table.
“Are you all right, Aunt Leah?”
She looked at Rainy, mystified. “I’ve never experienced anything like it.”
“What happened?”
“I saw something. Something that wasn’t there.”
“Something you dreamed?”
“I wasn’t asleep, Rainy. That’s the thing. I wasn’t asleep. I was in my hotel room, fixing my morning coffee. It came to me. Just came. Lucius would have said like the light that struck Saul blind.”
“Can you tell us about it?” Rainy said gently.
“It didn’t make any sense. But there was such a feel of great destruction about it.”
“Can you be a little more specific?”
“I just stood there, looking at nothing for the longest time. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak.”
“Fine, Aunt Leah,” Rainy said, trying to be patient. “But can you get to what you saw?”
She stared at Rainy, then looked to Jenny and Daniel and finally Rose. Her eyes were huge, her face pale. “It was all under a charcoal sky,” she began. “I stood on a cliff somewhere. I didn’t recognize it. A great clap of thunder came and scared me. The air was full of white. Snow, I don’t know, or maybe it was ash. And that’s when I heard the screams. Terrible screams coming from below me. When I looked down, as far as I could see there was nothing but fish, flopping around on the ground. The screams were their screams. But they weren’t just fish. They were fish with human heads, human faces, human voices. And they were dying. All of them dying. It was all so real, so very real.” She reached out suddenly and grasped Rainy’s arm. “Am I going crazy?”
In that desperate grip, Rainy felt the woman’s terror, felt it as if it were her own. She spoke with great compassion. “I don’t think you’re crazy, Aunt Leah. This really sounds to me like a vision.”
“I don’t believe in visions. Not this kind. Not coming to me. Why me? And why so terrible?”
“I don’t know, Aunt Leah.”
“I don’t want this vision.”
“Yet there it is,” Rainy said gently. “And you’ve asked a good question. Why was it given to you?”
“Given? Like a gift? It’s no gift. It feels like a violation.” She took Rainy’s hands in her own. “Help me.”
“I’ll try. But I’d like to do this in my way. Will you trust me?”
It was a simple question, but the woman took a long time to answer. “All right.”
“We’re going to Crow Point. We’re going to do a sweat.”
“Not with Henry,” Aunt Leah gasped.
“Not if you don’t want. We’ll do the sweat together, just you and me.”
Rainy watched her aunt’s face move through several emotions and finally arrive at acceptance.
“Good,” Rainy said. “Daniel, mind taking us in your truck?”
“No problem.”
“Will you come, too?” Leah pleaded to Rose. “You’ve been so kind.”
Rose glanced at Rainy, who gave a nod.
“If it will help you, Leah, then of course,” Rose said.
CHAPTER 31
For hours, they’d traveled north, following the shoreline of a long, winding lake. At midday they disembarked on a small patch of open ground that fed into the next portage. The kid, when he tried to get out and stand, collapsed and fell. This time Cork steadied the canoe and it didn’t tip.
“I don’t think I can walk, Uncle Aaron.”
“Unbuckle your belt and pull your jeans down,” the tall man said.
The kid did as instructed. The whole area around the knee was inflamed, purple-red and swollen. Dark lines like evil tendrils extended upward from it under the skin. When the tall man touched the leg, the kid winced in great pain.
“Something really nasty must’ve got in there,” the woman said.
“We’ll rest here awhile.” The tall man reached into his pack and came out with a small pill bottle. He tapped out several tablets and gave them to the kid. “Swallow these with some water. It’ll help the pain.”
“I feel real hot, too.” The kid’s eyes looked vacant, lifeless.
“Probably running a little fever,” the tall man said.
The others unloaded the gear from the canoes, and they all sat on the ground with the weight of the overcast sky once again heavy upon them. The kid lay down fully, his head cradled on a pack. He closed his eyes. In a short while, he was asleep.
The woman said, “We should leave him.”
“We leave no one,” the tall man said.
“You left Flynn.”
“Flynn was dead.”
She looked at the kid as if his fate was certain and the same. Then she studied the gray sky. “We’re running out of time.”
“We’re not leaving him.”
“Let me take the girl and go on ahead, then. If we push it, we could be out of this wilderness by tomorrow night.”
“We go together.”
“You’re risking everything we’ve planned for.”
The tall man’s eyes swung to Cork, who hadn’t missed a word. “We won’t discuss this anymore.”
The kid mumbled something in
his sleep, gibberish.
The woman eyed him as she might a pile of trash. “I told you from the start we shouldn’t bring him.”
“What’s done is done,” the tall man said. “Enough.”
Lindsay Harris spoke up. “What about a travois?”
“A travois?” the tall man said.
“You know what that is,” Lindsay said.
“Yes.”
“We could cart him on the portages. It would slow us down a little, but we’d still make distance.”
Cork gave her a quick, puzzled look, and she said, “He’s just a kid. And he’s sick. He needs a doctor. The sooner the better.”
“A travois,” the tall man said and nodded.
Mrs. Gray held the rifle while the others worked. The tall man cut saplings and branches with a hatchet. He and Cork and Lindsay put the travois together, using duct tape in place of rope or twine. In a short while, they’d constructed a decent frame for the litter. The tall man stretched a wool blanket across the frame and tied it at the corners. He stood back and looked pleased.
They woke the kid and ate a meal of trail mix and jerky. The tall man took an orange from his pack and gave it to the kid.
“Are we going make it in time, Uncle Aaron?”
“We’ll make it.”
“I’m sorry about my leg.”
“Not your fault.”
“Clumsy oaf,” the woman said.
“We’re going to carry you across the portages,” the tall man said. “Think you can still paddle?”
The kid smiled gamely. “I can do that.”
They prepared to move on. The tall man double-packed, one on his back and one in front. Cork lifted a canoe onto the tall man’s shoulders. Lindsay Harris took the other canoe on her shoulders. The woman hefted the third pack and carried the rifle. Cork grasped the travois by the sapling ends and lifted, and they began along the portage.
He tried to reckon where they might be now. From Mrs. Gray’s comment about being out of the wilderness by tomorrow night, he guessed they were near the Canadian border, if not already across it and now into Quetico Provincial Park. He thought about the tall man’s comment that a border was just a line on a map. The wilderness was the same on both sides of that line, and a man on the ground couldn’t tell the difference. That was one of the things he loved about the North Country. A map, though useful in some ways, told nothing. It couldn’t give in the least way a sense of the land itself, its size, which was measured truly not in square miles but in days paddling and portaging. It gave no sense of the thousand moments when a man’s breath was taken away by some sudden, unexpected beauty. It offered no warning of the dangers—severe storms that blew out of nowhere, high waves that could founder a canoe, falling trees, forest fires, broken ankles, heart attack, giardia—that might await the unwary. It was untamed land, and there was not much of that left anywhere. It felt sacred to him.
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