A River Through Two Harbors

by Dennis Herschbach

  She dressed and didn’t take time to make a cup of coffee, thinking she’d stop at the convenience store in Silver Bay to save time. She arrived at her office in Two Harbors before seven. On the first floor of the Law Enforcement Center, toward the back, it looked as if someone had cleaned out a storage closet to make room for her.

  Two desks cluttered the small space, evidently one for her and one for her secretary, Jill. On a stand in the corner sat a fax machine/copy machine. There were no windows. Deidre felt sorry for Jill, who would spend the great majority of her time in the cubical-sized space. At least Deidre would be out in the field most of the time, but everyone had their own problems to deal with, she thought. Nevertheless, she would remember to be extra considerate of Jill’s situation.

  As she was arranging items on her desk, her secretary reported for work. She walked in unannounced, her rainbow-dyed hair in a flyaway mess, and extended her hand to Deide. “Jill Dobers, your secretary. You must be Deidre. I’ve heard so many good things about you and have been looking forward to working for you since they assigned me this job. Now, what can I do to get us started?”

  Deidre hadn’t given the subject one thought. “Gosh, I’m afraid I have nothing for you to do yet. I just got here myself and have nothing organized.”

  Jill looked around. “Well, for starters, we need a coffee pot. Regular or decaf?”

  “Regular.”

  “Good. If we’re not going to get a charge out of it, why bother? Okay, what’s the most pressing thing on your plate this morning?”

  Deidre thought for a moment. “I have to organize my desk, then make some kind of living arrangement for myself while I’m on this case. After that I have to call the Grand Chief of the Nishnawbe Aski Nation in Thunder Bay to set up an appointment to meet with him and the head of their Guns and Gangs Unit tomorrow. If I can get that much done today, I’ll be lucky.”

  Jill looked around the room again. “Leave the organization to me. You get yourself situated as far as living accommodations are concerned. When you get back, I’ll have made your appointment with the chief.”

  Deidre looked at her, shocked at the woman’s efficiency. It was only seven-fifteen, and already she felt like something good was going to happen.

  “Well, don’t just stand there, I’ve got things to do,” Jill said, asserting her secretarial authority. All Deidre could do was leave the office.

  She checked upstairs, hoping her friend Jeff was done with his morning report session. He was, and when he saw her enter the outer office, he rushed to give her a hug. “Diedre, you don’t know how good this makes me feel. It hasn’t been the same since you left. Everybody says so. It’s good to have you back in the building. I’ve got some things for you.” Jeff motioned for her to follow him into his office.

  “Have a seat for a minute or two.” He reached into his desk and grabbed a set of keys. “BCA dropped these off yesterday. The SUV is out back. It’s black and has the agency logo stenciled on its side doors. Also, they left a credit card for your use to charge gas, lodging, meals, and anything else pertaining to your investigation. Make sure you give Jill all your receipts. She’ll tally them and send them in for you. Here are your credentials,” he said as he handed her a badge and an ID tag.”

  There was a handwritten note with the ID. Didn’t have time to get these to you yesterday. Took the picture off our records. Hope it’s okay. Good hunting. Erin Goodman.

  Deidre smiled at the curtness of the note, and she could picture Erin hurriedly scribbling it on a piece of paper.

  “Jeff, I hope this job is short lived. I don’t know if you have much information about what we found under that bridge in Silver Bay, but we need to get to the bottom of this as soon as possible. It’s the worse case scenario you can imagine.”

  Jeff’s face told her he knew. “I’m glad you’re the one working this.” was all he said. Deidre stood to excuse herself, and Jeff looked her square in the eye. “I mean what I said.”

  The SUV was out back, just as Jeff said it would be, and Deidre crawled into the driver’s seat, adjusted the mirrors, and turned the key. She hoped the vehicle’s heater was a good one.

