Purgatory Ridge (21 page)

“Before you blundered into anything?”

“Something like that.”

“You seemed to be thinking pretty clearly. Your military training?”

“Maybe.”

“Did you ever think about informing Sheriff Schanno?”

“There wasn’t time.”

“Enough time for a leisurely stroll to the marina.”

“Maybe I wasn’t thinking so clearly after all. This isn’t a situation I face every day. Besides, I thought…”

“What?”

“That maybe this Eco-Warrior really was interested in bringing an end to things. And if that was the case, I had an obligation to try.”

“That’s an admirable motivation, Mr. Lindstrom. When you checked the lay of the land, did you see anything?”

“No. Only Cork.”

“And lucky for you, eh?” Earl turned to Cork and gave him a congenial smile. “You’re part Ojibwe, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“How do you feel about Our Grandfathers?”

“I’d hate to see them cut. But not enough to kill a man over it, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

Lindstrom put his cup down on the dash, hard. Coffee sloshed out, all over Lindstrom’s hand and the clean interior of Schanno’s vehicle. “Look, Earl. I don’t like the way these questions are going. I’d be fish food right now if it wasn’t for Cork. And as for any of us thinking clearly, well maybe we weren’t. But you know, it’s our asses on the line here. It’s our businesses that are suffering. It’s our community that’s being torn apart.
Who the hell are you to come butting into something you don’t understand or care about?”

“One man’s been murdered already, Mr. Lindstrom. And someone just tried to kill you. Murder is my business, and about that business, I care a lot. But I didn’t mean to upset you. You’ve been through enough for one night. No more questions.”

He stepped away. As he headed toward his partner, who was donning the diving gear, he lit up another Marlboro.

“Who the hell does he think he is?” Lindstrom asked.

“He’s just doing his job, Karl.”

Cork turned and looked toward Jo. She stared out across the lake, beyond all the confusion. It was dark enough for the halogen security light to have come on, illuminating the parking lot. Jo looked white, her skin frosted, and when her eyes turned to Cork, there seemed to be no warmth in them at all.

Schanno left Larson and harbormaster Jack Beagan and headed back to the Land Cruiser. Agent Earl came back as well.

“Beagan says
Matador
belongs to Stan and Bernadette Lukas,” Schanno reported.

“Stan and Bernadette spend every July in Seattle with their son’s family,” Cork said. “The whole town knows that.”

“Exactly,” Schanno said. “I’m thinking whoever planted that explosive was counting on no one except Karl to step aboard.”

“Did the harbormaster see anything suspicious around the boat lately?” Earl asked.

“Nothing.”

“Makes sense. If the charge was set underwater, there
wouldn’t have been much to see,” Earl said. “Mark will be able to tell us more after he’s had a look.”

“What about the note?” Schanno asked.

“I’ll get it down to the lab in St. Paul tonight, but it will probably be a couple of days, at least, before they can tell us anything.”

Schanno nodded but didn’t look particularly happy about the time frame. “Karl, I want you to head on over to the hospital, get yourself examined. I’ll have one of my deputies accompany you, take a full statement, and make sure you get home okay.”

Lindstrom climbed out of the Land Cruiser and went to the waiting ambulance. Earl returned to his partner. Schanno shook his head.

“Ever feel like you’re holding a bag full of scorpions and you know sooner or later you’re gonna have to reach inside?”

“Wally,” Cork replied, “I know that feeling well.” There was nothing more for Cork to do there. He joined his wife. “If you’re willing, I could use a lift back to my Bronco.”

Without a word, Jo turned and started walking.

By the time they drove to the school, night had descended fully. The town was reduced to a skeleton, bones of light with a lot of dark between. Jo was silent, and Cork could feel the heat of her anger. There was a little flame in him, too, but he didn’t want to feed it. What good would it do, both of them flaring? Silence, he decided, was better.

Jo finally spoke. “So. I guess you were right.”

“About what?”

“Karl’s needing your help. Everybody seems to
think he’d be dead if it weren’t for you. On the other hand, it could have ended with both of you dead. But then, that goes with the territory, doesn’t it?”

“What territory?”

“Law enforcement.” She paused the car at a stop sign, not long enough to be legal, and took off quickly. “When do you plan to make your announcement?”

“What are you talking about? What announcement?”

“Your candidacy. That’s what all this is about, isn’t it, Cork? Or should I say Sheriff O’Connor?”

