He has to be staying somewhere. Judging from the phone calls and the notes, he probably doesn’t come out much during the day. But he has to eat. I looked up and down the beach. I couldn’t see any other cottages from where I was standing, but I knew they were scattered through the trees. He could have broken into one of them. There might be food there. And nobody would find him at this time of year. But there were hundreds of cottages on the shore. It would take weeks to look at all of them.
But no, he wouldn’t break into a cottage. Somehow, I just knew that. I was trying to think like him, see the world through his eyes. All around you, evil aliens. You can’t trust anyone. You hide during the day. Where do you hide? Someplace safe. Behind a solid door with a good lock. I remembered how we had to wait outside his apartment door while he undid all the locks. If you break into a place, then you’ve broken that door, or that window. You won’t be able to close it behind you and lock it.
I went back to the truck. He’s in a motel. The lock on the door isn’t enough, because the man at the desk has a key and the maid has a key. But there’s a dead bolt on the door. Something that you can only unlock from the inside.
I backed out of the driveway, drove back into the Soo. He killed Bing there, after he saw him at that bar. And the restaurant where he killed Dorney, that was just a few blocks away. Maybe he was staying on that side of town, over by the bridge. It made sense. Or as much sense as it was going to make.
I drove into town, trying to think of all the motels. The summer crowd was long gone. It had to be mostly hunters now. Would Rose stand out from that crowd? Would a desk clerk remember him? The first killing was, what, only seven days ago? How long was he here before that? How long has he been watching me?
I worked my way through town, stopping at every motel I could find. I didn’t have much to work with. No badge. No picture to show them even. Just a vague description. A strange man, eyes you wouldn’t soon forget. May or may not be wearing a big blond wig. Obviously, yes, if he had the wig you’d remember him. Been in town at least a week, probably more. I must have looked pretty strange myself. I hadn’t slept, I hadn’t shaved. I still had the same clothes on from the day before, my shirt rained on and then dried into a map of wrinkles.
Most of the desk clerks were kinder than I had a right to expect, and they seemed to believe that I was a private investigator. Even without a card. But nobody had seen anyone with a blond wig or with eyes you wouldn’t soon forget.
I kept at it all day, working my way to the western side of the city and then right out to the highway. I lost count of how many motels I visited. It would have been discouraging if I had stopped to think about it. But it was something to do, at least. Something else besides just waiting. I drove by the Riverside Motel, where it all started. I didn’t think Rose would be staying there. He saw Bing in that bar and then probably followed him back to his motel room. It would have been too much of a coincidence if Rose was staying there, too. But I drove by, anyway. I just had to see it again. The place was closed down, a big “For Sale” sign taped to the office window.
I pulled into the empty parking lot and sat there for a while. I had spent most of the day looking for him, but now I was running out of ideas.
Wait a minute, I thought. I started in the Soo, because that’s where the murders happened, and then I worked my way west. Maybe that’s backward. Rose found me somehow, and he knows that I live in Paradise. So maybe he’s staying in Paradise. It was worth a shot.
I drove around the bay and up to Paradise. On the way, I stopped in at the casino again. Vinnie was there, but he wasn’t able to tell me anything useful. He hadn’t seen anyone suspicious. He found the security men who had escorted Edwin to the front door, but they were no help, either.
Paradise is a small town, but there’s enough tourist trade to support a dozen motels. They were all little family-run places, eight or ten rooms, nice views of the water. Brochures in the lobby for the Shipwreck Museum and the Tanquamenon Falls State Park, hiking in the summer, hunting in the fall, snowmobiling in the winter. I knew most of the owners, at least well enough to nod to them if I saw them at the post office. But none of them could help me. If Rose was in Paradise, he was doing a damned good job of hiding.
The sun was just starting to go down. I stopped in at the Glasgow, figured I’d grab some dinner, collect my thoughts, prepare myself for another long night of waiting. Some of the regular crowd was there, but nobody even spoke to me. They all must have heard about the note that was left there, about me and Maven going at it in the parking lot. About Edwin. Jackie put a plate down in front of me, gave my shoulder a quick squeeze, and then left me alone.
It was dark by the time I got home. I walked around the cabin before I went in. I wasn’t sure what I might find. It just seemed like the right thing to do. Inside, I looked at the machine still hooked up to the phone. I picked up the walkie-talkie, turned it on and listened to the static, turned if off. These things weren’t going to do me any good now. I was surprised that Maven hadn’t asked me to return them. He must have forgotten. He’s probably at home right now, I thought, sitting in front of the TV, slapping himself in the head. Damn it all, he’s saying to his wife, I forgot to make McKnight give back the phone machine and the radio. That stuff is police property.
The gun was still on the table next to the bed. I picked it up and held it. There was nothing more I could do, except sit here in this cabin and wait. It was all up to Rose now.
I sat on the bed for a while, but then I realized that was a mistake. Too easy to fall asleep. I got up and sat in one of the hard wooden chairs at the kitchen table. The time passed slowly. I looked at my watch. It wasn’t even eleven o’clock yet. I got up and looked out the window, saw nothing but my own reflection. I turned off all the inside lights and tried again. The one light I had outside above the front door didn’t do much good. I could only see the edge of the road, my truck, the woodpile, the first few pine trees. Beyond that, the forest stretched in all directions. The moon was just a rumor behind the clouds.
It was quiet. The crickets were long gone, the tree frogs asleep for the winter. No wind. The trees were still.
I sat back down in the chair. Before long, my head started to feel heavy. Uttley was right. I needed to sleep. I should have let him come over for one night.
Maybe I can still call him. Maybe I can call Uttley. The phone. Get the phone. Pick up the phone and call him. I’ll pick up the phone now.
I saw myself picking up the phone. There was blood on it. I looked at the blood on my hands. There was a pool of it on the floor. Blood everywhere.
This is a dream. I must wake up. I cannot sleep now. I cannot sleep.
I raise my head from the table. I am not in my cabin. There is a window in front of me. I rise and go to it. There is a great courtyard. Four great walls around it, a thousand windows. In the center of the courtyard there is a man. I can barely see him, the courtyard is so big. His back is to me. He is hunched over something.
He turns and looks at me. Out of a thousand windows, he knows that I am right here. He is looking right at me. I see that he has been sharpening a knife on an old-fashioned turning stone. He caresses the knife while he looks at me.
I run. I am in a hallway. It is the hallway in the apartment building in Detroit. I run past a hundred doors and then I open one. Franklin is lying on the ground. He is covered in blood but he is looking up at me. Don’t leave me here, he says. The walls are covered with aluminum foil.
I close the door. I hear Franklin calling to me even as I keep running. My legs will not work. I cannot run fast enough. The hallway will not end.
Finally I open another door. Edwin is there, lying on a white table. He is wet and covered with seaweed. I look down at him and say that I am sorry. He tries to open his eyes. But he has no eyes. The fish have eaten them.