CHAPTER FOUR

When I got up the next morning and went down to the Glasgow for breakfast, I didn’t see Vinnie’s truck parked outside his cabin. That was a surprise. I figured he’d be down for at least ten or twelve hours. You’re a younger man than I am, I said to him in my mind as I passed by, but you’re not that much younger. I know you wouldn’t lose your job at the casino if you slept in one morning, so you must have some kind of attendance streak going. Either that or you’re completely insane.

Jackie gave me two seconds after I walked in the door. Then he was all over me. “So what the hell happened last night?”

“What do you think happened? We drank a bottle of Jim Beam and talked about life.”

“An entire bottle?”

“Half a bottle, two-thirds, I don’t know. He’s the one who drank most of it. Did he stop in on his way to work?”

“He’s actually working today?”

“Yes,” I said. “It’s his first day back. His truck is gone, so I just assumed…”

“And you had to go get him wrecked the night before. What’s the matter with you?”

“I didn’t get him wrecked, Jackie. He got himself wrecked. I just made sure I was the one driving.”

“Driving where? I thought you guys went back to your cabin.”

“We went up to Whitefish Point. You wouldn’t believe how warm the water was.”

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing,” he said, slapping down his bar towel. “You guys got drunk and went swimming? What are you, a couple of high-school kids?”

“I told you, I wasn’t drunk. And he’s the one who jumped in the water. I was just the lifeguard.”

“Madness,” he said. “Absolute madness. You should have your head examined.”

“Are you sure he didn’t stop in? Just for a quick bite or something?”

“I think I would have noticed him. Are you sure you even brought him back last night? He didn’t drown in the lake?”

“No, he did not drown in the lake. Now can you make me an omelet, please?”

“Unbelievable.” He picked up his towel just so he could throw it back down on the bar. “You’re a piece of work, you are.”

“He’ll be fine,” I said. “Although I’m sure he’ll be having a tough day. You better have a good hangover cure ready for him. You got some Bloody Mary mix?”

“You really are trying to kill him, aren’t you… You don’t give a man with a hangover a Bloody Mary. You give him gin with lemon and a little Tabasco sauce.”

“And you’re calling me crazy? That’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard.”

“I’ll take care of him,” he said. “In fact, I don’t even want you in the building when he gets here. I think you’ve done quite enough damage to the poor man.”

We went on like that for another few minutes. My tried-and-true hangover cure versus his horrible mixture of death. I mean, anything that starts with gin. Just forget it. Then more about what a supposedly irresponsible friend I was in the first place.

I finally did get my omelet. I always do. But some mornings, I really have to earn it.


* * *

I had some renters leaving that morning, and with new renters coming in the next day, I wanted to make sure I had fresh supplies in the kitchens. That meant a drive to Sault Ste. Marie. “The Soo,” as the locals call it. It’s a good fifty miles away, but that’s nothing up here. People drive a hell of a lot farther just to get to a real grocery store.

I have this bad habit of driving insanely fast when I’m on the open road. It’s hard not to do when you see maybe one car every ten minutes. On top of that, every law enforcement official up here knows me by now. At least every Chippewa County deputy and every Michigan State Trooper who happens to be stationed up here. They know that I was a Detroit police officer for eight years. They know I took three bullets on the job, and that I still carry one in my chest, just behind my heart. It’s not like I told every cop personally, but word gets around. This guy got shot on the job, he’s still even got one slug in his chest, right next to his heart, and now he happens to drive a little bit over the speed limit once in a while. So if they happen to see a certain old F-150 truck coming down the road, they make a point of leaving me alone.

Reason enough right there never to buy a new vehicle. But lately I’d been trying to tone it down a little bit. Like maybe speed limit plus twenty, no matter where I was driving.

I thought about stopping in at the casino, just to see how Vinnie looked. But then I figured no, if the roles were reversed I wouldn’t want him coming into the place just to see what shade of green I was. So I kept driving down that straight empty road. That’s right about when the first county car came screaming toward me, going the opposite way. Lights flashing, siren on, the full treatment. About a minute later, a state car came down the same way, again with the lights and the siren. I was thinking an accident. More than one car if both the state and county were responding. I kept going.

