Ice Run

Chapter Sixteen

The truck came, slipping its way up the driveway. As I looked out the window, I saw an insignia on the front grill that read “North Channel EMT.” The nurse must have found some way to contact them. Two men got out and knocked on the front door. They were surprised to see me open it.

They took us all the way down to the General Hospital in Sault Ste. Marie. I sat in the front seat while one of the men attended to Mrs. DeMarco in the back. On the way, I told the driver to call the police and to tell them that there was a dead woman in the barn behind the Reynaud house and that Natalie Reynaud herself was missing. On top of all that, I had a stolen truck to report, too.

He looked at me, then back at his partner. Then he made the call.

By the time we got to the hospital, the Ontario Provincial Police were waiting for us. The EMTs took Mrs. DeMarco right into the emergency room, but the OPPs had different plans for me. I had to run through the whole story while the doctor examined me. An officer stayed with me while I got my X-ray. As the doctor sewed up the wound in my neck, he told me the gunmetal fragment had just missed a major artery, and that I should officially consider myself the luckiest human being on the planet.

“Yeah, take a picture of me,” I said. “I’m sure they’ll use that as the caption.”

“This other guy was aiming a shotgun at you,” the doctor said. “You’re telling me it exploded in his hands?”

“I think so.”

He shook his head. “I can’t imagine what he looks like right now.”

“How did he get away?” I said. “How come I blacked out but he didn’t?”

“I couldn’t help but notice your other scars,” the doctor said. “Not to mention the little souvenir in your anterior mediastinum when I saw the X-ray.”

“What about it?”

“When were you shot?”

“In 1984.”

“So you’ve been there before. I’ve never looked down a gun barrel myself, but if somebody pointed a shotgun at me right now and blasted away, I imagine I’d pass out. Even if I wasn’t hit.”

“It was a different state of mind for Grant, you’re saying.”

“The man who fired the weapon? Exactly. He wasn’t expecting it. It was a total surprise.”

“So how far could he get? I saw the blood on the ground.”

“Hard to say for sure,” the doctor said. “Only thing I do know is that he’d better be getting himself to a hospital.”

It was hard to imagine. I almost felt sorry for him.

When I was all taped up, the doctor told me I could leave if I wanted to. I didn’t have a truck, of course, but the police officers were more than happy to escort me from the hospital. In fact, they even had a place for me to stay for a while, instead of going all the way home. In their polite Canadian way they made it quite clear I had no choice in the matter.

Before I went with them, I asked if I could see Mrs. DeMarco. One officer took me up to the sixth floor and let me peek into the room. She was sleeping. She took up such a small space in the bed. I stood watching her for a while. Her mouth was open, her breathing so thin you could barely tell she was alive. I couldn’t imagine how her heart kept beating. Almost a century old, this tiny woman in the bed. How much sorrow had she seen in her lifetime? How many hard winter nights like this one?

We left the hospital then. I rode in the back of the OPP car, across town to the main station. There I was shown into an interview room and asked to tell my story again. When I was done they asked me, again very politely, if I wouldn’t mind sticking around a little while longer, as there was somebody important on his way down to see me. I had no idea who they were talking about.

They let me lie down on a couch while I waited. I looked at the white tiles on the ceiling for a while, then I closed my eyes. I saw the body on the floor of the barn. The long wooden handle. I saw the two barrels of the shotgun pointed at me.

A noise woke me. I sat up, my heart pounding, ready for the gun blast all over again. An officer had come into the room and switched on the light.

I laid my head down again. My heart rate slowed back down to normal. I closed my eyes again. This time I saw Michael Grant holding the shotgun. It had already exploded in his hands. He looked down at what was left of the barrels. As he dropped the gun his hands were on fire. He held flames with each hand and the smoke rose to the ceiling of the old barn. He reached out to touch me with his burning hands.

I woke up then. There was a hand on my shoulder. The face looking down at me was familiar-the white hair, the rugged features.

“Mr. McKnight,” he said.

