Maiden Rock

by Mary Logue

  If he was careful, he could come back and get more ammonia from this same tank. The farmer might never know.

  He had to watch what he was doing. The canister was full. Exercising great care, he got the top on without too much leaking out. He hoisted it to his hip and started to walk back to his truck.

  His pants were falling down as he walked. None of his clothes fit anymore. He had lost about sixty pounds in the last six months. He had played football last year at the high school, but he didn’t even try out this fall. Hell, he barely went to school anymore. His mom had threatened to kick him out of the house. It didn’t matter. He was hardly ever home.

  He jumped into the pickup truck and headed to the trailer Hitch was renting. His skin was starting to crawl. It felt like it was peeling off his face. Someday he’d wake up and he’d be so thin, he’d just walk out of his skin.

  He didn’t feel like he existed anymore unless he had just gotten a hit. That seemed to be all he lived for.

  Jared wondered what had happened to Winona. That’s what she had insisted on being called tonight, saying she was some kind of Indian maiden. It had felt a little weird to leave her out there at that rock, but she had a car.

  Jared had always thought she was cute. He thought of driving back and checking on her, but he really needed to get the next batch made.

  CHAPTER 2

  4:00 a.m.

  Edwin Sandstrom had to pee. It was so hard to leave the warmth of the bed, but once he had the urge, he knew he wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep until he satisfied it. His middle-of-the-night wakings were becoming more frequent. Ella was bugging him to get his prostate checked. He didn’t really want to hear what the doctors might have to say. No sense in fussing around with his old equipment.

  As he walked down the hallway, he calculated how much liquid he’d had to drink that evening: milk with dinner, a glass of water after, then a cup of tea with Ella before bed. Maybe he should cut back on his intake.

  Then he remembered that it had been Halloween. Maybe it was the candy that did it. They had bought two bags of candy, but only three kids came trick or treating. Not like twenty years ago when a crew would show up. He had eaten quite a few of the Butterfingers, his favorite. Maybe the sugar irritated his bladder, causing him to pee. He thought it as good a theory as any.

  After relieving himself, he washed his hands and stooped in close to the bathroom mirror. He wondered, as he often did, who that old man was. Going to be eighty next week. Too old. But since he had married Ella he felt a new lease on life. Maybe

  a prostate exam wasn’t a bad idea. Ella was seven years younger than he was and he didn’t intend on leaving her alone at the end of her life.

  Before going back to bed, Edwin peered out the bathroom window. That old beater car was still parked out by the Maiden Rock. If he could see better, he’d probably recognize it.

  That old rock lured kids to it like bees to honey, always had. When he was growing up his mother had told him the ghost of Winona haunted the rock. She said sometimes at night you could hear her sing. She warned him to stay away from the rock, especially when there was a full moon, when the maiden Winona would be looking for her Indian brave. Of course, as soon as he was big enough to climb out his bedroom window, he would go out at night and sit on the rock. To his great disappointment, he never saw any ghost, but he learned to love that hypnotic view of the river sparkling in the moonlight.

  He had heard a couple of cars drive out there earlier this evening. He didn’t care if the local teenagers parked out at the rock for a while, but these young lovers had been at it almost all night. He had half a mind to call the sheriff, but the house was cold and his bed was warm.

  Edwin steadied himself by running his hand along the wall as he walked back down the hallway. If the car was still there when he got up in the morning, he’d call. He didn’t want kids camping out there. Too dangerous. The Maiden Rock had been in his family for over a hundred years. He felt like it was his responsibility

  Addison Spaulding had purchased one hundred and twenty-six acres of land that included the Maiden Rock from the Indians in 1873. Edwin’s great-grandfather, Gaylord Sandstrom, had bought it seventeen years later, along with forty acres of land.

  As far as Edwin knew—since Winona—no one had ever fallen or jumped from the rock. He didn’t want the first accident to be on his watch.

  ***

  4:08 a.m.

