Ice Run

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Ice Run Page 17

by Steve Hamilton


  I knew I’d be feeling a little rough the next morning, yet again. It was becoming a way of life for me. I took some painkillers to try to get ahead of it.

  I was on my way out the door for a late dinner, already preparing my excuses for Jackie’s inevitable commentary on my new bruises, when the phone rang. It was Natalie.

  “I thought you were going to bed,” I said.

  “Alex.”

  “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “I had to call you,” she said. “I couldn’t let it wait until tomorrow.”

  “What is it?”

  “I can’t do this anymore, Alex. I’m sorry.”

  “Can’t do what? What are you talking about?”

  “Us,” she said, her voice wavering just a bit. “It’s not gonna work.”

  “I just talked to you a little while ago. What happened?”

  “Nothing, Alex. Nothing. I should have told you then.”

  “We already went through this once before, remember? I know you’ve got a lot of stuff going on in your life right now …”

  “Alex, please.”

  “Is it because I drove up to Batchawana Bay today?” I said. “I mean, I know that was a little crazy, but you’ve got to admit, the way it turned out—”

  “No, Alex. Please. It’s not that.”

  “You’re tired,” I said. “Come on, just sleep on it and I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  “You’re not making this any easier, Alex. Please.”

  “Please what? What do you want me to do?”

  “I don’t want you to do anything,” she said. “I just want you to …”

  “What, Natalie?”

  “We’re done,” she said, her voice hard again. “That’s all I can say right now, okay? We’re done for real this time.”

  “Just like that? I can’t even talk to you about this?”

  “No,” she said. “Do not come over here. Do not call me. Do you understand?”

  “You’re making it sound like I’m a stalker or something. I don’t think I deserve that.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “But this is the way it has to be. After a night with my mother, believe me, somebody has to tell the truth to somebody. This was never going to work, Alex. It was never going to work. Will you just believe me, please?”

  I held the phone. I looked out the window at the falling snow.

  “Natalie,” I said, “this can’t be it.”

  “It has to be. I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t believe it. I don’t.”

  “You have to.”

  “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  “No,” she said. “No, you won’t. Good night, Alex.”

  Then she hung up.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The next day was a bad one. The pain woke me up, one pain joined by others in a chorus singing at top volume inside me. I held a bag of ice over my eye, trying to remember when Grant had nailed me there. My ribs hurt where he had tackled me. My knee hurt. My hands felt like the arthritic claws of an invalid, the knuckles swollen and raw.

  Worst of all was the feeling that came to me just after I woke up, the biggest sucker punch of all, the sudden realization that the conversation with Natalie wasn’t a dream.

  I stayed inside all morning. It was the wrong way to deal with it, but so the hell what. I sure didn’t feel like going down to the Glasgow. Or seeing anyone. Or talking to anyone. I stayed inside with the ice pressed against my face and a bottle of painkillers sitting right there on my kitchen table. I found myself counting the minutes until I could take another one. A very bad sign, something I’d seen before. But I didn’t give one flying rat’s ass.

  I thought she would call me. I honestly believed that. She would call me. She would tell me it was all a mistake. It had been her terrible state of mind the night before. She had no idea what she was saying.

  Or else she would come over, just as she had before. One knock on the door and she would open it and step inside. Just like the last time.

  I had one lousy American beer in the fridge. I killed that, then opened up a bottle of Wild Turkey. I remembered the bottle we had shared at her house. This is Natalie’s brand, I thought. I wondered if she was drinking some herself that day, maybe sitting at that big table in the empty dining room with her mother. I wondered if she was feeling bad.

  Here’s to you, Natalie. Here’s to you.

  I would have sat there all day, just like that. I would have drunk. I would have filled up my ice bag. I would have counted the minutes until I could take my next pill. That would have been the whole day, right there.

  But then it started to snow.

  It snowed hard enough that I had to make a choice. I could stay inside all day and let it bury me, or I could go out, no matter how bad I felt, and fight it.

  What’s it gonna be, Alex? I looked in the mirror. What’s it gonna be?

  I threw my coat on, went outside, and fired up the truck. I ran the snowplow up and down the road a couple of times, then switched to the shovel. The hard work made me feel sick to my stomach, but I kept going. I punished myself. When I had the last cabin dug out, I leaned over and threw up like Mount Vesuvius all over the snowbank. When I was done, I shoveled it all away and covered it up with more snow.

  Then I figured, what the hell. I’m going to Jackie’s.

  He dropped his towel when I stepped into the place. He stood there looking at me for a long time, then he just shook his head and asked me if I wanted an omelet.

  “That would be just what the doctor ordered,” I said. “I’ve got a pretty empty tank right now.”

  “I see you didn’t listen to anything I told you the other day.”

  “I listened, Jackie. I really did.”

  “She dragged you right into it, didn’t she? Who was it this time? The same three guys?”

  “No, just one,” I said. “I’m sure he’s looking pretty bad, too.”

