Blood Is the Sky: An Alex McKnight Mystery (26 page)

Read Blood Is the Sky: An Alex McKnight Mystery Online

Authors: Steve Hamilton

Tags: #Mystery, #Thriller, #Suspense, #Adult

BOOK: Blood Is the Sky: An Alex McKnight Mystery
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One more left. Then a right. I turned my lights off
again, rolled slowly down the street, looking for house numbers. Seventy-one, seventy-three, seventy-five.
I stopped in front of seventy-seven. It was a ranch house with tall, barren trees on either side of the walkway. It would have been a nice house on a normal day. I slipped out of the truck and pushed the door closed. I looked both ways down the street as I went to the front door.
There were a lot more porch lights on in this neighborhood. I felt exposed standing there at the front door. I didn’t bother to knock this time. I tried turning the doorknob, but it was locked.
I rang the doorbell. I heard it chime two notes, somewhere deep in the house. Nobody answered.
If somebody was going to break into this house, they wouldn’t stand here at the front door and do it. It wasn’t nearly as dark as the last house. So I went around to the side door, hidden from the street by a tall wooden fence. There was a metal storm door that had been practically torn off the hinges. The door inside that was open.
I stepped inside. The smell of gasoline came to me again.
But no, it wasn’t like before. I could just barely smell it. If it happened here, it was somewhere in the back of the house.
I walked through the house. The only sound was my own breathing. There was a sudden flash of light as a car drove by outside. The headlights swept across the wall and then they were gone.
The front room had bookshelves on every wall. There were thousands and thousands of books. I walked through to the back hallway, poked my head around each door. In the darkness I could barely make out the shapes of beds and dressers and tables.
I went into what had to be the master bedroom. There
were framed pictures all over the room, but it was too dark to see the faces. I could make out a faint light from another door. It had to be the master bathroom.
I went to the door and slowly leaned against it. It creaked open. There was a small night-light glowing above the sink. No bodies to see. No horror in this bathroom.
I left the master bedroom, walked back down the hallway, through the room with all the books and back into the kitchen. The smell of gasoline got stronger.
There was another door I had walked right by. I shouldered it open. It was a small guest bathroom. It was empty.
I stood in the darkness, in the middle of the kitchen, trying to figure it out. Then I noticed a piece of paper on the table. I bent down and tried to read it. I could barely make out the letters.
“Millie, I’ve gone to the lodge, back in a couple of days. Helen.”
It made no sense to me. I was there when she was packing up. I heard her say how much she wanted to get out, how much she hated that place. Like a sickness, she said. Why would she go back up there?
I didn’t have an answer for that. But I knew one thing. It came to me all at once. Whoever killed Ron and Millie came here next. That’s why I smelled the gasoline. They brought the smell with them, into this house. But Helen wasn’t here. I didn’t know why she’d gone to the lodge, but whatever the reason, it had saved her life.
At least for now. If they knew where the lodge was, they’d go there. They’d find her.
They. Who were “they”? The same people who burned the men at the lake? Was this more of the same?
I went back out to the truck and picked up the cell phone. As I drove away, I dialed the Hearst Detachment.
A man answered the phone on the second ring.
“I need to know when Constable Reynaud comes on duty,” I said.
“She comes on at seven,” the man said. “Can I help you with something?”
“Please have her call Alex,” I said.
“Just Alex? Can I have a last name?”
“She knows my last name.”
“Can I have your number, please?”
“She knows my number.” Or if she doesn’t, I thought, she can find out.
“Sir, are you sure I can’t help you with something?”
“There’s one thing you can do,” I said. “I’m going to give you an address in Sudbury. You need to send someone over there.” I gave him the Trembleys’ address.
“Sir? Can you tell me what happened?”
“Tell her to call me,” I said. “Tell her I didn’t do this. And neither did Vinnie.”
I hung up the phone and kept driving.
I left Sudbury and headed north. It was three hard hours to Timmins, Ontario. I crossed the Canadian Pacific Railway just north of Onaping, and then the Canadian National in Gogama. The road was empty, which was a damned good thing. I would have run over anything that got in my way.
Timmins was another old mining town. They had struck gold up here, a long time ago, and you could still see the traces in the names of the streets and the businesses. Prospector Street. The Gold Rush Café. A sign on the highway advertised tours in one of the old mines.
It was five in the morning when I stopped to gas up and grab some coffee. This time of year, it was still dark. Sunrise was two hours away.
I drove out of town and it was all wide-open spaces and potato farms for a while, and then it was back into the trees. I finally hit the Trans-Canada Highway and headed west through Smooth Rock Falls and Kapuskasing. The sun was just starting to come up when I hit Hearst. I drove right by the OPP station. It was just after 6:30 at that point, so Reynaud wasn’t there.
I slowed down as I passed the station, then sped back up when I was clear. I drove west, with the sun coming
up behind me. I was still half an hour from the lodge.
