Winter of the Wolf Moon am-2

by Steve Hamilton

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “It wasn’t hard to find you,” she said. We had taken the small table next to the fireplace. She sat across from me, looking around the room at all the men in their snowmobile suits. Jackie had come by, dropped a beer in front of me, asked her if he could get her anything. She asked for a glass of water. “I started at that bar, you know, from last night. The one with all the animals.”

  “The Horns Inn,” I said. “You were there with the other hockey team.”

  “Doesn’t that place give you the creeps? All those eyes looking at you?”

  “I never thought about it that way,” I said. “Next time I’m there, I probably will.”

  She smiled. Her eyes were red. She looked tired. “The bartender at that place knew you,” she said. “He told me you were a private investigator. The lawyer you worked for, he hung out there a lot, used to talk about you. Is it true you have a bullet in your heart?”

  “Next to my heart,” I said.

  “Okay, that makes sense then,” she said. “If it was in your heart, you’d be dead, right? How did that happen, anyway?”

  “It’s a long story,” I said.

  She nodded, biting her lip. I could see a small chip on one of her front teeth. “He told me you lived here,” she said. “In Paradise. I knew it’s a small town, so I didn’t figure I’d have any problem finding you. I hitchhiked, can you believe it? I haven’t done that in twenty years. When I got into town, the guy at the gas station told me to try this place. I got talking to Jackie over there.” She looked over her shoulder at him. “He’s a very nice man.”

  “You’re the Indian, aren’t you?” I said. If I hadn’t been looking for it, I probably wouldn’t have noticed it. There was just the slightest hint of it in her face, a certain calmness in her eyes. “Vinnie recognized you. He said you grew up on the reservation.”

  “Vinnie who?”

  “Vinnie LeBlanc.”

  “I don’t know him,” she said. “I don’t remember many people from that time. I’ve been gone for, God, it must be ten years. Until a couple months ago, I haven’t even been in the Upper Peninsula.”

  “He remembers you,” I said. “From when you were kids, I guess.”

  “Maybe,” she said. “Anyway, you’re probably wondering why I was looking for you.”

  “I figured you’d get to that part.”

  “It’s like this, Alex… Can I call you Alex?”

  “Of course.”

  “What I’m wondering is, do you happen to be free at the moment? I mean, can I hire you?”

  “Hire me?” I said. “Wait a minute. I’m not really a private investigator anymore. I’m not sure I ever was one.”

  “I don’t understand,” she said.

  “It’s a long story,” I said. “Another long story.”

  “Oh,” she said. As tired as she already looked, this seemed to take a little more steam out of her. She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes.

  “Actually,” I said, “I was just talking to a real private investigator this afternoon. I promised him I’d send any business I got his way. Do you want me to call him?”

  “No,” she said. “I don’t want to talk to anybody else. Look, I’m sorry, this was a mistake. Just forget it.” She started to get up.

  “Dorothy, sit down,” I said. “Just tell me what’s going on. Why did you come all the way out here? Just because you heard I was a private investigator?”

  She picked up her glass of water, rattling the ice. She took a long drink and then put the glass back on the table. “All right, this is going to sound crazy, okay?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “I was at the game last night,” she said: “I saw what you did to Lonnie.”

  “Bruckman? You were with him?” It was hard to imagine, after all he had said about Indians.

  “Yes,” she said. “He makes me go to all his games.”

  “It was just a league game,” I said. “A bunch of old guys playing hockey because they miss the good old days. All I did was block a couple of his shots.”

  “You don’t know what that does to him,” she said. “You stopped him cold. Then in the bar afterwards, the way you stood up to him. I was listening, Alex. We all were. You made him look bad.”

  “Dorothy, this is really-”

  “You don’t know him, Alex, Do you have any idea how mad you made him? He couldn’t stop talking about it. All night long. He didn’t sleep.”

  “Of course he didn’t sleep,” I said. “He was too high.”

