Ice Run am-6 Page 22

  “Yeah,” he said. He wiped his nose on his sleeve. “Uncle Marty disappeared two nights ago, and Uncle Michael disappeared yesterday, after he…”

  Chris looked at the bandage on my neck.

  “Fuck,” he said. “After he tried to kill you, I guess.”

  “But you haven’t seen either one of them here?”

  “No. Not really. I mean, I think Marty was here.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “Somebody was here. There was some food on the table, and one of the beds was slept in.”

  Leon came into the room, holding an ashtray. “Are these yours?” he said to Chris.

  “No, I don’t smoke.”

  “Let me guess,” I said. “Camel unfiltereds.”

  “You got it,” Leon said.

  “That’s my uncle Marty’s brand,” Chris said. “He must have come here, but he wasn’t around when I got here yesterday. I’ve been waiting, hoping he’ll come back.”

  “The rest of your family is all camping out at your parents’ house,” I said. “Do they know you’re here?”

  “Hell, I don’t know. I left a message on the machine, told them I was going out looking. They could probably figure it out if they wanted to.”

  “You seem to have a real communication problem in your family,” I said. “Like when you told them I was the guy who made your grandfather come to the hotel that night.”

  He looked down at the floor.

  “Now would be a good time to tell me everything you know,” I said.

  He shook his head.

  “I don’t give a shit about your uncles right now,” I said, “but Natalie is missing, too. I’m trying to find her. I swear to God, Chris, I will beat you right here and right now until your eyes bleed.”

  “Okay,” he said. He wiped his nose on his sleeve again. He kept looking at the floor. “Okay, man. It all goes back to my grandfather, and some stuff he told me just before he… I mean, when he was still around. I’d go over there a lot, just to see how he was doing, sit with him for a while. Especially lately, since I’d been working at the hotel, which was right around the corner from him. That one night I went to see him, that was the first night where we were starting to get all that snow. I was talking to him about it, and I just happened to mention that I had carried some bags for a woman at the hotel, who had just driven all the way down from this town in Canada called Blind River. I asked her that in the elevator. I said, I hope you didn’t have to drive much in this weather, and she said, excuse me, I know how to drive in the snow and I came all the way down from Blind River.”

  “That was the night before I got there,” I said.

  “Yeah, I guess so. Anyway, I tell this to my grandfather because we were talking about the snow, and he says, Blind River, that’s where the devil lived. And I’m like, what are you talking about, Grandpa? I thought he was joking, but he got real serious and he said, I’m not making a joke, Chris. As far as I’m concerned, Blind River’s where the devil lived. Then he asked me what this woman’s name was. I said, I’ve got no idea. And he said, well if you get a chance, find out. I’d be interested to know.”

  “Let me guess,” I said. “You looked her name up on the room registration.”

  “No, it wasn’t like that. I didn’t go snooping around. I just asked Gail at the front desk. I said, hey, who’s that lady from Canada? I think I might know her. And Gail told me her name.”

  “Okay, go on.”

  “So I stopped in to see my grandfather on the way to work that morning, because my mother had made him something to eat. I told him, that woman’s name is Natalie Reynaud. My grandfather says, Chris, please tell me if you’re making a joke now. Is that woman’s name really Natalie Reynaud? I said, yeah, do you know the name? He said, I know the last name all right. That’s the devil’s name.”

  “Did he say anything more about the devil? Like what this person did to earn that title?”

  “No, I asked him about that, but he wouldn’t tell me. He said he wasn’t going to pass it down to me, whatever that meant.”

  “Did he happen to say anything about killing the devil?”

  “No, what do you mean?”

  “Never mind,” I said. “Just go on.”

  “He did say that the devil was dead now. Then he went into the bottom of the closet and dug out this old hat. He said, see this? This is the devil’s hat right here.”

  “He didn’t say how he got it?”

  “No, he didn’t.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Keep going.”

  “So later, when I’m at work, he shows up all dressed up in his suit. I’m totally freaking out, because there’s no way he should be out walking around on his own like that, especially in bad weather. There’s a guy, even, who’s supposed to be keeping on eye on him over in the apartments. I asked him where Tony was and how come he was out. He said don’t worry, he just wanted to see the old hotel because all he does anymore is sit around in his apartment. So here he is sitting in the lobby, saying hello to everyone. He was happier than I’d ever seen him, you know? I figured, why not? This was good for him. I’d let him stick around and then I’d take him back home later. I had no idea he was gonna go out wandering in the snow. I swear to God.”

  “Why didn’t you stop him? Didn’t you see him leave?”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “You were the doorman. How can you not see him leave?”

  “I wasn’t down by the door.”

  “Was it a maid or a waitress in the restaurant?”

  He mumbled something.

  “What did you say?”

  “I said it was a waitress.”

  “Okay, so what happens next? You know your whole family is gonna kill you, so you look for somebody else to pin it on.”

  He started to say something, but stopped.

  “At least you’re not denying it,” I said. “I’ll give you that. Is there anything you want to tell us? About your grandfather or your uncles? Or anything?”

  “No,” he said. “That’s all I know.”

  “Come on, then. We’re going.”

