Cold (41 page)

 
“See?” Pronovost said.
 
“You two woke the child up.
 
Go see to her, Noel.”

Warren let go of her wrists and she shoved him away from her.
 
She looked at Del for a moment, and then left the kitchen, crossed the Great Room and went into the bedroom where Lorraine had been asleep.

“All right,” Pronovost said to Warren.
 
“Go help her.”

“What?”

“Go take care of Lorraine.
 
I want to talk to the constable.”

Warren followed Noel into the bedroom, where the child was sobbing.

 
“Christ, I’m hungry,” Pronovost said.
 
“It’s the cold.
 
Need something to burn.”
 
He opened the cabinet over the sink.
 
There were boxes of crackers, cereal, and instant pudding.
 
He took down a glass jar.
 
Sitting across the table from Del, he laid his gun—a 9 mm—on the table next to Del’s .38 so he could use both hands to tip cashews from the jar into his palm.
 
“Showing up in North Eicher was one thing, Constable, but you should have let it go at that.
 
Bad idea, coming up here.
 
That’s a nasty bruise on your head and now you got yourself all tied up.”

“Where’s Norman Haas?” Del asked.

Pronovost chewed a moment.
 
“Outside.”

“With Woo-San?”

Pronovost set the jar of cashews on the table.
 
“Worst thing that ever happened to my daughter is hooking up with either of the Haas brothers.”

“This is all about bears, right?”

Pronovost sorted through the cashews, selected a few and shook them in his fist as though they were dice.
 
“What do you know about bears, Constable?”
 
He tossed the cashews into his mouth.

“All I know is that once in a while we hear about some bear that’s been taken illegally and the carcass is left to rot in the woods.
 
We go out and find them cut open.
 
I understand the gall bladder’s worth a lot of money.”

“If you know who’ll pay.”

“And Woo-San does.”

Pronovost worked his tongue back into one of his molars and he seemed intent on only trying to dislodge a piece of cashew.

“The thing was,” Del said, “the bear carcasses are also missing their paws and teeth.”

“Funny, you don’t strike me as a save the whales, tree-hugging kind of shithead.”

 
“You see a lot of dressed out wildlife up here, but there’s something about a toothless bear with its paws chopped off.”

 
“Woo-San tells me that in Siberia the word for ‘honest truth’ is
kojubat,
which means ‘bear truth.’”
 
Pronovost ate another fistful of cashews.
 
“Before testifying in court they give someone a bear paw and make them bite it.
 
And they say something like ‘If I perjure myself, the bear will bite me.’
 
It’s like our swearing on the Bible.
 
Asians see the bear as a sacred animal.
 
I don’t think we can really appreciate it—it’s a very deep, cultural thing they have about the bear.
 
Woo-San calls him ‘Grandfather,’ and he believes his spirit never dies.”

“And the paws go into soup?”

“Have to boil them for about three days to make them tender,” Pronovost said.

“You’ve sold some bear parts in the past.”

“So.
 
What’s your point?”

“There’s no evidence.”

“No, there’s no evidence.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“You tell me?” Pronovost asked.

“If you let me go, you think I’ll come back here with help and we’ll comb through all these woods till we find something.
 
But we won’t find anything that could be used to make a case.”
 
Pronovost’s gaze was steady.
 
He seemed to be enjoying this.
 
“Besides,” Del said, “that’s the DNR’s business.”

“The Department of Natural fucking Resources has no business on my land.
 
This is MNR—
my
natural resources.”

“And I’m a constable in a small town who doesn’t have the time for such exercises.”

“This is a family matter.
 
Just between the Pronovosts and the Haas brothers.”

“I just want Norman Haas,” Del said.
 
“He’s all I came for.
 
That’s my point.”

“Well, maybe we can all walk away from this and everybody’ll be happy,” Pronovost said.
 
The child was crying in the bedroom but Pronovost didn’t seem to notice.
 
Leaning over the cashews on the table, he seemed to be counting them.
 
He regarded them as though they were something of great value, infinitely rare, and he would not look up from them.
 
“Maybe we can do business after all.”

Behind Pronovost, Del became aware of the change in the light outside the window.
 
He thought it was sunrise—the way first light can seep under an overcast winter sky and illuminate the woods, the falling snow.
 
It usually only lasts a few minutes before the gray closes the seam in the horizon.
 
But it was too early; daylight was perhaps another hour away.
 
The light illuminating the snow flickered unevenly.

Pronovost raised his head, picked up his gun and went to the window.
 
“Fuck,”
he whispered.

From his seat Del could see that several trees beyond the river were on fire.

“It’s the goddamned shed.”
 
Pronovost turned to Del.
 
What casual pleasure he had experienced while eating the cashews at the table was gone now.
 
“Warren,”
he shouted.
 
“Get in here.”
 
He picked up his gun from the table and went into the Great Room.
 
Del could hear Warren’s boots as he came out of the bedroom.
 
“You stay here and watch him,” Pronovost said.

“What is that out there?” Warren said.
 
“A fire?”

Pronovost went to the kitchen door.
 
