Blood Is the Sky: An Alex McKnight Mystery (6 page)

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Authors: Steve Hamilton

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

BOOK: Blood Is the Sky: An Alex McKnight Mystery
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“You know what we should be doing?” I finally said.
“What’s that?”
“You said you were at the duty-free shop when Tom left with those guys. But you didn’t see them.”
“No. Just the van. Why, what are you thinking?”
“I’m just wondering,” I said. “If they came this way on their way up, and then again on their way back down, somebody must have seen them.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Vinnie said. “How many places could they stop?”
“We’re about to hit one of them,” I said. “Here comes White River.”
The road ended at Highway 17. That plus the railroad going through was excuse enough to put a town there. White River had three different places where you could get something to eat and drink. “If you were a rich guy passing through,” Vinnie said, “which one would you stop at?”
“They all look about the same to me,” I said. I stopped at the first establishment, a little cinder block bar and restaurant called the T-Spot. It turned out to be a real momand-pop operation, with card tables spread out all over the place and a tiny bar that looked like it had once been in somebody’s basement. We ordered a couple of cheeseburgers from a lady who looked like she owned the place. Hell, she looked like she had built it herself. When we asked her why she called it the T-Spot, she looked at us like we were idiots and asked if we had noticed the two highways forming a T in the middle of town.
“I’ve got another question for you,” I said. “Eleven days ago, six men came through here on their way to a hunting trip.”
“Five men,” Vinnie said.
“Yeah, maybe five. They would have come back through again four days ago.”
“Well, let’s see. Men on their way to hunt. In October.
Hey, Earl!” she called behind her. “Have we seen any men on hunting trips the past few days?”
“I haven’t been counting them,” he said, without even looking up. “I’d guess around a thousand.”
“These guys were a little different,” I said. “They were probably dressed a lot better than most of the hunters you get in here. And it sounds like they weren’t exactly behaving themselves. At least, all but one of them.”
“What did the other one look like?” she said.
“Like me,” Vinnie said. “He’s my brother.”
The woman studied his face. “Five guys, you say? Rich white guys and one Indian?”
“Yes.”
“I remember them. They stopped in for breakfast. Bunch of slick old boys. Four whites and one Indian.”
“Breakfast?” I said. “That must have been on their way up, eleven days ago?”
“Yeah, that sounds about right. I remember they seemed like real pains in the ass, you know, sending the eggs back because they weren’t done right. Making a racket. But then they left me a twenty dollar tip on a thirty dollar bill. In American dollars. A twenty dollar tip I’ll remember.”
“But you didn’t see them again when they were on their way back?”
“Nope, just the one time.”
“How about another two men?” I said. “One with a big nose. They might have come through here yesterday.”
“We got a lot of big noses up here, hon.”
“Okay, never mind.” I thanked the woman, we had our dinner, and then we left.
“We’re about three hours away from the lodge,” I said. “So maybe they didn’t need to stop yet.”
“Or maybe they saw that little bar in there and decided to go somewhere else.”
We checked the other two bars in town. We didn’t get anything.
“Okay, so on the way back, they just kept driving. Maybe they stopped in Wawa.”
“Let’s see,” he said.
So we did. Through the dark woods we drove another hour and a half. My eyes were getting tired. It was 10:30 when we hit Wawa again. The giant goose looked down at us once again, this time lit up by two spotlights.
“We know what our favorite bar in Wawa is,” I said. “You figure these guys found the same place?”
“Might as well start there,” he said. “Just promise me you won’t get into trouble again.”
“That wasn’t trouble,” I said. “That was just a misunderstanding with the locals.”
The parking lot actually had a few vehicles in it this time, and when we stepped into the place, it almost looked busy. Every bar stool was taken, and a few more men were sitting at the round tables. There were two guys playing pool, the chalk dust hanging in the air below the single fluorescent light. Thankfully, our friends weren’t trying to play the bowling game.
The same big man was behind the bar. He was working a lot harder now, trying to keep everyone happy, with apparently nobody to help him. He was sweating like he’d just buried a dead horse. He did a double take when he saw us leaning on one end of the bar. “You guys again,” he said, his voice a hell of a lot less cordial than the first time we heard it. “Just what I need.”
“We just want to ask you a couple of questions,” I said.
“Can’t you see I’m busy here? You want something to drink or not?”
“A Molson and a 7-Up,” I said. “Our usual.”
He didn’t smile. He hit the draft handle, drew me a glass that was at least half foam, squirted some soda water
out of his shooter into a glass and put it down next to the beer. “Five bucks,” he said.
“Your prices went up,” I said.