“For crying out loud, Jo. Didn’t I promise that we’d talk before I made a decision?”

“You’ve already decided. Look at you. Every step of the way since the bombing, you’ve been there, ahead of everybody else. You’re besting everyone at this game.”

“It’s not a game.”

“Isn’t it? People’s lives are at stake, but the point of all this as far as Cork O’Connor is concerned is to show people what a great investigative mind he has, what a mistake they made when they let him go. Tell me, doesn’t it feel good right here”—she reached across the seat and slapped him hard in the gut—“to know how great you are at all this?”

“It feels wonderful,” he said, and shoved her hand away.

Silence descended again, and the two feet between them in the car felt to Cork like the empty distance between two stars. Jo drove the car around behind the school and pulled it up next to Cork’s Bronco. Lindstrom’s Explorer was still there.

Jo spoke quietly. “Haven’t you been happy at Sam’s Place?”

“I don’t think that’s the issue here. Look, Jo, what are you really afraid of?”

Her hands still gripped the steering wheel, tightly. “If you run, all the dirty laundry will be dragged out.”

“Ah.” Cork nodded. “You mean
your
dirty laundry. Because everybody already knows about mine.” He looked away, across the football field. The moon was rising behind the deserted bleachers. Eventually the grass on the field would turn silver, but right now it was a sorrowful gray. Cork remembered a game against Hibbing his senior year when he intercepted a pass and ran seventy-five yards for a touchdown. He remembered the sound of all those people in the stands cheering for him and how, for a little while, he felt huge and invulnerable. “I can win, Jo.”

“I know you can. And that’s the hell of it.” She sat back but still wouldn’t look at him. “Everybody here loves you. You walk down the street and it’s ‘Hey there, Cork.’ ‘How’s it going, Cork?’ ‘Good to see you, Cork.’ Aurora’s like a big family and you’re a favored son.”

“Prodigal son.”

“That’s my point. You’ve already been forgiven. What’s a little extramarital affair? Men will be men. It’s different for me. In fact, it’s different for any woman here.”

“I’d stand beside you.”

“Right. We’ve both done so well that way in the past.” Her voice was low and bitter.

“Don’t measure everything against the past.”

“What other measure is there, Cork? If you become sheriff, all I can see is us going right back where we were.”

Cork stared at her hard, dark profile. “You’re saying it was my fault?” Something—like the tip of a knife—seemed to prick his gut. “It was my job as sheriff that caused all our troubles?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying.”

“Funny. It sure sounded that way.”

“What I’m saying is that your job as sheriff often brought you into conflict with the interests of my clients. It brought us into conflict. I don’t want that to happen again.”

“Fine. Change your clientele.”

“I can’t do that.”

“But it’s perfectly all right for me to throw away something I might want.”

“You’re shouting.”

“I’m pissed. Jesus. I just kept a man from getting his ass blown to bits. You know, it was like this before, Jo. No matter what I was going through, what you were going through was more important.”

“That’s not true.”

“It feels true.” He stepped out and shut the door hard behind him. “I think I’ll stay at Sam’s Place tonight.” He glared at her through the window.

“Is this where I’m supposed to plead, ‘Don’t leave’?”

“Damn it.” Cork swung away and went to his Bronco. He drove off, leaving Jo’s Toyota sitting in the parking lot like an animal too stunned to move.

W
HEN
J
O WALKED IN THE BACK DOOR
, the women of the O’Connor household were gathered at the kitchen table. They were partaking of Rose’s remedy for all emotional ills—milk and cookies.

“Where’s Daddy?” Annie looked at her anxiously from under a spill of wild red curls.

“He’s fine,” Jo assured her. “He’s just fine.”

“Everybody’s been calling,” Jenny said. “Annie and I wanted to go to the marina, but Aunt Rose wouldn’t let us.”

Rose looked unperturbed. “I figured there was no need to add to the confusion.”

“Your Aunt Rose was right.” Jo headed to the refrigerator, opened the door, and leaned into the cool air that flowed out.

“What happened?” Jenny asked.

Jo felt weary, so weary she could barely stand. She took nothing from the fridge, closed the door, and leaned against the big appliance. “It appears that someone tried to kill Karl Lindstrom.”

“With a bomb,” Annie stated. “We heard it was a bomb.”

“That’s right.”