I passed the turnoff to Calstock and the Constance Lake Reserve. Being up here again, it had to be either a bad dream or a bad joke. I rubbed my eyes with one hand. When I opened them, I was drifting right off the road. Drive off the road and hit a big tree, I said to myself. That would be perfect.
I drove past the turnoff for 631, the road down to Wawa. I had spent the whole night making a big circle through Ontario, from the Soo to Sudbury to Timmins and now back on the Trans-Canada, all the way up here. A few more miles and I saw the little dirt road that led up to the lodge. It was the road Vinnie and I found the first time we came up here, when we weren’t even sure it was the right one. How much had changed since then?
There was a heavy mist hanging in the air as I turned off the highway. The early sun hadn’t burned it off yet. As cold as it was, that mist might have hung around until noon. That last morning, when we were up in the woods, the air had felt exactly the same way. It was just as wet, and the chill was just as penetrating. Even with the windows rolled up, I could feel it.
I took it easy going up the road. I couldn’t see where the hell I was going in the mist, and I didn’t want to end up in the mud again. That plus the fact that I really didn’t know what I was getting into. I had no idea what I was going to find when I got to the lodge.
My cell phone rang. I picked it up. “Is this Reynaud?”
“McKnight, what the hell’s going on? Where are you?”
“I’m at the lodge. I think Helen’s here.”
“Don’t move. We’ll be right over.”
“Vinnie might be here, too. I have to find him.”
“McKnight. Do not do
anything,
do you hear me?”
“Did somebody go over to the Trembleys’ house?”
There was a brief silence on the line. “Yes,” she finally
said. “Alex, please tell me what’s happening.”
“I don’t know.”
“Just sit tight. We’re on our way.”
“Okay.”
“Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”
“Can’t do that,” I said. I hung up.
I slowed down as I came up to the sharp turn in the road. I knew the moose probably wouldn’t be standing there again, but I didn’t want to take any chances. I cleared the corner. No moose. But what the hell—
I slammed on the brakes. There was a car off the road, in the same spot where my truck had ended up. I sat there looking at it for a while. It was a black sedan. I recognized it.
I got out of the truck, leaving the driver’s side door open. I took two steps, then turned around and went to the back of my truck. I reached down under the bumper and felt inside for the gun Leon had hidden. It was held in place with tape. When I pulled it out, it felt cold and heavy in my hand.
I went around the back of my truck and approached the car, moving slowly. I couldn’t see anybody inside. My boot sank six inches into the mud as soon as I stepped off the road. I leaned on the car and made my way another couple of steps, then bent down and looked through the driver’s side window. It was unlocked. When I opened the door, I smelled the gasoline.
I replayed that night in my head. Red Albright’s brother Dallas with his big friend Jay along, the way they stopped us on my road. The look in his eyes. He promised us he’d find out who else was involved in his brother’s death. What were his exact words? He’d turn them inside out.
I popped the trunk release, then fought my way back through the mud to the road. When I looked into the trunk,
I saw the gasoline cans. It made sense, in a horrible kind of way. If you found out who burned your brother to death, and you had a dark enough mind, you’d be tempted to take your vengeance in exactly the same way.
I noticed one other thing as I closed the trunk. There was a board on the edge of the road. It was covered with mud, so I didn’t see it at first, but as I knelt down beside it, I saw a dozen long nails pointing straight up, with three nails in the middle bent over. I looked on the other side of the car, and thought I could make out yet another board half buried in the mud.
That note on the table, it was put there for a reason. “This was a trap,” I said out loud.
And then I heard the first gunshot. The sound was deadened by the wet air, but I could tell where it was coming from. I got back in my truck and drove the last mile to the lodge. The mist got heavier as I got closer to the lake.
I heard another shot. I slowed down. I sure as hell didn’t want to drive right into the middle of it. There was a turn here, I thought. One final turn in this road and then it ended under those big trees.
I still couldn’t see very well, but I guessed I was just about there, so I stopped. I turned the truck off, grabbed Leon’s gun again, and stepped out onto the road. I listened hard, but there was nothing to hear but the sound of the truck’s engine settling.
I started walking slowly, as quietly as I could. I didn’t like the fact that I couldn’t see more than fifty feet ahead of me. But I figured what the hell, at least nobody could see me. As soon as I came around that last bend in the road, I saw a truck parked among the trees. The fog was too thick to make out the plate number, or even the color. I had to get closer.
I kept low to the ground and made my way to one of
the big trees. I leaned against it for a moment and then looked around it at the truck.
It was Vinnie’s.
All the way up here, it had been an idea, a feeling in my gut, based on a couple of maps on his computer, and a newspaper clipping about God knows what. Now it was real. Vinnie was here.
Another shot ripped through the air. This one was a lot closer. I couldn’t imagine who was pulling the trigger or how they could even see where they were shooting.
