Cat wished Dory would go. She wanted to be alone. Stride was right, though; she might run. Sometimes it wasn’t even a conscious thought. When she stayed in one place too long, she got claustrophobic, like she was in a box, and she had to get out before she ran out of air.
‘Why Stride?’ Dory asked. ‘Why’d you go to his place? You don’t know him.’
‘Mother liked him.’
‘That doesn’t mean anything. She liked your father, too. She didn’t see who he really was until it was too late. A fucking beast, that was Marty.’
Cat frowned. ‘Stop that. Don’t talk like that.’
‘Yeah, I know. Nothing bad about Marty. Jesus, Catalina.’ Dory grazed the chain on Cat’s neck with the back of her hand and Cat shrank from her. Her aunt’s face looked sunken, almost gray. ‘You think it’s so smart going to a cop?’
‘I trust him.’
‘Cops are trouble. I don’t care what he tells you. You always have to watch what you say, huh?’
‘He’s trying to help me.’
Dory shook her head. She looked like she wanted to say more, but she didn’t. Cat felt bad. She reached out and put a hand on her aunt’s leg. When she squeezed, she could feel bone, as if Dory were eroding under the weight of the world. I’d cut out my heart to go back and do things right.
‘I thought about killing a man last night,’ Cat told her. ‘I almost did it.’
Dory took the cigarette out of her mouth. Her eyes narrowed. ‘You?’
‘It would have been so easy. It scared me.’
Cat explained about the car salesman on the boat. What he wanted to do to her. How she hit him, how she held the knife and thought about plunging it into his body. Make him bleed. Make him die.
‘Sounds like he deserved it,’ Dory said.
Cat shook her head. ‘No, it was me.’
‘You still carry a knife, huh?’
Cat’s arm dropped to her calf, and her fingers slipped inside the leather of her boot. She’d found a knife inside a drawer when Dr. Steve left the room. The handle was stainless steel, cool against her skin. The blade was sharp and open, so she’d wrapped it in a piece of gauze.
‘Yeah. Always.’
‘You know what they say about knives and guns,’ her aunt said.
‘What?’
‘You keep them around, sooner or later you find a way to use them.’
Cat forced a hollow smile at Dory. She thought: Vincent.
7
‘ Don’t make me.’
‘You’re safe, Cat. You’re with me. You trust me, remember? Tell me what you heard that night.’
‘I didn’t hear anything.’
‘Cat, that isn’t true, is it? You were there. You can’t be free of the pain until you remember.’
‘There’s nothing. It’s blank. It’s always been blank.’
‘Your mother.’
‘No.’
‘Your mother.’
‘No, please.’
‘Relax, Cat. It’s safe. I’m here. No one can hurt you. When you wake up, you’ll be at peace. Now tell me about your mother.’
‘Scr-screaming. She was screaming.’
‘Screaming what?’
‘STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP No no no no no no.’
‘More, Cat.’
‘No no no no … oh God … oh God …’
‘What else did your mother say?’
‘Please … I’m dying … I’m dying …’
‘Your father was there, too. What did he say to her?’
‘Vincent, no. Don’t make me.’
‘Your father, Cat. What did he say? You have to trust me. You have to do this to be free of the past.’
‘He … he said …’
‘Tell me.’
‘I’ll kill you I’ll kill you I’ll kill you I’ll kill you I’ll kill you.’
‘Good. Tell me more.’
‘You fucking bitch, this is what you deserve! You cheating whore!’
‘Go on, Cat. What happened next?’
‘Silence.’
‘I don’t understand. Is it over?’
‘Silence.’
‘What’s happening, Cat? You’re still under the porch. What do you hear?’
‘Footsteps.’
‘Footsteps? Whose footsteps?’
‘Where’s the girl?’
‘What? Who’s talking?’
‘Where’s the girl?’
‘I don’t understand. Tell me what’s going on, Cat.’
‘Where’s the girl?’
‘Cat? Come back to me, Cat.’
‘I’ll protect you. It’s okay. I’ll protect you.’
‘Who’s talking, Cat?’
‘I’ll protect you.’
