Walleye Junction (30 page)

“Are you talking about us?”

Emma swung the flashlight's beam across the headstones.

“Maybe.”

She climbed a short flight of stone steps, but Nathan stayed where he was.

“Is that really how you feel?” he asked.

Emma kept her eyes on the row of grave markers in front of her. “I'm afraid so.” She started to count to herself as she walked west. If Beverly was the fifteenth headstone along the row, Lucy was the sixteenth. “Lucy and Beverly are somewhere along here,” she said.

“What did I ever do to you?” asked Nathan.

Emma stopped in front of a large marble headstone that looked as if it had been recently cleaned.

L
UCINDA
W
INFREY, LOVING DAUGHTER AND FRIEND. EARTH HAS NO SORROW THAT HEAVEN CANNOT HEAL.

She dropped the grocery bag she was carrying on the ground between Beverly and Lucy's graves. A box containing a cherry cheesecake tumbled out. She unwrapped the flowers and leaned them against Lucy's headstone.

“I found Lucy and Beverly,” said Emma. She touched Beverly's headstone lightly with her fingertips. Her voice broke. “I'm afraid it's not good news. They're still dead.”

“Emma,” said Nathan. “I asked you a question.”

“I'm well aware of that. I'm just trying to decide whether it's worth answering.”

“You make out like I was some sort of monster.”

Emma set the flashlight down on the grass.

“Nathan, I want you to take a good look at me and I want you to tell me what you see.”

He hesitated. “I see a beautiful woman.”

Emma spread her arms wide. “Do you think I'm fat?”

“Don't be ridiculous. If anything you're too thin.”

“In high school I actually weighed ten pounds less than I do now.”

“That's hard to imagine.”

“Try.”

“Why are you bringing this up now?” asked Nathan.

“You used to tell me I was too fat.”

“I didn't.”

Emma insisted. “You did.”

“I don't remember.”

“You told me I was fat. You told me I was ugly. You even told me I was stupid. I had a 4.3 GPA and weighed a hundred and five pounds. I still have issues because of the way you treated me.” Emma sat down on Lucy's grave and started taking things out of the shopping bag. “Now do you remember?

“It was a joke.”

Emma looked up into the night sky. She'd been planning this conversation for years. It had played out in a myriad of ways. Never had she imagined that Nathan would say the whole thing was a joke. Emma turned to face him. She wanted to scream but wouldn't give him the satisfaction of losing her temper.

“A joke doesn't last for three years,” she said. “You were my boyfriend. You professed to love me. You should have been the person who made me feel better about myself, but instead you undermined me at every turn. Was it part of some long-term strategy? If you made me hate myself then I'd be too insecure to leave?”

“Come off it, Em. You're making too much of this. It was years ago.”

“And now you're marrying Cynthia Phelps,” said Emma. “Back in high school you used to say she was fat too. You even told jokes about her. She must have outweighed me by at least fifty pounds. I'd look in the mirror and wonder how much more weight I had to lose before I'd be good enough for you.”

Emma carefully placed the cakes, cookies, and candy bars in a row in front of her. Her plan was to work from left to right. She tore the wrapper off the box of chocolate muffins and stuffed one in her mouth. She spoke between bites.

“I'm going to eat all this.”

Nathan bent down and picked up a packet of Twinkies.

“I didn't think they made these anymore,” he said.

“There were times I felt so ugly I wanted to kill myself,” she said.

Nathan slid a Twinkie out of its clear plastic packaging and smelled it.

“They still smell the same as they always did,” he said. “How is that even possible?”

Emma got up on her knees and snatched it from his hand. “Buy your own fucking Twinkies.”

Nathan turned away. The flashlight cast long shadows across the grass. Tiny insects flew in its path.

“I don't know what to say.”

Emma tossed the half-finished Twinkie to the side and reached for the cheesecake.

“There's not much you can say,” Emma said, ripping open the box. “The damage is done.”

His voice broke. “I really hated that you didn't need me. I still hate it.”

