Winter of the Wolf Moon am-2

by Steve Hamilton

  “Any time between, say, one A.M. and this morning,” I said.

  “We got back a little after one,” he said. “I don’t remember seeing any other machines on this trail. Besides the guys I’m with, I mean.”

  “We should probably talk to the rest of your party,” the deputy said. “Are they in the cabin right now?”

  “Most of them, probably,” the man said. “We’re supposed to be leaving today. Some of them might still be out on the trails.”

  We made our way back to the car, wading through the snow again. We spent the next hour going to each of the cabins, asking the renters if they had seen anything suspicious.

  Nothing. No leads, no information at all. I started to feel tired and hungry, sitting in the back of the car. And now that we had done everything we could possibly do, I could feel the despair gathering inside me. It was hopeless. Dorothy asked me to help her get away from him. And I let Bruckman or his buddies or whoever it was just come and take her away. They could be anywhere now. I knew the sheriff was looking for her, but what could he do? Find out where Bruckman’s living, go check it out. If he’s gone, then what? Put it on the wires. Keep working on it for a few days, then file it away.

  The deputies rode in silence down the access road from the farthest cabin, back to mine. I could have guessed what was in their minds. They weren’t talking about it, but they would be as soon as they got rid of me. Maybe she wasn’t abducted. Maybe her boyfriend talked his way into the cabin, made a scene, threw some furniture around, then got down on his knees and begged her to forgive him. He loves her so much it makes him crazy, but it’ll be different from now on, and all the usual crap a guy like that says. And then she leaves with him. It happens all the time.

  But I knew. I knew he took her against her will. And I knew it was my fault. I knew I’d lie awake all that night thinking about it.

  “We’ll let you know if we come up with anything, Mr. McKnight,” the young man said. He slowed down in front of my cabin.

  “Let’s take a ride down to the Glasgow Inn,” I said. “See if the bartender noticed anything last night. Or maybe somebody else did.”

  He nodded. “It’s worth a shot.”

  We went around the bend toward the main road. As we passed Vinnie’s place, I noticed that his car still wasn’t there. “Damn, that’s right,” I said. “I forgot about Vinnie.”

  “Is there a problem?” he said.

  “No, it’s just that my friend Vinnie hasn’t been home for a couple nights. He’s a member of the Bay Mills tribe, probably just spent the night there.”

  The other deputy looked out the passenger’s side window. “Vinnie,” she said. “Vinnie what?”

  “Vinnie LeBlanc,” I said.

  “Vinnie LeBlanc,” she said. “That name rings a bell.”

  “There’s a lot of LeBlancs around here,” I said.

  “Yeah, I know, but I think I saw that name somewhere this morning.” She thought about it for a long moment, then picked up the radio. “I think I know where I saw it,” she said. She called in and asked for the front desk. When she had the man on the air she asked him if there happened to be a Vinnie LeBlanc on the premises.

  I heard the answer myself. But I couldn’t believe it. Vinnie was being held in the county jail on a 415, 148 and a 240.

  “Oh, is that the guy who-” the driver said.

  “Yeah, he’s the one,” she said as she put the receiver back. “I thought I recognized that name.”

  “What’s going on?” I said. “Those numbers, what are they again?”

  The deputies looked at each other again. That same look that had been driving me crazy. Now I didn’t care anymore.

  “I know I should remember,” I said. “It’s been a long time. Just tell me.”

  “A four-fifteen is drunk and disorderly,” she said. “A 148-”

  “Hold on,” I said. “That’s impossible. Vinnie doesn’t drink.”

  “A one-four-eight is resisting arrest,” she went on. “And a two-forty is assault, in this case assault against a police officer. Your friend the Indian who doesn’t drink put a Soo cop in the hospital.”

  I sat back in my seat. I didn’t know what to say. This whole day had become a nightmare.

