Cold (31 page)

“Slow.
 
But they’re coming.”

Norman put his foot in the stirrup and pulled up the string until it locked in place.
 
“Noel,” he said sharply, “pull all the curtains closed now.”

She backed up, banging her hip into an end table.
 
A lamp fell on the floor, breaking the bulb.
 
She turned and faced the room Lorraine was in, and Norman remained perfectly still.
 
They could hear the child shifting under her blankets, but she didn’t make any other sound.
 
Noel drew the curtains together at all four front windows and then came over to him.
 
She laid a hand on his shoulder.
 
“You can’t,” she whispered.
 
“You can’t just
shoot
at them for walking up here.”
 
He closed the cabinet door.
 
“We don’t let them
in,
that’s all.”

“And what if they try to get in, Noel?”

She took her hand off his shoulder.

•

At the bottom of what appeared to be the porch stairs, Warren stopped again.

“Up,” the constable said.
 
“It’s three steps.”

Warren climbed onto the porch.
 
Maki followed and went straight across and put his back to the wall.
 
The snow wasn’t as deep and there was less wind here, though to Warren’s left came a steady howl as the air cut around the corner of the lodge.
 
Warren stumbled against the log wall, whacking his forehead.
 
“Shit.”

When he reached the porch wall, Warren removed the glove from his right hand.
 
His fingers hardly bent.
 
He touched his forehead, just below the headband.
 
Strange sensation:
 
fingers that barely had feeling touching skin that seemed frozen solid.
 
There was only a deep burning sensation that was penetrating his skin.
 
He tried to scrape off the ice that had formed on his eyebrows, but his hand was getting too cold so he pulled his glove back on.

He stared back toward the road.
 
He couldn’t see it.
 
Their footprints went out from the porch and disappeared in the blowing snow.
 
He could barely make out the arch at the end of the drive.
 
Beyond that, the snow just gave way to darkness, while overhead a milky light bathed everything.
 
No headlights.
 
Perhaps he’d been mistaken.
 
Perhaps Pronovost and Woo-San weren’t following them.
 
“What now, Constable?” he said.

Maki turned his head.
 
With his hood up and his lower face covered, Warren could only see his eyes.
 
They were angry.
 
Maki tugged off his right glove and, as he pulled open the flap covering his face, there was the ripping sound of Velcro.
 
“Quiet.”
 
He unzipped his coat, reached inside, and took out a pistol.

“You remind me of one of those guys in the desert.
 
A sheik.”

Maki kicked him in the shin.

“All right, all
right.”

The constable held the pistol against his right shoulder, the barrel pointed at the porch roof.
 
He turned left and walked along the porch toward the windward side of the lodge.
 
He stopped at the first of four windows.
 
They were small, with six over six panes behind the storms and Maki crawled beneath them until he reached the end of the porch.
 
He stood up and looked back, jerking his head for Warren to follow.
 
Getting down on all fours, Warren crawled through the path in the snow.
 
When he reached the end of the porch, Maki was already working his way along the side of the lodge.
 
The land fell away gradually and he walked upright beneath each window.
 
Warren climbed over the porch railing, dropped into the snow and followed Maki down the side of the lodge.

•

Noel could hear their boots on the porch, but she couldn’t determine what direction they were headed—it had been that way since she’d lost hearing in her left ear.
 
Suddenly she couldn’t hear anything.
 
“I don’t know where they are now.”

“I think they’re along that side of the house” Norman said.
 
“We can’t hear them ‘cause of the wind.
 
I think they’re going down the ridge and around the back to see if there’s another door.”
 
He came over to her and took hold of her upper arm, squeezing her bicep tightly.
 
“Listen, get Lorraine, put on your stuff and go out the front door.”

“What?”

“Noel—
do
it.
 
Just take her and get down to your car and get out of here.”

“Norman.”

“Look, you can’t stay here.
 
The baby can’t.”

“No.”

“You should never have come with me.
 
This is a mistake.
 
We both know it.”

“But I did and I’m not going anywhere.”
 
She pulled her arm free of his hand.

“All right,” he said.
 
“Then go in the bedroom and stay with her.
 
If she wakes up, try to keep her quiet.”

Noel walked across the great room.
 
Just before entering the bedroom she looked back at him, her face briefly illuminated by the fire.

•

Norman went into the kitchen.
 
He figured they would go along the back of the lodge and eventually come to the outside kitchen door.
 
There was a space between the wall and the refrigerator where a plastic trash basket was kept.
 
He pulled the basket out and pushed it over by the counter, then backed into the space and squatted down beside the refrigerator.
 
There was enough room for him to lean back against the wall so he was out of sight if anyone looked through the window in the kitchen door.
 
Raising the crossbow up to his right shoulder, he took aim at the door.
 
He had a clear shot.

•

Del and Warren walked along the back of the lodge and turned the corner out of the wind.
 
There was a door with a small window.
 
Del went up the steps and looked inside at the kitchen, which was dark, but he could make out a log table, four chairs, and beyond that the dull white of an old refrigerator.