  Leaving the parking lot, she turned right and then left onto Waterfront Drive, continued to Highway 61, then turned left. She was heading to her old neighborhood on Ninth Avenue. When she reached Seventh Street, she turned down a familiar alley and pulled up behind Inga Olson’s house. It had been over a year since the two of them had visited. As she walked up the shoveled walkway, she glanced at the house next door, her house, the one in which John had been gunned down.

  For an instant, the memory of that night hit her full force, but before she could dwell on its impact, Inga was at the door, holding it open and calling out, “Deidre Johnson, my word, get in here before you freeze to death. Child, what are you doing in Two Harbors this time of the morning?”

  Deidre stomped the snow off her boots on the outside door mat, then removed them in the entry. She walked into the kitchen and sat down at the table. Inga was already taking down two tea cups and had placed a plate of peanut butter cookies on the table.

  “Oh, it’s good to see you. How have you been, my dear?”

  Deidre looked at the older woman and was surprised to see that she didn’t seem to have aged at all since the last time they met.

  “I’m good, actually very good. Life has taken me down a road I never dreamed I’d go. But right now, I’m up to my eyeballs in a problem.”

  She went on to give a thumbnail sketch of why she was in Two Harbors. Inga seemed surprised Deidre was back in law enforcement but stated her approval, saying that she had too much to offer society to be stuck in the woods.

  “Inga, I could use your help for a little while. I need a place to stay for a few weeks, and I’m wondering if my old room is still empty. I’d pay you room and board, and there wouldn’t be any wild parties at night. Promise.” She laughed at her own joke.

  The older woman became animated. “I can’t believe we might have time to spend together. It’d be almost like old times, only under better circumstances. Of course you can stay, for free.”

  Deidre laughed at her exuberance. “No, the BCA is footing this bill. You’ll be paid well. I’ll see to that. It’s okay then?” Inga’s reaction was more than a reward for Deidre. “I’m going to my cabin for the night and then to Thunder Bay tomorrow. But I should be back tomorrow night. If I pull in at ten, ten-thirty, is that too late?”

  “Heavens no! You know my sleep habits. Nothing’s changed since you were my neighbor. Deidre, it’s great to be able to spend time with you again. I’ll have a light snack ready for you when you get here.”

  Deidre knew what Inga’s “light snacks” were like. She antici­pated a wonderful stay, even if she gained a pound or two.

  “One more thing, I have a dog, a pretty big one, I’ll need to bring with me. Is it possible he could stay here?”

  Inga looked surprised. “I’m allergic to dog dander, but years ago my husband had a hunting dog. He fixed a wonderful kennel off the garage. You never noticed, I’m sure, because I’ve planted clematis, which climbs the fence. It looks like an arbor most of the time. Your dog would have access to the garage that has an insulated sleeping area. We can put a heat lamp in there if you’d like.”

  And so that problem was taken care of with little fuss.

  Deidre was back at her office at ten o’clock. When she entered the room, she couldn’t believe the change. Coffee was brewing in a pot on a stand Jill had scrounged from another office. The desks had been rearranged to make for a better traffic pattern. A calendar covered the surface of her desk, and a coffee mug stood full of sharpened pencils, highlighters, and pens ready for use.

  Deidre sat down in her swivel chair and saw a note neatly printed on a legal pad. You have an appointment tomorrow at 1:15 p.m. with Henry Mus
io, Grand Chief of the Nishnawabe Aski Nation (NAN).

  On a separate card was listed the chief’s name, the name of the head of the Nation’s Guns and Gangs Unit, as well as the address of the chief’s office. She looked at her desk calendar. Neatly printed in ink on the square for Friday, November 22, was the same notation. Deidre couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Just then, Jill walked in the room, and Deidre noticed that, with her hair under control, she had numerous piercings in each ear.