It came to me. It was Staff Sergeant Moreland, Natalie’s superior officer from the Hearst Detachment. I sat up and rubbed my eyes.

“What time is it?” I said. I looked out the window.

“It’s around eight in the morning.”

“Oh man,” I said, touching my neck. “I need some more drugs.”

“Perhaps we can talk first?”

He sat down at the table. He was moving slowly, and looked almost as worn out as I felt. I got up and joined him.

“Did you drive all the way down from Hearst?” I said.

“Yes, as a matter of fact. I take it you remember me.”

“You’re Natalie’s commanding officer.”

“Do you remember what I told you the last time I saw you?”

“You told me to go back to Michigan and to never set foot in Ontario again.”

“I think it was more like a suggestion,” he said. “But yes, that was the general idea.”

“And obviously I didn’t.”

He rubbed his forehead. “Mr. McKnight, you understand why I said that, don’t you? You were involved in the worst homicide case I’ve seen in thirty-eight years on the Provincial Police force.”

“With all due respect, sir. I’m not sure ‘involved’ is the right word.”

“You were there, eh? You were right in the middle of it. Obviously, the whole thing took a toll on Constable Reynaud. When she went on administrative leave, I was hoping she’d be able to put it all behind her. Imagine my surprise when I find out now that she’s missing and that her mother has been murdered with an old ice hook.”

“An ice hook?”

“Yes. For moving blocks of ice around, when they used to cut them out of the channel. Someone stuck it right through her, McKnight, all the way to the floor. Once again, you’re right in the middle of everything.”

“Sergeant Moreland, I don’t know what happened to Natalie, but-”

He put his hands up to stop me. “If you’re involved in some relationship with Officer Reynaud, that’s none of my business,” he said. “Never mind what I’d say to my own daughter about it, who happens to be around the same age.”

I shook my head and looked away.

“But enough of that,” he said. “When she’s back home safe, then you and I might talk a little more, eh? Right now, I’m sure you’ll agree, our first priority has to be finding her.”

“Of course.”

“Naturally, we’re also trying to find the man who tried to kill you. His brother, too. I’m told that’s the person you were both looking for when you came up here?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“I’d like you to tell me everything that happened,” he said. “I know you’ve already been through this.”

“You want to hear it yourself,” I said. “I understand.”

“Take your time.”

I went through it one more time for him, starting with Simon Grant in the hotel and ending with the scene in the barn. He listened carefully to every word. Even though he had a pad of paper and a pen, he never wrote anything down.

“Go back to Marty Grant,” he said when I was done. “You say you saw him in Batchawana Bay?”

“Yes, when I went up looking for Natalie and her mother.”

“You have no idea why he might have been up there?”

“No, I don’t.”

“And you have no idea why he might have gone to Natalie’s house, assuming he did?”

“No, other than what his brother said about the devil of Blind River.”

“The devil of Blind River,” he said. He slowly tapped on the pad with his pen.

“I’m thinking that had to be Natalie’s father.”

“But you never talked to Grace Reynaud about this?”

“I never talked to her about anything,” I said. “I never got to meet her.”

“At least not alive.”

“No,” I said. “Not alive.”

“We’ve been in contact with the police in Soo Michigan,” he said. “Apparently you know the chief down there, Roy Maven?”

“We go way back, yes.”

He came as close to a smile as he was going to. “So I hear. In any case, they’re looking for both of the Grant brothers down there. They’ve spoken to the rest of the family, but they’re not getting much cooperation.”

“I’m not surprised. They seem like a pretty tight family.”

“Apparently, they told Chief Maven that they weren’t going to say a word to him. That’s exactly how they put it.”

“As opposed to telling him that they had no idea where either of the brothers were?”

“Right. It sounds like they know something, but they’re not talking.”

“Have you checked the hospitals? I was talking to the doctor about that gun, the way it exploded. Michael Grant is probably hurting pretty bad right now.”

“Naturally,” he said. “But we haven’t heard anything on that yet. We haven’t found your truck yet, either.”

“So what’s next?”

