Copper River

Dina headed to the door.

  “You’ll be careful?” Cork said.

  “At what I do,” she replied without looking back, “I’m the best.”

  Cork moved to the front door. He watched her enter Cabin 2, which Jewell had given her to store her things. For ten minutes he stood waiting for her to come out. She never did. It dawned on him that she’d probably left in a way that would be unobserved. A bathroom window maybe.

  She was good.

  “Where’s the old lady?”

  Cork turned around to find Charlie standing near the kitchen counter. His leg was killing him. He sat down at the table and hung the cane on the chair back.

  “The lady’s out there right now, making sure you’re safe.”

  “I didn’t ask for her help.”

  She went into the kitchen, opened a cupboard door, and hauled out a bowl. She opened another door and plucked out a box of Cap’n Crunch. From the refrigerator, she got a carton of milk. In another minute, she was sitting at the table across from Cork, greedily eating her breakfast. She slumped in her chair, her face six inches from the bowl. Cork didn’t know if this was her normal eating habit or done simply to keep her from having to look at him.

  “She saved my life on a couple of occasions,” he told her.

  “Big deal,” Charlie said through a mouthful of cereal.

  “It is to me.”

  Charlie wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “So she’s, like, what? Your girlfriend?”

  “She’s a friend to me in the same way you’re a friend to Ren.”

  It was a while before she spoke again. “Do you think she’s pretty?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is that why you like her?”

  “No.”

  “Right.”

  “Charlie—”

  Cork’s comment was cut off by the sound of a gunshot outside. It didn’t come from a handgun. Something heavier. Shotgun, probably. He grabbed the cane and pushed himself from the chair just as another report smacked the morning air. He hobbled to the door and scanned the grounds outside where nothing moved.

  “Charlie, get into your room. Hide under the bed or in the closet. Just stay out of sight until I come back. Okay?”

  She stared at him.

  “Move,” he said sharply.

  She stood up and turned.

  He threw the screen door open and hurried down the steps. Dina hadn’t said anything to him about a shotgun, so he figured it wasn’t hers. The gunfire had come from a distance. He hoped that meant there was time to get to his cabin, where he’d stowed the Beretta. He berated himself for not having grabbed his weapon earlier. He felt exposed, vulnerable, stupid.

  The .32 Tomcat was under his pillow. For safety, should Ren find the weapon, Cork had removed the clip and slipped it under the mattress. He pulled them both from their hiding places and slapped the clip home.

  As he started back to Thor’s Lodge, he felt the intense, unsettling quiet of the woods in the wake of the gunshots. Two reports, then nothing. Why hadn’t Dina returned fire? He didn’t want to dwell on that one. He scanned the trees as he limped across the wet ground, leaves sticking to his soles like leeches. Nothing moved. However, a man with a shotgun, a heavy slug, and good scope wouldn’t need to move much to keep the crosshairs on Cork’s chest.

  He made the steps, the porch, then stumbled inside. With his back to the wall beside the door, he caught his breath. He risked a look through the doorway, a limited field of vision that revealed nothing. He hobbled to the back room.

  “Charlie, I’m here now.”

  There was no answer.

  With difficulty, he knelt and checked under the bed, then tried the closet. The girl wasn’t there.

  “Charlie?” he said again, louder this time. “Charlie?”

  How long had he been gone? Three minutes, maybe four? Long enough for whoever wanted her to have taken her?

  He limped back to the main room where he bellowed, “Charlie!”

  The porch steps squealed under the weight of quickly mounting feet. Cork swung around, the Beretta leveled on the center of the doorway.

  Dina stepped into view, saw the weapon in his hand, and spun back instantly out of sight.

  “It’s me, damn it,” she hollered.

  He lowered the Beretta. “You okay?”

  She peered tentatively around the corner of the doorway, her face dark beyond the screen. “Yeah.”

  “The gunshots?”

  “A hunter. Some guy with his dog shooting at birds, whatever the hell is in season.” She opened the screen door and came in. “Everything okay here?”