“Nathan, I don't even know how to respond to that.”

“For what it's worth, I am sorry,” he said. “I don't like to think that I've made you miserable all these years.”

“It's not your fault anymore,” said Emma. “I took ownership of my issues a long time ago.”

Nathan fell back on the grass and stared up into the trees. “I want to go back. I miss high school. My whole life was ahead of me. It felt like anything was possible.”

Cherry topping coated her fingertips. She reached over and wiped them on his T-shirt. Nathan tried to take hold of her hand, but she pulled it away too quickly.

“I think you're the only person on the planet who's ever confessed to missing high school,” she said.

“Back then I was
the
man. People respected me,” said Nathan. “After graduation I was just
a
man.”

“Open your eyes, Nathan. That's how the world works. No one cares that you were the varsity quarterback at Walleye High. You need to get over it. You also need to stop putting people down to make yourself feel better.”

“I don't do that.”

“You did it to Kyle earlier this evening.”

“Kyle is an asshole,” said Nathan. “After what his aunt and uncle did I'm surprised you let him near you.”

“Kyle's not responsible for what happened. Near as I can tell he disowned them years ago. How do you know his aunt and uncle were involved? So far it's been kept out of the papers.”

“Cynthia writes for the local paper. She knows things.”

“I hope she's not been telling anyone else. The police don't want people to know yet.”

Nathan stood up and walked a few feet away.

“I really can't believe you're defending Kyle Miller,” he said.

“How do you figure that?”

Nathan looked as if he was about to start laughing. “His family for starters,” he said. “He was never going to amount to much.”

“Kyle's done surprisingly well considering his background.”

“What's wrong with you, Emma? He's not done squat. He's a security guard for fuck's sake.”

“Nathan, can't you see that he didn't have the advantages we had. Your uncle's business practically landed in your lap. If Lucy was still alive you'd be working for her now.”

“Even by your standards that's a pretty bitchy thing to say.”

“What do mean by
your
standards?”

“Sometimes you come off as pretty damn cold-hearted.”

Emma started gathering up the discarded packaging. The last thing she wanted was an argument with Nathan. She wasn't even sure why she was defending Kyle. Like Nathan, he was a ghost from her past. Neither one of them was worth all this trouble.

“I'm not cold-hearted Nathan. I'm a good person. I have friends. I have people in my life who love me.” Emma rose to her feet and dusted off the seat of her trousers. “I apologize for what I said. It was uncalled for. You always worked hard for Caleb. You deserve to be where you are, and let's face it, Lucy couldn't have run Winfrey Farms. She didn't have the interest or the skills.”

Nathan stood with his back to her. His hands were once again shoved deeply into his pockets.

“This isn't how I wanted things to go this evening,” he said. “I don't even know how to talk to you anymore. Everything with us always seems to end in an argument.”

“I'm not sure what you mean by that. We've only had two conversations in twelve years.”

He turned around and stared at her. “Who are you?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“You're not the Emma I knew. You're not even close.”

“I consider that a compliment.”

“It wasn't meant that way.”

“Good night, Nathan.”

“I can't leave you out here on your own.”

Emma crossed her arms. As far as she was concerned the conversation was over.

“Good night, Nathan,” she repeated.

Nathan stomped off across the graves, paying no heed to the paths that fell between them. A few minutes later his truck's engine rumbled. She tracked his taillights until they disappeared beneath the trees that arched over the road. Only then did she set off toward home.

 

13

Macy held her phone up to the dawning sky. There was no signal. According to the map coordinates Lou Turner had posted in a group e-mail, she was where she was supposed to be. It didn't feel right though. She'd not seen a single soul since she parked Aiden's pickup truck near a trailhead a half hour ago. She was starting to worry that she'd been sent the wrong information. There was no sign of the other officers who'd set out an hour earlier to search for Joel Edwards in a homeless encampment located near the Flathead River.