“I’m going to give you my card,” he said, reaching into his pocket. “I’m going to put my home number on the back. If you think of anything else that might be helpful, call me immediately.”

“That’s it?”

“An officer will take you back to Michigan,” he said. “You’ll need to call someone to meet you at the bridge.”

“You came a long way just to hear my story.”

“I needed to see you in person,” he said. “You said you were an old cop, right? I’m sure you can understand.”

“I suppose I can.”

“Natalie Reynaud is one of my own. You know that.”

“Yes, Sergeant.”

“If anything happens to her…”

He didn’t say anything else. He didn’t have to.

He called an officer to come pick me up. While I was waiting, I gave Vinnie a ring on his cell phone again. He didn’t answer. So I called Jackie at the Glasgow.

“Jackie,” I said when he picked up. “Is Vinnie there?”

“Alex, you damned fool, what the hell is going on there?”

“I’m coming home, Jackie. I’ll explain everything.”

“I told you, God damn it. Did I not tell you this would happen?”

“Yes, you did. Let me talk to Vinnie now.”

“You don’t have the sense God gave a turnip, you know that? I’ll be waiting right here, Alex. I’m gonna kick your stupid ass all over this bar.”

Good old Jackie, I thought. He knows me too well.

“Jackie, is Vinnie there or not?”

“No, he’s not. I haven’t seen him since yesterday. Do I need to come get you?”

Wait a minute, I thought. Wait one goddamned minute.

“Alex, are you there?”

“Yeah, sorry. I’m here.”

Jackie knows what I’d do to help him out. Him or someone else I cared about. That’s why I got the big lecture in his kitchen.

“I’ll come pick you up,” Jackie said. “Just tell me where.”

“No need,” I said. “I’ve got a ride. I’ll see you soon.”

“The cops are bringing you all the way over to Paradise?”

“Yeah, no problem. I gotta go, Jackie. See ya soon.”

I hung up.

“God damn,” I said. I went to the window and looked out. It wasn’t snowing. “God damn, it’s the same thing all over again.”

It all came back, the last time someone had done this to me. Jackie had been in real trouble, and he was about to do something incredibly stupid. He was going to try to take matters into his own hands.

He didn’t want me to be a part of it. He pushed me away. He told me he didn’t need my help, that I’d just screw everything up, as always. That I should just stay out of his business.

It hurt me when he said that. It was supposed to hurt. He was driving me away, for my own good. Because he knew if I got involved, I’d go all the way down the line with him, maybe even farther. I’d be in just as much danger as he was.

“Did you do the same damned thing, Natalie? Is that why you pushed me away?”

I went back to the pay phone and dialed a different number. A man answered with the name of the motor shop and asked how he could help me.

“I need to speak to Leon Prudell,” I said. “Is he there?”

A few seconds later, he was on the phone.

“Leon, it’s Alex. I know I’ve been asking you for a lot of favors lately…”

“Name it.”

“I’m in Soo Canada right now. I was hoping you could pick me up at the bridge.”

“What happened, did your truck break down?”

“It’s a long story,” I said. “I’ll tell you when I see you.”

“I’m on my way,” he said. “You want me to come right now?”

“You think you could run home first?”

“I guess so. Why?”

This is why I was calling him. Besides the fact he could get up here a lot faster, besides the fact he was my ex-partner-Leon Prudell always had the right tool for the job.

“I’ll wait for you on the American side of the bridge,” I said. “Bring a gun.”

I stood outside the little duty-free shop, a hundred feet from the toll-booth. My head still hurt. My neck still hurt. It was too cold to be standing outside, but what the hell. I wanted to be cold. I wanted the wind to hit me in the face, maybe knock some sense into me.

Natalie needed my help. She pushed me away and I let her. Now she was gone.

I looked out over the edge of the bridge. The St. Marys River was frozen and covered with snow. Beyond that was the lake, where the ice ended and the water began, water so cold it would kill you in a minute. It would pull you down all the way to the bottom, to the hard granite, a thousand feet deep. Nobody would ever see you again.