  “Not exactly,” Cork replied. “I seem to have lost Charlie.”

  26

  To reconnoiter, Dina had changed into camouflage fatigues of muted autumn gold and brown. She would have blended easily into the woods. Cork was a little amazed at the foresight required to have such an outfit on hand.

  He explained what had happened—Charlie’s disappearance—and near the end, he heard the rattle of heavy suspension on the gravel road that led to the resort. They stepped outside onto the porch and watched as Jewell’s Blazer pulled up and parked in the sunshine. Jewell got out, and a moment later Ren followed. Both looked concerned at the firearms that Cork and Dina held. On the steps of the cabin, Cork told them the situation.

  “The man with the dog,” Jewell asked, shading her eyes against the morning sun, “was he kind of tall? And was the dog a golden retriever?”

  “Yes,” Dina said.

  Ren jumped in. “Bill Pothen. He hunts partridge. He’s okay.” His eyes darted around the resort as if he hoped to spot his friend lurking somewhere.

  Dina glanced toward Cabin 3. “Is it possible someone came while you were gone?”

  “Possible,” Cork said, “but not probable. I was away for three, maybe four minutes at most. I think Charlie would have yelled her head off if anybody tried anything.”

  “If she was able,” Dina said. “Maybe she was surprised and didn’t have the chance.”

  “Surprised by whom?” Jewell asked.

  Ren climbed the steps and put his face to the screen. “Did you look all over inside?”

  “I called plenty loud enough that she’d hear me,” Cork replied.

  “Charlie!” Ren hollered. “Charlie, it’s me, Ren.”

  A brief moment of silence followed, then a distant voice came from inside the cabin: “I’m here.”

  Ren flung the screen door open and flew inside. The others were right behind him.

  “Where are you?” he called.

  “In here.” The words came from the kitchen.

  Cork followed the others who moved faster than he.

  “Here.” This time it was clear her voice had come from behind the cabinet door below the sink.

  They found her contorted around the plumbing. She slowly extricated herself, limb by limb. When she was fully out, she began to twist and stretch her cramped muscles.

  “Why didn’t you answer when I called?” Cork asked.

  She arched her back. “I didn’t know if someone was, like, holding a gun to your head or what.”

  Dina smiled. “Smart.”

  Charlie bent low, lithe enough to press her forehead to her shins. “What were the shots all about?”

  “A hunter,” Cork said.

  “Pothen,” Ren replied.

  “Gorgeous George with him?”

  “The dog,” Jewell explained to Cork and Dina.

  The girl straightened and faced Ren. “So how was Stash?”

  “Unconscious,” Ren replied. “His family’s with him.”

  “Not all of us,” Charlie said, obviously still resentful.

  Ren punched her shoulder lightly. “We’ll go back when he’s awake.”

  “It’s a school day, Ren,” Jewell reminded him.

  “Not today, Mom. Please. I mean, everything’s so crazy. And I don’t want to leave Charlie. Please.”

  She gave in quickly. “A
ll right. I’ll call.” She walked to the phone.

  “Could I talk to Charlie for a little while alone?” Ren’s eyes went to Cork and then to Dina.

  “Sure,” Dina said. “Why not?”

  The two teenagers headed toward Ren’s room.

  After Jewell made her call, she came into the kitchen where Dina was making fresh coffee.

  “Mind?” Dina asked.

  “My kitchen is yours,” Jewell replied. She glanced toward the hallway where Ren and Charlie had disappeared. “How’s she doing?”

  Dina began to fill the coffeepot in the sink. “If dinosaurs had that kind of survival instinct, they’d still be around, eating us for breakfast. She’s tough.”

  “She’s had to be. Any reporters?”

  “No,” Cork said. “I’m thinking the sheriff’s people haven’t released Charlie’s name. That’s a good thing. But we need to talk about those boot prints behind the shed.”

  “And we ought to figure what to do about that damn cougar,” Dina added as she poured the water into the coffeemaker.

  “Boot prints behind the shed?” Jewell looked confused, and Cork explained to her what he’d discovered near the Dart.

