Purgatory Ridge

21

HE SLEPT A LONG TIME, and when he woke with Jo’s arm draped over him, he felt as if he’d never slept better. He lay on his side, Jo full against him. Her breath stirred the hair on the back of his neck. Her breasts pressed between his shoulder blades. The bone of her hip dug into the cheek of his butt. One leg was sandwiched between his own. Morning sunlight streamed through the window over the sink in the back of Sam’s Place. Everything had a golden hue. At that moment, Cork couldn’t remember ever having been happier.

Then the phone rang.

He felt Jo wake with a start. Instead of separating from him, she tightened her hold.

“Don’t answer it,” she whispered.

“All right.”

After five rings, the message machine clicked in. “Sam’s Place. Leave a message. I’ll get back to you. Thanks.”

“Cork, Wally Schanno here. Rose said you were out there. Give me a call. I’m at my office. It’s important.”

The quiet returned, and with it, Jo was wide awake. She kissed the back of his neck. “Don’t call him yet.”

He had no intention of doing so.

“I slept so well,” Jo murmured.

“Better than in ages.”

“Me, too.”

“I know why for me. I’m not afraid anymore, Cork. I don’t care what Hell Hanover does. I don’t care what people think.”

“We’ll figure a way to deal with old Hell.”

She squeezed him. “I love you.”

“And I love you.” He rolled over, kissed her gently. “You wouldn’t happen to be hungry, would you?”

“Famished.”

They showered together. Then, while Cork fried up eggs and frozen hash browns, Jo made coffee and called her office to say she’d be in late. They ate outside at the picnic table. The sun was high above the trees on the eastern shore of Iron Lake, but its brightness was cut to a pale yellow by the haze thick in the sky.

“I wonder what Wally wants,” Cork said.

“Time with Arletta, I imagine. He’s a man who has put his priorities in place. And you, Corcoran O’Connor, will assume his office.”

“I mean this morning.”

“You’ve had the answers so far. He probably wants a few more from you.” Jo’s eyes swung away. “Well, look who’s here.”

Jenny bounced over the railroad tracks on her bike and pedaled to the picnic table. She was breathing fast. Under her white-blond hair, her forehead glistened. She looked at them both with concern.

“Aunt Rose told me you were out here.”

“What is it?” her mother asked.

Jenny looked at them both and seemed relieved. “Nothing. You look so-happy.”

Her mother laughed. “Kiddo, you don’t know the half of it.”

• • •

An hour later, Cork walked into Wally Schanno’s office at the Tamarack County Sheriff’s Department. Schanno wasn’t alone. Agent David Earl was there, and Karl Lindstrom, and a man Cork had known a long time, Lucky Knudsen, a captain with the Minnesota State Patrol out of the Eveleth district office. Earl smoked a cigarette and sat on the windowsill, where the crossbreeze carried the smoke outside. The other men were drinking coffee.

“‘Bout time,” Schanno said.

“And a good morning to you, too, Wally. Agent Earl, Karl. And hey there, Lucky. Been a while.”

“Yah, well, ya know how it goes, Cork.” He grasped Cork’s hand and gave it a strong shake.

“How’s Phoebe?”

“Pregnant.”

“Not again?”

“Yah. Seems all I got to do is look at her. Twins this time, the doctor’s saying.” He shook his blond head, then smiled broadly. “Not bad for a big dumb Scandahoovian.”

“What are you doing here, Lucky?”

Instead of answering, Knudsen nodded toward Schanno.

“I got a call this morning from the governor’s office,” the sheriff said. “The governor’s offered the services of the state patrol and anybody else we need up here. He’s worried things may get out of control.”

Cork waited. He knew there was more to it than that.

“Coffee?” Schanno asked.

“No thanks.”