It’s too easy to disappear around here, that’s the thing. If it’s not the lake, it’s the land around it, nearly three thousand miles of jagged shoreline, the trees, the empty places, the great wild north all around you, with an international border running through the middle. In the winter you can walk right across the ice, start the day in one country and end it in another.

I remembered all the people who had vanished up here, intentionally or not. All the people I had known myself, even Jackie for a few horrible hours, until we rode out onto the lake to find him.

Now it was Natalie. The Grant brothers, too. There was a connection. There had to be. Find them and you find Natalie. That’s the one thing I kept holding on to.

Find them.

Leon showed up, driving his little red car. He pulled over and I got in.

“My God,” he said. “Look at you. I didn’t think you could look any worse.”

I knew Chief Maven would want to see me first thing. For about half a second, I thought about having Leon take me there. “Go to the Grants’ garage,” I said. “It’s on Spruce.”

He didn’t move. He kept looking at me.

“Come on, Leon. Let’s go.”

“You gonna tell me what’s going on?”

“Did you bring it?”

“Tell me why you need the gun, Alex. Or I’m not giving it to you.”

“Just go,” I said. “I’ll tell you on the way.”

He headed downtown while I went over the whole story again. He stopped me when I got to the part about going over to Natalie’s house with Michael Grant.

“You and Grant together?” Leon said. “I thought he was one of the guys who attacked you.”

“Call it an uneasy truce,” I said. “But it gets worse. Natalie’s mother was there, in the barn. Someone had killed her.”

“Alex, my God. Do you think Marty Grant did it?”

“I don’t know. I can’t imagine anyone doing this to her. I mean, if you had seen her…”

“But somebody did. Go on.”

“Michael Grant followed me out to the barn. He had taken an old shotgun from the basement. It had been put away, with Cosmoline in the barrels. This guy knew enough to put shells in it, but that’s all he did. So the barrels exploded.”

“So if he hadn’t been a complete idiot about cleaning the gun-”

“I wouldn’t be here right now.”

“Where is he now?”

“He drove off in my truck,” I said. “Nobody’s seen him, or his brother for that matter. The police say the family is refusing to talk about it.”

“They’re protecting them. It’s only natural.”

“I think they’re probably getting them in even more trouble than they’re already in, but they didn’t ask me my opinion.”

“What about Natalie?”

I shook my head. “No idea. They’re looking for her, too. Maybe there’s something we can do that the cops can’t.”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” he said. But he didn’t press it. He kept driving. When we got to the Grants’ garage, the place was deserted. As we slowed down, though, we couldn’t help but notice another car parked a hundred yards down the street.

“They’re watching,” I said.

“Of course.”

“Let’s try the Woolseys’ house. It’s over on Twenty-fourth.”

“Let me ask you something,” he said as he turned around. “What are you planning on doing with the gun?”

I didn’t say anything.

“Are you thinking about putting a gun to Mr. Woolsey’s head and making him tell you where the Grants are?”

“We have to find her,” I said.

“Very bad idea, Alex.”

“Leon, he’s the only lead we have.”

“I’m not giving you the gun.”

“Leon…”

“You’re not thinking right,” he said. “You’ve got to stop and get your head on straight. You’re not going to be any help to her if you start acting like an idiot.”

I didn’t argue. I knew he was right. As usual.

“Let’s just go see what’s going on over there,” he said. “If they’re not talking to the police, I’m sure they’ve got another car watching them.”

We got to the south side of town and headed west down Twenty-fourth Avenue. When we got to the Woolseys’ house, we saw four cars in the driveway, the same driveway I had plowed myself a million years ago, back when life was a hell of a lot better and the only mystery to solve was why some old man would leave a hat in a hotel hallway. Another obvious surveillance car was parked out on the empty road.

“There he is,” Leon said. “It’s hard to hide around here.”

