“I don’t think this was about Iryna. Bobby’s too levelheaded. He grew up turning the other cheek. And Valentine had too much to lose. The job, the lifestyle. All over a girl? It’s more likely this had something to do with his father’s death.”
“Which makes no sense whatsoever.”
“Which is why I’m here.”
“I’m going to see Bobby this morning,” Johnny said.
“Are you going to ask him about his brush with Valentine at the hockey rink?”
“Yeah, but if he’s not talking it’s not going to get me anywhere.”
“All you can do is try.”
Johnny cleared his throat. “Yeah, right. Trying is not going to make you feel better if there’s a guilty verdict. There’re plenty of bigger names that will take this case given the publicity it might get.”
“No—”
“We talked about this before. Reputation matters with judges and prosecutors. I graduated Rutgers, not Harvard. I’ve got no pedigree, and I’ve got no shame. I’ll represent anyone. I don’t play basketball with any judges. The bigger names do. Bobby might be better off with one of those bigger names.”
“No. You know everything that happened last year. Everything. You’re the only one I trust. And I don’t want to discuss this again.”
They discussed logistics and hung up.
Johnny did the rest of his resistance workout without pausing between sets. He imagined two scenarios. In the first, the judge dismissed the case because of a legal maneuver. In the second, a jury found him innocent after Johnny delivered a stirring closing argument. In both cases, Nadia expressed her gratitude by kissing him, and what was supposed to be a gentle thank you turned into something more.
Something much more.
CHAPTER 14
SEABIRDS CIRCLED LITTLE Diomede Island, an American territory in the Arctic Circle off the northern coast of Alaska. They nested in the cliffs that surrounded the village. The early morning sun shimmered on the snow-capped sea.
Lauren followed her tour guide along the rock walkway. The village consisted of four rows of houses, thirty buildings max. She’d seen the Native Store, Washeteria, and clinic, bingo hall and the armory. It was 10° outside. Lauren was wearing a parka but never stopped shivering.
Her tour guide’s name was Karen Kuvalik. The trail of clues from Kotzebue had led Lauren to Karen and her husband, Sam. They knew Bobby Kungenook and his real story. Lauren was sure of it. Convincing them to part with the truth, however, was going to take some persuasion. Lauren was prepared to do whatever was necessary. If the locals were protecting Bobby Kungenook, the story had to be about more than hockey. It could be a simple matter of illegal immigration, but her gut told her otherwise. Cops didn’t point rifles at reporters’ heads to protect an illegal immigrant. Lauren suspected this was the type of story that created international headlines.
“So you know Ricky Wells?” Karen said. She spoke in a monotone.
“No. I don’t really know him. I’m producing a show on the Kobuk 440. And Ricky’s a top competitor. I know he comes out to Diomede once a year to hunt polar bears, and I thought that would be interesting to our viewers. I asked if he wanted to come out with me but he couldn’t take time off from work.” That was true, but the entire exercise was an excuse to meet with Karen and Sam.
“That’s too bad. I never met him. I’ve seen him from a distance but I never met him. He’s still single, isn’t he?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t ask. I thought you were married, Karen.”
“I am. But my sister isn’t.”
“Ah. I see. I imagine the pickings are slim on the island.”
Karen shot her a look. “What does that mean?”
“No, no,” Lauren said. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
“What did you mean?”
“Literally what I said. There are one hundred thirty-five people living on your island. How many age appropriate single men can there be?”
“It’s even worse than that.”
“It is?”
“Yeah. There’s basically four families in the village. Pretty much everyone’s related.”
“Yikes. That is a problem.”
“Yeah. I was lucky. I got my Sam when I was eighteen. No sense wasting time, you know? When you see something you want, you have to go get it.”
“Tell me about it. So if you want to get married and live on Diomede…”
“You have to go find a boyfriend on the mainland and bring him back. You have to go find a man who loves you so much he’s willing to live on Inalik.”