When I hit the Soo I drove up the business spur to the hardware store. I bought a few more fans to put in the cabin bedrooms, even though I knew I’d wonder why I bothered the minute the weather went back to normal. Then to the grocery store for bottles of water. When I was on my way back to Paradise, another state car came ripping by me. Yet another cop going due west as fast as he could. I don’t know if I was starting to feel slightly anxious yet. It’s hard to pinpoint the exact moment when it all started to turn, but this time I definitely thought it would be a good idea to stop in at the casino, just lay eyes on Vinnie one time.

So I cut north along the lakeshore and went through Brimley to the reservation, past that one little sign that lets you know you’re on sovereign land. I pulled in to the Bay Mills Casino lot. As always, there were plenty of cars there. I got out and walked inside, hearing the hollow sound of the slot machines as I made my way through the lobby to the casino itself, that huge stuffed moose looking out over my head as I passed beneath it.

I went back to the blackjack area and took a quick look around. I didn’t see Vinnie anywhere, but I knew the dealers rotated frequently. I poked around for a minute or two, checking out the restaurant at the back of the place, where Vinnie usually took his breaks. Still no sign of him.

Eventually, I went to one of the tables and waited for the dealer there to take a shuffle break.

“Hey, is Vinnie around?”

The dealer was a woman. She looked too young to even be allowed in this place, let alone to deal cards. “Vinnie LeBlanc? No, he’s out for a while. On bereavement leave.”

“Today’s his first day back,” I said. “I just wanted to say hi to him.”

“I haven’t seen him. I didn’t even know he was working.”

When the pit boss came over to break it up, I motioned him aside.

“I’m just looking for Vinnie,” I said. “I know he’s working today.”

The pit boss shook his head. “Nope, haven’t seen him. I thought he was due back today, too, but I know he’s had a tough week. Don’t worry, we can manage without him.”

“You really haven’t seen him today at all?”

“No, sir.”

I thanked the man and left. When I was in the parking lot, I took my cell phone from the truck and turned it on. I had just enough juice left to try Vinnie’s number. He uses his cell phone about as often I do, but I figured it was worth a shot. It rang through and went to voice mail. I told him to call me if he got the message, but as I threw the phone back into the truck I knew that would work about as well as sending up a smoke signal.

As I worked my way back through the reservation, I kept an eye out for Vinnie’s truck. He could be here, I thought, doing more family stuff. That was entirely reasonable. But I didn’t see his truck anywhere.

I stopped in at both sisters’ houses. They were right up the street from each other, first Mary and then Regina. Their kids were running around between the front yards, trying to throw water balloons at each other. None of the kids had any kind of arm strength yet, not to mention accuracy, so only my shoes got wet.

I didn’t want to alarm either woman, so I simply told them I was passing by on the way home and was just wondering if Vinnie wanted to grab some lunch. I didn’t mention him not showing up for work and neither of them seemed even aware he was due back today. So I think I got away with it, not spreading any more anxiety than I had to. I did pick up that same vibe I always got from them, that I was somehow responsible for keeping Vinnie off the reservation. But that I would have gotten no matter what. I thanked them both and kept going.

When I got back to the Glasgow, I didn’t see his truck in the parking lot. Even so, I felt myself expecting to see him sitting there by the fireplace when I walked in. The truck is broken down, he’d say. Had to be towed to the shop, now I’m stuck here all day. That’s how I wanted it to go, but as soon as I opened the door I saw Jackie look up at me with expectation written all over his wrinkled face.

“Did you find him?”

“I didn’t realize it was a search party,” I said, and then I stopped myself. Jackie was no more anxious than I was. He was just more ready to show it.

“You’re telling me he wasn’t at work.”

“No, he wasn’t.”

“How often does he miss work?”

“You know the answer to that as well as I do. Once every thousand years.”

“So where the hell could he be? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“I know,” I said, “but I’m sure he’s out doing something important. Something to do with his family. That’s the only explanation.”

I sat down at the bar. Jackie kept up with the muttering to himself and the head shaking.

“Hey,” I said, “what was with all the police cars? They were all going west, full speed, lights, sirens…”

He looked at me and I could see his anxiety go into second gear.

“I’m sure it’s just a coincidence,” I said. “Vinnie hardly ever goes out that way. None of us do.”

“There’s something going on in Newberry,” Jackie said. “Guy came in for breakfast after you left, said there were police cars all over the place out there. I didn’t even think about it at the time.”

“Newberry? But I saw Chippewa cars going out there. Why would they go out to Luce County?”

“If it’s something big enough. You know how it goes up here.”

Neither of us said a word for a few seconds.