  “You noticed.”

  “Hard not to,” I said. “Does he do that a lot?”

  “Yes,” she said. She looked at the fireplace. The door opened and more snowmobilers came into the bar, stomping their boots.

  “What’s going on?” I said. “Are you in trouble? Did he-”

  “Did he what? Did he beat me? Is that why you think I’m here? Because I need you to protect me?” She looked back up at me. I could see the reflection from the flames in the fireplace in her eyes.

  “I’m just asking,” I said. “Because if he did-”

  “Then I should go to a shelter for battered women and leave you alone.”

  “Do you want me to help you or not?”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m just… I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

  “What do you want me to do? Do you have someplace to go?”

  “Not really,” she said. “Maybe downstate. I have some friends.”

  “What about the reservation?”

  “No,” she said. “I’m not welcome there. My parents and I…” She didn’t say anything for a long moment, just shook her head. “No, not there.”

  “Let’s say I really was a private investigator,” I said. “I mean, let’s say I really wanted to be one. What would you want me to do?”

  “I would hire you…,” she said, and then she stopped. “I can trust you, can’t I? I really can?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “I believe that,” she said. “I don’t know why I believe that, but I do.”

  “What would you hire me to do, Dorothy?”

  “I would hire you to help me get away,” she said. “That’s all. Just help me get away. Before he finds me.”

  “You think he’ll come after you?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I know he will. He’ll come after me. And if he finds me he’ll kill me.”

  “God, it’s cold,” she said. The snow was coming down hard, the flakes already joined together in the air like falling paper dolls.

  She kept her white bag slung over her shoulder, after refusing to let me carry it. “You need a warmer coat,” I said. “Here, take mine.”

  “Don’t even try it,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”

  “My truck’s over here.” The parking lot was full of snowmobiles and trailers. “I’ll get the heater going.”

  She stopped and looked up into the darkness. “There’s a full moon tonight.”

  “What moon?” I said. “I haven’t seen the sky in two months.”

  “I can feel it,” she said. “Can’t you feel it?”

  I opened the passenger side door for her. “Sorry about the missing window,” I said. I got in my side, turned the key, cranked on the heat.

  “You don’t feel the moon, do you?” she said.

  “No,” I said. “Sorry.”

  “It’s the wolf moon, you know. The first full moon of the year.”

  “This will heat up in a minute,” I said. “I should keep a blanket in here.”

  “You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”

  “No,” I said. I stopped fooling with the heater and looked right at her so she would know I was telling her the truth. “I’ve seen crazy. Believe me.”

  “Don’t tell me,” she said. “Another long story.”

  “Yes.”

  “And this window,” she said, tapping the plastic.

  “Another long story,” I said.

  She shifted t
he bag in her lap. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

  “I had a cancellation,” I said. “The cabin is empty anyway.”

  “I really appreciate it,” she said. “I just have to sleep for a few hours. Then I’ll be able to think straight.”

  I pulled the truck out of the parking lot, headed north up the main road. There’s a place not far up the road where the trees break and you can see all the way across the bay. Just a few weeks ago we would have seen the freighters docked outside the locks, getting their last runs in before the freeze, waiting for the right weather to make their run to Duluth. But tonight it was so dark we could barely see the ice.

  “Are you sure you can’t feel that wolf moon?” she said. She was lying back against the seat. Her voice was a low murmur that undercut the sound of the wind. The effect was hypnotic.

  “I wouldn’t know how to feel it,” I said.

  “You’ve forgotten. Your ancestors knew how.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “You think it’s an Indian thing, don’t you?” she said. “Having a name for the moon.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “No,” she said. “It’s Celtic mythology. I was into all that stuff when I was growing up. Pagan rituals, witchcraft, tarot cards. Anything but Indian stuff. I didn’t want to be an Indian.”

  The snow was rushing into the headlights. It made it seem like we were moving very fast.