“Inalik?”
“Diomede Village is called Inalik. Diomede Island is called Ignaluk. A Danish navigator by the name of Vitus Bering found the island in 1728. It was the same day the Russian Orthodox Church was celebrating the day of their martyr, St. Diomede. That’s how the island got its Anglo name. He was beheaded.”
“Who was beheaded?”
“St. Diomede.”
Lauren remembered the Seelicks talking about beheadings in Kotzebue. An eerie sense of foreboding washed over her. “I heard something like that before. How did your mother find your father? Did he live in the village or did she have to go outside?”
“He lived in Wales. It’s the westernmost town on the mainland. She used to go to Wales with my grandmother to get supplies. For ivory carving. He was helping his father out in the store. He carried supplies to her taxi. One time, she slipped and fell on the ice, and he was there to help her up.”
“I bet she didn’t slip.”
“No. I don’t think so. How about your mother?”
“Excuse me?”
“How did your father meet your mother? Was she a reporter like you?”
“My mother?” Lauren stumbled on a protruding rock. “I haven’t seen my mother in a long time.”
“But how did your father meet your mother?”
“My mother was an actress. My father was her manager.” Until she stopped getting work, Lauren thought.
They arrived at the front door to a small wooden home tucked into the side of the cliff. The front of the house rested on stilts to remain level.
The inside was clean and simple. Lauren met Karen’s sister. She was watching over Karen’s two children, a boy and a girl. They played in the living room. Karen served coffee in the kitchen. A folding door provided privacy.
Lauren could sense she was on the verge of the biggest break of her career. She reminded herself to be patient, let the conversation come naturally.
“You owe me fifty dollars,” Karen said.
“I do?” Lauren said.
“Yeah. It’s the fee for entry into the native corporation. The village is incorporated and charges visitor fees to help pay for the basics. I should have collected it when I met you at the helicopter but I…I don’t know. It seemed a little rude, you know? Hi, how are you, give me some money.” She opened a folder and removed a pad full of official receipts. “Can you spell your name for me?”
Lauren spelled her name and paid the fee. She folded the receipt and put it in her bag.
“Is your husband here?” Lauren said. “I need to get back to New York as quickly as possible. I was hoping I could interview him right away.”
“Sam’s not home.”
“When do you expect him back?”
“Hard to say. He left on a hunt yesterday. Usually takes them five to ten days to find a bear.”
“But I was told he’d be available for an interview,” Lauren said. “He’s the master hunter. That’s why I came here.”
“Don’t worry. There’s another hunter who can talk to you. He couldn’t go out on account of a sprained ankle. I can call and get him over here now if you like.”
“No, don’t do that.” Lauren sighed. “You seem like a nice person, Karen. Your kids ar
e beautiful. I would have rather had this conversation with your husband, but I’m afraid I have no choice.”
“What do you mean?”
“I didn’t come here to research polar bear hunts.”
“You didn’t?”
“No.”
“Then why did you come here?”
“Last April you and Sam hosted a young boy for three nights. Do you remember that boy?”
Karen’s expression tightened. “No.”
“The pilot who flew him out, Dan Garner? He told me he flew out a boy and a young woman to Nome last year. Said it was done on the QT. Said Sam snuck them onto the helicopter.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Lauren showed Karen a picture of Bobby. “This is the boy who stayed here with you. Probably sat in this very kitchen. He calls himself Bobby Kungenook but I’m guessing that’s not his real name.”
Karen glanced at the picture and turned her eyes away.
Lauren showed Karen a picture of Nadia. She’d taken it during one of Bobby’s hockey games. “This is the woman who was with him. Her name is Nadia Tesla.”
“Never met her. Never seen her. And she’s never been in my house, that’s for sure.”
“You didn’t even bother to look at the picture.”
“You should go now.”
“Okay, Karen. I can do that. I can leave right now. But I’d ask you to reconsider. I’d hate for this to get out and for you and Sam to be arrested.”