“The deal is this, Cork. Karl is scheduled to speak this evening at the Quetico. The Northern Minnesota Independent Business Association’s annual dinner. A hundred and fifty people in a large room. After what’s happened in the last few days, I’d prefer the gathering were canceled. But I spoke with Jay Werner down in Eveleth-he’s president of the association-and he insisted on going ahead, so long as Karl was willing. Well, Karl here is more than willing.”

Lindstrom said, “My only concern is the safety of everyone else.”

“And that’s why I’m here,” Lucky Knudsen put in. “Delivering the guv’s promised manpower.”

Schanno said, “I don’t have enough deputies to ensure the security of something like this. But with Lucky’s officers, we can probably do what’ll need doing.

“Specifically, Agent Owen is out at the Quetico as we speak, securing the facility, which, with the help of the state police, will remain secured up to and throughout the event. We’ll have an officer at every entrance and exit. Only authorized staff or guests with invitations will be admitted to the building. Because Karl seems obviously the target, I’ve prevailed upon him to wear body armor.”

Cork nodded. A good idea. “So what am I doing here?”

“His idea.” Schanno waved toward Lindstrom.

“I’d be obliged if you would be at the Quetico tonight,” Lindstrom said. “I appreciate that yesterday you were willing to put yourself at risk for a guy who’d been pretty rough on you. I’m prepared to pay. Think of yourself as a hired bodyguard.”

“I’ll be there,” Cork replied without hesitation. “But you can forget about paying me.”

“Thanks, Cork.”

“Well, gentlemen,” Schanno said, rising from his chair. “We have a lot to do between now and this evening. I suggest we get started. Karl, I’d like you at the Quetico a good half an hour before festivities begin. We’ll get you suited up. And Lucky, when you know your roster, get back to me.”

“Will do, Wally. See you this evening, Cork. Say hello to Jo.”

Karl Lindstrom and Lucky Knudsen left Schanno’s office, but Agent David Earl lingered a moment on his perch on the windowsill. He was looking at Cork, not happily.

“Something on your mind?” Cork asked.

“O’Connor, I know about Burke’s Landing.”

“That was a while ago,” Schanno said from across the room.

“I’ve already expressed my concern to everyone else. I just want to be straight with you,” Earl went on. “There’s every intention of arming you this evening. I’m more than a little concerned about a man like you carrying a loaded weapon in a situation like this. But it’s not my call.”

He waited, as if expecting Cork to argue the point. Cork didn’t.

“Well. Until this evening, then.” Earl looked for a place to drop the last of his cigarette. Schanno offered him nothing, and Earl left, still holding the smoking butt.

“He doesn’t know you, Cork,” Wally Schanno said.

“He’s probably not alone in his thinking, Wally. People haven’t forgotten Burke’s Landing. I’m sure the truth is that there are probably a lot of them who’d rather not see me ever strap on a gun belt or wear a badge.”

“Doesn’t matter who’s in this job-some people are going to feel that way.”

Cork walked to a window and stood gazing at the town. In the morning light, it had a quiet, peaceful look to it. Across the street, the bell tower of Zion Lutheran Church rose with simple grace. Beyond that were the stores on Center Street. And not far beyond that, the lake, cut by white sails and the white wake of motorboats. When he’d occupied that office, the view had been a reassuring one. He’d felt as if being sheriff were part of a larger concept, sometimes as difficult to understand and to justify as the mysterious ways of God and Kitchimanidoo, but the purpose of which was clear to him-to help people live their lives with peace of mind. It hadn’t been an idea with a lot of grandeur to it, no more far-reaching than the boundaries of Tamarack County, yet it had been a part of who he was-until a few confused moments on a cold morning at a place called Burke’s Landing had left two men dead and brought to an end much of the way Cork thought about everything.

Even in his bitterness afterward, he’d never blamed Schanno for taking the badge. It was just the circumstances; it was just the time. And since his fall from grace, Cork had managed to put his life back together again. Did he really want to be back in that office with that view? Hadn’t Burke’s Landing or the years since taught him anything?

“Lindstrom trusts you,” Schanno said at his back. “And for the record, so do I.”