Ice Run (9 page)

“I’ll sign it.”

“Good,” he said. “Then you just get better and you go home, all right? Stay the hell away from them. In fact, you know what? Doesn’t your friend own that bar in Paradise? What’s it called?”

“The Glasgow Inn.”

“That’s the one. He’s got beer there? And good food?”

“Yeah.”

“So you’re all set,” he said, putting his face close to mine. “There’s no reason to ever leave Paradise again.”

I tried to smile. But that hurt, too.

“I’m going,” he said. “Goodbye.”

“Nice talking to you.”

He paused at the doorway. “Have you seen yourself yet?”

“What?”

“You know, in a mirror. Has somebody shown you what you look like?”

“No.”

For the first time since he had come in, he smiled. “Just wait a couple of days,” he said. “You’ll be able to sell tickets.”

The next forty-eight
hours passed like slow death. Leon stopped in to see me. Then Vinnie. Leon was happy to hear that Chief Maven was on his way to arrest the three men. Vinnie wanted to cut out the middleman and just go find them himself. I told him to back off for now. When the time came, I’d let him know.

I tried to watch television, but that made my eyes hurt. I couldn’t read anything at all. I sure as hell couldn’t sleep. They brought me drugs every four hours and I’d sit there for a moment looking at the pills. I had my own reasons for thinking twice about taking them. But those reasons weren’t enough to stop me.

I got out of bed on the second day and made it to the bathroom before throwing up in the sink. By the end of that day I could sit up in the bed and turn my head without making the room spin. I slept a few hours that night.

On the third day, Dr. Glenn came through on the morning rounds and gave me three random words to remember. Then he went through all his tests. When he was done, he asked me to repeat the words back to him.

“What words?” I said.

He looked at me.

“Table, bicycle, chair,” I said.

“Congratulations. You get to go home and rest for the next seven days. Then you need to come back for another checkup, and to have your stitches taken out. If you start to feel worse, you need to call me right away.” He gave me his card.

“Thanks, doc.”

“You lead an interesting life,” he said. “I’ll give you that.”

Vinnie showed up not long after that to take me home. I put my clothes on. Then they stuck me in a wheelchair and rolled me out of the place.

“To the ice arena,” I said. “I feel like playing hockey.” The sun was out, glittering all over the white snow and making my head hurt enough to die right there in the parking lot.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you home.”

“Take me to my truck.”

“No way.”

“Vinnie, just take me to my truck, all right? I can drive it home.”

“It’s not gonna happen,” he said. Then I saw his cousin Buck pull up in his beat-up old Plymouth Fury.

“You gotta be kidding me,” I said. “I’m getting a ride home in this?”

“No, just to your truck,” Vinnie said. “Then I’ll drive you home.”

Vinnie climbed into the backseat and gave me the front. Buck looked me over a couple of times and gave a low whistle. “Man, you got run over,” he said. He pulled out and drove down the street toward the church.

“You ever get your license back?” I asked him.

He shrugged that one off. He was a big, round man, with dark hair falling halfway down his back.

“It’s one thing to drive around the rez,” I said. “They catch you in the Soo, it’s gonna be a different story.”

“Alex, give him a break,” Vinnie said from the backseat. “He’s doing you a favor.”

“I know that, Vinnie. I just don’t want the man to go to jail over it.”

“All that working over you got,” Buck said, “and they didn’t bust up your mouth? You’re still talking too much.”

“Right here at the church,” Vinnie said. “His truck’s on the side there.”

Buck pulled into the parking lot and stopped next to my truck. It was covered by six inches of new snow, and circled by more snow on the ground where the snowplow had worked around it. I let Vinnie and Buck clean it off for me while I walked just far enough to see around to the back of the building. There was no trace of what had happened here in this one patch of ground next to the red brick wall. The snow had covered up everything.

“Alex, what are you doing?” Vinnie had started up my truck and was scraping the last of the ice from the side window. “Let’s get you home.”

I thanked Buck for bringing Vinnie over, suspended license and all. He surprised me by grabbing me by the shoulders and hugging me. “Take care of yourself,” he said. “You’ve got too much trouble in your life. Vinnie can’t watch over you all the time, you know.”

I wasn’t about to argue with that one. I thanked him again and watched him rumble off in his old Plymouth. Then I got in the passenger’s seat of my own truck. It felt strange not to be driving. But I figured what the hell. I closed my eyes and waited for Vinnie to pull out of the parking lot.