  “Look at the bright side,” she said. “At least you know where he is now.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  I made the deputies turn around and take me back to my cabin, then jumped in the truck and gunned it for the Soo. I swore at myself all the way down M-28. Above me the clouds were growing darker, ready to dump more snow on the world. The wind rattling through the plastic in my passenger side window numbed the side of my face.

  And then, of course, I noticed that there was a single car behind me. A green sedan, two men in the front seat, following me all the way down M-28, through Strongs and Raco, all the way across Chippewa County to the Soo.

  This is great, I told myself. Now I notice when a car is following me. Of course, today it doesn’t mean quite so much. For one thing, this is the only highway that runs from east to west in the entire county. And once you start at one end, you’re not going to stop unless you really need to pick up some of that beef jerky at the Stop ’n Go. So yes, of course there’s going to be a car behind me all the way to the Soo. And besides, now that they’ve gone ahead and kidnapped Dorothy, there’s no more fucking reason for them to be following you.

  But apart from that, Alex, congratulations on your sudden powers of observation.

  I maintained this wonderful state of mind all the way into Sault Ste. Marie, crossing over the hydroelectric canal into what passes for downtown. The City-County Building is a giant gray shoebox, perhaps the ugliest building I have ever seen. Uglier than anything in Detroit, which may be the world capital of ugly buildings. It sits right behind the courthouse, which has just enough charm to make the City-County Building look like an architectural felony.

  The county sheriff’s office and Soo police department both share the building. As I pulled into the parking lot I saw the county cars lined up on one side and the Soo cars on the other. Next to the parking lot was an outdoor courtyard, no bigger than twelve feet square. There was a cage around the entire courtyard, making it look like a dog kennel, and then around the cage was another chain link fence with razor wire on top. A man sat on the one picnic table, the snow high enough to cover the seats. He was trying to light a cigarette, fighting a losing battle against the wind.

  I went in through the county entrance and right into the sheriff’s office. If there was a receptionist there trying to stop me, I didn’t even notice her.

  Bill Brandow was hanging up the phone when I opened his door. He looked up at me and then down at the pile of snow at my feet. “Look what you’re doing to the floor,” he said. “Didn’t your mother teach you to take your boots off?”

  “What’s going on, Bill?”

  “I guess she didn’t teach you to knock, either.”

  “When did you start hiring high schoolers?” I said. “And better yet, why did you send two of them together? Don’t you even give your rookies experienced partners?”

  “Jerry is older than he looks,” he said. “And Patricia could dump you on your ass with one hand.”

  “Jerry and Patricia,” I said. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing.”

  “Alex, you got anything else for me?” He stood up and came around his desk. “Or did you just come down here to rip my deputies?”

  I stood there. He looked back at me with cool, patient eyes. “Bill, she’s gone,” I finally said. “And it’s my fault.”

  “Sit down,” he said. When I didn’t, he pulled the chair around behind me. “Sit.”

  I finally did. He closed his office door and sat on his desk facing me. With the door closed I could hear the wind rattling his windows.

  “Her name is Dorothy Parrish. She’s a member of the Bay Mills tribe. The man you saw her with is named Lonnie Bruckman. Correct?”

  “Yes.”

&
nbsp; “She was at your guest cabin last night. This morning she was gone. The door was unlocked. There were no tire tracks, although she may have left on a snowmobile.”

  “May have been abducted on a snowmobile,” I said.

  “Abducted,” he said. “Fine. We’ll assume she was taken involuntarily.”

  “You don’t have to assume,” I said. “She was.”

  “Okay, Alex, I hear what you’re saying. Now it’s your turn to listen to me.” He looked down at me from his desk, one hand on his hip, the other held out to me as if to beg for my attention. “We’re looking for them. Both of them. Okay? You gotta trust me here. Just let us do our jobs.”

  “Where does he live?” I said.

  “No,” he said. He put his hand on my shoulder. I could feel the strength in his grip. “No way. You’re not gonna do that.”

  “Tell me where he lives,” I said. “He’s not in the phone book.”

