The Mortal Groove (39 page)

Larry swung his feet off the rear bunk a little while later. When he looked over, he saw Peter staring at him.

“Hey, soldier. You ain't supposed to look me in the eye.”

When Peter's lips turned up in a slight smile, he felt them crack. “What are you going to do about it? Kill me? You're going to kill me anyway.”

Larry nodded, then laughed. “I ‘spose that's right.” He got up, walked nearer, gazing down at Peter with a mixture of curiosity and doubt. “Something different in your eyes today, boy.”

“I'm in the army now.”

“Yeah,” said Larry, rubbing a hand over the stubble on his face. “Yeah.” He turned away, opened the cooler and took out a
beer. Cracking the top, he tipped his head back and guzzled the contents, then crushed it and tossed it on the floor.

“I want one,” said Peter.

“What'd you say?”

“I said I want a beer. I'm thirsty.”

“Shit.” Larry glared at him sideways. “Oh, I ‘spose. Why the hell not?” He cracked open another one, crouched down, and held it to Peter's lips. When Peter was done drinking, Larry pulled the can away, but he kept his eyes on Peter. “What's wrong with you?”

Peter shrugged. He could feel the beer loosening him up.

Larry stared at him a minute more, then got up. “Okay, we got some work to do.” He checked his watch. “But first I drive into town. Might even have to drive back to Duluth. Gotta find me one of them Internet cafes and check my e-mail.” He winked, then shoved the pistol into the back of his belt, picked up the rifle, and left.

Peter closed his eyes. He prayed for one chance. Just one. This time, he'd know what to do.

 

 

O
n the way to the airport, Jane called Information and was put through to the small airfield in Two Harbors. She learned that she could tie the plane down there, as well as refuel. Everything she needed—except for one thing. She asked if there was a rental car company near the field. The man she spoke to said no, but he gave her the name of a car dealership in town she could call. He told her that if she phoned ahead, they would have a car waiting for her when she arrived.

Jane made all the arrangements on the way to the field. She raced through her preflight check and then taxied out to the runway. The FCC didn't allow the use of cell phones while in flight, so for the next few hours, she would be out of contact with Nolan and her father.

The weather was good, so Jane made it up to the Arrowhead by the middle of the afternoon. She set a cruising altitude of twenty-three hundred feet, but she dropped it when she saw
that she was approaching Two Harbors. It wasn't long before she spied the red rock beach to the right of the plane. Years ago, it had been part of Mrs. Lind's resort Twin Points. Jane didn't know what the real name of the beach was. It was just the name she and Peter had given it when they were kids.

She flew up past Split Rock Lighthouse, then did a slow 180 back to Twin Points. She dropped more altitude and saw a couple of dirt roads that might be the one her brother had referred to, followed them with her eyes, but didn't see a white car parked anywhere. The land below her was full of creeks and dense with tree cover, but there were also lots of clearings with nothing but low brush, rocks, and grass.

Jane flew over the same section three times before she spotted the trailer. From the air, it looked tiny. It was nestled into a stand of pine, barely visible from the air, which was why she'd missed it twice before. She calculated the distances she needed to find it from the ground, then headed back to Two Harbors, feeling hopeful for the first time in days. Now if that car she ordered would just be there, waiting for her, when she touched down.

 

“Keep digging,” ordered Larry.

Peter was about one foot down in the dirt, carving out the pit he assumed would be his grave. Larry had removed his cuffs when he got back from town, but the semiautomatic pressed to the back of his neck at all times had given Peter no opening. He seemed more cautions of Peter now.

Peter dug another shovelful of dirt and rock, tossed it next to the hole. Larry was standing a ways away, too far for Peter to throw the dirt in his face, but close enough to be accurate with the gun if Peter tried to bolt. They were approximately a hundred yards behind the trailer.

“Come on, bitch,” said Larry. “Move it.” A small plane had flown over a couple of times and it had made Larry jumpy.

Peter dug a few more seconds, then leaned heavily on the shovel. “I need water.”

“You need to do what I tell you,” snarled Larry.

“I can't,” said Peter, sinking to one knee. So many days without anything in his stomach, with all the exertion and the fear, his body was shutting down. He felt light-headed, and at the same time like he weighed a million pounds.

“Get up!”

Peter tried. He hoisted himself to his feet using the shovel, but that was his limit. “I can't.”

Larry seemed momentarily at a loss. “Fuck,” he shouted, motioning for Peter to move out of the shallow pit and back toward the trailer.

Once they were inside, Larry said, “I should just kill you now.” He hooked the cuffs back up, then the tether.

“Why don't you?”

“Don't want any blood in the trailer, retard.” He took out a can of beer and set it on the table. “You can look at that while I finish
your
job. Think about what you'll never taste again.”

 

Jane checked her cell phone as she drove along Highway 61, headed north. Nolan had called twice.

First message: “Jane, stay put. I'm coming right over.”

Second message: “You're crazy, girl, you know that? Okay, I'm leaving now. If you get this, stay in Two Harbors. I'll meet you at the airport. Under no circumstances—repeat—under no circumstances will you drive out there by yourself! Wait for me!”

Jane smiled, but she knew it wasn't funny. She was risking her life, but saw no other choice. Nolan was at least half an hour
away, if he made good time. Half an hour might be the difference between life and death. She punched in his number. He answered on the first ring.

“Where are you?”

“About five miles north of Two Harbors.”

“I told you to wait for me!”

“I couldn't.”

“Jane, stop right now. Pull over.”

“Where are you?”