Another shot. This one took me right down onto the ground. I heard another sound right after it, something long and low, like the air being let out of a balloon.
“God damn it,” I said under my breath. “Vinnie, where are you?”
The sound stopped.
The fear started building in my stomach. Hold on, Alex. It’s time to do something here. I picked Leon’s Ruger off the ground and brushed the dirt away. I knew it was a modern gun, with .45 caliber shells, but it looked like an antique in my hand, like something from the Second World War. If I had to use it, I hoped it would be enough.
I made my way from tree to tree. The mist seemed to be drifting in and out now, circling around me like wraiths. I had to keep moving forward. I didn’t know what else to do. The lodge started to take shape, the wooden roof appearing above me. I put my back to the wall of the butcher’s shed, holding my weapon with two hands. All the training I had, a million years ago, it all came back to me. Gun up, peek around the corner, draw back. It’s clear, lead with the gun, keep low. Move quick without hurrying. I edged around the door to the shed, gun ready. I can shoot in any direction.
I’m coming, Vinnie. You better still be alive.
I moved along the base of the wall, heading for the front of the building. I stopped at the corner, caught my breath, then took a quick look up the stairs. They were empty. I looked around at everything else—another small building by the dock, the dock itself leading out into nowhere, the lake still hidden behind the thick wall of fog. I didn’t know where anyone was, or who would shoot at me if I moved, but I felt totally exposed crouching down by the wall. Here goes nothing.
I went up the stairs, swearing at every creak and groan of the wood. When I was on the front porch, I stuck my head up over the windowsill for one second, then back down. Did I see somebody in there? I needed to look again. Just wait a few seconds. Count to five. One … two …
That’s as far as I got. The next gunshot was like an explosion going off inside my head. My legs went out from under me and I started sliding down the stairs, until another blast ripped the wood apart.
They’re right on top of me. I’m dead. I’m dead. I’m dead.
Back up I went, scrambling up the stairs on all fours. I threw the door open and rolled inside the lodge as another shot took out the screen window. The sound of it was still roaring in my ears as I lay there, wondering if I was hit and just didn’t know it yet.
And where the hell was my gun, anyway?
I looked all over the floor for it. This is great, Alex. This is so fucking great.
Then out of nowhere, a voice. “Don’t move.”
I looked up. Helen St. Jean was sitting in the corner, her legs drawn up to her chest. The rifle barrel was pointed at me over one knee.
“Helen,” I said. “It’s me. Don’t you remember?”
“Don’t move,” she said. “Don’t come any closer.”
I put my hands up. “Helen, where’s Vinnie?”
She didn’t say anything.
“You’ve got to tell me where Vinnie is.”
She lifted the barrel of the rifle off her knee and pointed it right at my heart.
“Helen, please don’t point that at me.”
I could see the gun shaking in her hands.
“You need to give me that gun,” I said. “Those men outside, they’re gonna come up here.”
She looked at me. She was breathing hard.
“Helen, you need to give me that gun. Those men will come up here and kill us.”
She looked at the window. I kept my hands up as I slowly bent down toward the floor. The big table and all the chairs were gone. It was one big empty room now. “I’m coming over there,” I said. “Okay? I’m coming over there so we can fight them together.”
She kept looking back and forth between me and the window. As I got down on my knees and started inching over to her, she didn’t follow me with the rifle. I took that as a good sign.
“You give me that gun,” I said. “I promise you, I’ll shoot them if they come through that door. Okay?”
Her eyes kept moving as I got closer. My face, the window, my face, the window.
“I was a police officer, Helen. Okay? Give me the gun.”
I got closer. I could almost touch her.
“Helen,” I said, and then everything came apart. Another gun blast ripped through the air, right outside the front door. And then another as I grabbed for the rifle. The second shot was even louder, so loud it made my ears hurt, made them ring like I’d never hear anything else again.
There was something hot in my hand. The rifle barrel.
And something else. Something falling from the sky. It was raining. My ears were ringing and it was raining.
I looked up and saw what was left of the moose head on the wall. A brown cloud hung in the air. I was covered with sawdust and wood shavings and mouse shit and God knows what else. I shook my head. Damn it, my ears hurt.
Somebody was on the stairs. I couldn’t even hear it, but I could feel the slight vibration in the floor. Somebody was coming up to the door.
I put the butt of the rifle against my shoulder. “Get down,” I said to Helen. “And cover your ears.”
I sighted with my right eye, closed my left. I aimed for the doorway, chest high.
A body. A face. Long hair.
It was Maskwa.
I pulled the rifle up. Maskwa took one step through the door and stopped. For one heart-stopping moment, he kept his rifle trained right at my head. Then he finally lowered it.
“Alex.”
I opened my mouth, but I didn’t know what to say first. He put his hand up to shush me, came over and bent down next to Helen. Her hands were clamped down hard over her ears. Her eyes were closed.
“Helen,” he said. “It’s okay now.”
She didn’t move.
“It’s okay,” he said. He put one hand on the back of her head and pulled her closer. She collapsed against his chest.

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