Envy the Night

by Michael Koryta

  Nobody answered her at first. Ezra wasn’t thrilled with the idea; Nora’s involvement had already gone too far, in his opinion.

  “They came into my shop and they killed my employee, my friend, a man who’d worked for my family for years,” she said. “If anyone here deserves some answers, it’s not you guys. It’s me.”

  Tough to argue with that. Ezra just said, “That’s what you want to do? Talk to them in person?”

  “From what I’ve heard, it seems to be what you think is best. But if anyone goes out there, they’ll be taking me with them.”

  “Fine,” Ezra said. “We’ll all go, then. First thing in the morning.”

  “What if they leave?” Nora asked.

  “Be tough to leave that island,” Ezra said, “without a boat.”

  Frank’s eyebrows rose. “You’re going to steal it?”

  “Not steal it. Might disrupt it a touch, is all.”

  “What if they see you?” Nora said. “Won’t that cause problems?”

  Ezra smiled at her, and Frank answered for him.

  “They won’t see him, Nora.”

  Her head was swiveling between them, her lips slightly parted, eyes intense, not saying a word. Frank looked to her.

  “You’re in more jeopardy here than anybody. What do you think?”

  “I think,” she said after a long pause, “that we should know what it’s all about. If they can tell us that, then I like Ezra’s idea.”

  It was quiet for a few minutes, and then Ezra said, “You feel safe at your cabin?”

  “I do,” Frank said.

  Ezra nodded. “You’ll be safe there tonight.” Ezra had a boat and a rifle with a night scope. Yes, they’d be safe tonight.

  “All right,” he said. “I think I ought to go address that boat on the island. You all go on back home. Rest. It’s done for the day, all right? I believe that. Any trouble does come up, I’ll be around, and I see you got your dad’s gun in case you need it.”

  Frank looked down at the gun, then back at Ezra. “How the hell can you tell it’s his gun when it’s holstered and I’m standing in the dark?”

  Ezra walked to his truck.

  21

  __________

  Grady found an active cell number easily enough, but he couldn’t get through to Frank. He called five times over two hours, got nothing but an immediate voice mail, indicating the phone was turned off. He left two messages. No details, just his numbers and an urgent request to call.

  What to do now? He owed Atkins information. Every hour that ticked by made him feel guiltier about that, more aware of the ramifications. If Frank was really responsible for shooting Devin Matteson, then what in the hell was Grady thinking, trying to protect him?

  It would help if he would answer the damn phone. One conversation, no matter how brief, would give Grady some guidance. Some sense of how to proceed. Finally, frustrated, he picked up the phone again and called Saul down in Miami. Maybe Jimmy would have insight by now, some new development.

  Saul answered on the first ring, his voice tinged with irritation. “Shit, Grady, I was gonna call you tomorrow. Should have known you couldn’t wait on it till morning like a normal person.”

  “Wait on what, Jimmy?”

  “The hell do you think? Matteson.”

  “You’ve heard about what’s going on up there?”

  “Up there? What . . . look, Grady, why are you calling?”

  Grady stood up, the office not feeling so warm anymore, and said, “Did Matteson die in the hospital?”

  If he had, then it became murder. Not just attempted, but the real deal.

  “Die? Uh, no, Grady. The boy is loose.”

  “What?”

  “Matteson bailed out of the hospital under his own power sometime this afternoon. Hasn’t been heard from since.”

  “I thought he was in critical condition.”

  “He had been initially. Like I told you yesterday, he was recovering unusually well, but not well enough to be out of the hospital. Doctors seem to think he just signed his own death sentence, and nobody down here has a clue what motivated him to go. He wasn’t facing charges for anything, so it doesn’t really make sense.”

  He’s coming for Frank, Grady thought. Oh, shit, he is coming to Wisconsin and he is going to kill Frank.

  Then Saul said, “Best bet is he’s looking for the wife,” and everything changed.