“It’s a tough business.”
“Whatever your problem is—”
“My problem is as soon as you guys left here today, Stan and Brian got in a big fight. Brian’s in the hospital.”
I almost laughed. “Stan’s the guy who got his nose broken, right? And Brian’s the guy who didn’t stand up for him? What the hell does that have to do with us?”
Vinnie leaned in front of me. “We’re just looking for somebody,” he said, raising his voice over the noises around him. “Do you think you could help us out?”
“Who you looking for?”
“My brother.”
“Go check the parking lot. That’s about as far as an Indian gets before he passes out.”
The look Vinnie gave him right about then should have scared him. But the bartender didn’t know Vinnie like I did. He didn’t know the kind of day we’d been having, or that Vinnie’s seven-mile-long fuse was about to burn all the way down.
That’s when our friend Stan showed up. There was fresh white tape on his face, and his two black eyes looked even worse. “Lookee here,” he said. “It’s the Lone Ranger and Tonto again.”
He was still wearing his Maple Leafs jersey. It took Vinnie about two seconds to hit him twice in the face and then pull that jersey right over his head. Somebody else jumped in, and then me. Usually I’m smart enough to cover myself in a bar fight, especially when I’m fighting over something stupid in a roomful of strangers. But somehow it all boiled over at that exact moment, all the driving and the dead ends, and everything Vinnie had told me about Tom. Having your brother go to prison and then
finding him in the shower, trying to hang himself. Somehow I was plugged into the same anger now, for Tom and for the men he had come up here with, and for everyone else in this goddamned backwoods bar. Fortunately, nobody else in the place seemed too interested in fighting. Most of them just watched us for a minute or two until they could step in and separate us.
“Easy now,” a man said in my ear as he wrapped me from behind in a bear hug. “Just take it easy.” I struggled to break free, but he was strong enough to wait me out.
Where all this anger had come from, I didn’t know. I was thinking about it thirty minutes later, as two officers from the Ontario Provincial Police station down the street had us sitting at a table in the corner. They weren’t happy about Vinnie not having a driver’s license, but they ran mine and stood around for a while, figuring out what to do with us. It wasn’t the first bar fight they’d seen that week—hell, maybe not even that night—so they let us go with the standard warning.
I was still thinking about it at midnight as we checked in at the local motel. I sure didn’t feel like driving another four hours to make it home. Spending the night in Wawa wasn’t my idea of a vacation, but at least it wasn’t the local jail.
I got Vinnie some ice for the scrape over his left eye, used the toothbrush the man at the front desk had given me, washed it down with tap water that tasted like pure iron. When the lights were out and I was staring up at the ceiling, I tried to let go of the anger. I tried to let go of it the way you let sand run between your fingers. When it was gone, there was nothing left but a question. And then another.
“These guys didn’t just vanish into thin air,” I said. “Where in hell did they go?”
Vinnie lay on the bed across from me. “I wish I knew, Alex.”
“And these other two guys, the ones who are looking for them. Who are they?”
He didn’t answer. He stared up at the same ceiling. We both listened to the night, a long way from home, and waited for the morning.
The chirping woke me up. Some kind of bird was making a racket, and it was doing it about three hours too early. I opened one eye and saw a dim ray of light coming through the window—whose window I could not say. I had no idea where the hell I was.
I sat up. There was a dull ache in my right hand. The bird started chirping again. What in goddamned hell, I thought. And then it came back to me.
I was in a motel room—in Wawa, Ontario, of all places. Vinnie was face down on the other bed, still wearing his clothes from the night before. The ache in my hand told me that I had gotten at least one good shot in before the fight was broken up. And that damned chirping had to be—
My
cell phone rang again
. Where the hell was it? I picked up my pants, then my coat, but I couldn’t find it. Finally, I stood still and listened. The ring was muffled, and it seemed to come from Vinnie himself, like maybe he had swallowed the damned thing. I rolled him over and picked it up off the bed.
“Hello,” I said. I looked at the clock. It was 6:32.
“Mr. McKnight?” It was a woman’s voice.
“Yes.”
“This is Constable Natalie Reynaud of the Ontario Provincial Police.”
I thought of two things at once. One was the sick feeling that the previous night was coming back to haunt us. Somebody must have filed charges—probably Stan, the guy Vinnie did a number on. The other thing going through my mind was just how little this woman sounded like a police officer. It was too early in the morning to be politically correct about it. Hell, most of the women officers I had known had voices like drill sergeants.
“Constable—” I said. That’s all I got out.
“You left a message on Mr. Red Albright’s cell phone,” she said. “That’s how we got this number.”