  “I can’t,” he said. “I’ve got to wait here, in case Marty comes back.”

  “Does he have a snowmobile?”

  “No.”

  “Well, the last flight is coming in soon. We’ll go see if he’s on it. If he’s not, then he’s not coming back here today at all.”

  Chris didn’t look too happy about that, but he didn’t say a word. He followed us out the door and down the road, past the Grand Hotel and down the hill toward town. The clouds were coming in thick and filling every corner of the sky, casting everything in a strange, muted light. We caught another horse-drawn carriage on Huron Street. This time there were no other passengers. We went back up to the airport, passing through the long white tunnel of trees, the air feeling colder by the minute. Chris was hunched over in his seat like a kid on his way to the principal’s office. We got there just in time to see the plane landing. I watched each passenger getting off-a young couple who stepped off looking up at the sky like maybe this whole trip had been a mistake. An older man behind them. Another man, young and big, about Marty’s size-my heart raced for one second until I saw it wasn’t him. There were no Grants getting off this plane.

  We got on with a few other people, all of us getting off the island on the last flight before the snow came. We touched down in St. Ignace, got into Leon’s car with Chris folded up in the tiny backseat. He wrapped his coat tight around his body.

  “Are you taking me home?” he finally said.

  “I thought you might want to tell your story to the police,” I said.

  “That actually sounds better than telling it to my parents right now.”

  “Okay, then. Just sit tight for a while.”

  “I lost him once before,” he said.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I lost my grandfather on the island, a couple of summers ago. I was supposed to be watching him and he wan
dered down the hill. They found him on one of the ferries.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “So my father just about killed me. I mean, he really beat the hell out of me.”

  “You’re in college, Chris. Learn how to take care of yourself. Or go to the police.”

  “I know, I’m just saying… I shouldn’t have lied about it this time.”

  “You’re right,” I said. It was another lie to think about as we drove the fifty miles back to Sault Ste. Marie. The snow hadn’t started yet. It felt like it was waiting to gather its full strength before hitting us again. All the while I kept looking out the window at the endless line of snowbanks as they whizzed by us. A long trail of white leading nowhere, with no answers at the end. The sun went down, and with it most of my hopes. It would be the second night with no way to find her.

  We rolled into the Soo and headed straight across town to the City County Building. Leon parked in the back lot. Chris pried himself out of the backseat and stood rubbing his legs. I put a hand on his back and pointed him toward the door. He walked in with us and stood there with his arms folded while I told the receptionist we needed to see Chief Maven right away. That’s when it all went to hell fast. Maven came out of his office and down the hall, moving like a lineman rushing a quarterback. Behind him was one of his officers.

  “McKnight!” he said. “Where the hell have you been?”

  “I’m sure you remember Chris Woolsey,” I said. “He has a few things to tell you.”

  “Of course I remember,” he said as he turned to Chris, his voice losing about half of its venom. “Please go with Officer Donovan. He’ll talk to you.”

  Chris gave us one last look and went with the officer. Maven watched him leave. When he was gone, Maven turned and stepped in about six inches from my face.

  “There was a state trooper over at the Woolseys’ house,” he said. “He says you two clowns showed up there today. What the hell were you doing?”

  “You know what I was doing.”

  Maven stepped away from me. He took his chief’s hat off, ran his fingers through what was left of his hair, looked at Leon for a moment, then at me. “I’m not going to say anything else, McKnight. I give up. You and your chauffeur need to go see Sergeant Moreland right away.”

  “Why?” I said. I felt a sick chill in my stomach. Please, don’t let it be Natalie. “What happened, chief?”

  “They found your truck,” he said, “with Michael Grant inside.”

  The way he said it, I didn’t even have to ask. But Maven answered anyway.

  “He buried the truck in a snowbank,” he said. “Then he bled to death.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  We crossed the bridge and found the police station. Staff Sergeant Moreland was standing at the door with his head outside, looking up at the snow. When he saw us coming, he held the door open without saying a word. He pointed down the hallway.

  “In here,” he said, directing us to an interview room. The bright fluorescent lights hurt my eyes. “I was just watching the snow come down. It’s hard to believe there’s any left up there.”

  I wasn’t sure if he was just trying to put us at ease with the small talk. He let Leon sit down next to me. Right away that told me something. If he wanted to put us through the ringer, he’d do us each separately.

  “You would be Mr. Leon Prudell,” Moreland said, extending his hand. “Chief Maven tells me you were Alex’s old partner, back when he was a private eye.”

  “Very briefly, sir.”

  “I saw Alex just this morning,” he said. “I didn’t imagine I’d have the pleasure again so soon.”

  “We’ll do whatever we can to help,” Leon said.

  “That’s good to hear. As you know by now, we found Michael Grant. He ran off the road into a ditch. It didn’t take long for the snow to cover him. When the plow came by, it buried him completely. Somebody else ran off the road in the same spot this evening, bumped right into him. If that hadn’t happened, God knows when we would have found him.”

  “Where was he found?” I said. I couldn’t help thinking about the whole family gathered at the Woolseys’ house.

  “Just west of Iron Bridge.”

  “He didn’t make it very far then.”