  “The wife?” Grady said, the word leaving his mouth as if he’d never said it before, didn’t understand the meaning.

  “Yeah, of course. Oh, wait, I hadn’t heard about her the last time we talked, had I? That news came in a little later. Remember when I said there weren’t any suspects?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, that’s been blown out of the water. Nobody can find Matteson’s wife. Originally the cops thought it was no big deal, she was just MIA, but now their idea is that she took off. Ran. Which makes her—”

  “The suspect,” Grady finished. Did this clear Frank? It had to, right?

  “You got it,” Saul said. “Problem with that is there were no signs of a rift with Matteson, no indications of an affair. But, still, until she turns up, that’s what’ll occupy the focus. Could be she’s dead, too. Could be—”

  “Devin left the hospital today,” Grady said, no longer interested in hearing the theories, suddenly sure he knew more than anyone in Miami did.

  “That’s right. Nobody knows where he’s headed, either.”

  “I do,” Grady said.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I think I know where he’s headed. I could be wrong, but I doubt it.”

  The irritation left Saul’s voice. “What’s going on up there, Grady?”

  “I don’t know yet, but here’s my advice: If you want to find Matteson, you check on the ways out of Miami to Wisconsin. Check every flight that left there yesterday with any destination in Wisconsin. Could be he’s driving, but I doubt it. I think he’ll be in a hurry.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “I’ll fill you in soon. First I’ve got a question: Does the name Vaughn Duncan mean anything to you?”

  “Nope.”

  “Check him out,” Grady said. “He’s a prison guard from Coleman, and he’s up in Wisconsin, tangling with Frank Temple and a couple others. Check him out and get back to me.”

  He hung up on Saul’s demands for more information.

  The cabin was dark when they entered, and the memory of Jerry’s body sickened Nora as she followed Frank through the door. She’d felt so in control as they’d walked into the shop that afternoon. In charge, ready to take on the world. These guys had shown up and caused trouble, but now she was going to set them straight. It would be that simple. Then she’d gone through the door and seen the body and the blood, and everything she believed changed.

  There was no blood here, nothing out of place in the cabin, no traces of unwanted visitors. Even so, she was nervous until he got all the lights on and showed her around the place. He was still wearing the gun, and she was troubled to realize that it comforted her. She’d never cared for guns before.

  “I thought about taking you back to your house so you could get some things together,” he said, walking back into the living room, “but it wasn’t worth the risk. If they’re watching anyplace, it would probably be your house.”

  “Right.”

  “Ezra keeps the place stocked even though nobody’s here,” he said. “There’s an extra toothbrush in the bathroom, soap and shampoo, should be everything you need. Well, I don’t know what you—”

  “Don’t worry; I won’t require any feminine products.”

  She’d been trying to make fun of him, get a laugh and reduce that tension he’d acquired. It didn’t work. He just nodded, still looking ill at ease.

  “I was joking,” she said.

  “Yeah. Look, you can take whatever bedroom you want.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  He fro
wned. “Nothing. Just telling you to make yourself at home.”

  “You seem anything but comfortable with me right now. Maybe I should go to a hotel. Maybe that would be best.”

  It was quiet for a moment, and then he said, “I’m not like them. I need you to understand that. I’m not anything like them.”

  She stared at him. “The guys who killed Jerry? Are you kidding me? Of course you’re not anything like them.”

  He leaned against the wall, looked down to the gun, back up at her.

  “I’m not like him, either.”

  “Your father.”

  He nodded.

  “I don’t think otherwise.”

  His eyes were so damn sad when he said, “You would have liked him.”

  She had no idea how to answer that.

  “Everybody did,” he said. “You would have, too.”

  “Is that what scares you the most?”

  “What?”

  “That you loved him. That you thought he was good.”

  He looked at her for a while without speaking, and then he walked to the door and went outside.

  She found an open case of beer in the refrigerator, took two bottles, and went after him. He was sitting on the log wall that held the soil back from the beach. He didn’t look away from the water until she handed him the beer.