It didn’t happen. I opened my eyes and saw him looking at me.

“What?” I said.

“You gotta promise me something.”

“What is it?”

“You don’t go after them alone.”

“Who?”

“You know who I’m talking about.”

“How stupid do you think I am?”

“Alex …”

“Vinnie, look at me. Your mother could kick my ass right now.”

He shook his head and smiled. “On another day, when you’re better … promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Vinnie. Right now, I can’t even think about it. But later …”

Later what? Maven was going to arrest them. At this point, that had probably already been done. Was that enough?

Or would I still want to settle things myself? When I was strong again, would I want to go find them, one by one? I knew their names. I knew their faces. I could find out where they lived.

“I’ll promise you this,” I finally said. “If that day comes, I won’t go alone.”

He put the truck in gear. “You’re damned right you won’t.”

As he drove, I kept my eyes closed and listened to the wind whistling past my window. I dozed off for a while. When I woke up, we were just hitting Paradise. He drove through the blinking light, past the Glasgow Inn, then down the access road.

“Looks like somebody plowed while I was in the hospital.”

“My other cousin, Henry. He’s got a plow on his truck now.”

“I guess I owe all of you,” I said.

“It’s nothing.” He pulled into my driveway and stopped the truck.

“Especially you,” I said. “Thanks.”

“Do you have your pills?”

I rattled the bottle in my coat pocket. “Right here.”

“You’re gonna take them?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Alex, it’s okay to take painkillers when you’re in pain.”

“I know that,” I said. “How come you’re so inside my head today?”

“Because I’m your blood brother, remember? I feel what you feel.”

“Get out of here, Vinnie. I don’t need you to—”

“Alex, damn it. Do I have to take those pills from you? I’ll take them and come over and make you swallow one every four hours, I swear.”

Once again, he knew me too well. He knew that there had been a time, back in Detroit, after my partner had been shot, and I had taken those three bullets myself … The pain in my shoulder, where they had tried to put my rotator cuff back together, not to mention the thought of another bullet left inside me, right next to my heart.

Worst of all, the sight of Franklin lying on the floor next to me, the life fading from his eyes as I looked into them. Those long nights when I couldn’t sleep. Those dark hours all by myself. That’s how it started.

“You know as long as you’re in pain,” Vinnie said, “you can’t get addicted to painkillers.”

“Yeah, that’s what they say.”

“Alex—”

“I’ll take them,” I said. “Okay? I’ll take them as long as I need to, and not one day longer.” I opened the door and got out of the truck. He did the same.

“I’ll come by later to see how you’re doing,” he said.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Says you.”

I thanked him again. He walked away, down the access road toward his cabin. It was a good day for a walk if you had the strength for it.

When I went inside, there were five messages on my machine. Three were from downstaters wanting to make reservations, one was from Leon, a few days back, wanting to know where the hell I was. And one was from Natalie. Just calling to say hello. Wondering how I was doing.

“If you only knew,” I said. I didn’t call her back yet. I couldn’t deal with it. Not yet.

My bruises had reached their full-color peak, and as I stood in the bathroom looking in the mirror, I thought to myself, Maven was right. I should sell tickets. The skin around both of my eyes was black now, and my eyes were both streaked bloodred. There was tape above my left eyebrow, and tape on the back of my head, where they had shaved the hair. The same hair I had dyed, standing right here just a matter of days ago, thinking that I could knock off a few years by hiding some of the gray. God, what a fool I was.

“You really did it this time,” I said out loud.

I took the bottle of pills from my coat pocket. Vicodin. My old friend Vike. I shook the bottle. Thirty of them.

On the spur of the moment, I almost flushed them down the toilet, every last one of them. I stopped myself. “You’re gonna regret that,” I said to myself. “It’s okay to take one now. It’s okay.”

One more look in the mirror, at the ugliest face I’d seen in a long time.

I took a pill, chased it with a gulp of water, and went to bed.

I stayed in
my cabin for the next couple of days. I sure as hell wasn’t going to go down to the Glasgow and let Jackie see me looking like this. I took the Vike when I needed it. I ran hot showers and stood there for a half hour at a time, letting the water work on me. A lonely man’s massage. I watched my bruises turn yellow, purple, and green. Vinnie came by a couple of times, bringing in bags of groceries for me. I told him he was a good man.