‘Cat? What’s happening? You’re safe. Trust me, Cat, it’s Vincent. Talk to me.’
‘BANG.’
‘What’s going on, Cat?’
‘Oh, no, no, no. He’s dead. They’re both dead. Oh, God.’
‘Your father?’
‘He killed him.’
‘What? Who?’
‘Sirens.’
‘Talk to me, Cat.’
‘I’ll protect you.’
‘Everything’s okay. What’s my name, Cat?’
‘Come out, it’s okay.’
‘My name, Cat. Who am I?’
‘Stride. My name is Stride.’
8
‘So?’ Maggie asked as Stride climbed into her yellow Avalanche, which was parked beside the ship.
Despite the frigid morning air, he lowered the window. He liked it cold. ‘Cat was there. She was on the boat.’
Maggie nodded but otherwise didn’t react. Her fingers drummed the steering wheel as Guns N’ Roses played on the radio. It was a big truck for a little woman, and she needed blocks to reach the pedals. She drove insanely fast, and the streaks and grooves in the paint testified to numerous collisions. Sergeant Guppo had suggested that the truck be registered as a weapon with the Bureau of Criminal Apprehension in St. Paul.
‘Anybody see anything?’ she asked.
‘No, they were busy with the other girls.’
‘Whose party was it?’
‘Leonard Keck.’
Maggie stopped drumming. She clicked off the stereo and gave him a Billy Idol snarl with her upper lip. ‘Lowball Lenny? Seriously? That sucks. K-2 will want us treating him with kid gloves.’
‘Yeah, the story is that Lenny left before the girls arrived. Convenient, huh?’
‘You think he hung around for the fun?’
Stride shrugged. ‘Everybody knows Lenny’s a playboy. I saw a condom wrapper in the lounge on the upper deck. Who do you think gets the top floor in that party?’
‘Okay, so what about Cat?’
He held up the evidence bag with the knife. ‘I found this down below.’
‘So you think this is legit? Someone really came after her last night?’
‘I don’t see any reason to think she’s lying.’
‘It could be a random assault. If someone saw a bunch of girls boarding the ship, this guy might have waited to see who came outside. It doesn’t mean anyone was targeting her specifically.’
‘That’s true,’ Stride said, ‘except for the other incidents she told me about. What did you find out about Cat’s background?’
Maggie didn’t need notes. It was all in her brain. ‘Nothing much that you don’t already know. Catalina Mateo, sixteen years old, daughter of Michaela Mateo and Marty Gamble, both deceased. Her mother had no living relatives other than her sister Dory, who was deemed unfit to care for the girl. Her father’s parents were alive, but were elderly. Custody went to a cousin of Marty’s, William Green, and his wife Sophie. They were named Cat’s legal guardians and still are. They have a house in West Duluth near the Oneota Cemetery.’
‘What’s the story on the Greens?’
‘Sophie Green is a secretary in a real estate office in Superior. William Green does highway construction labor. We�
��ve had reports on him for minor stuff, fights, drunk and disorderly, the usual busts for someone who hangs out at Curly’s Bar. I also found a couple arrests for him in Minneapolis in the last three years.’
‘For what?’
‘Solicitation,’ Maggie said. ‘The most recent was a month ago.’
‘What about Cat?’
‘It’s what you would expect, boss. The girl is vulnerable. I talked to the principal at Denfeld, who says Cat is absent from school as much as she’s there. Too bad, because the principal thinks she’s smart as hell.’
‘Arrests?’
‘Nothing yet, but don’t kid yourself — she’s spending a lot of time on the street. I described her to Guppo and he remembers seeing a girl like that in Lake Place Park where the homeless hang out. I also called Brooke at the shelter on First, and she says Cat is a regular. Guppo and Brooke both said the same thing. Sooner or later, something bad’s going to happen to this girl.’
‘That’s what I’m trying to stop,’ Stride said.
Maggie said nothing, but he watched her face turn sour.
‘What’s going on with you, Mags?’ he asked. ‘You obviously don’t like this girl. Why?’
‘I don’t know anything about her. Neither do you.’