  “Thanks.” He took the bottle and pointed at the lake with it. “I can see why Ezra never left.”

  “It’s a gorgeous place.” The air was warm again tonight, but the sky was overcast, only a handful of stars showing. The wind that had blown so hard in the morning was almost gone now, nothing left but a few gentle puffs trying to catch up. It had been one of those weird warm weeks, each day feeling more like summer than spring, then settling down overnight until you woke to a cold sunrise.

  “You don’t need to worry,” she said, “about anything I heard today. Nothing the cops told me was different from what you’d told me this morning. I’m not scared of you. I don’t think you’re dangerous.”

  “Then the old man failed. He spent a lot of time trying to make me dangerous. It would break his heart to hear to you say that.”

  She thought of the way he’d come across the body shop, unarmed, the day before. How long had it taken him to knock that guy out with the wrench? Two seconds, tops. So was he dangerous? Maybe he could be, but she wasn’t scared of him. It wasn’t that sort of quality.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m not going to make you sit here and be my therapist. It’s just that a day like today puts him in my mind more than normal. Just being up here, seeing this place and seeing Ezra . . . it works on me.”

  “I believe that.”

  He drank more of the beer, leaned back from the wall, and braced the heels of his hands on the grass. She could feel a prickle in the middle of her back, touched off by sitting out here in the open, surrounded by darkness. Wasn’t he afraid? Didn’t seem to be. Either he thought they were completely safe here, or he thought he’d sense any trouble before it came.

  “Where’s your mother?” She surprised herself by asking the question; one second it had been in her head and the next she’d spoken it, without ever planning to. There was just something about him right now that made her curious, some rootless quality, as if he’d always been alone, drifting along in the company of bad memories.

  “Baltimore.”

  “That’s where you grew up?”

  “No. That’s where she is now.”

  “Were they divorced?”

  “Not officially. They were together until I was fifteen. She picked up on some changes that I missed, I guess, or maybe he had more trouble facing her than me. Anyhow, things got bad, he moved out, got an apartment. They were still married, and he was always saying they’d get back together.”

  “Are you close to her?”

  The personal questions that had bothered him so visibly the previous night now seemed almost welcome, taken in stride.

  “Not by happy-family standards, I guess, but in a different way. A deeper way, maybe. We’re all we have, you know? To go through something like we did . . . that’s a different sort of bond than what I’d like to have, but it’s there. We talk on the phone, I see her every now and again, holidays, that sort of thing.”

  He drummed his fingers on the beer bottle. “She moved back to Baltimore, where my aunt lived. Got remarried a few years ago. And that’s great for her, don’t get me wrong, but the first time I saw the guy . . .”

  “What?” Nora prompted when he left the sentence unfinished.

  He shook his head. “It’s not an impressive thing to admit, a little too much testosterone in it, but when I met him I was just so disgusted. And angry. Because he’s this little guy with a paunch and a soft chin, a pharmaceutical sales rep who wanted to take me golfing, and I took one look at him and thought, You’ve got to be kidding me. Because he was so, so far away from what my father had been.”

  He lifted the beer, took a drink. “Later that night, though? I thought about that, and realized that of course he would have to be. For her. He would have to be so far from what my father had been.”

  She was sitting with her knees pulled up to her chest, arms around them, facing the water. The way he was leaning back put him behind her, so she couldn’t see his face, just hear his voice. He seemed more comfortable that way.

  “He killed people, and he took money for it, and that seems so obviously evil to most people . . . but I wish they’d met him,” he said. “Not that they would change their minds, or should. But now he’s a monster, you know? And there is no more one-dimensional character than a monster. If Dad was anything, it was multidimensional. He wasn’t all darkness. Sometimes I wish that he had been.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. What a horribly hollow phrase.

  The silence was interrupted by the soft sound of a motor somewhere out on the lake. It was too quiet to be a big engine; maybe one of those trolling motors, instead. She couldn’t see any lights. Only when she sat up straighter to stare out at the water did Frank speak.