On the third day, I got out of bed and almost fell right on my face. I had to hold on to one of the kitchen chairs until the room stopped spinning. The pain, which had been losing ground on me, was making a big comeback. I couldn’t eat much that day. The dizzy spells hit me every time I stood up.

The phone rang. I couldn’t stand the sound of it, so I turned off the ringer. I turned the volume down on the answering machine, too. It would take the messages, and I’d play them back later, when I felt like a human being again.

God damn it all, I thought. I took another Vike.

That afternoon there was a knock on the door. I didn’t answer it. Just the thought of getting up made me sick to my stomach. A few minutes later, there was another knock on the door. I stayed in bed. This time, an envelope came sliding under the door. When I finally felt a little better, I got up and opened it. It was a check from the family in the second cabin, God bless them.

Later, as the sun was going down, there was another knock on the door. I stayed in bed. If it was renters, they could leave me a note, or put money in an envelope like the family in the second cabin had, or just skip out on me without paying. I didn’t care.

One more knock, and then whoever it was gave up and went away. Or so I thought.

The door opened a few seconds later, so quietly I didn’t even hear it. My eyes were closed. My ears were ringing. I had no idea that someone else was in the cabin.

Until I opened my eyes and scared the hell out of both of us.

“Oh my God,” she said.

“Natalie.”

“Oh my God.”

“How did you get in here?” I sat up too fast and paid for it.

“The door was open,” she said. She reached her hand toward me, stopping just before she touched my cheek. “Alex, what happened to you? Oh my God.”

I didn’t say anything. Her face was inches from mine now. She was looking at me with those eyes. She finally touched me, just the tips of her fingers on my face.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice low. “Alex, I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Look at you.”

“You didn’t do this.”

“This wouldn’t have happened to you if we hadn’t been there at that hotel.”

“Who told you that? How did you—”

“This is what you get,” she said. “Just for being around me. First I hurt you and then you get beat up.”

“Stop, Natalie.”

“You really look terrible.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“I mean really, really terrible.”

“How did you find me, anyway? You’ve never been here before.”

“Vinnie gave me directions,” she said. “I called him and asked him what had happened to you. I left a couple of messages on your machine.”

“I couldn’t talk to you yet,” I said. “I mean, I just couldn’t—”

“It’s all right. I don’t blame you.”

“But why did you come all the way over here?”

“I had to, Alex. Okay? I don’t even know why. I just had to see you.”

“Well, I guess I’m glad,” I said. “A little surprised, but glad.”

“Vinnie told me something happened at the funeral. He said you ran into some trouble.”

“Yeah, I suppose you could say that.”

“Who did this, Alex?”

I sat up. “I can’t even think straight right now. I haven’t eaten anything today, and all of a sudden …”

“Here, just stay there,” she said. “I’ll get you something.”

I didn’t fight her. I watched her as she banged around in my kitchen for the next few minutes, trying to find something edible.

“The place is kind of a mess right now,” I said.

“Don’t worry about it. Where are your pans?”

“I don’t think any are clean. It’s been sort of a tough week.”

She picked up a pan from the pile in the sink, then put it down again. “Alex, put your coat on,” she said. “You’re coming with me.”

“I don’t feel like eating out, Natalie.”

“We’re not eating out, Alex. I’m taking you to my house.”

“I can’t.”

“Come on, get up.”

“No.”

“Alex …”

“I can’t leave, Natalie. I’ve got the cabins, and I’ve got to plow the stupid snow.”

“I already talked to Vinnie about it. He’s going to take care of your cabins. You’re supposed to leave your keys in your truck so he can plow.”

“Figures Vinnie would be involved in this. You had this all planned out?”

She came over to me. “No, Alex. Not all of it.”

“Well, let me tell you something. Nobody else could get me out of bed today.”

She smiled for the first time that evening. It was good to see. “Whatever you say. Now come on.”

She put a hand under my arm and helped me out of bed. When I was on my feet, I went into the bathroom and splashed some cold water on my face. She was standing by my desk when I came back in the room. She had a framed picture in her hands, the only framed picture in my whole place. “Is this your father?”

“Yeah, that’s him.”

“Good-looking man.”

“Yeah, he was.” I picked up my coat and put it on slowly.

“You should pack some clothes, too.”

I stopped. “How long am I staying?”

“Until you’re better.”

“I don’t have that big a suitcase.”

