Heaven's Keep (29 page)

“How did Ellyn respond?”

“With all kinds of charts and graphs and projections that promised we’d end up richer than God.”

“Sounds persuasive.”

“It was. But you didn’t know Edgar Little Bear. He was a great presence. People looked up to him. The council listened. Their big concern was the money. And Little Bear offered a solution. He proposed once again that the Arapaho begin talking with the oil and gas interests.”

“How did that go over?”

“The council was willing to consider it, but Ellyn hit the warpath. Which didn’t seem to bother Little Bear, so I figured they’d already discussed this between them. She argued that the companies would rape the land, but Little Bear was sure that, with proper oversight, the Arapaho could make sure that didn’t happen. He talked about available new technology and a new sensitivity to the environment. I don’t know about the Ojibwe, Cork, but the Arapaho consider things long and carefully before making any decisions. The plane disappeared before the council took up discussion again. When
they did and the conversation finally ended many weeks later, Ellyn Grant had persuaded the council to support the Gateway Grand Casino.”

“Which might not have happened if Little Bear had been around?” Cork said.

“Exactly.”

Parmer said, “Maybe it’s not one or the other. Maybe it’s both love and politics. With Little Bear out of the picture, the way is clear for Nightwind and Grant to proceed with their relationship and for the casino project to go forward.”

“But why such a complicated plan to get rid of Little Bear?” Cork said.

“Because if Edgar had just disappeared, everyone would have looked immediately at Lame Nightwind and Ellyn Grant, and Ellyn would have lost all her credibility to lead,” Rude said. “But if it’s the weather that was responsible and a whole plane full of people disappeared along with him, then nobody suspects a thing.”

“It works,” Cork agreed. “In theory. But we still have no proof. If we could just tie Nightwind to the missing plane.”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Rude said. “I’ve been thinking about Will Pope’s vision. He saw the eagle descend from the sky and glide into a box, where it was covered with a white blanket, right? What if the box was an airplane hangar and the white blanket was the snow on the roof?”

“Does Nightwind have a hangar along with his private airstrip?” Cork asked.

Rude smiled. “He does indeed.”

“Can you draw me a map that’ll take me there?”

“I’ll take you there myself.”

“No, from this point on you stay clear of us. Things could get difficult, Jon.”

“That doesn’t worry me.”

Cork said, “Maybe not, but I’ll bet Diane doesn’t like the idea.”

Rude looked up at his wife, who said, “If Cork really needs you, I won’t stand in your way. But I’d prefer to know you’re safe. I’d like
Anna to grow up with a father.” She didn’t smile, and Cork understood that everything she said was true.

Rude spent a long moment weighing his response, then gave a nod. “All right.”

When they returned to their hotel, the desk clerk signaled to them as they passed. She was a woman of Indian descent, India of the subcontinent. She wore a smart blue suit and had an ornamental spot in the middle of her forehead. She smiled and handed Cork a note.

“The sheriff was here earlier. He asked me to give this to you.”

“Thank you.” Cork opened the note. It said, “Call me. Kosmo.” He’d written both his office phone and his cell phone number.

Upstairs in the room that, for safety’s sake, he and Parmer had decided to share, Cork called the Owl Creek County sheriff. Because it was late, he tried the cell phone first.

“Kosmo.”

From the background sound, the harsh music of casino slots, Cork knew where the man was.

“This is Cork O’Connor.”

“Heard you were in town. I’d like to have a talk with you first thing in the morning, O’Connor.”

“It’ll have to be early, Sheriff. I’ve got a full day planned.”

“Make it seven. My office.”

“I’ll be there.”

When Cork ended the call, Parmer said, “Well?”

“We’ve been summoned.”

“What do you think?”

“I don’t know. Tomorrow will tell. Been a long day. Let’s get some sleep.”

“Hang on. Something I want you to see.” Parmer hefted his suitcase onto his bed and opened it. He dug under some of the clothing and drew out a large handgun, a Ruger Blackhawk.

“Four seventy-five caliber?” Cork asked.

“Yep.”

“That’s a substantial piece, Hugh. Could bring down an elephant. Planning on hunting while you’re here?”

“I figure it’ll stop any critter, elephant or otherwise, intent on doing us harm.”

“Got a permit?”