  “I’ve got every deputy out there. The state police are watching the roads. I’ve even asked the Soo police to help us.”

  I let out a long breath. “The Soo police,” I said. “That’s the other thing. You’ve got a friend of mine upstairs.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “Vinnie LeBlanc. Your deputies said he assaulted a Soo officer.”

  “Yes, we have him.”

  “They also said he was drunk and disorderly,” I said. “Which is impossible. Vinnie never drinks.”

  “No, I think it was a simple four-fifteen. Public disturbance. I saw him when he came in last night. He didn’t look drunk to me.”

  “Then why did your deputies say he was drunk?”

  “They made a mistake,” he said. “They got the code mixed up.”

  “It’s because he’s an Indian,” I said. “If he got in trouble, he had to be drunk.”

  “For God’s sake, Alex. You want me to call them in here so you can give them this lecture? Because I really don’t need to hear it right now.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s just… goddamn it. Where is he, anyway? Can I see him?”

  “He’s still in one of the holding cells,” he said. “We’re a little tight on space upstairs. You know, if he calls the reservation, they’ll come get him. Don’t you think he’d rather stay in that jail instead?”

  “Somehow I don’t think so,” I said. “You’d have to know him.”

  “Well, he busted up an off-duty Soo cop pretty badly,” he said. “Broke his nose, gave him a concussion.”

  “How did it happen?”

  “I’m not sure. The Soo guys brought him in. All I know is, it had something to do with a hockey stick.”

  “Oh God,” I said. “Will you take me to him, please?”

  “It’s a Soo bust,” he said. “You gotta go through them.”

  “It’s your jail, Bill. The last thing I want to do right now is go see Chief Maven.”

  For the first time since I got there, he smiled. “I don’t blame you,” he said. “All right, I’ll see if I can sneak you in there. If Maven finds out, though, he’s gonna be all over you.”

  “Let him try,” I said. “This day can’t get any worse.”

  There were four holding cells on the ground floor, simple cages with benches running along the sides, single toilets against the back wall. The county jail itself was upstairs. These cells were mainly for suspects awaiting arraignment, although today there were four or five men in each cell.

  “What the hell’s going on here?” I said.

  “I told ya,” he said. “We got a full jail upstairs. A lot of them are Soo busts, drugs coming over the bridge. We already called the state prison in Kincheloe. They’re gonna see if they can help us out temporarily.”

  “Where’s Vinnie?”

  “Last cell on the end,” he said. We walked down a narrow corridor that ran the length of the cells. Above us the fluorescent lights were humming and flickering. There was no other light, no awareness of the outside world. “I’d appreciate it if you could talk him into posting bail. I really don’t need him here, Alex.”

  “What bail? He’s already been arraigned?”

  “Ten thousand dollars,” he said.

  “Jesus, Bill.”

  “He put a cop in the hospital, Alex. A thousand-dollar bond is all he needs. You know that.”

  “Didn’t he call anybody?”

  “Nope. He’s just been sitting there since last night.”

  “You gotta be kidding me,” I said. When we came to the last holding cell I saw him sitting on one of the benches, staring at the floor. He didn’t look up.

  “Vinnie,” I said.

  He was silent. There were three other men in the cell, a couple longhairs sitting together on the other bench, trying hard not to look scared. A very large, very ugly man in fatigues standing against the back wall.

  “Vinnie,” I said.

  Nothing.

  “I’ll leave you two to get reacquainted,” Bill said. “Remember, if Maven finds you here, I had nothing to do with it.”

  “Thanks, anyway,” I said. When he was gone I pulled up one of the folding chairs that were scattered in the corridor and sat on it. I looked at Vinnie for a long time, waiting for him to do or say something. He didn’t do either.

  “All right, Vinnie,” I finally said. “Are you gonna stay in here all winter or am I gonna help you get out of here?”

  “I’m gonna stay in here all winter,” he said. When he looked up at me I saw he had nice shiner under his right eye.

