“Not until you tell me where you think we’re going.”
“You’ll see when you get there. For once in your life, will you just trust me?”
He sat there looking at me. He still had the phone in his hand.
“Please,” I said. “Come with me.”
He put the phone down, put on his coat, and followed me out the door.
* * *
“You want me to do what?”
“I want you to take your clothes off. Down to your underwear.”
We were standing in Vinnie’s cousin Buck’s yard, with a half dozen of Vinnie’s other relatives. Quiet men with long black hair hanging down their backs. All stripping down to their underwear. The sun had gone down. It was just below freezing.
“You really have lost your mind,” Maven said. “I knew it was only a matter of time.”
“Just shut up and disrobe, Chief.”
Buck’s was the only yard on the reservation that had a permanent sweat lodge. He had lashed some saplings together into a half circle about ten feet in diameter, then covered the saplings with canvas and every old rug he could find. Tonight he had a healthy fire going in the pit outside the lodge, and he was heating several rocks in the middle of it. When everything else was ready, he lifted the rocks one by one with a shovel and placed them inside the lodge.
“I feel ridiculous,” Maven said, standing there shivering. “Not to mention how freakin’ cold it is.”
“But look at you. You’re like some sort of glorious Greek sculpture.”
“McKnight, so help me God, I’m going to smack you right in the face. I don’t care how many bullets you took for me.”
Buck lifted the flap and we all bent down to go inside. We took our places around the fire and Buck dipped a great iron ladle into a bucket of water and poured it onto the hot rocks. Then he tossed on a few sprigs of sage.
We all sat there in the dark as the steam surrounded us. I felt my muscles starting to unwind. Everything that had happened to me, I started to let go of it. Buck put more water onto the rocks. I was sweating now. The steam was filling my lungs.
The last time I had done this, I had opened my eyes and I had seen Natalie in the steam. I swear to God, I did. On this night, I didn’t see anything, but then maybe this night wasn’t about me at all. I knew Maven was right next to me, but I couldn’t make out if his eyes were open or closed. I didn’t know what this experience was doing for him.
About thirty minutes later, we all came back out of the sweat lodge, into the sudden shock of cold air. It was like plunging into an icy lake, but it felt good. I knew I’d be okay now. I knew my injuries would heal and everything would go back to the way it was.
Well, maybe not everything.
“How did that feel, Chief?”
“It was good, Alex.” He was putting his clothes on. “I admit it. That was exactly what I needed. I had no idea.”
“What’s it going to be like now?” I said. “I mean, who are you going to yell at?”
“I’ve got plenty of people to yell at, believe me.”
“Yeah, but I was always your favorite.”
“Just keep being yourself,” he said. “We won’t have to change a thing.”
When he was finished dressing, we both got back in my truck and I took him back to the Soo. Neither of us said a thing on the way.
I pulled into the parking lot. We sat there for a moment, and then he opened his door. He didn’t get out.
“Thank you for dragging me to that place,” he said.
“My pleasure,” I said. “I heard what you said there, by the way.”
“What did I say?”
“You said, and I quote, ‘I don’t care how many bullets you took for me.’”
“Yeah, well. We both know I was next. We’ve already covered that.”
Another moment of silence.
“Your daughter’s okay?”
“She’s okay. She’ll be going back to work next week.”
One more silence. The last one.
“We made a good team,” I said. “Don’t you think?”
“Put it this way,” he said. “If we ever have to do it again, I wouldn’t want to be the guy on the other side of the ball.”
“Have a good night, Chief.”
“You, too. I’ll see you around.”
He got out and closed the door. Then I drove back home to Paradise.
Also by Steve Hamilton
The Lock Artist
Night Work
A Stolen Season
Ice Run
Blood Is the Sky
North of Nowhere
The Hunting Wind
Winter of the Wolf Moon
A Cold Day in Paradise
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
A THOMAS DUNNE BOOK FOR MINOTAUR BOOKS.
An imprint of St. Martin’s Publishing Group.
MISERY BAY. Copyright © 2011 by Steve Hamilton. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.thomasdunnebooks.com
www.minotaurbooks.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Hamilton, Steve, 1961–
Misery bay: an Alex McKnight novel / Steve Hamilton.—1st ed.
p. cm.
“A Thomas Dunne book.”
ISBN 978-0-312-38043-4
1. McKnight, Alex (Fictitious character)—Fiction. 2. Private investigators—Michigan—Upper Peninsula—Fiction. 3. Upper Peninsula (Mich.)—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3558.A44363M57 2011
813'.54—dc22
2011001267
First Edition: June 2011
eISBN 978-1-4299-2105-3
First Minotaur Books eBook Edition: June 2011
Table of Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Part One
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Part Two
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Part Three
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Also by Steve Hamilton
Copyright
Misery Bay Page 31