“Wouldn’t be without one. I also have a permit for this.” He reached back into his suitcase and drew out a slightly smaller firearm, an S & W Sigma 18. He held it out, offering.

Cork shook his head.

With a shrug, Parmer put the gun back. “It’ll be here if you decide you want it.”

Cork laughed. “I honestly don’t believe they’ll break down our door during the night. If they’re going to jump us, they’ll do it in the middle of nowhere.”

“Lot of nowhere out here. And won’t it be a good thing that I have a gun that’ll bring down an elephant?”

Cork said, “I’m going out for some air. I’ll be careful to watch for elephants.”

He left the room and walked to the courtyard, where the little pool was filled with water from the hot springs. He stared up at the clear black sky and the stars, and thought about Stephen, who was alone in the deep Minnesota woods, staring up at the same sky. He drove out of his heart any worry about his son. Stephen had spent much of his life in the forest, and he understood its ways. He was in the keeping of the spirits of that land and under the watchful eye of Henry Meloux. Cork’s only concern was whether Stephen would be granted the vision he sought. And over that, no man had control.

The night was cool but still much warmer than any had been when he’d stood there months earlier during his first search for the missing plane. Those cold nights he’d held desperately to hope. What he held to now was something very different, a resolve like a hard fist in his heart. After months of torturing himself, he’d finally stopped re-creating in his mind the morning of Jo’s disappearance, which he’d accepted as the morning of her death. Then Liz Burns and Becca Bodine had brought him the videotape. And now he understood that much of what he’d imagined, particularly the ending,
was untrue. There probably had been no problem with turbulence, no sudden tilting of the wings, no long, irrevocable slide toward earth. What had been the true end for Jo? The kiss of a gun barrel against the back of her head? Did she know what was coming? Oh Christ, did she know?

Alone in the courtyard under the black sky, Cork stared down at his empty right hand and closed it slowly until it was a rock of bone and flesh.

T
he next morning at seven sharp, Cork and Parmer stood at the public contact window of the Owl Creek County Sheriff’s Office. Dewey Quinn was on the desk and buzzed them through the security door. He left his chair and greeted Cork with an enthusiastic handshake.

“The sheriff told me you were in town. Good to see you.”

“Dewey, this is a friend of mine, Hugh Parmer. Hugh, Dewey Quinn.”

“A pleasure,” the deputy said. He looked at Cork questioningly. “Here for…?”

“Just here, Dewey. It’s been a while.”

“And the snow’s starting to melt in the high country,” Quinn said. “I don’t want to discourage you, Cork, but it’ll be a while before enough of it’s gone to expose the plane.”

“Thanks, Dewey. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“The sheriff’s expecting you. He told me to send you right in.”

Sheriff Kosmo stood at a window, his back to the door, which was open. Cork stepped inside, Parmer behind him. Kosmo had his hands clasped against the small of his back. He seemed intent on what lay beyond the window glass.

“Sheriff?” Cork said.

Kosmo didn’t turn. He said, “Have a seat, gentlemen.”

Two chairs with shiny metal frames and orange plastic seats and backs had been set before the desk. Cork took one and Parmer the other.

“Tell me why you’re here,” Kosmo said.

“Because you asked me,” Cork replied.

Kosmo turned to them. He looked like a man who hadn’t slept in a month. Bags of flesh hung under his eyes. His face was waxen and his lids heavy. A tall man, he looked down at them. “No, tell me why you and Mr. Parmer are here in my county.”

“I’m searching for answers to a few questions that have come up lately.”

“What questions?”

“About the plane that went missing with my wife aboard.”

“Until we locate it, we all have questions.”

“When do you expect that will be?”

The sheriff gave a moment’s thought. “When the snow in the high country has melted sufficiently.”

“I don’t think you’ll find it,” Cork said.

“Any particular reason?”

“I don’t think it’s in the high country.”

That seemed to catch Kosmo by surprise. His brows lifted, and a little energy came into his eyes. “Oh? Where do you think it is?”

“That’s one of the questions I’m here to answer.”

The sheriff walked to his own chair and sat down. He folded his hands on his desk. “What makes you think it’s not in the mountains?”

“A PI name of Stilwell came here a couple of weeks ago. Probably checked in with you. A courtesy call.”

“What of it?”