  “I’m surprised he could drive at all,” Moreland said. “He basically had no left hand anymore. He had tried to wrap it up with an old rag.”

  I could picture that rag in my mind. It was tucked into a pocket on the driver’s side door. Last time I used it was to check my oil.

  “There were deep lacerations in his face and shoulders, too,” Moreland said. “He must have been losing a lot of blood, even with the low temperature.”

  “Sounds like he never had a chance,” Leon said. “That shotgun ripped him apart.”

  “We recovered your cell phone as well,” Moreland said. “It looks like he tried to call for help. There’s no record of the call ever going through.”

  I wasn’t sure what to think at that point. It was a horrible way to die, bleeding to death, trapped in the snow. But if the gun hadn’t exploded, I would have been dead myself.

  “That leaves Marty Grant,” Moreland said. “And Natalie, of course.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “In any case, Chief Maven tells me you two were busy today. You traced the nephew out to Mackinac Island?”

  “Yes,” I said. “It looks like Marty was there. But not anymore.”

  “I’m sure the Michigan guys will keep looking.”

  “What about you guys? Have you found any leads here?”

  He looked up at me. It seemed like he was more weary than annoyed. “We can’t find any trace of her,” he said. “All we can find are trucks and dead bodies.”

  “I know this isn’t the most important thing in the world right now,” I said, “but when do I get the truck back?”

  “We’ve already been through it. I don’t see why you can’t take it with you now.”

  “Are you serious? In Michigan I probably wouldn’t see it for a month.”

  “It’s around back,” he said. “I’ll take you to it.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  There wasn’t much more to say, so he showed us out. Leon waited for me in the parking lot while I went around to the back lot with Moreland. He unlocked the gate and led me to my truck. It was parked beneath a flood lamp mounted high on a wooden pole, the snow flying heavy now in the cone of orange light. My truck looked amazingly unharmed by its ordeal, aside from a dent in the snowplow.

  “We cleaned it up a little inside,” Moreland said, “after we took some samples. But you might want to take it someplace for a better job.”

  Only in Canada, I thought. They actually cleaned it up for me.

  He gave me the keys. I opened the driver’s side door. My cell phone was sitting on the dashboard. The seat was still damp, and the heavy metallic scent of blood hung in the air.

  “Did you guys happen to find a hat in here?” I said.

  “That old hat you told me about? I think Grant had it on his head when they found him. I’m sure it’s in the lab right now.”

  “That’s fine. It’s not important.”

  “You still have my card?” he said. “You’ll call me if you get any more ideas? Maybe before you go chasing them this time?”

  “I’ll try,” I said. “But I don’t think I can promise you.”

  I wasn’t sure if he accepted that, but he let me go. I started it up and pulled around to the front, next to Leon’s car, and rolled down my window. As Leon leaned out, I could see his breath in the cold night air.

  “Thank you,” I told him. “Again. I really owe you.”

  “It’s nothing, Alex.”

  “Go home to your wife,” I said. “Tell her I’m sorry.”

  “We’ll be fine,” he said. “Call me tomorrow.”

  I watched him pull out of the lot and head for home. I didn’t move. I sat there as the snow collected on my windshield. It was getting late, I was tired, and i
f I had had any sense at all, I would have gone right home and gone to bed.

  I couldn’t. I had to do something.

  I could go out to Natalie’s house, I thought. Drive all the way out there in the snow to look through her empty house again. Looking for what? I had no idea. The house and the barn would be closed up now, anyway, both places taped up as official crime scenes.

  There’s nothing you can do, Alex. There’s nowhere else you can go.

  I finally pulled out of the lot and started driving. I found a gas station and pulled in to fill up the tank. The snow kept falling. I watched the imperial gallons click by, five quarts apiece. I went in and paid the man. He looked at my bruised and taped-up face, asked me if the hospital knew I had escaped. I told him he was wasting his comedic talent working at a gas station.

  The hospital, I thought as I got back in the truck. I could go see how Mrs. DeMarco is doing. That would be one small thing, at least, instead of driving straight home. The General Hospital wasn’t far away, so I figured what the hell. Even though it was late, I could at least ask about her.

  I drove over and parked in the emergency room lot, went inside, found an elevator, rode it up to the sixth floor. I walked up to the nurse’s station.

  “Sir, can I help you? If you’re a visitor, you really need to come back tomorrow.”

  “I’m just wondering about Mrs. DeMarco,” I said. “Is she still on this floor?”

  “I recognize you now,” she said. “You’re the one who brought her in.”

  “Yes, ma’am. How is she doing?”

  “Not too bad, considering. Celia will be sorry she missed you. That’s Mrs. DeMarco’s day nurse. She was here a little earlier, dropping off some things.”

  “Well, I was just driving by, anyway. I don’t want to disturb her.”

  “Why don’t you go peek in her room? She was awake a little while ago.”

  “Maybe I’ll do that,” I said. “Although it’s a little hard to have a conversation with her. I think she’s pretty much just living in the past now.”

  “That’s actually a very common symptom of dementia,” she said. “As the memory breaks down, you get stuck in one particular time of your life. Sometimes it’s a good time. Sometimes not so good.”