  “Well, what do you think?” Jill asked. “Will this arrangement do? I’ve called the border patrol to facilitate your getting through customs. Both sides are aware you’ll be coming through about nine tomorrow morning. You’ll still need your passport, but you should get through without a hitch. You can bring a gun with if you’re packing, but they’ll want the serial number and the number of your permit. “I notified the head of NAN’s Gun and Gang Unit so he knows the nature of your visit. He said to bring a copy of Dr. Coster’s report. I asked that he set up a separate meeting with the tribal police so you can request what assistance you would like. That meeting is at three o’clock. You should be back to the US border by five, which should get you home to Two Harbors no later than seven-thirty, nine if you stop for dinner along the way. If that’s your intention, where would you like to eat supper? I’ll call ahead and make a reservation for you.”

  Jill stood looking at Deidre, an expectant smile on her face. Deidre was flummoxed by her efficiency. “I-I really hadn’t thought that far ahead. I’m planning on having a snack with a friend when I get back to town. Let’s skip stopping for supper. I’d just as soon get home. By the way, thank you for all you have accomplished today. I hope I can provide enough for you to do so you don’t become bored.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about that. I always find enough to do to make time fly. Did you find a place to stay? If you want me to, I can track down a decent place for you to lodge. I’ve plenty of connections. Did I hear you own a dog? If you do, I have a friend in Knife River who owns a pet care service. She’ll walk your dog once a day, make sure it’s fed, watered, and will spend and hour with him so he doesn’t get lonesome. Would you like me to take care of that?”

  Once again, Jill stood with the same expectant smile on her face.

  “Uh, that would be fine. His name’s Pete. He’s a black lab and will be staying at Inga Olson’s place on Ninth Avenue.

  “Thank you for all your help. I don’t know how you’ve gotten all of this done in such a short time, but thank you. Naturally, I won’t be in tomorrow. Do you want the day off?”

  “Oh, no,” Jill answered. “I’ll find plenty to do. Still have some equipment to get, and somebody better be here to answer the phone if you receive an important call. I’ll set up your e-mail account. Do you want me to set up Facebook for you? It might come in handy if you want to contact a large number of people at one time. How about Linkedin?”

  Deidre turned down the social networking sites but knew she’d need an e-mail account. “I’m going to leave early today,” she told Jill. “I have some packing to do at my cabin, and I want to be rested for tomorrow. I can cut across on Highway 1 to Highway 61. Then it’s a straight shot to the Canadian border.”

  Jill nodded. “Remember, you can’t take your dog across the border unless he has a veterinarian-signed paper showing all his vaccinations are up to date.”

  Deidre smiled to herself. Is there anything she doesn’t think of?

  Chapter 10

  It was still light when Deidre drove up her access road and stopped near the backdoor of her cabin. Pete came bounding out of his dog house and slathered her with affection. She ruffled his ears and talked baby talk to him. He raced away, his excitement getting the better of him. Deidre laughed as he plowed through six inches of snow, slipped on a hummock and rolled over three times before gaining his footing.

  That night the cabin felt especially cozy, and Deidre disliked the thought of having to abandon her paradise, if only for a few weeks. But she remembered the body she’d found, and all remorse vanished. She had a job to do, a compelling job, and she would do it well.

  Deidre was on the road by seven-thirty the next morning. Her trip to the Pigeon River International Bridge, the border between the United States and Canada was uneventful. She pulled into the Canadian customs check point with her passport in hand. The guard checked her ID, stamped her document, and ran his finger down a list of names attached to his clip board. His finger stopped mid-way down the list, and he waved her through. No matter that he hadn’t asked if she had a gun in her possession, she had not felt the need to bring one with her.

  On November 22, the sun didn’t rise until after seven o’clock, and it hung only a few degrees above the horizon. Deidre looked at her watch—ten-thirty. She calculated she had about six and one-half hours of daylight remaining, which meant she’d be driving home in the dark, something she didn’t relish. The thermometer in her car registered minus four degrees outside, a record for this day.

  Will-o’-the-wisps of steam rose from Lake Superior like specters that danced and swirled. They were the result of contact between the arctic-cold air and the surface of warmer lake water. The winter sun shining through the haze made the scene seem even more inhospitable.