Warren came up the steps and Del turned around.
 
“Call for your brother.”

“Yeah, right.”

Del grabbed the leather lapel of his coat, pushed him forward, then rapped the butt of his pistol on the door.
 
He nodded his head emphatically at Warren.
 
His back was against the wall and he held his gun up.
 
His bare hand was numb with cold.
 
He could hardly tell that he was holding a pistol; his forefinger couldn’t feel the trigger at all.
 
He rapped the gun on the door again.

“Norman!”
Warren called finally.
 
“Norman!
 
It’s Warren!
 
Let me in, I’m freezing my ass off out here.
 
Come on!”
 
He waited a moment.
 
“Noel, I know you’re there too.
 
Open the fuck up, will you?”

Warren folded his arms across his chest.
 
He was shaking badly.

“Who’s that with you?” a man called from inside.
 
He seemed close, somewhere in the kitchen.
 
His voice was similar to Warren’s, only younger and somehow less cynical.
 
It had to be Norman Haas.
 
“I saw both of you coming up from the road,” he said.
 
“Who is that, Warren?”

“It’s—”
Warren said.
 
He sounded relieved that he didn’t have to shout to be heard.
 
He studied Del a moment then faced the door again.
 
“It’s Woo-San.
 
This guy who is in on all this shit with her father now.
 
He figured out that it was you who came to the motel and he got in touch with me.”

 
“I don’t know any Woo-San,” Norman said.
 
“I never met a Woo-San.”

“You’ve been away,” Warren said.
 
“Out of touch.
 
Let us come in and talk.”

“What do you want to talk about?”

“Come
on,
Norman,” Warren shouted.
 
“I’m fucking
freezing
out here.”

“Go away, Warren.
 
Just
go away.”

“I’m coming in,” Warren said, bending over.
 
“I can’t
stand
this cold anymore!”

Del watched as Warren untied his left boot and yanked it off his foot.
 
He straightened up, put his hand inside the boot and with one swing broke the glass window.
 
Balancing on his right foot, he hopped to the side of the door.
 
Somewhere deeper in the lodge there was the muffled sound of a child.

“What’re you
doing?”
Norman said.

“I’m gonna open this goddamned door now and walk in there where it’s warm.
 
You understand me, Norman?
 
It’s ‘cause of you being out of prison that I’m out here in this crap.
 
I’m coming in where it’s fucking warm!”

“Don’t!”

“We’re coming
in,
Norman!”
 
Warren hopped in front of the door, reached through the broken glass and, after fumbling around, turned a latch.
 
“Now don’t get excited,” he said as he turned the knob from the outside and pushed open the door.
 
“I’m not armed.
 
I’m just coming in to get out of this fucking weather.”
 
He stepped into the kitchen, his boot crushing glass on the floor.
 
“Jesus, I’ll be lucky if I don’t cut my foot to
shreds.”

Del waited outside.
 
Nothing happened.
 
There was just the sound of Warren stomping on a creaky wood floor.
 
Del knew he shouldn’t risk going in, but he was cold too, and they’d gotten this far.
 
He put his gun in the outside pocket of his coat and stepped into the doorway.
 
Suddenly the refrigerator door was swung open and the small, bare bulb came on, making it difficult to see.
 
Del remained perfectly still, and after a moment his eyes began to adjust.
 
Warren was sitting at the table now, pulling his boot back on his foot.
 
He did this with a certain poise, as though he’d just come in from a leisurely stroll.
 
Norman was standing behind the open refrigerator door and he had a crossbow against his right shoulder, aimed at Del’s chest.

“Close the door before you let all the heat out, will you?” Warren said calmly.

Del pushed the door closed with his left hand.
 
Somewhere in the next room, which was very dark, there were footsteps coming toward the kitchen.
 
Del could barely see her until she was at the doorway.
 
She had short blond hair, a wide pretty face and a beautiful, full mouth.
 
But her large eyes were tired, frightened.
 
Looking at her, Del suddenly felt he understood something about the Haas brothers.
 
She stared at Warren a moment; at first, Del thought she was angry, but then she looked confused.

“This
guy’s Woo-San?” Norman said.

“No,” she said.
 
“Woo-San’s Asian—does he look
any
thing like Asian to you?”

It was difficult for Del to see Norman’s face, but he could hear him breathing and he could see the rise and fall of his chest, which was affecting his aim with the bow.

“Jesus,” Warren said as he tied his bootlace, “you two are just beautiful together.”

“Shut up,” Norman said.
 
He never took his eyes off Del.
 
“Who
are
you, Mister?”

Warren grinned at Del.
 
“You want to break it to him, or you want me to do it?”

“Do
what?”
Norman nearly shouted.

“Easy,” Del said.
 
“I’m a law officer, Norman.”

“He’s a regular fucking constable—or whatever,” Warren said with delight.

Norman turned his head quickly toward his brother.
 
“You brought a
constable?”

“Christ, Norman, I didn’t, you know,
bring
him.
 
Not like I extended an invitation.”