“I promise,” he said, awkwardly patting her arm. “I promise. You saved my life, after all. You’re my hero.”
“Heroine,” Debbie corrected him. “But I know you would have done the same for me.”
Lance thought the best way of saving Debbie’s life would be to get her to stop smoking.
“I promise to carry you over even the smallest little bridge,” he said, thinking about Willy’s story about Otter Heart and Sad Water.
“In that case, you’re going to need to start working out pretty soon,” said Debbie.
Lance didn’t reply. He suddenly remembered something Chrissy had said: I’m Sad Water. Nobody is building any bridges for me. But that was exactly what Lenny Diver had done. He had lain down like a human bridge over the abyss that a long prison sentence would be for Chrissy. Yet Lance had no doubt that she was speaking the truth when she’d said that. He clearly recalled the disillusioned, naked sound of her voice. It was the voice of a person for whom no one ever lifts a finger to help.
But what did it mean?
“Look at the stars,” said Debbie.
Lance looked up and saw that the stars had appeared in the sky that was already almost nighttime black; only in the west was there a thin brushstroke of light above the forest.
They stood there staring up at the clusters of stars.
“Do you know what’s going to be the hardest part?” said Debbie.
“No.”
“My mother. I can’t expect Richie to keep on . . .”
“I’ll help out,” said Lance.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I’m sure.”
He kept on staring at the stars until his neck felt stiff and he had to look down. That was when he noticed that Debbie was looking at him. In the faint light from the snow and stars it was difficult to read her expression, but he thought she was smiling.
“ARE YOU SURE you want to go back to Finland?” he said a little later when they were on the road again.
“What do you mean?”
“Tonight.”
“But I need to close up the store.”
“It’s closed,” said Lance.
“Tally up the cash register.”
“Let Richie do that. Just send him a text and tell him you quit.”
Debbie giggled.
“And then what?” she said.
“Then we get a motel room,” said Lance.
“Really? Interesting. And after we get one?”
“Then it’s just the two of us in the whole world.”
Debbie didn’t say anything. He wondered if he’d moved too fast, but how likely was that? He noticed that she was doing something as she sat in the passenger seat. When he glanced over at her, he saw that she was texting on her cell phone. After a moment she held it up for him to see. He put his foot on the brake to slow down as he read the message on the display. I quit. Not coming home. Am with Lance Hansen. He handed the phone back after reading the text.
“All right,” said Debbie, and she pressed “send.” “So, that’s done. I’m turning it off for the rest of the night.”
Lance couldn’t think of a thing to say that wouldn’t ruin the moment.
48
HE SAT ON THE BED, which was covered with a hotel-brown bedspread, and listened to the sound of water pouring over Debbie Ahonen’s naked body behind the bathroom door. He thought she’d been in the shower for an awfully long time and wondered whether it was because she dreaded coming back into the room. If that was the case, he could understand, because then it really would be just the two of them in the whole world. Aside from her jacket and cap, which hung next to Lance’s on the row of hooks next to the door, she hadn’t taken off a single garment before heading for the shower. Not even her heavy white sweater. Lance was also fully clothed as he sat on the bed, wearing a red sweater, jeans on top of long johns, and gray woolen socks on his feet. Only now did he realize what he’d started. Soon it would be his turn to take a shower, and then he’d have to show himself naked to her. The mere thought made his mouth go dry with anxiety.
With a groan he leaned down to pull off his socks, first the thick outer pair, then the thin ones underneath. Then he just sat there, still wearing all his clothes but with bare feet. If he’d had any doubts about whether he really needed a shower, they were now gone. The odor from his feet was anything but conducive to a romantic mood.
The sound of running water stopped abruptly. Then a hair dryer started up. Should he get undressed before she came back, or would that send the wrong signal? As if he was just waiting to throw himself at her? In reality, he was sitting here wishing this wasn’t happening. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel attracted to Debbie, but it had been almost four years since Lance had seen another person naked, not to mention shown his own nude body to someone else. And right now his nervousness was stronger than his desire.