  By noon Deidre arrived at the port city of Thunder Bay, the Canadian counterpart of Duluth/Superior. In the distance she could see towering grain silos standing along the harbor docks. Rime-covered boats were being loaded, many of them “salties,” ships that would be traversing the ocean to distant continents.

  She stopped at a small cafe and ordered a sandwich and a piece of carrot cake. When the waitress returned with her order, she remembered she had forgotten to order coffee. The waitress returned with a scowl, a cup, and coffee pot. She set it on the table and left without saying a word. So much for your tip, Deidre thought. But when she made ready to leave, she left a toonie on the table. A two-dollar tip was more than what was deserved.

  From the cafe, it was a twenty minute drive to the NAN office, at least that’s what her GPS indicated. But the instrument hadn’t counted on a traffic accident at one of the intersections, and so Deidre was delayed for a half hour. She arrived at the front desk with barely five minutes to spare.

  After checking her credentials, the receptionist led Deidre to an office down the hall, knocked on the closed door, opened it a crack, and announced Deidre’s arrival. She heard a man’s voice say, “Send her in,” and the receptionist motioned for her to enter.

  Henry Musio greeted Deidre warmly, taking her extended hand with both of his. He was in his mid-forties, was tall and very good looking.

  “Your secretary called yesterday, asking if we could meet today. She’s a very persuasive lady. I’d like to meet her sometime.” He chuckled, and Deidre instantly thought she would like him.

  “Come, sit down so we can talk. The head of the Guns and Gangs unit will be here anytime now. Our meeting is back to back with one he had scheduled, and he may be running a little late.

  Chief Musio had just uttered the words when someone knocked on the door. A man who resembled the chief in many ways walked in without waiting for an invitation.

  “This is Joseph Walkin. Perhaps there’s significance to his name.” Henry laughed at his own joke, one she figured Joseph had heard more than once.

  Joseph shook Deidre’s hand, while he looked squarely in her eyes as if judging her spirit. Henry sat and motioned for them to do the same. “Your secretary said you had information that might be of interest to our tribal counsel, information about a homicide in your town. What assistance will you be expecting from us?” His tone was not at all condescending, only matter-of-fact, and Deidre felt no veiled hostility.

  She removed a folder from her briefcase and opened it, producing copies of Dr. Coster’s report. Before handing it to the men she reviewed how she had found a naked body huddled under a b
ridge, and briefly explained the condition of the corpse. Then she handed them the copy.

  Deidre anticipated that they would question why she was interested in the Nishnawbe Aski people and had highlighted Judy’s supposition that the victim may have been of Cree Indian ethnicity. Henry spoke before he looked at the paper Deidre handed to him. “Your secretary faxed these to us yesterday. She included a note saying you were prepared to begin working on this today, and requested we do some footwork before you got here. She sent copies of the girl’s fingerprints, as well as the examiner’s x-rays of her dentition, and she indicated you’d be willing to stay an extra day if needed. The two of you make for an extremely efficient team.”

  Deidre didn’t have time to answer, which was all right, because she wouldn’t have known what to say. Henry and Joseph paged through the report and concentrated on the areas she had highlighted.

  “We understand why you want to speak with us. Are you aware that at the present time more than six hundred Nishnawbe Aski women, what you would probably call Cree, are missing, many presumed dead, many presumed to be trapped in the sex trade?”

  Deidre’s jaw dropped. She had no idea the problem was so extensive. Joseph continued. “The average—the average—age they enter the sex trade is fourteen, with some as young as ten.”

  Henry’s jaw muscles bulged as he fought to control his anger. He said, “Many are girls who come from dysfunctional homes. Others have run away for trivial reasons, and some are literally kidnapped. They are transported down Highway 61, a river of bodies flowing to Duluth, where they are sold to sailors onboard the ships in the harbor. Many are taken overseas, servicing the sailors on the boats throughout the journey. Many are thrown overboard as the journey nears its end. Estimates are that a supplier realizes profits of over $250,000 per year.”