  Yesterday, Meg had sworn him to secrecy when he picked her up from school. She was bursting with the news that she liked a boy and he liked her. However, she hadn’t said the kid’s name.

  Rich hadn’t wanted to promise, but she assured him that she would tell her mom in the immediate future, right after the party. He wondered if he had made a mistake. Could this late night prank have anything to do with Meg’s secret? He didn’t see how.

  Rich decided he might as well put on some coffee. Claire had left a few minutes ago to go to the Jorgenson’s, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep. He wasn’t as shaken by Meg staying out late as Claire was, but he didn’t feel easy about it. Meg was one of his favorite people in the world and he certainly didn’t want to think about anything happening to her.

  Claire took the cell phone with her. She asked him to call her if he heard anything, although reception was spotty along the bluff.

  As far as he was concerned it was about time they gave Meg a cell phone. Then incidents like this would never happen. Although kids can always come up with an excuse for not answering their cell phones when they didn’t feel like it. He hated the contraptions himself; he especially hated the tall blinking

  towers they were constructing all along the bluffs on both sides of the river so people could communicate with each other no matter what hollow or hillside they were on.

  Was he a bit of a Luddite, or just turning into a crotchety old man? He liked being someplace where no one could reach him. Wasn’t that what the frontier was about? Being out on your own in the wilderness? But there was little wilderness left in this world. By the time he died there might be almost none. Morbid, middle-of-the-night thoughts.

  He glanced at the kitchen clock. It was a quarter after four. This time of year, it would get light shortly after six in the morning.

  Meg would show up before then, he was sure. She said she would tell her mom today about this potential boyfriend.

  “He’s smart. He reads. He likes to talk about books and he notices things.” Meg said when she tried to explain to Rich how great this kid was.

  “Sounds like a real scholar.”

  “You know, I think he is and that’s unusual these days. I’ve liked him for a couple months, but I never imagined he felt the same way about me.” Meg bounced in the car seat next to him.

  “It’s a little complicated,” she explained, “Another girl’s involved. I’m sure it’ll all work out.”

  “So’s this guy going to be at the party tonight?” Rich asked.

  Meg beamed and nodded. Rich was happy for her. She sounded ecstatic and he remembered for a flash what that burst of young love could feel like. Euphoric. Life-changing. All consuming.

  Rich wondered if Meg had decided to stay out all night with this kid, if they had driven down some deserted farm road to make out and gotten stuck. But what about Krista? Maybe the three of them had driven up to the Cities on a lark. Who knew what kids would do these days? Certainly nothing he hadn’t thought of or done when he was their age.

  He remembered the first time he stayed out all night. He had been seventeen. Old enough to join the army, but too young to vote or drink. His father was making coffee when Rich walked in the kitchen door. He had barely glanced at Rich. Then he said, “I’m going to Wabasha to get some feed. I’ll talk to you when you wake up.” Rich had wished he would have blown up at him right then. Waiting had made it harder. In the end his father hadn’t even been that mad. Just gave him more chores to do.

  Rich was more worried about Claire than he
was about Meg. She took these escapades very hard. She saw the world as an evil, dangerous place and her daughter as its primary target. He neither believed in the safety of the home, nor feared the dangers of the larger world. He figured you took care of yourself the best you could and rolled when the punches came.

  He had all the confidence in the world that Meg would make her way through the worst of it better than most. She was more than a survivor; she was an adventurer.

  ***

  4:15 a.m.

  The moon was falling into the lake as Claire took a last look at it before she turned the squad car up the bluff. She wound her way past a gravel pit, then came out into cornfields, as the

  sky lightened in the east. Crows dotted the fields, picking at the remains of the corn. No one else was on the road.

  Claire tried to persuade herself that the girls would be at the Jorgenson’s when she arrived. She would be mad and then she would laugh. Kids would be kids, she would say, waiting until Meg came home to give her a piece of her mind. She debated about whether she would take Meg home with her or let her continue the so-called sleepover. She’d play it by ear. See what they had to say for themselves.

