Cold (25 page)

“This is serious.”

“Look, you already told me you looked for that green truck.”

Again, there was a pause, this one long enough that she was about to ask if he was still on the line.
 
Finally, he said, “I ran a search through the DMV’s computer and whittled it down to a list of probables.
 
There’re about seventy thousand residents in Marquette County and I’ll tell you a lot of them own trucks.
 
Then I made a bunch of phone calls.
 
In some cases I went out to businesses to talk to people who sounded, you know, vague over the phone.
 
But there was nothing, nothing concrete.
 
I couldn’t find anyone who was driving a green truck toward that bridge when—”

“Del.”

“What?”

“Will you do me a favor?” she asked.

“Sure.”

“Will you put your other hand on your forehead?”
 
There was silence over the phone, except for the rattle of what she assumed was the heater in his motel room.
 
“Just place your fingers at your hairline and run them down to your eyebrows.”

He sort of laughed.
 
“Is this like one of those nine-hundred phone numbers?”

“Sure, whatever you want,” she said.
 
“You’re the one in the motel room.”

“All right.
 
I’m running my fingers down from my hairline to my eyebrows.”

“How far is it, two-and-a-half inches?”

“Oh, closer to three.
 
Used to be only two, but that was years ago.”

“Creases?
 
I recall two that were quite pronounced.”

After a moment, he said, “Yeah, I’ll go with two.”

“And the right eyebrow, it’s more prominent than the left.”

“Thirty-six stitches in a high school hockey game, a two-one win over Negaunee.”

“Of course.
 
Now, let’s do the nose.
 
From the bridge to the tip.”

“Now you’re getting kind of personal.”
 
There was silence.
 
“I’d say an inch-and-a-half—maybe three-quarters.
 
And there’s an arch to it.
 
Only a slight arch, I might add.”

“Yes, I remember the arch,” she said.

“Where else?”

“That’s all for now.”

“That’s it?
 
I’m a guy alone in a motel room, feeling his face and that’s it?”

“You’ve been a big help.”

“I couldn’t interest you in an ankle?”

“No, really.”

“Perhaps a collarbone?”

“That’s it, thanks.
 
Gives me a sense of proportion.
 
I like working from memory.”

“Don’t I get a turn?”

She laughed.
 
“If you want.”

“Now I’m blushing.
 
I guess I’d rather wait.”

“All right.”

“That’s a middle-aged thing, isn’t it?”

“Waiting can be good,” she said.
 
“I didn’t appreciate it when I was young.
 
But now I know you can get a lot done while waiting.
 
Will you call me before you start back?”

“Sure.
 
Next I’ll give you my earlobes.
 
Would you like that?”

“Perhaps.
 
And I may need help with the mouth.”

“I charge extra for the mouth.”

She laughed as she hung up.

Darcy was standing in the kitchen doorway, a bowl of steaming pasta held in front of her as though it were a sacrificial offering.

“Phone sex,” Liesl said.
 
The girl looked nearly hysterical.
 
“It can be so satisfying.
 
Comes with age.
 
Now bring that over here—I’m famished.”

•

“You were out there a long time,” Noel said.
 
“Hungry?
 
There’s mostly canned goods in those cabinets.
 
A lot of soups.”

Norman sat at the log table in the kitchen.
 
“Starved.”
 
She was looking for something in his face, some sign that he’d found what he was searching for out there.
 
But she couldn’t tell.

“Hold her while I dish out the soup.”
 
She sat Lorraine on his lap.

It was sudden and at first Norman looked uncertain.
 
He placed one hand on the child’s back, the other on her shoulder to help her keep her balance.
 
Cautiously, he bounced his knee, and she laid her head on his left shoulder and giggled.

Noel brought two bowls of beef barley soup to the table.
 
While they ate, slowly at first because the barley soup was very hot, she spoke constantly in a voice that was intended for Lorraine.
 
Not exactly singsong, but there was a lilt that was playful.
 
Simply blowing on a spoonful of soup before offering it to the child became a special event.
 
Noel never asked if Lorraine wanted to get on her lap, and the child seemed content to be able to look at her mother while she ate.

“Did you see the deer herd?” Norman said.

Noel shook her head.

Norman lowered his face until his mouth was close to the child’s skull.
 
“You didn’t see the deer, Lorraine?
 
Down across the river?”

The girl looked at her mother, as though for the answer.
 
“When are the three bears coming home?”

Noel laughed.

“Well, not for a long time,” Norman said.
 
He too had changed his voice, making it higher, more animated.
 
“We’ll be gone before they come back.”

“Where did they go?”
 
Lorraine placed her fingers in his bowl, picked out a left over piece of barley and placed it in her mouth.

“They went to sleep,” Norman said.

Lorraine seemed confused.
 
“In bed?”

“Not exactly,” he said, staring at Noel.
 
“In the den.
 
In the ground.”

Lorraine laid her hands on the table to each side of the bowl.
 
“Are they dead?”