  “It’s your moon, Alex. Mr. McKnight from the Scottish highlands. The wolf moon belongs to you, not to me.”

  “I’ve never even been to Scotland,” I said. “Jackie was born there. It must be his moon.”

  “You share the same blood,” she said. “Why do you think you go there every night?”

  “Because I don’t have a television.”

  She laughed. Or came as close to laughing as she was going to that night. “Every moon has a message, you know. You know what the wolf moon means?”

  “No,” I said. “What does it mean?”

  “The wolf moon means it’s time to protect the people around you because there are wolves outside your door.”

  “I see.”

  “I’m not saying you need to protect me,” she said. “That’s not what I’m saying. I can take care of myself.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  “That’s the moon talking,” she said. “Not me.”

  “Okay.”

  The snow was beginning to accumulate. She stared out at the road for a while and then she said, “Although if you wanted to just keep driving all night long, I wouldn’t object. See how far away we can get.”

  “Dorothy…”

  “Keep driving,” she said. There was a sudden, ragged edge in her voice. “Just keep going. Get me the hell out of here.”

  “This road goes straight up the point about twelve miles,” I said. “And then it’s a dead end.”

  “Story of my life,” she said. The edge in her voice was gone, just as suddenly as it had appeared. “Hey, you know they got wolves out on Isle Royale now?”

  “So I heard.”

  “Speaking of wolves, I mean. You know how they got there?”

  Isle Royale was an island in the middle of Lake Superior. The whole island had been protected as a national park. “They crossed the ice,” I said. “How else they gonna get out there? Take the ferry?”

  “Yeah, you’re funny,” she said. “What I mean is, do you know why they got there? Why they went all the way across the ice to get to the island?”

  “They’re hunters,” I said. “There’s only one reason they’d go there.”

  “Yeah, the moose,” she said. “The moose crossed the ice first. And then the wolves came looking for them.”

  “Naturally.”

  “So imagine you’re one of those moose. You think you’ve finally found a safe place, with no wolves around. And then one day…”

  I kept driving.

  “The wolves will always find you, Alex. Remember that.”

  “I’ll remember,” I said.

  “God, I can’t believe I’m back here.” She slid into a fake yooper accent. “I’m in da Yoo Pee, ay?”

  I didn’t say anything.

  “I hate this place so much, Alex. I can’t even tell you how much.”

  “This is it,” I said. I took the left through the trees. The snow had all but hidden my access road again, I was sure I’d have to plow it again the next morning.

  “You live here all year?”

  “Sure, why not?” We passed Vinnie’s place first. “That’s where Vinnie LeBlanc lives,” I said. “The guy who recognized you.” There was no car in his driveway. It looked like there hadn’t been a car there all day. “I haven’t even seen him around since last night. Since the hockey game, I mean. I wonder where he is. He should meet you.”

  “Why’s that?” she said. “So we can exchange the secret Indian handshake?”

  “He’d want to meet you,” I said. “That’s all. I can’t imagine where he is.”

  “Probably drunk somewhere,” she said.

  “Vinnie doesn’t drink,” I said. It came out sharper than I expected. “I mean, you can’t say something like that if you don’t know the man. Even if you are an Indian yourself.”

  “You’re right,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

  “Here’s my cabin,” I said as we passed it. “The empty one is just up the road here.”

  I parked next to the cabin. When I turned the headlights off, the night reclaimed us. We sat there in the total darkness.

  “I’ll turn these lights back on until we get inside,” I said.

  “No,” she said. “Leave them off. I forgot how dark it gets up here. It’s one of the only things I like about this place.”

  “Too bad that full moon isn’t out tonight,” I said.

  “That’s one of my first memories,” she said. “Looking out a window and seeing the snow glowing in the moonlight.” She didn’t say anything for a long moment. The silence was as complete as the darkness. “I’m sorry,” she finally said. “You don’t want to hear all this. I start talking about the strangest things when I’m tired.”