The bathroom door opened and Debbie’s bare legs came into view. The rest of her, from just above her knees to the top of her breasts, turned out to be wrapped in a big white towel. She had tucked her clothes under one arm, but now she flung them into a corner before scurrying to the other side of the bed and crawling under the covers.
“Aren’t you going to take a shower, Lance?” she said, smiling, with only her head showing.
“Yeah. Sure,” he muttered.
He got up and went into the bathroom. As he locked the door behind him, he realized how stupid that must seem, but it would be even dumber to unlock it now, so he didn’t. As he took off his clothes he thought about the uncomfortable fact that neither of them would have clean underwear to put on in the morning. Then he stepped into the shower stall, where he found only a scrap of soap that once must have been a big and gleaming bar but had now been reduced to a thin, grayish-yellow square with cracks running through it. One of Debbie’s long blond hairs was stuck to it. At least he hoped it was Debbie’s.
He soaped up as best he could, using the rock-hard piece of soap, and then took his time rinsing off. For a moment he stood still, letting the water pelt his body. He knew she could hear every sound as she lay in bed, waiting. He’d have to turn off the water soon or it would seem strange. And he’d already done something stupid by locking the door.
Luckily the mirror was covered with steam when he got out of the shower, so at least he didn’t have to look at himself naked. When he tried to fasten the towel around his waist his butt stuck out, which would look comical. And if there was one thing he didn’t want to be right now, it was comical. Finally he gave up and used his hand to hold the towel closed behind him.
Then, with one hand modestly protecting his rear and at least forty-five more pounds on his upper body than the last time she saw him without any clothes, Lance Hansen went out to join Debbie Ahonen. She had tossed her towel on the floor, so she had to be stark naked under the covers. He tried to get into bed as fast as possible, without revealing too much, but as he set one knee on the bed, Debbie reached out her long arm and snatched the towel off his body.
WHEN HE WOKE UP, he saw her propped up on one elbow, with her chin in her hand, staring at him. She smiled, as if his face were a story she’d been listening to for a long time and she’d just heard the ending she was hoping for.
“Hi,” she said softly.
“Hi.” He cleared his throat. “Have I been asleep for long?”
“Don’t know. I dozed off myself. But it’s really quiet outside, so I think it must be night.”
It took him a few seconds to remember where they were. A motel in the little mining town of Aurora, on the Iron Range.
“Nobody knows where we are.”
“Mmm. Isn’t that nice?”
Debbie laid her head on his shoulder. She smelled faintly of cigarette smoke and soap.
“What made you answer my text message?” asked Lance.
“Oh, it was a very simple question that you asked. Whether I remembered that night at Baraga’s Cross. And the more I thought about it, the more I was su
re it was the best experience I’d ever had with a man. And I thought that had to mean something.”
“Was it really?” he asked in surprise. “The best you ever had?”
“Yes, it was. How awful that somebody had to get killed in that spot. Such an idyllic setting. Do you remember that we drove down there a couple of times and made out in the car?”
“Yeah, I do,” he said dreamily.
“But if we’d stayed together, maybe even gotten married, do you think we’d be lying here in bed right now?” she asked.
“I doubt it.”
“Maybe everything else had to happen first. Marriage and kids and . . . What do you think?”
“Probably,” said Lance. “I just hope it doesn’t turn out that there are even more things that need to happen first.”
“No,” she told him with a big smile. “There aren’t.”
“So now it’s the two of us?”
“That’s right.”
“And I get to see those beautiful long legs of yours again?”
“You mean now?”
“Yup.”
She threw off the covers, and Lance sighed loudly in appreciation.