At that very moment the front door opened and Mr. Woolsey stepped out onto the porch. Looking at him, even from this distance, the whole scene at the funeral came back to me. Woolsey was the man who had thanked me for plowing his driveway, and then led me behind the church. He had offered me a cigarette and walked with me while his two brothers-in-law sneaked around the other side.

He stood there on his porch without a coat on. His arms were folded and he was staring right at us. The door opened again and a woman poked her head out. Woolsey turned and said something to her. She closed the door.

“It looks like they’ve got the whole family over here in one house,” I said. “They’re sticking together.”

“Yeah, probably the whole family, Alex. The kids, everybody.”

“I hear you,” I said. “What if we got Woolsey to come out to the street?”

“Our friend over there in the unmarked vehicle will be watching.”

“Let him watch.”

“No, Alex. It’s not the right play.”

“Leon, I have to do something.”

“Okay,” he said. “Just think. How else could we approach this? You say the whole family is probably in there. Who are we talking about?”

“Everybody,” I said. “Michael’s wife, Marty’s wife, the kids. Woolsey and his wife. And Chris, I assume.”

“You assume. He’s a college kid, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” I said. “I suppose he could be over in his apartment.”

“All by himself. Without a bunch of other people around.”

“He’s got a roommate. I met him when I was trying to find Chris to ask him some questions, back before I even knew he was Simon Grant’s grandson.”

“You remember where his apartment is?”

I looked at him. He was way ahead of me, as usual. “Go to Easterday,” I said.

As he pulled out onto the road, we passed the unmarked vehicle that had been staked out there. The driver did a professional job of not looking at us as we passed.

When we got across town, I directed Leon to the apartment building. We were on campus now, so there were many vehicles parked all up and down the street. It was hard to tell if one of them had a police officer sitting in it.

We got out of the car. Leon followed me as I went to the same door I had knocked on once before. Street level, facing the road. The roommate answered, just like the last time. He still looked about fourteen. He was still working on the goatee and not getting anywhere. He still had his long hair tied up on top of his head with a rubber band.

“Is Chris here?” I said.

“Nope.”

“Think he’ll be back soon?”

“No, don’t think so.”

“Do you remember me?” I said. “I was here once before.”

“I remember,” he said. “You left a card.”

“This is my partner, Leon.”

The kid nodded to him.

“I’ve got something important to ask you,” I said. “Do you have any idea where Chris is right now?”

I watched his eyes. Basic cop training.

“No, I don’t,” he said. He blinked and looked over my shoulder toward the street.

“He’s not at his parents’ house?”

“I don’t know, man. Really.”

He sneaked a glance at the door, like he’d very much like to close it.

“I never caught your name,” I said.

“It’s Russ.”

“Can we come in and talk to you?”

“I told you. I’ve got no idea where Chris went.”

“Just for a minute,” I said. “Please? It’s important.”

He didn’t look too happy about it, but he stepped back and let us in. The place wasn’t too surprising as a college apartment. The furniture had been handed down a few too many times, and the brown carpet was probably a couple of years overdue for replacing. There were posters on the wall with rock groups I had never heard of.

“You like the Wallflowers?” Leon said to him.

“That’s Chris’s poster,” he said.

“I saw his dad play once,” Leon said. I had no idea what he was talking about, but I figured he was trying to strike up some kind of rapport with the kid.

“Was that before or after the Civil War?”

Leon smiled at that. So much for the rapport. “I think Bob Dylan was post-Civil War.”

“Look, I’m sorry, I just don’t know what you guys want from me.”

“Please sit down,” I said. “I’ll tell you why we’re here.”

He sat down on one of the chairs. Leon and I took the couch. It gave a little bit more than I expected. I grabbed Leon’s shoulder to keep myself from sinking.

“I know you live with Chris,” I said. “Are you his friend, too?”

“We get along okay. He’s a pain in the ass sometimes.”

“But you’re his friend.”

“Sure.”

“If you knew he was in trouble, would you help him if you could?”

“Of course.”

“Well, he’s in trouble right now. We just have to find him before he gets in any deeper.”