“But Dad saved him.”

“Did you hear that, too?” Jo asked.

“Sort of,” Annie said. “He did, right?”

“Apparently.”

“And he’s okay?”

“Yes, Jenny. He’s okay.”

Rose took a plate full of crumbs to the sink. “Where is he?”

“He had some business to take care of.”

“Police business?” Annie asked.

“He’s not a police officer anymore, damn it.”

Jenny’s blue eyes grew huge. “Whoa, Mom. Chill.”

Stevie came into the kitchen, in his pajamas, looking sleepy. “I woke up.” He shuffled to his mother and leaned against her hip.

Jo put her arm around him. “We’ll get you back to sleep.”

Annie and Jenny exchanged a glance across the table.

“Is it okay if we go out for a little while, Mom?” Jenny asked.

“To the marina,” Jo guessed.

“Please. We won’t get in the way,” Annie pleaded.

“There’s nothing to see.”

“Then there’s no harm,” Jenny said. “We’ll just be wasting our time. We promise to be back by midnight.”

“Eleven,” Jo replied.

“Eleven-thirty,” Jenny countered.

“All right.”

The two girls left in a blur.

“You look beat,” Rose said. “I’ll be glad to put the little guy back down.”

“That’s all right.” Jo bent and hefted Stevie in her arms. “Come on, kiddo. It’s back to dreamland.”

She laid him in his bed and covered him with a sheet. She kissed his cheek. “Want me to stay a while?”

“Yeth,” he murmured.

That was fine by Jo. She sat down in the chair by the window.

“How about a song?” she asked, although she didn’t feel much like singing him a lullaby.

“‘Are You Sleeping,’” Stevie said.

The night-light was on and it bathed everything in the room in a soft, warm glow. Jo began singing quietly, “Are you sleeping, are you sleeping, Brother John?…” Stevie closed his eyes. After a few rounds, Jo saw that he was breathing deeply. She closed her own eyes and wished someone would sing to her. Before she knew it, she was crying softly. She realized that what had happened—Cork’s
retreat to Sam’s Place—was a move she’d been anticipating since the day, months before, when Cork had finally come back home. She remembered a statement she’d heard once about murder. After the first time, it was easy. Maybe all transgression was that way. Maybe once a marriage had been violated, it was forever flawed and at risk of breaking apart. Maybe it was inevitable.

She left Stevie’s room and found Rose waiting at the bottom of the stairway.

“Where’s Cork?” Rose asked. “Really.”

“Gone. Back to Sam’s Place.” Jo sat down on the stairs. “Damn it, Rose, I screwed it up.”

“Tell me about it.” Rose wedged herself in beside her sister.

“Nothing to tell. We said things. Lousy things.”

“I take it ‘I love you’ wasn’t one of them.”

“I don’t understand it, Rose. In front of a jury, I say something and it comes out exactly as I mean it to. I say something to Cork and even if the words are right, they seem to come out all wrong.”

“Maybe that’s because you know the rules in a courtroom. Look, Jo, I’ve never loved a man, so I could be all wrong, but it seems to me one of the most important rules in love is honesty. If you’re tripping up right now, maybe it’s because you’re trying to dance around something you need to say to Cork. Like, maybe, you don’t really love him.”

“Don’t love him?” She looked at her sister with astonishment. “Rose, he’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“Have you told him that?”

“Not for a very long time.”

“Why not?”

“I’m afraid.”

“To say ‘I love you’? Why? You’re afraid he won’t say it back?”

“Why would he? All I’ve ever done is hurt him.”

“That’s not true, Jo. Talk to him. Now. Tonight. He can’t know what’s in your heart unless you tell him. And until you do, you won’t know what’s in his.”

“You really think I should?”

“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t think so.”

Jo considered, then finally blurted, “I’ll do it, Rose. Will you—”

Rose held up her hand. “Go. I’ll take care of everything here. You take care of the rest.”

Jo put her arms around her good sister. “You’re the best.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

Moonlight spilled generously out of the sky. It flowed across the lake and dripped white as milk from the trees along the shoreline. No lights were on in Sam’s Place. Cork’s Bronco was not there. Jo knocked on the door, tried the knob. She turned away and looked at the grounds. The buildings of the Bearpaw Brewery just north beyond the chain-link fence seemed stark in the light of the moon, vaguely menacing. Jo realized she was alone out there.