Shock registered on Karen’s face. “Arrested? For what?”
“Aiding and abetting illegal immigration. That’s a felony. And if the boy you helped is a felon himself for any reason, aiding and abetting a felon.”
“Why would you think the boy’s a felon? I mean, if there were a boy. Why would you think that?”
“I’m not saying he’s a felon. I’m suggesting that he could be one. After all, how much did you really know about him?”
A child’s laughter filtered in from the living room. Karen glanced at the door.
“Garner is in federal custody on bootlegging charges,” Lauren said. In fact, she’d let him go after he told her everything to stay true to her word. Apologized to the Feds and told them she was mistaken about the bootlegging. “Illegal distribution of alcohol in dry communities. The ATF agents haven’t asked him about Bobby yet. Why should they? They don’t know anything about them. But if they somehow found out he helped sneak a boy in from Russia or Ukraine…That is what happened, isn’t it?”
Karen glanced at Lauren.
“I just want to know where the boy came from,” Lauren said. “I have no doubt you and Sam meant well. No doubt. I’ll do everything possible to protect you.”
Tears welled in Karen’s eyes. “We got kids. We can’t go to jail.”
“You’re not going to go to jail if you tell the truth. You helped a stranger. No one goes to jail for that. It’s the lies. People go to jail for covering up the truth.”
Karen stared at Lauren for a moment. One of the children squealed with delight. Karen sighed.
“Okay,” she said. “But if we’re going to talk about this, I need a drink first.”
Karen went to the pantry and brought back a bottle of molasses and two glasses. At least that’s what the label said. She poured two doubles of what smelled like bourbon.
“I thought Diomede was a dry village,” Lauren said.
“It is.”
“Then what is this, for medicinal purposes?”
“No, for baking. I make bourbon cookies.” She slid a glass toward Lauren.
“It’s nine in the morning, Karen.”
“Yeah but it’s midnight in Eastern Europe.”
Karen knocked back her entire drink in one gulp. She stared at Lauren as though waiting for her to do the same. Karen’s reference to Eastern Europe wasn’t random, Lauren thought. She downed her bourbon. Savored the burn in her throat. She was about to get the scoop of her life.
“Are you ready for the truth?” Karen said.
“Yes.”
Karen nodded. “The truth is…Sam’s not on a polar bear hunt. He’s working on his snow machine at the launching dock. He can tell you everything. Put your coat on and follow me. You can leave your bag. No one will touch it. We’ll be right back.”
They climbed down a path along the cliff to the edge of the frozen sea. A man kneeled before a snowmobile, right glove off, tinkering with the track. His round face was flush from exertion.
He smiled when he saw Karen. “Hey. What are you doing—” He froze. Lauren spied fear, not anger in his eyes.
Karen introduced Lauren to her husband. Sam questioned Karen with an earnest expression.
“Dan Garner’s been arrested,” Karen said.
“What?” Sam said.
As Karen explained the charges, her sister emerged from their house above. She shouted something incomprehensible. Sam nodded at Karen for her to go.
Karen glanced at Lauren. “One of our kids banged his head.” She turned to Sam. “She won’t stop asking questions until she understands what happened. Don’t lie. People go to jail when they lie.”
Karen left. Sam resumed his tinkering.
“Why is this so important to you?” Sam said.
“It’s my job.”
“It’s your job to ruin people’s lives?”
“No. It’s my job to reveal the truth.”
“Even if it ruins people’s lives? Why would you want a job like that?”
“We all have our calling. Mine is to dig.”
Sam stood up. “I’m almost done here. Do me a favor. Take a seat. Hold the handlebars as though you were riding it so the weight is distributed like it would be. I just put in new shocks in the rear suspension. I want to make sure they’re on right. You ever been on one of these?”