WHEN HE WOKE UP THE SECOND TIME, he found himself looking right at her slumbering face. Her mouth was relaxed like a little child’s, and she’d drooled a bit onto the pillow. Carefully, without waking her, he disentangled himself from Debbie’s body and turned onto his back. He lay there, staring up at the none-too-clean ceiling of Room 21 in the Aurora Pines Motel, aware of Debbie’s blond hair seeming to light up the pillow as she lay beside him.
It must be almost morning, he thought, although the sun was not yet visible through the orange curtains. Outside the snow was piled high and the temperature was probably at least twenty below. The Iron Range was one of the coldest areas in the States, aside from Alaska. But in here, under several layers of woolen blankets, life was warm and peaceful. Lance had that rare feeling that time was standing still. Everything was here and now, one big silent moment spreading out in all directions, like concentric rings in the water. And he was lying in the middle of those rings with Debbie Ahonen beside him. Outside some big vehicle drove past, probably one of the trucks used in the open-pit mines. The windowpane rattled a bit, but Debbie slept on.
He turned his head to look at her. When she was sleeping, it was even more clear how beautiful she was; as if sleep erased all traces left by time and worry. She looked almost the same as he remembered her from nearly twenty-five years ago. All those intervening years no longer mattered. He thought about how they’d parked a few times at Baraga’s Cross that summer when they were together, sitting in the car and kissing. Something about the place attracted couples who could often be seen there, making out.
All of sudden Lance realized what Andy had been doing at Baraga’s Cross on that night.
49
THE NEXT DAY they went into the gas station in Finland, where Richie Akkola himself was manning the counter.
“You quit?” he said.
“Yep,” replied Debbie.
“How am I going to handle this place and the store at the same time?” Akkola grumbled.
“I guess you’ll have to find a way,” she said.
“So you’ve found yourself a new guy who can support you and your old mother. Is that right?”
Lance swiftly took a step forward, but the counter blocked his way.
“Well, you can have her,” Akkola went on. “Be my guest. Let me tell you what kind of dame she is.”
Before he could say another word, Lance jumped up so he was sitting on the counter. Then he swung his legs over the other side. Akkola started for the back door, but he wasn’t fast enough, and Lance managed to grab the back of his jacket collar.
“You fucking Finn!” he shouted.
Akkola flailed his arms about, trying to ram his elbow into his assailant, but he was a lightweight of a man and pushing seventy. After a brief scuffle, Lance got him turned around and delivered an uppercut that sent the old man crashing into the magazine rack. Richie collapsed onto the floor and lay there, partially buried under an avalanche of automotive and gun magazines. Lance looked around for a wrench, a tire iron, anything he could use to make mincemeat of the bastard once and for all. But he caught sight of Debbie, who had raised her hand to her mouth in surprise while at the same time she shook with laughter. And then he realized what he’d done. The area behind the counter looked like a war zone.
“Oi,” he exclaimed, which made Debbie double over with laughter.
This time he didn’t leap over the counter but instead walked to the end where there was a clear passageway out.
“What’s so funny?” he said with a stern expression.
Strange slurping noises were coming from behind the counter.
“Didn’t you see that he lost his dentures?” gasped Debbie.
They went over to the counter and peered down at the man who was slowly getting up on all fours. Debbie couldn’t stop laughing.
“If you report this,” said Lance, pointing a threatening finger at Akkola, “I’ll make sure you never get help from the police again. Somebody can rob you blind and burn down your house and hang your cat, but not a single officer will ever lift a finger to come to your aid. Do you hear what I’m saying?”
Akkola merely grunted as he fumbled for his dentures, which were lying on top of a hunting magazine.
50
LANCE PAUSED in the entrance to the pub at Fitger’s Brewhouse and looked at Chrissy, who was sitting alone at a corner table with a glass of what looked like Coke in front of her. She was wearing her usual black Goth coat, leaning back in her chair with her arms hanging limply at her sides, her eyes fixed on the table. Her face had a pallid glow in the dim light.
As Lance went inside, she looked up and caught sight of him.
“Are you living here now, or what?” he said, sitting down.