“Okay,” I finally said. “We’re gonna sit here and wonder if Vinnie’s out there, right? Until one of us actually goes out there to see what’s happening?”

“Go,” he said. “Call me as soon as you find out either way.”


* * *

Newberry’s a little town in the middle of absolutely nothing, about forty miles southwest of us, across the county line. The back road out from Paradise hits the main highway across the state, and as far as I can tell, that’s pretty much the only reason there’s a town there in the first place. It’s a little bigger than Paradise-it even has its own little airport-but the Soo is a lot bigger and just about as close. So bottom line, I never have any reason to go to Newberry, unless I happened to be driving through it on my way to Marquette.

The same goes for Vinnie, which is what I was telling myself as I drove. Then I remembered the other reservations to the west, including the little Sault outposts in Christmas and Manistique. Different tribe, but what the hell, I could easily imagine some reason for him going out that way.

I was driving eighty before I even realized what I was doing. I made myself take a breath and slow down. He’s not out there, I told myself. The chances of him being in Newberry right now are a million to one.

I drove through the desolate pine barrens west of Paradise, past the Lower Tahquemenon Falls, where the tannins from the cedar, spruce, and hemlock trees turned the water the color of root beer. There were three or four cars lined up at the gatehouse, waiting to get in. Then past the Upper Falls. I was in Luce County now. A long winding stretch through the trees and nothing else until I finally hit the straightaway going due south. About ten miles to go.

I saw the first state car as soon as I hit the main part of town. The trooper was pulled over on the opposite side of the road, silent but with his lights flashing. He was busy talking into his radio. He didn’t even look up at me as I drove past.

The traffic got heavier as I came to the highway, passing the little strip mall and the farm-equipment store with all the tractors lined up out front. Everybody seemed to be wanting to take a left onto the highway to see whatever there was to see. It was clearly the biggest event in Newberry in years, and probably the first actual traffic jam in just as long. I didn’t feel like waiting, so I parked the truck behind the gas station on the corner and got out.

I walked down the side of the road about a mile, past all the cars and trucks that were sitting there at a dead stop. As I got closer to the airport in Newberry, I saw the troopers out on the road, waving the traffic past and trying not to spend too much time answering the same questions over and over.

When I got close enough to the fence, I saw a good fifteen to twenty cars parked inside, some Michigan State cars, some Chippewa County, some Luce County. I saw two Newberry Police Department cars, which was a surprise because I didn’t even know they had their own department.

“What can we do for you, sir?” It was one of the troopers directing traffic.

“I’m just trying to find out what’s going on.”

“You’re gonna have to keep moving, sir. We’ve got a lot of vehicles coming in and out of here.”

I was about to go talk to him, even if that meant standing in the middle of the road, but then I saw a couple of other troopers standing by the gate. One of them I recognized, Sergeant Coleman, a man I’d had only one conversation with, but I was hoping he would remember me.

“I need a word with the sergeant,” I said to the guy on the road, and then I walked over to the gate before he could stop me.

Sergeant Coleman looked up from his conversation as I approached. He had his official trooper face on until the quarter dropped and he recognized me.

“Mr. McKnight,” he said. “What’s going on?”

“What happened?” I looked past him at the runway. There was a small Cessna at one end. One truck with big off-road tires, one SUV, then all of the police cars. I saw two different tarps covering two different things shaped like human bodies, and from the way the cops were buzzing around it looked like there were more down the runway.

“We’re real busy here,” he said. “You’re gonna have to read about it in the paper.”

“I’m looking for a friend of mine, Sergeant. I just need to know he’s not here. Then I can sleep tonight.”

“What’s your friend’s name?”

“His name is Vinnie LeBlanc. I can’t imagine why he’d be here at the airport, but I haven’t seen him today and-”

“Vinnie LeBlanc.” I could tell he was filing away the name. “Is he Bay Mills?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“I just figured. Lots of LeBlancs over there. You say he’s missing today?”

“I wouldn’t say missing. I just can’t find him.”

“Well, we’ve got five dead bodies in here. I don’t think any of them are your man, but-”

“Five dead bodies? What the hell happened?”

He hesitated for a moment, looked behind him at the scene, then took a step closer to me. “All right,” he said. “Quick version, it looks like a drug delivery gone bad. That plane over there is Canadian registered, and it’s stuffed to the rafters with bags of marijuana. Like more than I’ve seen in my whole life. Two men were probably waiting for the plane, another two men showed up. They handcuffed the first two men, then shot them in the head.”