  “This isn’t a game, Alex. You’re gonna get yourself killed.”

  “You may not have to worry anymore.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “If you don’t mind, I’d rather not talk about it right now. Let’s just say that Natalie and I are taking a little break again.”

  I couldn’t tell if he was buying that one, but he made me my omelet and brought it over to me by the fireplace. When I was done eating, I put my feet up. I almost started to feel a little better than miserable.

  Vinnie came in a little while later. He stood over me, studying my face like an insurance adjuster examining a car wreck.

  “Alex,” he said, “you’re not that good-looking when you’re healthy. You can’t afford to keep making things worse.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “I knew you’d make me feel better.”

  “You gonna tell me what happened this time?”

  “Eventually. If you sit here long enough.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” he said. He sat down in the other chair and put his feet up next to mine. His face was windburned, and now that he had taken the tape off his ear, you could see where the bullet had ripped off a good chunk of it. Between the two of us, we must have looked like the unluckiest pair of losers in the whole world.

  Our luck turned even worse when the door opened. Michael Grant stepped in, brushing the snow off his shoulders. He was holding a hat. The hat. He looked the place over, stopping when he saw me sitting there by the fire.

  “McKnight,” he said as he came over to me. There was a big purple bruise on his left cheek, and he had a shiner around his right eye. But aside from that he didn’t look half as bad as I did. It didn’t make me any happier to see him standing in my bar.

  “What are you doing here?” I said.

  I didn’t bother to stand up. But Vinnie did. Grant gave him a cool, even look and introduced himself. “Alex and I had a little episode yesterday,” he said.

  “What about at the funeral? Was that an episode, too?”

  “No,” Grant sai
d. “That was a very bad day for everyone.”

  “Vinnie, sit down,” I said.

  He did, with obvious reluctance.

  “I asked you what you were doing here,” I said to Grant.

  “I came to give you this,” he said. He held up the hat.

  “I don’t want it,” I said.

  “I figured Ms. Reynaud might.”

  “I wouldn’t know. You’ll have to ask her.”

  He looked down at me. “You’re making this hard, McKnight.”

  “How did you even know I’d be here?”

  “You’re in the book. When I drove by, I recognized your truck out front.”

  I took the hat from him. “Okay, I’ve got the hat. You can leave now.”

  “I need to talk to you. Maybe your friend can excuse himself for a minute.”

  “Maybe his friend can kick your ass all the way back to the Soo,” Vinnie said.

  Grant put his hands up. “I came to talk,” he said. “That’s it. I don’t want any more trouble.”

  “Then you picked the wrong place,” Vinnie said.

  “All right, take it easy,” I said. “If the man has something to say, let him say it.”

  “Can we talk outside?”

  “So we can freeze to death?”

  “This’ll only take a minute, McKnight. It’s about Ms. Reynaud.”

  I was about to tell him I was officially not interested in that topic anymore, but I figured it was none of his business. “You’ve got one minute,” I said.

  “Don’t go out there,” Vinnie said.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “I don’t think he’s gonna try anything stupid. Not on my home field.”

  “Just sit down here,” Vinnie said, getting up. “I’ll be over at the bar.”

  Grant didn’t look happy about it, but when Vinnie left us alone, he sat down in the empty chair across from me.

  “You spend a lot of time here?” he asked.

  “You’re wasting your minute.”

  “Look, we don’t have to have a Kodak moment here, okay? Let’s just say I feel bad about the way things have happened.”

  “That’s big of you.”

  “You never went over to Marty’s house.”

  “No,” I said. “I didn’t.”

  “I called him, told him to expect you.”

  “Yeah? Sorry if he was disappointed.”

  “I told him what you told me, about Natalie Reynaud in Blind River. I asked him if he knew anything about her. I also asked him if he was in Batchawana Bay that day.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He said he was up there. You were right.”

  “Did he say why?”

  “No,” Grant said. “He said he’d tell me about it later.”

  “Did he?”

  “That was yesterday. I haven’t heard from him since.”

  “Since yesterday?”

  “I called his wife. Marty never came home last night. Never called. Nothing. He just disappeared. I’ve been looking all over.”

  “So why did you come here?”

  “I’m worried, McKnight. I’m running out of ideas. You remember what I was telling you about the devil of Blind River?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I was thinking your friend Natalie might know something,” he said. “Have you talked to her about this?”

  “Not today.”

  “I thought the two of you were close.”

  “Your minute just ended.” “He said one more thing, McKnight. I think it’s important.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He said he didn’t know the devil’s family still lived in Blind River.”

  I thought about that one. It found its way into my gut and started eating at me.

  “Grant,” I finally said, “are you telling me—”

  “I tried to look her up, McKnight. She’s not listed. I had no idea how to contact her.”

  “I’ll call her right now,” I said. I told him to stay where he was, then went to the bar and grabbed Jackie’s phone. Vinnie and Jackie were both there, watching me. I gave them a little nod of my head and dialed.

  The line was busy.