“Here?” asked Chrissy in surprise.
“In Duluth.”
“Nah.”
“Are you still going to school?”
“Not really.”
Lance ordered a Diet Coke from the same waiter who had asked them to leave the last time they were there.
“Been home?” he asked when the waiter was gone.
“Since when?”
“Two days ago, at the Kozy.”
“Don’t think so.”
Lance waited to say anything more until after the waiter brought his Coke.
“The trial starts on Monday,” he said then. “Lenny Diver is going to get a life sentence. Do you still think somebody else should be serving that time?”
Chrissy used the tip of her tongue to moisten her winter-dry lips.
“Yes. The person who actually did it,” she said.
“If Lenny didn’t do it, then it had to be you,” said Lance.
“What?”
Chrissy’s face was filled with fear.
“As you know, I’ve been working on the case in secret,” he said. “Yesterday I got a look at the murder weapon for the first time. And let me tell you, that was a surprise.”
Her eyes shifted uneasily.
“I don’t know how many times I’ve seen Andy swing that bat,” he went on. “But there it was, lying on the table in front of me. The murder weapon. His initials that he carved into the wood so many years ago . . . a V-shaped gouge from the time I threw down the bat and it hit a rock . . . They were all there.”
He gave his niece an expectant look. She was nervously fiddling with a strand of hair.
“Do you think you’ll be able to do the time?”
“You need to be very careful what you say,” Chrissy told him, but she was only a seventeen-year-old girl, venturing out on ice that got thinner with every word she spoke.
“Really?”
“Yes,” she said. “It’s a serious thing to accuse someone of—”
“Did you know Lenny Diver’s prints weren’t the only ones they found on the baseball bat?”
Lance interrupted her. “They just never checked them out after finding Lenny’s. I assume you’d be willing to give your fingerprints to the FBI, so they could compare them to the prints on the murder weapon. Right?”
Chrissy, who now looked even paler than usual, kept her eyes fixed on the table. It was for her sake that Andy had lied to Lance at the ranger station right after the murder was discovered. He did it to keep his daughter’s drug use and her relationship with Lenny Diver from becoming known. And that was when Lance’s suspicions had taken hold, because he knew his brother was lying.
“I know that you were there and that Andy showed up. Why don’t you tell me what happened?”
Chrissy raised her eyes and scowled.
“Everything?”
“From the very beginning. And the truth this time. Okay?”
She sighed.
“I hadn’t taken anything since Easter,” she began. “That was hard enough, but the worst part was that they refused to let me see Lenny. Mom picked me up at school every day, as if I were a fucking kindergartener. But we talked on the phone, and finally we agreed that I’d try to get permission to stay overnight with a girlfriend in Duluth—Jennifer. She knew about Lenny and me and was willing to help us.”
“Is that the same girlfriend who was your stand-in at the drama class?” asked Lance.
“No, that was someone else. Jesus, did you hear about that too?”
“Just tell me what happened,” he said.
“First I had to convince Mom that I deserved to go and that everything would be fine. And after that she had to persuade Dad. That’s how it’s always been. But finally they said yes. It was summer vacation and everything. I think they felt sorry for me.”
“Who is this Jennifer?”
“Jennifer Rawlins. Just a girl I know from high school.”
“If she lives in Duluth, she wouldn’t be going to school in Two Harbors.”
“There was some trouble at Central High, so her parents decided it would be best if she switched schools.”
“So when did she come over to pick you up?”
“I think it was around eight,” said Chrissy. “Mom and Dad said hi to her, and then we got in the car and supposedly headed for Duluth. But we just drove in a big arc around Two Harbors and over to Betty’s Pies, where Lenny was waiting. I haven’t seen Jennifer since. I called her a couple of times, but she didn’t want to talk. Maybe she suspected something. But even if she did, I don’t think she’s said anything.”
The Ravens (Minnesota Trilogy) Page 26