“I said you stay here.”

•

Liesl was standing at the bottom of her driveway when Monty pulled up in his Bronco.
 
She climbed in and said, “We’re going north of North Eicher.”

“Christ.”
 
He had a broad sleep line running down his right cheek.

“I know.”
 
She unscrewed the cap on the thermos bottle she’d filled with coffee.
 
She poured Monty a cup and handed it to him.

“Thanks.”
 
He looked more alert just for having the smell and the steam rise off the coffee.
 
“Another blizzard, a big one’s coming in by daybreak.”

“Then let’s get going.”

He took a sip of coffee, handed the cup back to her and put the Bronco in gear.

•

The kid wouldn’t stop screaming.
 
Warren tucked the .38 in the outside pocket of Del’s coat and went back into the bedroom.
 
Noel kept pacing back and forth, bouncing her, patting her back, cooing and humming patiently.
 
Then she began singing softly “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.”

“Great,” Warren said, “it’s Judy Garland.
 
Can’t you
shut her the fuck up?”

Noel walked past him, the kid on her shoulder sobbing, gasping for air.

“Come on,
do
something.”

 
“I
am
doing something, Warren.”

“Yeah, you ran away with her.”

Passing him again, Noel’s eyes had that fierceness that he saw more frequently toward the end.
 
Seemed it often welled up when she had the kid in her arms.
 
Some defensive maternal thing that turned her stony and righteous.

 
“And I’ll tell you something, Noel.
 
You’re going to come back—with me.
 
I don’t know what’s going to happen with my brother—that’s up to your father and this sheriff, I guess—but no matter what, you come back with me.
 
You
and
her.”

The child’s crying had begun to subside and without turning toward him, Noel said, “If we go anywhere, it won’t be with you.”

“Listen,” he said, quieter, calmer, “I want us to try to work this out, okay?
 
I want to move back in and—”

Noel turned around.
 
“Forget it.”
 
The kid was suddenly silent.

“I just want us to try, that’s all.”

“There’s nothing to try.
 
That’s
all, Warren.
 
Nothing.”

He walked over to her.
 
She had that look on her face.
 
“We try,” he said, “or this is going to work against you.”
 
He had her attention now.
 
“My brother, an escaped prisoner, and you, running off with the kid?
 
You want to keep her, then you do it with me.
 
That’s the deal.
 
You got that?
 
She’s
our
kid.”

Noel suddenly seemed distracted, which was not unusual.
 
Poor hearing and the frequent use of drugs tended to diminish her focus, but she seemed to have made some decision.
 
All she did was turn away, go to the bed and put Lorraine down.
 
He could hear the child’s shallow breathing, her sinuses clogged with snot.
 
It was like the kid leaked; there was always something running out of her mouth, her nose, her little asshole.
 
Noel tucked the blankets around her, whispering and humming.
 
Then she came around the bed and walked past him toward the door.
 
Pausing just before going out, she turned to him.
 
He could barely see her silhouette against the glow cast by the embers in the fireplace.
 
“Whatever happens, Warren, you’ll never get her.
 
Face it, you don’t
want
her.
 
You never have.”

“Wrong,
Noel.
 
I know what’s mine.
 
This time, we’re going to do it
my
way.
 
It’ll work, you’ll see.
 
And if you don’t, I’m telling you I’ll get her away from you.
 
Then we’ll see how you manage.”

“You can’t
get
something that’s never been
yours!
 
She’s
not
yours.”
 
Noel walked quickly out into the Great Room.

He stood for a moment in the dark bedroom and then followed her.
 
She was on her knees, putting logs on the fire.
 
“What do you mean ‘not mine’?”

She arranged the logs with a poker.
 
“Figure it out, Warren.”

“Figure it out?
 
Figure
what
out?”
 
He came around the couch.
 
“Norman.
 
That what you’re telling me?
 
Norman?”

She ignored him as she got to her feet.
 
He grabbed her by the upper arm.
 
As she raised the poker in her other hand he punched her in the mouth.
 
Staggering backwards, she fell over the coffee table and her head struck the floor hard.
 
One leg was propped up on the coffee table and she didn’t move.

Warren stared at that leg for a moment and then whispered, “All right.
 
All right, Norman.”
 
He walked across the Great Room, took the snowshoes off the wall, and then went to the kitchen.

“You kill her?” Del asked.

“Shut up.”
 
Warren zipped up Del’s coat and put up the hood.

“You’re going after your brother.”

Warren tucked the snowshoes under his arm.
 
“It’s a family thing, Constable.
 
It’s not just business.
 
It’s definitely personal.”
 
He took the .38 from the coat and placed the muzzle against Del’s left temple.
 
“You understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”
 
Warren waited a moment.
 
“And it’s okay if I borrow your gun?”

“Sure.”

“And I can wear your coat again?”

Del hesitated.
 
“I suppose.”

“You
suppose?
 
Thanks, Constable.
 
That’s very generous of you.”
 
Warren raised his arm and said, “Suppose
this,”
and brought the butt of the gun down on the side of the constable’s head.