I ran my hand through my hair. “Albright’s phone? That was actually my friend calling.”
“Mr. Albright’s wife called the Michigan State Police yesterday. I assume they’ve been in contact with you already?”
“The police?” I needed to wake up, and fast.
“In Michigan, yes.”
I stood up and gave Vinnie a nudge. “No,” I said. “We haven’t made it back to Michigan yet. We’re in Wawa.”
“You were up at the lodge yesterday,” she said. “On Lake Peetwaniquot.”
I nudged Vinnie again. He slapped me away. “Yes, we were,” I said. “We were looking for Albright and the men who were with him.”
“We just spoke to Mr. Gannon and Ms. St. Jean. They told us you were up there.”
“Yes, we drove up to see if we could find out anything. The men were due back a few days ago. Are you telling me that Albright never got home, either?”
“None of the men did. Mrs. Albright and the other wives apparently decided to give them one more night, and then call the police. It’s been five days at this point.
It doesn’t take that long to get back down to Detroit.”
“Even less to Sault Ste. Marie.”
“Now, that’s where we’re getting a little mixed up. You see, I’ve got four names here, Mr. McKnight. These were the names called in from Detroit. I don’t see anybody from Sault Ste. Marie.”
“They picked up another man on the way,” I said. “That’s the man we were worried about.”
“Okay, it’s starting to make sense now. That’s what Mrs. St. Jean seemed to be saying. There were five men on the hunt.”
“Yes, exactly.”
“Can I get this man’s name, please?”
“LeBlanc.”
“LeBlanc,” she said. I could tell she was writing it down. “What’s the first name?”
I looked over at Vinnie. He was out.
“Mr. McKnight? I need that first name.”
“I know, I know.” It was way too early to try to keep the story straight. And now that the police were officially involved, I figured it was time to end it. “You see,” I said, “it’s kind of a long story.”
“If you’re telling me I’ve got a fifth man missing who the families in Detroit didn’t even know about, I’m going to need that name right now.”
“Where are you calling from, Constable?”
“We’re at the Hearst Detachment. It’s about fifty miles east of the lodge.”
“You think we could come back up there and talk to you in person?”
She hesitated. “Mr. McKnight, if you want to come up here, you can do that. But first I want that name.”
“Thomas LeBlanc,” I said.
“That was the fifth man on the hunting trip.”
“Yes. I’m here with his brother, Vincent LeBlanc.”
“Okay,” she said. “See, that wasn’t so hard.”
I let that one go. As soon as she ran the name, she’d find out just how hard it really was.
“Listen,” she said, “we’re on our way over to the lodge right now. As long as you’re still in Wawa, why don’t you come back up and talk to us?”
“I think that would be a good idea.”
“Okay, Mr. McKnight. We’ll see you at the lodge. Drive carefully.”
“You, too,” I said. “Watch out for moose.”
I switched the phone off. Vinnie slept in perfect peace, oblivious to what I’d just done. Like I had any choice.
“Wake up,” I said.
He made a noise.
“That was the police.”
He lifted his head. His left eye was still swollen. “What?”
“Albright never got home. His wife called the police down in Detroit.”
He pulled himself up until he was sitting on the edge of the bed. “Man,” he said. “My head hurts.”
“That was the OPP,” I said. “They’re going to the lodge. I told them we’d meet them there.”
“Okay.”
“They wanted Tom’s name. I figured it was time to come clean.”
He looked at me. “You figured that, huh?”
“We’re going up to see the police, Vinnie. These men are officially missing now.”
He let out a long breath. Then he pushed himself up and for one second I thought he was going to jump on me. But instead he stumbled toward the bathroom. “I need to take a shower,” he said. “I can’t go see the police looking like a vagrant. It’s gonna be bad enough.”
An hour later we were both as cleaned up as we were
going to get. We stopped in at a little coffee shop down the street, then at the gas station, and then we were on our way. The giant goose looked down on us one more time as we left town. It felt strange to be going north again.
The rest of the morning we spent retracing our route from the day before, through White River and Hornepayne, through miles and miles of lakes and trees. The air felt even colder. Vinnie sat on the passenger’s side and looked out the window.
“I didn’t have any choice,” I finally said.
“I know.”
“At this point, it’s got to come out.”
“You’re right,” he said without looking at me. “I’m not saying you did the wrong thing.”
“Okay,” I said, and then I settled in for two more hours on the road without one more word from him. I suppose if I had a brother and I knew he was probably on his way back to prison, I’d be just as talkative.