“I told you guys-”

“We’re not the police,” I said. “We’re not going to arrest him. If we find him, all we’ll do is bring him back safe.”

“Chris took the car and left, okay? He didn’t tell me where he was going. I swear to God, he didn’t say.”

The kid was looking me right in the eye. It sounded like he was telling the truth-and maybe pushing that particular truth a little too strongly.

“Chris didn’t say where he was going,” I said. “But you know.”

He looked away.

“Come on, guys,” he said.

“Russ, we don’t want Chris to go to jail,” Leon said. “We don’t want you to go to jail, either.”

“What are you talking about?”

Leon stood up. “I’m talking about aiding and abetting, Russ. I’m talking about complicit knowledge of Chris’s whereabouts when every police officer on both sides of the border is looking for him and his two uncles.”

Leon went over to the kid and looked down at him.

“Do you know Michael Grant or Marty Grant?”

“No, man.” He was starting to get a little rattled.

“You’ve never met either one of them?”

“I think you should leave now,” he said.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Leon said. “If you don’t know either of these men, why are you willing to go to jail for them?”

“You’re crazy.”

“Chris I can understand,” Leon said. He got even closer to the kid. “Chris is their nephew. He has to do something stupid to try to protect them.”

“But you don’t,” I said. I figured it was about my turn. I stayed on the couch and kept my voice even. I smiled at the kid. “Why would you mess up your whole life for two guys you’ve never even met?”

“I’m not,” he said. “I’ve got nothing to do with this. I told you.”

“You know where he is,” Leon said. “I can tell you’re lying. If I can tell, imagine what’s gonna happen when the police take you in?”

The kid looked at Leon for one second, then back at me. Perfect. I’m your man, Russ. Talk to me.

“Why would the police take me in?” he said.

“I’m surprised they haven’t already,” Leon said. “You’re the roommate, for God’s sake. They always bring the roommate in.”

Easy, I thought. Don’t overdo it.

“He’s right,” I said. “The police will know in a second. I’m telling you, Russ…”

Say his name. Make eye contact.

“You gotta let us help,” I said. “Come on, Russ. Be smart. Tell us where Chris is so we can help both of you.”

“Oh man,” he said. He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead.

Leon took a step back. A little positive reinforcement.

“He told me his uncles were in trouble,” Russ said. “Marty disappeared and Michael went looking for him. Then I guess Michael freaked out and shot somebody. That happened yesterday. Now Marty and Michael are both missing.”

“Yes,” I said. “Go on.”

“Chris was all upset. He was thinking maybe they were hiding out, you know, like they were afraid to come home.”

“Yes?”

“He said he wanted to find them, so he could help them. Whatever that meant.”

“Yes?”

“He even took my car, in case somebody was watching him.”

“Where did he go, Russ?”

The question hung in the air for a long moment. Russ closed his eyes again.

“He didn’t say where he was going.”

Leon took a step forward again. “But you know where.”

“Mackinac Island,” he said. “Okay? I think he went to Mackinac Island. His family has a place there.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said. “Mackinac Island? In February?”

“It’s a good hiding place,” Leon said. “Who’d think of looking there in the dead of winter?”

“You know where this house is on the island?” I said.

“I was there once,” Russ said. “Last summer. I don’t know the address or anything.”

“Just give us the general idea.”

He described going up the long hill toward the Grand Hotel, passing the hotel and then going farther up, beyond the string of million-dollar homes overlooking the water. There in the woods were a few older, smaller houses. As best as he could remember, the Grants’ place was just past the fork in the road, the third or fourth house on the right.

“We appreciate it,” I said. “I promise you, if Chris is there, we’ll bring him back.”

Russ thanked me, looking a little like a wrung-out dishrag. Then we left.

“The old good cop, bad cop routine,” I said as he got back in his car. “Guess it still works.”

“It works on smart-ass college kids who don’t know any better,” Leon said. “You hear that crack about the Civil War?”

I shook my head. “Mackinac Island, huh? What do you think?”

He put the car in gear and pulled away.

“Only one way to find out.”