‘She’s the daughter of an old friend. She’s a good kid in trouble. Do I need something more than that?’
Maggie shrugged. ‘Do whatever you want. You said it’s personal, right? So it’s none of my business.’
‘Except you’re giving me the cold shoulder all of a sudden. It feels to me like this is about something else.’
Her golden face swung toward him. ‘Meaning what?’
‘You know what I’m talking about. Is this about Cat, or is it about you and me?’
‘There’s no you and me,’ she retorted. ‘We tried, we failed. End of story. We said we weren’t going to talk about it anymore.’
‘Yeah, that’s what we said.’
Stride stared at his partner, whose fists were clenched around the steering wheel of the Avalanche. They’d been friends for years, as close as two people could be without being lovers. The trouble was, that had all changed. He knew things about her now that he was never meant to know. He knew about the birth mark on her upper thigh. He knew that she slept face down in her pillow and somehow didn’t suffocate. He knew that her ears got bright pink as she reached orgasm. Those were things he couldn’t put back in a box. He couldn’t will the knowledge out of his head.
Years earlier, his wife Cindy had warned him how easy it would be to break Maggie’s heart like the porcelain pieces of a Chinese doll. He’d treated her with kid gloves for years, but now he’d done what he always swore he never would. He’d gotten involved. He’d let it end badly. He’d wounded her in a way that no other man could.
She read his face and knew what he was thinking. ‘Spare me the sympathy. I’m a big girl.’
‘I know that.’
‘We fucked for, what, six weeks?’
He didn’t answer her. She was trying to make their brief affair sound unimportant by swearing about it. She wanted to pretend there had never been an emotional bond between them, which wasn’t true at all.
‘We were good at the fucking part,’ she went on. ‘I liked it. Did you like it? Or was this all in my head?’
‘Sure I did, but it’s not about that.’
‘I know. Look, it happened by accident. We both blew it. We knew this was never going to work out, and it didn’t. I don’t regret giving it a try, but I know you do. I’m sorry I screwed up your life.’
‘I never said I regretted it.’
‘You didn’t have to. Your poker face isn’t as good as you think, not with me. Whenever we were in bed, Serena was there with us, and not in a fun way.’
It wasn’t really funny. They didn’t laugh. He knew Maggie was right.
‘So what now?’ he asked.
‘Now we move on. We go back to the way things were.’
‘Just like that?’
‘I can if you can,’ she said.
‘Okay.’
‘Okay. Done. Let’s forget about it.’
He didn’t think anything was that easy.
‘Are you seeing someone?’ he asked.
‘Does it matter?’
‘I’m curious.’
‘Okay, yes, I’m seeing someone.’
‘Anybody I know?’
She sighed. ‘Fine. Remember Ken McCarty?’
‘Sure. Is he back in town?’
‘No, but we hooked up a couple weeks ago when he was here to get some evidence from the property room on a larceny case in Minneapolis. For now, it’s just sex. Nobody knows about it, and whatever you do, do not tell Guppo. I’ll never hear the end of it.’
‘Ken’s pretty young, Mags,’ he said. It was a joke, but it was the wrong thing to say.
‘Six years. He’s six years younger. I tried older men and that didn’t work out so well for me.’
He acknowledged the jab but didn’t poke back. He checked his watch and opened the door of the Avalanche. ‘I’ve got to pick up Cat at the clinic.’
‘Say hi to Steve.’
‘I will.’ Stride stepped down onto the street and looked back inside. He stared into the eyes of his best friend. ‘Can we really get past this? Are we good?’
Maggie shrugged. ‘Yeah, we’re good.’
But they weren’t. He wasn’t a fool.
9
‘Well, well, if it isn’t Jonathan Stride,’ Steve Garske announced, glancing up from the computer monitor in his examining room. He stripped his half-glasses off his face and eased his lanky frame backward on the rolling chair. ‘Usually, I need a crowbar to get you into my office. As long as you’re here, how about you turn your head and cough?’
Stride chuckled. ‘You put on those gloves and I’m heading for the door.’
‘Uh huh. You’re overdue for your physical, buddy. Again. One of these times, you could save me the trouble of calling your assistant and scheduling an appointment for you.’