I settled on a few days of gear and we went outside into the cold and the dying light. Her Jeep Cherokee was parked next to my truck. It felt strange to be leaving the truck behind, but I got into the passenger’s side and we were off.

We breezed right through Canadian customs. Even though she was on leave, she could still identify herself as an officer of the Ontario Provincial Police. The man asked about me and they exchanged a quick joke about me being her prisoner, and then we were sailing through Soo Canada.

It was getting darker by the minute, another winter day ending, this one in a way I would have never guessed. Neither of us said a word as the quiet streets passed by.

“So are you going to tell me?” she finally said.

“What’s the question?”

“Who did this to you?”

“Let’s just say I shouldn’t have gone to Mr. Grant’s funeral. His family didn’t make me feel very welcome.”

I could see her gloved hands working hard at the steering wheel now, like she wanted to pull it right off. “Did you call the police?”

“The doctor did. My old friend Roy Maven paid me a visit.”

“The Soo Michigan chief?”

“Yeah. The same guy who told me the day before to stay away from the family.”

She shook her head. “So why didn’t you?”

“I didn’t know the Woolseys were part of the family. It was a mistake.”

“So for that they get to assault you? Because you made a mistake?” She turned to look at me, trying to keep one eye on the road. “Just because you showed up at the funeral? Imagine if you were still a police officer and you found somebody beaten all to hell and they said something like that.”

“I’m not saying that, Natalie. I’m not saying I deserved it.”

“I’m sorry, Alex. I’ve just heard it too many times. I’m sure you did, too, when you were a cop.”

“Yeah,” I said. “But it was always a woman. Black eyes, teeth missing. Whatever. It was her fault, not his.”

“Yes,” she said. “You’re right. It’s always a woman.”

She kept driving, following the Queens Highway due east, past the Garden River First Nation, past the old railroad bridge with the message written in white paint. this is indian land. We went through the small town of Echo Bay, and passed McKnight Road. It made me remember the first time I had come this way, and how that road had seemed like a good omen to me.

We drove through Bruce Mines, then Thessalon, past the abandoned motel on the side of the road, then the great expanse of the North Channel opening up to the south of us, through Iron Bridge and past the Mississauga Reserve, then finally into Blind River. A small spotlight lit up the monument next to the town hall—two men riding the logs, a testament to the great logging years on the channel. A couple more miles east of town we turned up her long driveway. With the four-wheel-drive Jeep, she crunched her way through the five inches of new snow without a second thought.

When we were inside, she made me a quick dinner. Then she took me upstairs and ordered me into bed. It was the same damned bed we had rolled around in every other time I’d been there. But now she just watched me lie down, never moving from the doorway.

“That was bad,” she said.

“What?”

“In the car. I was taking it out on you. I’m sorry, I’m just…”

“It’s all right.”

She closed her eyes. “I don’t know anything anymore,” she said. “Look at me. I’ve got no idea what I’m doing, Alex.”

“Come here.”

I held up my hand. She came to me and took my hand and then I pulled her down on top of me. Her hair fell in my face.

“I’m sorry,” she said, in a voice so low I could barely hear her. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that.”

“But I am.”

“It’s okay.”

“No,” she said. “No.”

“It’s going to be all right. I promise.”

“Tell me the truth, Alex. How bad did they hurt you?”

“I’m fine.”

“Tell me the truth, God damn it.”

“Okay,” I said. “Everything hurts. Inside and out. Absolutely everything.”

“Everything?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll try not to make it any worse.”

She took her clothes off, shivering and suddenly covered with a million goose bumps. She started to take mine off, but didn’t get far. We made do and we went slow. It felt good and bad at the same time.

Afterward, as she lay next to me, she touched the bandages over my eyebrow, and on the back of my head.

“You should sleep,” she said.

“I will. Are you gonna stay?”

“Yes,” she said, getting up. “I’ll be right back.”

I was out before she could keep her promise.

I woke up
alone. It took me a second to remember where I was and how I had gotten there. It took me yet one more second to remember how much my head hurt. It was the first night I had slept all the way through since leaving the hospital.

I picked my watch off the bedside table. It was almost noon. I said her name once, then again a little louder. She didn’t answer. But I knew she had spent the night here in the bed with me. There was another pillow next to mine, and I could smell her scent, her hair, the soap she used. I figured at this hour she was already downstairs.