“Okay, that’s two dead. How did it get to five?”

“The pilot had a gun, apparently. After he landed, he must have seen he was in trouble. It looks like everybody started shooting at the same time. One of them was crawling back to one of the vehicles and almost made it.”

“A night delivery,” I said. “They find an airfield out in the middle of nowhere. The plane comes in low and turns on the runway lights automatically.”

“How come you know so much about it?”

“It was in the paper. Last month, remember? Downstate somewhere.”

“Yeah, I remember,” he said. “The state police down there think it probably happened a dozen times until that one went bad. Now we’ve got this one. Right here in Newberry? Why’d they pick this place?”

“If they’re looking for the middle of nowhere, I think this qualifies.”

“Just what we need,” he said, shaking his head. “But as far as your friend goes… I mean, we don’t have any IDs yet.”

“I’m sure he’s not in there,” I said. “He doesn’t even smoke the stuff.”

“You don’t have to smoke it to sell it.”

“Seriously. I can promise you, Sergeant. Unless you’ve got a black Ram truck in there, and an Indian with long hair down his back.”

“No, that much I can tell you. We don’t have that.”

“All right then,” I said. “I’ll let you get back to it. Thanks for taking the time. I feel a lot better now.”

“No problem, Mr. McKnight. Good luck finding your friend. I’m sure he’ll show up somewhere today.”

“I’m sure he will.” As I walked away, I looked back through the fence. One airplane. Five dead men on the ground. Nothing to do with Vinnie. Obviously.

But I still didn’t know where he was.


* * *

Jackie was waiting at the door for me when I got back to the Glasgow. “You were supposed to call me,” he said.

“Sorry. I don’t think my cell phone would have worked out there, anyway.”

“What did you find out? Was it an accident?”

“No, some kind of drug deal gone bad at the airport.”

“At the Newberry airport? That one little runway that gets like one plane a day.”

“It can happen anywhere,” I said. “Especially when you’re this close to a border.”

“That kind of stuff happens down in Arizona,” he said. “Not in Michigan.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Yeah, whatever. As long as it wasn’t Vinnie getting flattened by a truck or something.”

“It wasn’t,” I said. “So you know what? I think we’re both being a little ridiculous. Vinnie’s an adult. He went somewhere to do something and when he’s done he’ll come back. Hell, if we didn’t know he was having the first hangover of his life, we wouldn’t have even thought twice about it. Am I right?”

“Well, everything he’s been through this week, too.”

“Of course. But how many times has he taken off for a few days? He never tells us where he’s going. He shouldn’t have to.”

Jackie thought about it. “Well, no. But-”

“But what? What else are we supposed to do? When he comes back home, we’ll smack him a few times and ask him where the hell he went. Until then, we’ve both got work to do.”

He had to agree with me. Maybe not one hundred percent. But then I wasn’t one hundred percent sold on the idea myself.

We didn’t talk about Vinnie anymore that day. I delivered my fans and my water and did a few fixes on the cabins and eventually ended up back at the Glasgow for dinner. It was me and Jackie. Still no Vinnie.

When it was dark, I finally went home. As I drove by his cabin, I could see that it was still empty.

“Sorry,” I said out loud. “I gotta do this, Vinnie.”

I stopped the truck, got out, and went to his front door. I knew it would be unlocked, like always, like why would you ever lock your door when you live out here in the woods? I opened the door and went inside. When I flipped on the light, I saw the broken glass all over the floor. It crunched under my feet as I made my way to the back of the cabin. I couldn’t breathe. I imagined him lying on the floor in the bathroom, or in his bedroom, or anywhere. Everything coming together in one instant. The simple reason why he never went to work, why nobody had seen him.

But no. The place was empty. I started breathing again. Then I got the broom out and swept up the broken glass.

The rest of the cabin was immaculate, as always. It made no sense that he’d drop a glass or a vase or whatever the hell this was, and then leave it.

“What the hell?” I said. “How did this happen? Were you that drunk? Even so, you’d clean it up the next morning, right? Who leaves broken glass on the floor?”

The answer came right back at me. Somebody in a hurry, that’s who. Somebody rushing out the door.

When the place was cleaned up, I turned off the light and closed the door behind me. I left the door unlocked, because that’s what Vinnie would be expecting when he finally came home.

I stayed up late that night. I wasn’t exactly waiting for him, but I know I would have heard his truck coming up that road.

I never did.

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