  I let him sit over there by the fire for a few minutes while I waited to try again. The line was still busy.

  Grant got to his feet just as I was hanging up again. He didn’t say a word. He just walked out the door.

  I watched him go out, then looked over at Jackie and Vinnie. They were as confused as I was. When I headed for the door myself, Vinnie tried to follow me. I told him to go sit back down. I was just going to see what the hell Grant was doing.

  When I opened the door, I saw Grant pacing back and forth next to my truck. It was snowing harder now. There was already a thin white layer on Grant’s head.

  “What are you doing out here?” I said. I had brought the hat out with me.

  “There was no answer when you called her?”

  “The line was busy.”

  “Both times?”

  “Yeah, both times.”

  “I tell you,” he said. He started pacing back and forth. “I got a real bad feeling about this. I think we should go out there.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Come on, you gotta help me. You gotta take me out to her house.”

  “You are serious.”

  “Yes,” he said. “Aren’t you worried?”

  “I can’t believe this …” I looked up at the falling snow. Truth was, I was getting just as worried as he was, no matter how things stood between Natalie and me.

  “Please, McKnight. I’m begging you.”

  “Hold on,” I said.

  I went back inside and called her one more time. The line was still busy. I told Jackie and Vinnie what I had to do. Jackie yelled at me. Vinnie just shook his head. Then I went back outside.

  “Let’s go,” I said. “I’m driving.”

  “Okay,” he said. He got in and we took off toward the Soo.

  We weren’t even out of Paradise yet when I happened to look over at him. He was holding the hat in his lap and rocking his head back and forth, ever so slightly. It looked like he was wound tighter than piano wire. Then for one quick moment I looked down and spotted something gray and metallic in his coat pocket.

  “Hey, look at that,” I said, pointing out his side window.

  “What?”

  I jammed on the brakes and sent him flying into the dashboard. As he was bouncing back, I reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the gun. I had it pointed right at his head before he knew it was gone.

  “What the hell’s going on?” I said to him. “What were you gonna do with this?”

  He caught his breath and looked at me. The gun was two inches from his forehead.

  Something was wrong. The gun didn’t feel right. It was way too light.

  “What the hell?” I said, pulling it away from his head.

  “It’s not real,” he said.

  “It’s plastic,” I said. “It’s a cheap plastic toy. What the hell are you doing with a toy gun in your pocket?”

  He started to say something. He gave up and shrugged his shoulders.

  “Was this gonna be for me? In case I didn’t help you?”

  He didn’t look at me. He picked the hat off the floor of the truck and brushed it off. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “I should just beat the living shit out of you right now,” I said. “You were gonna pull a toy gun on me?”

  “I never would have used a real one. Give me that much.”

  “Could you be any more of a jackass?” I took my foot off the brake and headed down the road again. “A toy gun. What were you gonna do when we got to customs?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Look, I told you I’m worried sick. My brother never disappeared before, okay? I wasn’t thinking straight.”

  I shook my head and kept driving. Grant stayed quiet for a while. The snow started to come down harder. I began to worry about making it all the way
out to Blind River. “I don’t know why you’re doing this now,” he finally said. “But I appreciate it.”

  “Just shut the hell up,” I said. “I’m not doing it for you. If your stupid brother is over at her house, or if anything has happened to Natalie, I swear I’m gonna go after all three of you guys, one by one.”

  He nodded his head slowly. “Fair enough.”

  I rolled down the window, letting in an icy blast of air. “I’m gonna throw this away, if you don’t mind. If the customs guy sees it, he might not be amused.”

  I threw it into the snowbank, then rolled up my window.

  “I hate real guns,” he said. “All my life, since I was a little kid. Never went hunting with my father or anything. That was always Marty.”

  “I’m not too fond of guns, either.”

  I picked up the cell phone and called Natalie again. The line was still busy. That didn’t make sense to me. She wasn’t the type of person to sit around talking on the phone all day.

  “So tell me,” I said, putting the phone down, “if your father said the devil lived in Blind River, I’m thinking that had to be Natalie’s father, Jean Reynaud. You ever hear that name?”

  “No, I don’t think so. I just heard the last name.”

  “You’ve got no idea what might have happened between them? Your father and Jean Reynaud?”

  “I really don’t. Like I said, he might have told Marty something. He was the favorite son, after all.”

  I picked up on the bitterness in his voice, but I wasn’t about to pursue it.

  “What about New Year’s Eve?” I said. “Did your father ever say anything about that?”

  He looked at me. “Which one?”

  “There was a party over at the Ojibway, New Year’s Eve, 1973. You think your father might have been there?”

  “I was a teenager,” he said. “I don’t remember it, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he was there. My father knew everybody.”

  “Think he might have taken Natalie’s father outside and shot him in the back of the head?”

  “God, what are you saying?”

  “Is it possible?”

  Grant just shook his head slowly.

  “Let’s say he did,” I said. “Of course, first he made him take off his hat.”

 

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