  She turned in the driveway. Only the Jorgenson’s pickup truck was parked by the house. Her breath caught in her throat; her heart slammed around inside her chest. Where were they?

  Claire knocked on the side door and heard a voice tell her to come in. When she stepped into the kitchen, she found Emily Jorgenson sitting at the table, pulling long pieces of wool through fabric stretched over a frame.

  Emily was a thick, squat woman with startlingly blue eyes and beautiful curly hair. The few times Claire had talked to her, she had found her to be reserved, with a sense of humor running underneath, but very quiet and steady.

  Emily set the work down on the floor behind her chair. “No news,” she said. It was both a question and an answer.

  Claire shook her head. “I haven’t heard anything. Rich knows to call here if he hears from them.”

  Emily waved her hand up in the air, then explained. “My husband went up to bed. He has to work tomorrow.” Emily looked at the clock over the kitchen sink. “In a few hours.”

  “Did Krista say anything to you about wanting to drive into the cities or visit someone?” As the words came out of Claire’s mouth, she realized she was trying to blame Krista for what had happened. Surely her darling daughter Meg would never

  have done anything like this if it wasn’t for the bad influence of Krista. She needed to squash those thoughts. She knew Meg was capable of thinking of a myriad of naughty tricks to pull. However, Krista had always struck her as impulsive—quick to jump onto a new idea and run with it, never happy to sit still.

  Emily shook her head. “No. She was just excited to have Meg staying over. She planned on making waffles for breakfast. She’s never driven into the Cities alone, or even with me. I hope that isn’t what they’ve done.” Emily jumped up and pushed a chair toward Claire. “Please sit down. Can I get you something?”

  Claire sat at the table. “Thanks, I’m fine. What’re you working on?”

  “Oh, that’s just my hooking. My mom taught me how to hook and I’m working on a new rug for Krista’s room. She wanted one that was all roses.” Emily pulled out the rug and showed Claire the first few pink and red roses that she had done in the middle of the piece. “It calms me down.”

  “I could use a hobby like that.”

  “It’s not hard to learn. I could show you.”

  “Thanks, maybe I’ll take you up on that. I’ve done quilting.” Claire asked, “What exactly did the Lunds say when you called over there?”

  “I talked to Mr. Lund. He didn’t sound too happy about being woken up. I almost expected him to hang up on me. He said the party was over and everyone was gone. He did say some kids had come to it that hadn’t been invited.”

  “I wonder who?” Claire latched on to that comment. “We need to talk to the other kids that were at the party. They might know something. Could you write down a list of the kids you know were there?”

  Emily gave her an odd smile. “Sure, but it’s too early to talk to any of them. Look at the time. They’re all still sleeping.”

  Claire shook herself. She needed to stop being a deputy. “You’re right. Come to that, we probably won’t need to talk to anyone but our daughters when they finally show up.”

  Someone pounded on the door and startled them. The two women looked at each other, but Emily said, “It’s not the kids. They wouldn’t knock.” She stood up and pulled open the door.

  A tall, thin woman walked in, wearing a handknit Scandinavian sweater. Claire knew she had seen her before, probably at the grocery store or gas station. She had sandy blonde hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. She looked tired and worried.

  “Is Curt here?” the woman asked.

  “Nope, none of the kids are here. Come on in, Lynn. This is the lost mothers gathering. Somehow it makes me feel better that Curt’s with the girls.”

  Claire introduced herself and the woman smiled and said, “Oh, you’re the deputy. I’ve seen you around.”

  “Your son was at the party at Lund’s?”

  “Yes, and he and Krista have been hanging out together so I thought he might have come over here. I was looking for his car. When I drove up to your place, I saw the lights on in the kitchen so I decided to knock. I’m not that worried, more mad. He’s stayed out late before, but never this late.”

  “Does he have a cell phone?”