“Yes, I’ve ridden a snowmobile.” Men and their assumptions. She slipped onto the snowmobile and grabbed the handlebars. “When the boy who calls himself Bobby Kungenook showed up on this island, where did he come from?”
A shadow appeared on the snow in front of her. A hand reached over her shoulder. It was a man’s hand with calluses like scallops. It flipped a red switch, turned the key, and pulled the starter cord. The engine hummed.
Robert Seelick Sr. appeared at her side. “Before you ask a question, you should be sure you want the answer.” He yanked a lever beside the steering column.
The snowmobile surged.
Lauren’s neck snapped back. She teetered. Grasped the steering wheel. The snowmobile accelerated. The wind whipped her face. She lowered her head beneath the windshield. The throttle, Lauren thought. She pulled the throttle to the left. It wouldn’t budge. She pulled harder. It didn’t move. She squeezed the brake handle. Nothing. She squeezed again. It didn’t work.
Snow flew. Shards of ice stuck to the windshield. The engine sang. Lauren clung to the handlebars. She yanked the throttle, squeezed the brake again. Still nothing. She tried to turn the ignition off. The key wouldn’t budge. She turned harder. It wouldn’t move. It was stuck in the on position.
Tufts of fog obscured the horizon. Lauren couldn’t brake. She couldn’t cut the power. She was going too fast to turn—how fast was she going? Didn’t these things go more than a hundred miles per hour? She didn’t heed Seelick’s warning in Kotzebue. She’d taken one risk too many to find the truth about the boy. Now she was going to die. Alone. In the middle of the Bering Strait.
But what choice did she have? She had to dig. It’s what she did. The memory that persecuted her asserted itself. If she dug hard and fast enough, she might save her mother yet. Her mother was waiting for her help. All she had to do was get there in time—
The engine sputtered. The snowmobile slowed, lurched, and resumed its pace. Another ten seconds passed. The engine burbled,
quaked, and died. The snowmobile coasted into the fog. Lauren wiped snow off the fuel gauge. It was empty. They’d forgotten to fill the gas tank.
Euphoria gripped Lauren. She was going to survive. She wasn’t going to die after all. She’d only been gone for what—ninety seconds? Two minutes at most. There had to be a border patrol of some kind. Someone would see her—
An alarm sounded.
They’d found her already.
Ask and ye shall receive, Lauren thought. She could see only twenty feet through the fog but she could hear human voices and the sound of a motor. Coming at her. Sam Kuvalik and Robert Seelick had aimed the snowmobile away from the island, but the initial thrust must have changed her trajectory. She’d probably travelled on a diagonal from one side of the island to another side. Everyone had heard the engine, and someone in the watchtower had seen her.
There had to be a watchtower, right? Hell, this was the Arctic tip of the American frontier.
Lauren climbed off the snowmobile. Her back stiffened. Her legs trembled. As the fog rolled, the island came in and out of view, about a mile away. Strange, Lauren thought. Somehow, it looked bigger.
Four men with rifles burst through the fog. They wore white uniforms and fur hats. One of them shouted something but the wind swept his words away. The men aimed their rifles at Lauren.
She raised her hands in the air. “Are you guys the border patrol?”
The soldier answered but this time an engine drowned out his voice. A jeep emerged from the fog. It stopped on the ice beside the soldiers. The engine idled. Four more armed soldiers piled out. They aimed their rifles at Lauren.
Several soldiers spoke. The island loomed even larger in the background. There were no settlements on the lower ridge.
This time Lauren understood. She understood that Sam Kuvalik and Robert Seelick had made no mistakes. They’d aimed the snowmobile in the perfect direction. She’d run out of gas at the precise spot. Karen Kuvalik hadn’t made any mistakes, either. Lauren had left her purse and wallet behind. She had no passport. She had no ID. And her breath reeked of whiskey even though it was still morning.
What Lauren could not understand was a word the soldier was saying.
The Boy Who Stole From the Dead Page 8