The area was just north of town but felt like it was miles away. Morning sunlight filtered through the low-lying mist clinging to the wide river basin. Stands of slim-trunked aspen trees flashed like cut glass and a solid-looking red barn stood alone in a sea of white cherry blossoms. Macy was so busy taking in the view she nearly tripped. The track had been churned up by dirt bikes. In some places the soil was deeply gouged. She glanced over at the river to check her progress. If Lou and his team were nearby she should have heard something by now, but the woods and riverbanks were empty. As she rounded the next bend, she spotted a footbridge that sagged across the Flathead River like a crooked smile. Careful to avoid brambles and poison ivy, she picked her way forward. Thin wicks of wood smoke rose into the air. Snatches of conversation drifted through the trees. Following the sound, she ducked under tree branches and headed down a steep slope. The path took her to a clearing not more than twenty feet wide. The only other way out was a low, dark opening in the trees. The earth was damp from recent spring rains. There was a heavy smell of damp vegetation and dried clover in the air. Off to her left, branches snapped and cracked. Macy turned toward the sound. Something was moving through the dense undergrowth. She searched the gloom for lumbering shadows. Bears were common in Montana. After a long winter they'd be hungry.

Keeping her eyes on the undergrowth, she eased her gun from its holster.

“Is anybody there? Lou? Gina?” she called hopefully.

Macy turned in a slow circle, scanning the trees for movement and the ground for animal tracks. The path leading to the river was marked with shoe prints, all of them human and all of them much larger than hers. The clearing was filled with waist-high grass. None of it was tamped down. She relaxed. It was probably nothing more dangerous than a rabbit.

In the distance a train whistle blew.

Closer still, something growled.

Macy turned in time to see a large black dog emerge from the undergrowth. Hackles raised, the animal bared its teeth before letting out several sharp barks. Macy picked up a stone and threw it. It landed near the dog's front paws.

She held up her gun and took aim.

“Get out of here! Shoo!”

A man stepped into the clearing carrying an armful of firewood. One of his hands was bandaged. Blood seeped through the gauze. He let out a sharp whistle and the dog backed off.

“Down boy! Come here!”

The man was older, probably in his fifties, and had a dark complexion and sad almond-shaped eyes. He looked as if he'd been knocked sideways; the bones in his face didn't quite line up and a wide scar ran along his jawline. His trousers were stained at the knees and the thick fleece he wore hung awkwardly from his slim shoulders. The deep timber of his voice didn't square with his slight frame.

“Sorry about that,” he said, motioning for his dog to sit. “Leroy can be a little territorial.”

Macy pulled out her badge. “Keep your hands where I can see them.”

“I said I was sorry.”

“Your dog was about to attack me,” said Macy.

“No harm done. You're fine.” The man crouched down so he was eye level with his dog. “You can put your gun away. I'm not going to hurt you and neither is Leroy.”

Macy backed up a step but kept hold of her gun. “If you can't control your dog you should keep him on a leash.”

“Your opinion has been duly noted.” He smirked. “You lost or something?”

“I'm not lost.”

“I think you are.”

Macy caught something sharp in his voice and stopped short before speaking her mind again. The last thing she wanted was an altercation. The forest had fallen silent. Conversation no longer drifted through the trees. She was alone. She decided it was in her best interest to soften her tone.

“I'm heading for the footbridge,” she said, gesturing to a low opening cutting through a tangle of brambles. “It's just through there.”

His voice was low and lazy. “You don't seem too sure about that.”

Macy looked beyond him toward the track that had brought her to this place. He was blocking her way. It made her uneasy. He seemed to sense this. He backed off a bit and moved to the right. Leroy followed him and stood obediently at his side. The man threw her a crooked smile.

“You're a little late for the party,” he said. “The rest of Walleye's finest left twenty minutes ago.”

Macy holstered her weapon. “They were looking for Joel Edwards. Do you know him?”

“Joel cleared out a few days ago. Near as I can tell he gave away everything he owned. I guess he doesn't think he'll need much once he gets to wherever he's going. A bad sign if you ask me.”