  Jewell said, “I don’t like the idea of any animal creeping around out there, human or otherwise.”

  Cork hobbled to the dining table and sat down. The bowl from which Charlie had eaten her cereal sat directly across from him. Soggy pieces of Cap’n Crunch floated in the milk. He idly tapped the table-top with his cane.

  “We could contact the Department of Natural Resources,” he said. “They might have the wherewithal to deal with a cougar. But we’d end up with a lot of strangers mucking around. I don’t think that’s such a good idea right now. You know how to handle a firearm, Jewell?”

  “I’ve been around hunters all my life. I’m fine with a rifle.”

  “Okay, how about this? None of us goes out without a firearm. And Ren and Charlie don’t go out unescorted.”

  “Oh, they’ll love that,” Dina said, hitting the brew switch.

  “They’d rather deal with a hungry cougar alone?”

  Jewell pulled clean mugs from the cupboard. “I’ll talk to them. They’ll be okay. What about those boot prints?”

  “It could be simply a curious troll, but we should probably assume the worst,” Cork said.

  Jewell set the mugs on the counter near the coffeemaker. “The worst, you mean, being that the guys who murdered Charlie’s father are looking for Charlie?”

  “That would be it.”

  “Could it be someone who’s after you, Cork?” Jewell asked.

  “If they knew I was here, I’d be dead already.”

  “So okay, it’s about Charlie.” Jewell frowned. “What are they after?”

  The coffeemaker burbled. Dina folded her arms and stared at the floor. Cork tapped the tabletop with the tip of his cane. No one had a word to offer in answer.

  Charlie threw herself onto Ren’s unmade bed and rammed a pillow over her face. “Those guys are such assholes.”

  “Charlie.”

  She lifted the pillow and saw his expression. “Dude, you look like somebody just threatened to cut off your ’nads.”

  “I don’t think Stash’s accident was an accident.”

  “Huh?”

  He began to pace, moving from the door to his desk to the window, then retracing his steps as he spelled out the connections.

  “I’ve been thinking about it all the way back from Marquette. I think somebody hit Stash on purpose. I think they were trying to kill him.”

  “Stash?” She looked at him as if he were crazy. “What for?”

  “Because they thought he was me.”

  “Dude, are you tripping?”

  “Just shut up and listen.” He stopped, and his hands formed a frame as if creating a window for her to see through clearly. “We spot this body floating down the Copper River, right? That night you and me go looking for it. There’s a boat down there and the people on it are looking for something, too. Then you, in your brilliance, holler at it, and they get a good look at you.”

  “My butt.”

  “You, too. You even said something about the body, remember?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Next thing we know, they’re chasing us. At the shelter, when I was rolling the spliff, I left the cigar box on the ground with Stash’s name in it. That same night they came to your place looking for you, but your dad wouldn’t tell them anything. They … you know.” He paused a moment, then rushed on. “The next day they go after Stash, thinking he was the one with you that night. Charlie, they’re afraid because they think we saw the body.”

  “That’s what this is all about?”

  “I think so.”

  Charlie stared at him, then a deep sadness came into her eyes. “Ren.”

  “What?”

  “My father. He knew I was sleeping in the truck outside, but he wouldn’t tell them. Oh Jesus.” She looked away.

  “Yeah,” Ren said, understanding. “He sure had his problems, Charlie, but he loved you.”

  She was quiet awhile. “What do we do?”

  Ren chewed on his lip, then shrugged and nodded toward the bedroom door. “We should tell them.”

  Charlie looked skeptical. “What can they do?”

  “We have to trust somebody.” He looked from her to the door. “And, Charlie, they have guns.”

  27

  Jewell had an eclectic collection of mugs. The one she held was white, with TOWANDA! printed across it in red. Dina drank from a blue Best Mom In The World cup. Cork had a red mug with The older I get the better I was emblazoned in gold. He looked up when Ren and Charlie marched in. From their deliberate stride he could tell that they had something important to say.