  “It’s Ezra.”

  “That’s him in his boat?”

  “Yes.”

  “How do you know? There are no lights. What if it’s—”

  “It’s not them. Whoever’s in that boat took it out around the sandbar, and you don’t do that by dumb luck.”

  It was clear he’d been aware of the boat for some time.

  “You’re sure it’s him,” she said.

  “Yeah. I knew he’d spend the night out there.”

  “How did you know?”

  “Because he takes his responsibilities seriously,” Frank said. “And tonight, we’re on that list.”

  “Is Ezra from the South?”

  “No.”

  “He talks like it. Has that drawl, the twang.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Where’s he from?”

  “Detroit.”

  “Detroit?” She raised her eyebrows. “Wow. I wouldn’t have guessed that. He talks like he’s from someplace far away from there.”

  “Yes,” Frank said. “He does.”

  The motor had disappeared now; she could hear only the gentle thumping of water on the beach and the occasional creaking of a tree in the woods behind them. How was Ezra intending to watch over them from the water, in the dark? Must have some of those night-vision goggles. Or perhaps he could see in the dark. She could imagine Frank informing her of that detail in his detached, matter-of-fact voice: Ezra can sense heat from a thousand yards away. He’ll know if anyone else shows up.

  She was smiling at that, her own private joke, when Frank said, “So what’s your story?”

  “What do you mean?” She turned back to him.

  “You’re from Minneapolis. Your dad lived up here, ran that body shop, and then he had a stroke.”

  “Yes.”

  “So what else is keeping you here?”

  “That’s not enough?”

  He leaned forward, so that s
he could see his face again, and lifted the beer to his lips. “Could be. I’m asking you if that’s all there is.”

  All the months she’d been up here now, and nobody else had asked. Everyone just assumed it was all about her father, trusted her good intentions. Now Frank picked them apart as if the ulterior motive couldn’t be more obvious.

  “I came for Dad,” she said carefully. “He needs someone here, and I don’t want that shop to close.”

  He didn’t answer.

  “But there might have been some things going on in my life that made staying here seem more appealing.”

  “Okay.”

  There was a long pause, an obvious cue for him to inquire further, but he didn’t.

  “I was engaged,” she said.

  “Yeah?”

  She nodded. “Had been for three years.”

  “Long time to wait.”

  “That’s what he said.”

  Frank’s laugh, low and genuine, caught her by surprise and relaxed her. She leaned back and twisted a little, facing him directly.

  “The wedding date was set for a month ago, in fact. Came and went and here I remain. I had his full support when I came out here, after Dad’s stroke. Longer I stayed, though, the pushier he became about me coming back to Minneapolis. And I realized a couple of things. One was that I didn’t want my father to be alone in a nursing home, nobody coming to see him, his shop going out of business, all the rest of that. It seemed so wrong.”

  “And the other?” Frank said.

  “The other was that I didn’t want to get married. I’d been dating him for five years, living with him for two, and yet I kept coming up with delays.”

  “Just reluctant, then? No specific reason, no epiphany?”

  She started to nod, then stopped, wondering if agreement would be a lie. There had been an epiphany of sorts. A party not long after their engagement, when Seth had turned to a group of people to introduce Nora and said, This is my fiancée. She’d waited for the Nora to follow, but it never came. A simple thing, maybe, a minuscule issue of semantics, but in that moment it hadn’t felt simple or minuscule. It felt chilling. Because she knew that he hadn’t misspoken, knew that her identity, at least in his mind, had already been completed. The name was irrelevant; she was his fiancée. His possession. Standing there in an uncomfortable dress making phony smiles at people she’d never truly trust, she flashed forward twenty years and saw herself introduced as This is my wife, again no name behind it, then saw herself kissing his neck and running her hands along his back so he’d write a check for her daughter’s trip to Europe, saw herself doing that and not even recognizing it for what it was.