‘I can hardly wait.’
‘No, you can’t, and you won’t. We’re both turning fifty soon. You know what that means. The big poke. Or as the joke goes in the medical biz, “I told my doctor I didn’t need a colonoscopy, and he told me to shove it up my ass.”’
‘Funny.’
Steve crossed his arms over his chest and gave Stride his best I’m-the-doctor frown. ‘I will see you here before summer, end of discussion. Got it?’
‘Okay, boss.’
Stride knew better than to argue with his friend.
Steve got up and stretched his arms over his head. He was able to lay his palms flat on the ceiling. At six-feet-five, Steve was one of the few men who towered over Stride. He was lean and casual, wearing a T-shirt and ratty jeans under his white coat. He walked with a slight stoop from a bad back. He had blond hair that needed a trim, and his pale skin was burnt red from a week in the sun. His nose had started to peel. Steve was a workaholic like Stride, but he allowed himself a seven-night cruise to the Caribbean twice a year.
‘So how was Nassau?’ Stride asked, pointing to Steve’s T-shirt, which showed the sky bridge at the Atlantis Casino.
‘Paradise. A week down there feels like a month. Time stands still. I really need to do a Kenny Chesney and move down there permanently. Play steel guitar in my swimsuit and get drunk on mai-tais with the island girls. That’s the life.’
‘You say that after every trip.’
‘I know, but this time it’s different. This time I’m really going.’
‘You say that every year, too.’
‘All right, fine. I will live in cold, gray Duluth for ever. I will be shoveling snow when I’m ninety-two. Happy? Anyway, you should come with me in the fall. A getaway would do you good.’
‘Maybe.’
‘When was your last vacation?’
‘Every day in Duluth is a vacation,’ Stride replied.
‘Uh huh. Sure
. This fall, buddy, clear your calendar.’
Stride smiled and held up his hands in surrender. ‘Okay, okay.’
He knew that Steve was right. He was overdue for a vacation, and Steve was probably his oldest friend. They were life-long Duluth boys who’d met as teenagers in the mid-1970s while they were jumping off rocks into the deeps of the Lester River during a hot August afternoon. They’d bonded on late-night runs to the House of Donuts and down-and-back trips to the State Fair on Labor Day before school started. That was a time when Stride still imagined he’d spend his life on the ore boats and Steve had a dream of making it big in Nashville. Their dreams didn’t survive the end of high school, but their friendship did. They’d stayed in touch while Steve was in medical school, and by the time he’d opened a practice at a clinic in Duluth, Stride had signed on as his first patient.
Steve had been his doctor through difficult times. He’d seen Stride and his wife through Cindy’s infertility treatments and then her cancer diagnosis and her swift, terrible death — a time in which Maggie and Steve were about the only people on the planet who kept Stride from sinking into a well of depression from which there was no escape. They still saw each other every few weeks to hang out, fish, hike, play Sara Evans albums, and get drunk on Miller Lite and bad memories. They both lived on the Point. They both loved country music, and Steve still played in a country band that did weekend concerts in dives all over the Iron Range. As men, they were completely different. Stride was closed-off and intense. Steve was as open to the whole world as an unbuttoned shirt and utterly unflappable. Even so, they shared the same passion for the place where they were born.
‘Maggie says hi,’ Stride said.
‘Uh huh. Seems to me I haven’t seen her big yellow tank parked outside your cottage lately. Am I right?’
‘You’re right.’
‘Her choice or yours?’ he asked.
‘Mutual.’
‘Yeah, well, that’s no surprise. I love her, but I never did see the two of you together. Now Serena? That’s another story. You should get that woman back in your life.’
‘When’s the last time you had a date, Steve? You’re like a priest doling out marital advice.’
His friend crossed himself and sprinkled imaginary holy water. ‘It mattereth not, my child. Do as I say, not as I do. Remember, I may not have sprouted the Garske seed, but I come from a family of nine siblings and God knows how many cousins, so I’ve seen more affairs, fights, break-ups, reunions, marriages, divorces, births and deaths than you will ever see in your shrinking lifetime.’
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