“I'm just leaving Duluth. I'll be there in twenty minutes, tops.

“Let me tell you where to go.”

“Are you stopping?”

“Just listen.” She gave him the directions. Just as he was about to scream at her again, the cell connection died. Sometimes it was hard to get or stay connected this far up the shore, and sometimes a finger inadvertently pressed the wrong button. She dropped the phone and pushed the gas pedal harder. Peter said to hurry. She believed he meant it.

 

Jane took the wrong dirt road the first time around. It ate up precious time, but she finally figured out her error. She got back on the highway and drove another half mile. She found the rental car parked off to the right, a blue tarp thrown over it and anchored to the ground. Larry wasn't taking any chances.

Now, crouched in the brush, she watched the trailer. She listened, but all she could hear were birds and the wind in the trees. She assumed Peter was inside, but Larry could be in there, too. That was the problem.

Creeping along the edge of the woods, she approached the front of the trailer. She stepped up on a rock and peered through
one of the broken windows. The interior seemed to be empty. She could see signs of life: a camp stove, a lantern, the remains of some uneaten food on a table.

Easing down off the rock, she edged up to the door. It was wide open. She looked over both shoulders, then took three steps one at a time. The smell inside nearly gagged her. She looked quickly to her left and then to her right. The interior light was minimal. If she hadn't been looking for her brother, she would have missed him.

Two feet poked out from behind a cooler. She stepped closer and saw a body slumped back against the wall, where a refrigerator had once been. At first she wasn't sure who it was.

The man's eyes opened, shifted, drifted, then shifted to her face.

“Peter?” she whispered. The horror of his condition cut straight to her core. Everything she'd imagined he'd been through was written on his face and body, only ten times worse. She knelt down, touched the scar near his eye.

“Water,” he whispered.

She turned, saw the can of beer, grabbed it off the table and opened it. She held it to his parched lips as he drank huge gulps. Rivers ran down his chin. “Key,” he said. “Get the key for the cuffs.” His eyes traveled to a plastic cup on the counter.

Jane got up. A few moments later he was free.

“Where's Larry?” she asked, knowing that if he caught them, they'd be trapped.

“Out in the woods digging my grave,” he said, rubbing some life back into his wrists and ankles.

“Your . . .
grave?”
she repeated.

“Help me up.”

As she did, she saw the vomit stains on his shirt, the urine
stains on his pants. She was transported to another universe, one that was a stinking, seething sty. “Can you walk?”

“Yeah. I think so.” He opened the cooler, took out a water and drank it down.

“Follow me, I've got a car.”

He steadied himself on the counter, nodded. His eyes looked glassy, unfocused, like all the life in them had been vacuumed out.

Waiting a heartbeat, Jane eased back down the steps and crept back along the way she'd come. Sinking down in the brush, she looked around, saw that Peter was coming out the door. He waved at her, motioned her on. She worked her way slowly back to the edge of the woods. When she looked behind her again, Peter was gone.

A shiver of panic blew through her. “Peter,” she whispered, her eyes darting in every direction.

This time, she ran flat out back to the door. She ducked inside, but he wasn't there. As she inched around the far end of the trailer, she saw him. He was about thirty yards ahead of her, pushing fast through some brush on his way to a section of pine. But what made her tremble was the rifle in his hand. She rushed after him, stumbled over a rock, righted herself, and kept on going. She knew where he was headed, what he was about to do. She couldn't shout his name because that would alert Larry that he was coming.

He was less than twenty yards ahead of her when she saw him sight the rifle and fire. She heard so many rounds crack the sky apart that she stopped counting. When she finally reached him, she saw that Larry was on the ground, half in, half out of the hole he'd been digging. The shovel was still in his hands, as if he'd tried to use it to block the bullets. Blood oozed from
wounds across his chest, arm, and head. His eyes were open and staring at nothing.

“Peter!” she screamed. She gulped air, turned to him, saw the cold, even look in his eyes.

“Give me the rifle,” she said, grabbing his arm.

“No.” He shook her hand off.

“Peter? Please! You've got to give it to me. It's Jane.”

“I know who you are. I need it, in case he moves.”

“He's dead, Peter.”

“I can't be sure.”

Jane saw something flash in the woods just ahead of her. She tried to make out what it was, but nothing moved.

Hearing branches snapping behind her, she turned as Nolan rushed up. He looked sweaty in his rumpled dress pants and white shirt, angry as hell. But something else, too. Wary. Unsure. His gun was drawn. She was about to tell him he didn't need it, when he shoved her behind him.

“Peter? It's Nolan.”

Peter kept his eyes on the lifeless body, didn't reply.

“How you feeling?”

“Me? Never better.”

“It's over now, son.”

“Maybe.”

“It's over, Peter. Look at me and tell me you know that.”

Peter licked his lips, walked over to Larry, kicked him a couple times. He waited a second, then bent down, pulled Larry's head up by his hair, looked him in the eyes. When he seemed confident that Larry was dead, he dropped the head. “Okay,” he said, getting up. “It's over.” On his way past Jane and Nolan, he laid the rifle on the ground. “We can go now,” he said over his shoulder.

Gripping Jane's arm, Nolan said, “Wait for me. You can walk back to the car with him, but don't drive away. Promise me.” He squeezed her arm hard.

“Promise.”

“He's in shock. He'll come out of it, but I don't want you to be alone with him until he does.”

“What are you going to do?”

He lifted an arm, wiped the sweat off his forehead. “I'm going to make this crime scene disappear.”