“He’s gone missing.”

“Well, I can pretty much say for certain he left this county in one piece.”

“What about Felicia Gray?”

“What about her?”

“She was asking questions about the plane crash, too. And she ended up dead in a gulch.”

“That was an accident.”

“Funny, as soon as I started asking questions about the missing plane, I had the same kind of accident. Only I was luckier than Ms. Gray.”

Kosmo sat back and gave him a long, dark, weary look. “Tell me straight what’s going on here.”

Cork laid it out for him: the mob connection, the money laundering, the possibility that Ellyn Grant was complicit in it all, including the missing charter. He didn’t tell Kosmo everything. Not wanting to show every card he held, he said nothing about his suspicion that Nightwind was the pilot or about what he suspected was the relationship between Nightwind and Grant.

Kosmo listened without interrupting. At the end, he took a breath that sounded like a bull’s snort and said, “You believe this?”

“Give me another read,” Cork countered.

Kosmo slid his rolling chair back, stood up, and returned to the window. Through the glass panes, Cork could see the main street of Hot Springs, its storefronts and businesses, mostly old buildings that had started as one enterprise and now housed another. It was clearly a town looking for a way to survive.

“Let me explain something, O’Connor. For a long time, Hot Springs had a lot of life in it. Folks used to come for the waters, stay awhile, spend money. It was a destination. Now? Hell, everybody in the United States has got a hot tub in their backyard full of water that doesn’t stink. No reason to come to Hot Springs anymore. Last couple of decades, things have been hard for folks around here. White
and
Arapaho.”

“My guess is that they’ve always been harder for the Arapaho.”

“Maybe so. But that casino gets built up near Yellowstone, it’s going to bring a lot of traffic through Hot Springs wouldn’t otherwise come this way. People’ll stop here for the waters and for the Blue Sky Casino.” He looked over his shoulder at Cork. “You got any idea the revenue that could bring into this county?”

“Some. We’ve got a casino in my county back home.”

“Tell me something. What if your casino shut down?”

“Who says we’re here to shut down the Arapaho casino?”

“I’m looking at the larger picture, O’Connor, the total fallout.”

“You make it sound like we intend to detonate a nuclear device.”

“Economically, the effect could be the same.”

“You’re a lawman, Sheriff. Shouldn’t you be concerned about the law?”

“My concern is the well-being of Owl Creek County. Let me tell
you something else. We had us a drug problem here a while back. Significant problem, centered out on the reservation. Bunch of Mexican drug dealers married Arapaho women, began using the reservation as a base for their operation. Us, state drug task force, DEA, none of us could break it up because none of the Arapaho would talk. Family business, you know. And, hell, lot of those folks out there are dirt poor, out of work. The drug money was pretty good. Know who took ’em on and beat ’em? Ellyn Grant. Did it by offering hope mostly, a different kind of hope than the drug money and all the evil goes along with that. Stood up at great personal risk. That woman can be a pain in the ass, sure, and we don’t always see eye to eye, but there’s much about her to admire.

“Now, I’m not saying I don’t understand your motive in coming here. It’s a crazy story you tell, but you obviously believe there may be some truth to it, so I get how you must feel. What I’d like is for you and me to reach an agreement. While you’re in my county, I expect an open exchange of information. Whatever you need from me or my people, you’ve got it. In return, I want to know where you’re going, where you’ve been, and what you’ve found. Fair enough?”

“All right.”

“What’s your itinerary for today?”

“Sightseeing in general.”

“Sightseeing? You’ve got to do better than that, O’Connor.”

“Best I can do right now. Is that all, Sheriff?”

Kosmo looked at him a long time, dark and disappointed. “I’ll be watching you, O’Connor.”

“I’m sure you will, Sheriff.”

Cork stood, turned with Parmer, and they left. He stopped to talk with Quinn at the contact desk.

“You remember that TV journalist who died in a car wreck a few weeks ago, Dewey? Felicia Gray?”

“Of course. A real tragedy, that.”

“She was out here just before the accident, is that right?”

“Yeah. But she was out here a lot. Did a number of stories about the Arapaho and the casino. Always digging. I heard she wanted a job
in an important television market. Denver, place like that. Maybe she thought if she came up with something big, it would be her ticket out. Believe me, I understand.”