  “Yes, but he didn’t take it with him. He said it wouldn’t go with his costume. He was Robin Hood.”

  “He could have stuffed it in his quiver.”

  Lynn looked at Claire. “Well, since you’re the cop, what should we do? Do we report them missing?”

  “Not this soon. I still think they’re going to show up any minute. I think it’s time to go over to Lund’s and see what the kids over there know.”

  Emily hesitated. “I hate to wake them up again. We just went over there two hours ago.”

  Claire was accustomed to barging in on people in the middle of the night and didn’t think that much of it. When she needed information, she would go and get it. Not so with these other mothers. And, wasn’t that all she was right now, simply a worried mother, not a deputy sheriff looking for a bad guy?

  CHAPTER 3

  5:00 a.m.

  Claire managed to sit still and talk with the two women over a cup of coffee, but then she had to do something. After she called Rich to check if he had heard anything and Lynn called home to check that Curt hadn’t shown up, she set off for the Lund’s, leaving the two women talking at the table.

  Three kids missing. Oddly, the larger number did make her more comfortable. When it was only two girls, they could have been abducted, but it seemed less likely with three of them and one a boy. And the car was gone. Chances were they were out driving around. If that was the case, Meg would be grounded for a good long while. But Claire felt more comfortable about this escapade.

  Over the rolling farmland, golden light seeped out from the east, a hazy orange-pink glow. She loved how the sky painted complex and ephemeral colors hard to name in this hour before sunrise.

  The Lunds lived down a road that was named after them. The county designated dead-ends for the last family that lived at the end of the road, thus Lund Lane. She turned down the dirt road and rolled up in front of the red-roofed farm house.

  The house looked quiet. An old golden dog raised up on his front legs and gave a low, sleepy bark, then flopped back down again. Claire hated to wake up the family. She hesitated, sat in the car for a few minutes, and then saw the door of the farmhouse open. A young girl stepped out and walked toward the squad car. She was wearing a pink chenille bathrobe with rubber boots on her feet.

  As she came closer, Claire recognized Sally Lund. She had grown up over the summer, gone from being a tow-headed tomboy to a lanky teen-aged girl with lovely long blonde hair. Clair
e was pretty sure Sally was a year younger than Meg, but she looked older and was certainly taller.

  “Hi, Mrs. Watkins,” Sally said as she approached the car. “What’re you doing here?”

  “I’m looking for Meg, Krista and Curt. You know where they went after the party?”

  Sally shivered in her bathrobe. “They left when everyone did. I guess I thought they were all going home.”

  “Anything odd happen at the party?”

  Sally cocked her head. “Not really, except at the end.”

  “What happened then?”

  “They had a fight.”

  “Who? What kind of fight?”

  “I’m not really sure. I think it was about Curt. I think Meg and Krista were fighting over him.”

  “I can hardly believe that. They were fighting over Curt?” She had a hard time imaging her daughter fighting, especially over a boy. “Hitting each other?”

  “No, just arguing. But loud. I think it was over Curt. I didn’t pay too much attention. It happened right as everyone was leaving. Some other guys showed up and then everyone left.”

  “What other guys?”

  “I didn’t know them. One was a lot older than us. Not in high school, that’s for sure. I think they were trying to crash the party. But then it was over. My parents made everyone leave.”

  “You don’t know where they went?”

  Sally shook her head. “I didn’t really watch what happened. I was tired and went back in the house.”

  “What’re you doing up so early?”

  Sally smiled. “I have to go to work. I work down at the gas station. I gotta be there by six. What’re you going to do to her when you find her?”

  “That’s a good question.”

  ***

  5:20 a.m.

  The phone hadn’t rung in over an hour, the night nearly over. Amy Schroeder couldn’t hear any noise coming from the jail and hoped all the inmates were asleep. She stared at the clock, because at least the hands moved. It was something to watch. She couldn’t see outside from where she worked and had no idea of the weather.