It was eleven o’clock when we hit the Trans-Canada Highway again. I knew to take the left, and to look for the unmarked road on the right. I kept the truck out of the mud this time. We didn’t see our friend the moose.
When we came around the last bend in the road, we saw the police car parked behind the other vehicles. It was white and clean, with the blue OPP seal on the door. We stopped and got out of the truck.
“They must be inside,” I said. The place looked just as deserted as the first time we had seen it. There was a wet wind coming in off the lake again. The air felt heavy.
We walked down to the main cabin. As we passed the butcher’s shed, I expected to see the man come out with the blood all over his gloves again. I couldn’t remember the man’s name, although I knew Helen had told us.
“The plane’s gone,” Vinnie said. I looked out at the
dock. There was just the two aluminum boats, bobbing up and down in the waves.
We went up the creaky old steps and into the main cabin. The big moose head looked down at us. “Hello!” I said.
Nothing.
“That’s what I love about this place,” I said. “They always know how to make you feel welcome.”
We went back to the little office, but it was empty. A radio was on. A faraway station was barely audible through the thick buzz of static. It sounded like French.
“Where is everybody?” Vinnie said.
“Think they all went someplace in the plane?”
“They told us to meet them here, didn’t they?”
“They did,” I said.
We went back through the main room to the front door. It opened just as we got there. Helen St. Jean took one look at us and screamed.
“Oh, my goodness,” she said when she could breathe again. “You scared the life out of me.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “The police told us to meet them here.”
“The police,” she said. “Yes. Hank flew them out to the cabin.”
“The cabin where the men were staying?”
“On Lake Agawaatese, yes. They wanted to see if the men left anything there.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know,” she said, looking out the window at the sky. “Some kind of clue. Something that might tell the police where they were going when they left here. I can’t imagine what that would be.”
“How long have they been out there?”
“They flew out around eight. I’m surprised they’re not back already.”
“Albright’s wife called the police,” I said. “And the other wives. Those men never did get back to Detroit.”
“I know,” she said. “That’s what the constables said.”
We all stood there for a moment. I wasn’t sure what else to say. The door creaked open just then, and the man from the butcher’s shed came in. He stopped when he saw us.
“They’re still out there,” Helen said.
The man nodded.
“Ronnie, this is Alex and Tom,” she said. “They were here yesterday.”
Vinnie looked down at the floor and shook his head.
“Yes, we met,” I said. “You were butchering the moose.”
He glanced upward, past my shoulder. I turned and looked up at the moose head with him.
“Sorry,” I said. “Maybe we should change the subject.”
The man didn’t smile. He didn’t say a word. He gave Helen a little nod and then he went back out the door.
“You’ll have to excuse him,” Helen said. “He doesn’t say a lot, especially to strangers. Millie’s kinda the same way.”
“It’s a good place to live then,” I said. “How many strangers do you even see up here?”
She smiled. “Less and less every season. I don’t imagine we’ll be coming back next year.”
“That’s what Mr. Gannon told us yesterday. I got the impression it was a done deal.”
“I suppose it is,” she said. “It’s hard to believe we’ll be packing up for good this time.”
“Where do you go when you’re not up here?”
“We all live in Sudbury,” she said. “For the last fifteen years, we’ve been coming up here for the summer and fall. Business was good the first few years, then it started
to taper off. This year was the worst, and now, with this—” She looked out the window again.
“I’m sorry to hear that, ma’am,” Vinnie said. “This isn’t good for anybody.”
She looked at him for a long moment. “You fellas want some coffee?”
“That would be nice,” Vinnie said.
As she left the room, Vinnie went to the window and stared out. “I wish we were out there,” he said.
“What do you think we’d find?” I said. “The men have been gone for five days now.”
“People leave things behind,” he said. “There’s always something.”
Helen came back out with a pot of coffee and three empty mugs. She poured it black and didn’t ask if we wanted cream or sugar. Which was fine with me. We all stood there looking out the window for a few minutes, until finally we heard the distant whine of the motor.
“That’ll be them,” she said. “I’d know that sound anywhere.”
We followed her outside. She went down to the dock and stood there watching the northern sky. A speck appeared above the trees. It got larger as the sound of the motor grew louder. The plane seemed to bob up and down in the wind as it cleared the tree line. Then it hit the water, touching down as smoothly as a loon returning to its nest. The plane cruised in across the length of the lake, slowing down as it approached the dock. I could see Hank Gannon’s face through the windshield.
He cut the motor. The sound kept ringing in my ears. Helen stepped up and caught the plane with one hand, then looped two ropes around the cleats on the float, front and back. The door popped open, a small ladder came out, and Hank climbed down to the dock.

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