  “I don’t mind,” I said. “But you’re gonna get cold soon.”

  We made our way through the snow to the front door. She shifted the bag on her shoulder.

  “I wish you’d let me carry that,” I said. It was all I could do to keep myself from wrestling it away from her.

  “No thanks, Sir Galahad.”

  I unlocked the door and let her into the place, flipping on the lights. It was the second cabin my father had built. He thought the first one looked a little too rough and dark on the inside, so he used unstained white pine for the interior walls. It made the place look a lot bigger than it was.

  “Wow,” she said. “This is nice.” There were two sets of bunk beds on opposite walls. She put her bag down on one of the lower bunks and climbed halfway up the ladder into the loft. “This place sleeps, what, about eight people?”

  “Six is comfortable,” I said. “Eight if everybody likes each other.” I started the woodstove. I had already had paper and logs in there, figuring I’d have paying guests from downstate that night. “I’ll get this fire going. There’s electricity for the lights and the water, but this is the only heat. There’s no phone. You can use mine in the morning if you want.”

  “No problem.” She poked her head into the bathroom. “You’ve really got hot water in here?”

  “Eventually,” I said. “It’ll take a few minutes to get going. I have to go turn the water on.”

  I went back outside and around to the back of the cabin. There was a little door that opened up to the crawlspace. All I had to do was shimmy my way under the cabin, wondering what sort of creatures were down there this time. I’ve seen plenty of mice under the cabins, along with a few bats, a raccoon, a possum. It’s not my favorite thing to do, but if I don’t keep the water turned off when the cabin’s empty, it freezes in the pipes.

  When I turned
the water on, I backed my way out the door, brushed myself off, and went back inside. I tried not to drip snow all over the place, because the puddles dry on the white pine floor and it looks like hell. It was the only mistake my father ever made when he built these cabins.

  She was leaning against the sink, her coat unzipped. She didn’t look ready to get completely comfortable yet. I couldn’t blame her. No matter how much she said she trusted me, it must have felt a little strange to be here.

  “You got all dirty,” she said. She was holding something in her hand. It was round and black. It looked like…

  “Is that a hockey puck?” I said.

  “Yeah, here,” she said. She tossed it to me.

  I caught it and looked at it. There was a white circle on one side, and on it a red wheel with a wing coming off it. It was the Detroit Red Wings logo. Beneath the logo there was an autograph. Gordie Howe.

  “Is this real?” I said.

  “Yes,” she said. “Ever see him play?”

  “Sure, at the old Olympia Stadium.”

  “Lonnie says he was better than Gretzky.”

  “He’s right,” I said.

  “You can keep it,” she said.

  “I can’t keep this,” I said. “It’s probably worth a lot of money.”

  “I know,” she said. “It’s all I can give you right now for helping me.”

  “Where’d you get it?”

  “It’s Lonnie’s,” she said. “It was Lonnie’s. The last thing I did before I left, in fact I was out the door already, then I came back in and took that stupid hockey puck. God, he wouldn’t even let me take it out of the little plastic case. Think how mad he’s gonna be now.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said. “Why did you take it?”

  “To hurt him,” she said. She folded her arms across her chest. “It’s the only thing I could think of. Pretty lame, isn’t it?”

  “Here,” I said. I put the puck on the table. “You should keep it.”

  She stared at it on the table and let out a long, tired breath.

  “Is he that bad?” I said. I thought I had had this guy pegged pretty well when I met him, the kind of guy who doesn’t want to do anything else but play his sport, and can’t deal with the fact that he’s not quite good enough. I saw it all the time in baseball, guys who got cut and then spent the rest of their lives taking it out on the rest of the world. There’s one on the end of every bar in every town in America. But the way her voice sounded when she said she wanted to hurt him, maybe there was something else. Something a lot worse. “I know it’s none of my business,” I said.