Cold (40 page)

“Are you joking?”

“No, I’m not joking.
 
It’s his gun and you hold it awhile it weighs a
ton.
 
Now what I want to know is what
your
relationship is to the
constable
.
 
Husband and wife?
 
You his girlfriend?
 
Or maybe you’re the woman on the
side?”

“None of those.”

“Oh
sure.
 
I hit
re
dial and
you
answer the phone.
 
You
have
to be one of those.”

“This business with the gun—and being tied up—is this really true?”

“Yeah.
 
But I didn’t tie him up.
 
And you know
I
didn’t hit him in the head.”

“I don’t believe you would, but you might put the gun down.”

“If you’re not his wife or his girlfriend, who are you?
 
What do you care what happens to him?
 
I mean do you even
like
this guy?”

There was a loud burst of static and Liesl said, “Don’t
move—
I’m
losing
you.”

The static faded away.
 
“What did you
say?”

“I said I like him.”

“This is
great,”
Noel whispered.
 
“Have you told him?
 
Does he know?”
 
She held the phone away from her mouth.
 
“So, constable, how do you feel about Liesl?”
 
There was no reply and after a moment Noel said, “He’s not saying.
 
Strong silent type.
 
It’s
so
hard for these guys to, you know,
open up.”

“Is this why you called?” Liesl asked.
 
“To provide some sort of long-distance matchmaking service?”

“That’s
not a bad idea!
 
I could get one of those nine-hundred numbers and advertise it on late night TV.
 
Probably make a bundle.
 
Call it something like Matchmakers Anonymous.
 
Hi, my name’s Michelle and I’m lonely.
 
What do you think?”

“I think you were trying to call the deputy because you’ve got a problem.”
 
Noel didn’t answer, but the connection was clear and Liesl could hear her breathing.
 
She realized that this giddy banter was an attempt to conceal fear.
 
“Tell me about it, Noel.
 
What’s going on out there?”

There was a long silence.
 
So long that Liesl was afraid they’d been cut off.
 
She was about to speak, when Noel said, “Daddy found us.”
 
Now her voice was very faint, small.

“He did?”

“He and Woo-San have Norman and Warren outside somewhere.”

“Norman,” Liesl said.
 
“He has Norman?”

“Do you know Norman?”

“We’ve met.”

“Really?” Noel asked.
 
“Should I be jealous?”

“No, he was a perfect gentleman.”

After a moment, Noel said, “I know, he really can be.”

“What do you mean your father has them outside—outside of where?”

“Here, the lodge.”
 
The girl was sounding very distant and frightened now.

“I want to come out and help.
 
Noel, do you hear me?
 
I’m coming out.”

“Okay.
 
Alone?
 
Or are you bringing help?”

“Just tell me where you are.”
 

“Hurry,” Noel said.
 
“She wants directions.”
 
She seemed to be asking Del.

“We’re north of North Eicher,” Del said.
 
“Take Laughing Pike Road about thirty miles, almost to Lake Superior.
 
There’s an old logging camp and from the road you’ll see an old sawmill off in the hills.
 
You’ll know you’re getting close.
 
The lodge is on a ridge above the right side of the road.”

“You coming?” Noel asked.

“Yes,” Liesl said to her.
 
“I’m coming.”

She heard a click and a dial tone.

Leisl called Monty.
 
It was four-thirty and he was sound asleep.
 
“I’ve heard from Del,” she said.
 
“We have to go after him.
 
There’s trouble.”

“Okay, where is he?”

“Listen, I want to go.”

“Just tell me where he is.”

“No, Monty.
 
You pick me up.
 
I’ll tell you when you get here.”
 
She hung up.

•

Norman lay on his side, his eyes closed, unsure if he could move.
 
He knew he had been hit in the head, and he was aware of two kinds of cold—the cold that came up off the wood floor and the damp cold that covered the right side of his head.
 
His right ear was clogged and he guessed that it was blood, which had begun to congeal.
 
Still, he could hear well enough, but the voices tended to drift in and out.

At one point he thought that maybe he was still in prison, that the voices were other trustees.
 
It reminded him a little of trying to sleep.
 
It was like being in a barracks; there were dozens of trustees and it was seldom absolutely quiet.
 
Even in the middle of the night somebody was always snoring or talking or jerking off or whatever.
 
There was always noise, so he learned to block it out.

But he wasn’t inside, and after a while he accepted the fact that he knew two of the voices.
 
Warren and Pronovost.
 
The third voice he didn’t recognize.
 
The man seldom spoke and it was always just a word or two.
 
He had an accent Norman couldn’t place.

“Your brother couldn’t just sit in prison and do his time?”
 
Pronovost’s voice had that ease, that good humor that Norman never completely trusted.

“Look, his showing up isn’t exactly helping me either,” Warren said.

“He come back for Noel and the girl?” the third man asked.
 
Norman had it now:
 
he was Asian.

“Right,” Warren said.
 
“For my daughter.”