  “That’s what Indians do,” the man against the back wall said. “They get arrested so they can spend the winter in jail.”

  “Thanks for the observation,” I said. “Now go fuck yourself.”

  “You wouldn’t be talking like that if there wasn’t no set of bars in the way.”

  “You’re right, I wouldn’t,” I said. “I’d be sticking your head down that toilet.”

  He smiled. It didn’t do anything for his looks. For the rest of the time I was there, he kept staring at me, his arms folded against his chest.

  “All right, tell me what happened,” I said to Vinnie. “And why the hell didn’t you call me?”

  “What was I supposed to say?”

  “That you were arrested and I should come get you?”

  “I couldn’t do that,” he said.

  “What about the tribe? They’d bail you out in a second, wouldn’t they?”

  “No way,” he said. “There’s no way I’m gonna call the tribe to come bail me out.”

  “No, perish the thought,” I said. “It’s so nice in here.”

  “No fucking way.”

  “So tell me the story, at least.”

  “What story?”

  “What story. That’s cute. The story of how you got arrested. Start with me leaving you at the bar the other night, and then work your way up to hitting a cop with a hockey stick.”

  Vinnie let out a long, tired sigh, rubbed the swelling around his eye. “I didn’t mean to hit that cop, Alex. I didn’t even know he was a cop. He wasn’t in uniform.”

  “So what happened?”

  “He just got in the way, Alex. I was going after Bruckman.”

  “Hold it,” I said. I moved my chair closer to the bars. “Vinnie, this is very important. Tell me everything that happened.”

  “After you left the other night, I took a couple of the guys back to the reservation. I was going through town, there’s a gas station on the loop there, I saw Bruckman and some of his friends gassing up their snowmobiles.”

  “So they did have snowmobiles,” I said. “But at the bar, they weren’t wearing suits-”

  “No, they still didn’t have suits on. Just leather jackets. It’s pretty stupid, but then I’m not surprised.”

  “That young woman you saw with them at the bar, was she with them then?”

  “Yes,” he said. “She was there.”

  “Her name’s Dorothy Parrish.”

  “I know,” he said. He looked d
own at the floor.

  “How do you know her, Vinnie? I asked her about you. She said she doesn’t know you at all.”

  He let out a burst of air. I might have taken it for a laugh if he wasn’t sitting in a jail cell. “I’m not surprised,” he said.

  “I don’t get it,” I said.

  “Alex, I’ve known Dorothy Parrish since I was a little kid. She was a couple of years older than me. In high school, she was…” He shook his head. “She was so pretty, first of all. And a really good student. And popular. Everybody loved her. All the guys were hanging around her all the time. The white guys, I mean. The football players. She was the first girl from the tribe to be homecoming queen, did you know that?”

  “I take it the two of you didn’t hang around together.”

  “No,” he said. “Not hardly. Back then, the reservation was a bunch of shacks. It must have still been that way when you first came up here. You must have seen it.”

  “Yes, I remember.”

  “I suppose things are a lot better now, but back then… a lot of other kids from the tribe… well, it was hard. But not for Dorothy. She was the exception. When she was at school, at least.”

  “Did you hate her for that?”

  “Hate her?” he said. “I think Dorothy Parrish was the first girl I ever loved. As much as you can love somebody when you’re sixteen years old and she doesn’t even know your name. Or want to know your name. I would have just reminded her of where she came from. Where she had to go home to every night. She couldn’t wait to graduate and get out of town.”

  “Why do you think she came back?” I said.

  “I can’t even imagine why,” he said. “She hated this place so much. I never saw her again until the other night.”

  “Vinnie,” I said. “She came to the Glasgow. She was looking for me. She wanted me to help her get away from Bruckman.”

  He looked at me without saying anything.

  “She stayed with me last night,” I said. “In one of the other cabins, I mean. This morning, she was gone. I think Bruckman took her.”

  He closed his eyes. “Oh, no,” he said. “Please no.”

  “What happened with Bruckman? You said you saw him at the gas station.”