  Ren stood in front with Charlie to his left. He squared his shoulders. Charlie buried her hands in her pockets, and her eyes seemed interested in everything except the adults.

  Ren said, “There’s something we should tell you.”

  Jewell nodded seriously. “We’re listening.”

  Ren proceeded to lay out to them a bizarre-sounding scenario that included a body floating down the Copper River, a midnight search along the lakeshore, a mysterious boat, a childish mooning, followed by a pursuit up the trail along the river. The story ended with a cigar box containing marijuana left where it might easily have been discovered.

  “You get high?” Jewell asked at the end.

  “Sometimes,” Ren admitted.

  “Oh Jesus.”

  “I’m sorry, Mom.”

  “How long?”

  Ren shrugged, then shook his head. “A while.”

  “Jewell, I know it’s an important issue and you and Ren need to talk about it,” Cork said, “but there’s a more pressing concern here. Is someone trying to kill these kids, and if they are, why?”

  Jewell drilled her son with her dark eyes. “We will talk.” She transferred her stern look to Charlie. “And you, too.”

  They sat at the dining table, and Cork walked Ren through everything again, double-checking each point with Charlie to be certain they were in agreement about the circumstances.

  “You saw the body?” Cork said.

  “No,” Ren replied. “Stash—I mean Stuart—did. We kidded him, but he was sure.”

  “Did you actually see anything?”

  “Maybe. But I thought it was, like, a log or something, you know?”

  “Charlie?”

  The girl shook her head. “I didn’t see anything.”

  “You were high? All of you?”

  They nodded together.

  “All right, tell me about this boat.”

  Ren and Charlie exchanged a blank look. “It was just a boat,” the boy said.

  “How big?”

  “Not very.”

  “Thirty feet? Twenty? Ten?”

  “Maybe twenty.”

  “Charlie?”

  “Yeah, I guess,” she said.

&nb
sp; “Think.”

  For ten seconds the girl stared at the empty fireplace. “It was just a regular powerboat, nothing special. A good engine, though. Maybe ninety horse.”

  “You know engines?”

  “I know a lot of things.”

  “Did your father know anybody with a boat? Fishing buddies, maybe?”

  “They all fish. A lot of ’em have boats.”

  “Can you give us some names?”

  She looked irritated, as if it were a pain to have to think. “I don’t know. Joe Otto. Skip Hakala. Calvin Stokely sometimes borrows his brother’s boat. Then there’s Pat Murphy. There’s Roadkill—”

  “Roadkill?”

  “His name’s Rodney, but they call him Roadkill.”

  “Sounds like he had a lot of friends.”

  “Duh. He lived here his whole life.”

  Cork looked at Jewell. “You know any of these guys?”

  “Most of them.”

  “Anyone who might be the kind of guy who’d do what someone did to Charlie’s father?”

  “When they’re drunk, all of ’em,” Charlie spit out.

  Jewell said, “Max wasn’t particular about the company he kept. But I’d have to say that of them all, Calvin Stokely’s always been the scariest. When we were kids, anything particularly cruel happened around here without knowing exactly who did it, Calvin Stokely’s name popped pretty quick to people’s lips. His folks lived off the grid.”

  “Off the grid?” Ren said. “What’s that, Mom?”

  “It’s when someone tries to live a life that’s not documented by the government. No Social Security, no taxes, that kind of thing.”

  “Like survivalists?” Ren said.

  “Not exactly. But they were hard people. Hard on their kids for sure: Calvin and his brother, Isaac. Isaac’s older. He went off to the Army young. When he came back on leave, he found Calvin and his mother beat up pretty bad and got into a fight with his father, who tried to shoot him with a shotgun. I guess Isaac’s military training tipped the scales in his favor. It was the father they buried. Court ruled it a justifiable homicide and Isaac went back to the service. Calvin stayed, but it would have been fine with me if he hadn’t. I know he’s not to blame for what happened to him when he was a kid, but honestly, when I see him in town I try to avoid him. Even after all these years he still gives me the creeps.”