“No, they’re just sleeping.
 
They’ll come back in the spring.
 
They sleep all winter.”

“That’s a very long time.”

He nodded, but he could see that she still wasn’t satisfied.
 
“What?”

“Do they dream?”

“I’m sure they do.”

After a moment, she said, “I would.”

•

Del was awakened by a knock on the door.
 
The motel room was very hot now and quite dark.
 
He threw back the bedspread and crossed the room.
 
When he opened the door the air was so cold it seemed to push against his shirt.
 
In the twilight it was difficult to see but he thought he was staring at Norman Haas.

“I wake you, Sheriff?”

“Yes, you did.”

“Cold as a motherfucker, isn’t it?” the man said, stepping past Del into the room.

Del shut the door quickly.
 
Though he wasn’t fully awake, the shock of cold air had made him suddenly alert.
 
“Haas,” he said.

“Right.”
 
There was the smell of beer and peppermint coming off the man.

“Norman or Warren?”

Turning, the man laughed and Del already knew.
 
“Well, what do
you
think?”

“Norman’s not that stupid.”

“Right.”
 
Warren Haas fit his brother’s description, though he might have been a bit taller, and a few years older.
 
Taking a pint bottle from the pocket of his long leather coat, he unscrewed the cap, releasing a medicinal peppermint smell into the warm air.
 
After taking a swig, he offered Del the bottle.

Del switched on the light and said, “No thanks.”
 
He went to the heater and shut off the fan.

When he turned around, Warren said, “I know why you’re here.”

“Do you?”
 
Sitting on the bed, Del began to pull on his boots.

Warren Haas fell into the chair by the window, placing the bottle of schnapps on the small round table.
 
“He’s got Noel.”
 
Del finished tying one lace and raised his head.
 
“He’s got my daughter too.”

“You know that for a fact?”

“No.”
 
Haas picked up the bottle of schnapps and took a long drink.
 
“But why else would you be here?”
 
He took a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket and laid the pack on the table.
 
“What I don’t know is why you’re still here?”

“I’m not going to be much longer.
 
I’ll head out at first light.”

“Trail grown cold?”
 
His smile was crooked because his cheek was badly bruised.
 
“It’s going way down tonight.
 
Way
the fuck down.
 
You’re smart to wait till morning.
 
I’d hate to break down out there thirty miles from the next town.”

Del leaned over and tied his other lace.
 
“I appreciate your concern.”

“They’re out there, in the cold,” Warren Haas said.
 
“Think they’ll survive?
 
Can’t sit in her Trooper all night.
 
Got to get inside somewhere warm.”

“How do you know they’re in her Trooper?”

Haas shrugged.

“You seen your brother today?”

He shook his head.

“That’s some bruise there,” Del said.

“I haven’t seen Norman since he went away.”
 
Haas turned his head quickly, as though he’d just noticed someone right next to him.
 
Picking up his pack of cigarettes, he tapped one out.
 
“Maybe they can keep each other warm.
 
You know?
 
Noel can be a very warm girl.
 
And my brother, he’s been out of circulation for a while.”

Del got up and came to the table.
 
“This is a no-smoking room.”

Warren laid the cigarette on top of the pack of Winstons.
 
“I bet I know where they went.”
 
Del stared back at Haas.
 
“I have a good idea anyway.”

“You can tell me.
 
Or you could contact the state police.”

Haas took another pull on his schnapps and shook his head.
 
“That’s not exactly what I had in mind.”

Del sat in the other chair at the table.
 
He picked up the cigarette, held it horizontally beneath his nose and inhaled.
 
“I smoked for fifteen years.
 
Winstons, Marlboros, and now and then when I’d cross the border into Canada I’d get something like Players, something with the big hit.
 
It’s hard to quit.
 
Ever try?”

Warren Haas shook his head.
 
“Only thing I ever managed to quit was the Navy.”

“You were a sailor?”

“Stationed in San Diego.”

“Beautiful harbor.”

“I never noticed.
 
Been there?”

“Twice.
 
Law enforcement conventions.
 
One day I skipped all these sessions I was supposed to go to and I rented a sailboat in Mission Bay.
 
There was a steady northwest wind and I sailed right out into the Pacific.
 
It was something, it was really something out there.”
 
Del leaned back in his chair, holding the cigarette between his fingers as though it were lit.
 
“Sometimes I still find myself flicking the ashes off a pencil or pen.”
 
Haas nodded as though he were sympathizing.
 
“What exactly did you have in mind?” Del asked.

“I’ll take you to them.”

“Where?”

Haas smiled.
 
“That’s my point.
 
No state police.
 
No one else.
 
Just you and me.”

“How do you know where they are?”

Haas shrugged.
 
“Maybe you’ll find that out when we get there.”

“But not before.”

“Right.”

“Why?
 
What do you want out of this?”

“He has my wife—my soon-to-be ex-wife.
 
He has my daughter, Lorraine.
 
I want to make sure they get out of this safely.”