 
“And my granddaughter.”
 
Pronovost paused and there was the sound of something being unscrewed, followed by the slosh of liquid and the sharp smell of whiskey.
 
“He and Noel must have planned this,” he said.
 
“I had no idea, did you?
 
She hid it so well.”

“I don’t know if they planned it,” Warren said.
 
“It doesn’t fucking matter.
 
What matters is that Norman came back and she went with him.
 
She
wanted
to go with him.”

“So he must know—“

“I don’t think he does,” Warren said.

“She must have told him.”

Warren didn’t answer immediately.
 
When he spoke he was very deliberate.
 
“She doesn’t really know what’s been going on out there at the sawmill.”

“Maybe,” Pronovost said, though he didn’t sound convinced.
 
“She’s my daughter and believe me she can conceal things well.”

“She’s my wife—still,” Warren said, “and
I
can tell when she’s hiding something.”

There was the creaking of wood.
 
Someone shifted, and then the Asian voice said, “Why you come out here?”

“Woo-San,” Warren said, “maybe we came out just to fuck up your shit, eh?”

Norman opened his eyes and stared up at his brother, who sat with his back against the wall.
 
Warren stared at him a moment, but looked away as though he hadn’t noticed anything.
 
Norman remembered when they were little they’d play a game they called You’re Dead.
 
Warren was pretending Norman was still knocked out for a reason, and it worried Norman.
 
He thought he knew Pronovost’s limits, but this Woo-San was another story.

“I read this whole thing from the beginning,” Warren said, looking at Pronovost.
 
He was using his confidence bullshit.
 
Norman knew that it really meant his brother was uncertain or even afraid of something.
 
“Right from the start I saw how this was going to go,” Warren said.
 
“And Pronovost, you didn’t want to hear it.
 
Remember that.
 
I said this thing you and Woo-San have going wouldn’t work.”

“This is true,” Pronovost said pleasantly.
 
“You deserve credit for that.”
 
Norman could hear Pronovost get up from the bench and suddenly he was kicked in the lower back.
 
“Norman, you can stop pretending now,” he said.
 
He kicked him again even harder.

Norman held his right side and tried to catch his breath.

Pronovost leaned over Warren and slapped his face with his gloves.
 
“On your
feet.”

“Shit!”
 
Startled, Warren got up off the floor.
 
“Where we going?”

“Talk with this pistol whipped constable you got up there,” Pronovost said.
 
“Maybe this can be a simple business transaction.”

Warren felt his cheek.
 
“Guys like Maki don’t get bought.”

“That so?”
 
Pronovost shoved him toward the door.
 
“Everybody gets bought.”
 
He laughed.
 
“But I’ll grant you that this constable’s made of different stuff than you.”
 

Woo-San nodded toward Norman.
 
“What about him?”

Pronovost stood in front of Norman as he pulled on his gloves.
 
Norman sat up and leaned his back carefully against a two-by-four stud.
 
“What
about
him?
 
He would have been better off staying in prison.”
 
Turning to Woo-San, Pronovost smiled.
 
“Just watch him for now.
 
And if he tries anything, he’s raw meat.
 
You know, sushi.”

Warren pushed the door open, letting cold wind and snow inside.
 
After Pronovost followed him out into the dark the door was slammed shut.

Woo-San whispered something in his own language as he opened his coat, revealing a long leather sheaf on his belt.
 
The knife handle was made of bone.
 
Woo-San’s face shone in the dim light.
 
Snowflakes hissed as they melted against the lamp.

•

Del watched Noel put his cellular phone and gun on the kitchen table, and then she walked around his chair and stood behind him.
 
He felt her hands tug at the knot.
 
“Tell me something,” he said.
 
“At the trial, you testified.”

“Right.
 
I testified that Norman had beaten me up here at the lodge—right here in the kitchen.
 
It messed up my hearing, you know.
 
I told the truth, and at the time I was so angry I wanted them to send him away.
 
He denied knowing anything about Raymond Yates’ disappearance, and he didn’t say
anything
about finding me with Warren.”

“It’s called being a standup guy.”

“Well, that’s Norman for you.
 
I didn’t realize that he still loved me—after all
that—
until I started getting his letters from prison.
 
I’m having trouble with this knot.”

She stepped back away from him as the kitchen door swung opened.
 
Cold air blew into the kitchen.
 
The first one in was Warren, wearing Del’s overcoat, followed by Pronovost, who kicked the door shut.
 
He smiled at his daughter.

“Well, are you tying him up, Noel, or are you setting him free?”

She studied her gnawed thumbnail.
 
“Where’s Norman?”
 
She turned and punched Warren hard in the chest.
 
“Where
is
he?”

Warren grabbed her wrists and she struggled to pull them free.

“Knock it
off,
both of you,” Pronovost said.

“There’s enough fuckin’ rope here,” Warren said.
 
“I could tie’em both up.”

“Daddy!”

From the bedroom, they could hear Lorraine begin to cry.