It was quiet. Something about that fact bothered me, until I realized what was missing. There were no snowmobiles outside, no constant buzzing all over the place, the sound I was accustomed to waking up to every winter morning.

I got out of bed slowly, like my head was a bomb that could go off at any second. I went into the bathroom. When I was done washing my face, I took a good hard look in the mirror. Maybe I looked a little better, I thought. Maybe one notch below Quasimodo now. But I still had the full array of bruises and the red streaks in my eyes that made me look possessed.

She came back, I thought. She came back to this face. I can officially believe in miracles now.

I went down the hallway, passing the other upstairs bedrooms— the master bedroom with the portraits of Natalie’s grandparents, the bedroom with the canopy bed and the frilly white bedspread. Everything had a slightly sad and dusty smell to it. I didn’t know how she could spend so much time here in this big empty house.

The grandfather clock was ticking at the top of the stairs. Aside from that there was no other sound.

“Natalie!”

No answer.

I went down the stairs, the old floorboards creaking with each step. The dining room table was completely taken over by moving boxes. All the china had been carefully packed away. All the curios and souvenirs of a family’s long life in this house. The living room was just as empty. Or maybe it had been called the “parlor,” once upon a time. There was a sofa, two matching chairs, a coffee table, and more boxes.

I parted the curtains and looked out the front window. Her Jeep was parked in front of the house. There was no garage to park it in.

“Natalie!”

Still no answer.

Then I noticed the old barn outside, across the snow-covered field, with an open side door fluttering in the wind. I found my boots. I swore as I bent over to pull them on to my feet. When I stood up straight, the blood was pounding in my ears. I was so dizzy I had to lean against the wall. I needed some more drugs, or hell, maybe an early beer or two, but first I had to find out where Natalie was.

I grabbed my coat and went out the front door. The sun was shining, but it was cold and the wind was kicking up so much sparkling glitter, it was like it was snowing all over again. I didn’t see any tracks, but I tromped all the way through the deep snow to the side of the barn. The door was still swinging in the wind, but I saw that it was just barely open, stopped by the packed snow on the ground. I pulled it hard until I could squeeze through.

“Natalie!”

My voice reverberated through the high rafters. It took my eyes a while to adjust to the dim light, after the brilliant snow outside, but when they did, I saw the vast emptiness of that old barn, with the light shining through in thin slits here and there. A swirl of powder hung in the air as the snow worked its way through the cracks. It collected in a light layer on the floor, covering the ancient wood and the hay dust. There were a few farm tools hanging on the walls—a hoe and a pickax and some other metal contraptions I couldn’t have named to save my life. Everything was rusted to the point of disintegration, and an old leather horse collar was eaten away to almost nothing. If someone had told me this barn had been used in the last fifty years, it would have been a surprise to me.

I pushed the door open again and made my way back across the field to the house. I was starting to get genuinely worried. When I was inside, I knocked the snow off my boots and called her name again.

Nothing.

Then I saw the door. It was in the corner, behind the old wood stove. I tried it, and it opened to a set of stairs.

“Natalie, are you down there?”

I didn’t hear anything, but it looked like there was a light on, so I went down, holding on to the wooden rails. There was a strong smell in the air, a cellar smell, of moisture and rot and mildew.

It was dark, the way cellars used to be before they started building them with high windows. The stairs led to a small room filled with stacks of wooden crates and an old metal bicycle with long wooden fenders. The room led to another room, and then to another, the light growing stronger and stronger.

“Natalie, where are you?”

I went through one more room, this one with piles of old magazines on one wall, and on the other wall a set of shelves filled with mason jars. There was a door. It was half closed, the light streaming out onto the floor.

“Natalie?”

I pushed the door open.

She was sitting on the floor, surrounded by more boxes.

“Natalie, didn’t you hear me calling you?”

She didn’t answer me. She held an old photograph in her hands, its edges curled with age.

“What’s the matter?” I said. I winced as I bent down beside her.

She didn’t say anything. A single tear ran down her right cheek.

“What is it?” I said. “What are you looking at?”

She didn’t show it to me, but I could see just enough of it to make out three men. The photo was in color, but it had that washed-out look to it, the way color photos looked in the sixties. I was guessing the older man was her grandfather, and one of the other two men was maybe her father. She had come down to pack up all these boxes of old photographs, and had stopped to look at this picture of the grandfather she loved and the father she had hardly known. And that this had gotten to her, in the same way it would have gotten to me or to anyone else.