“Whatever I am,” he said, “your grandfather made me.”
“That’s a lie,” she said.
“Oh yes, Natalie. You know it’s true. It all goes back to Luc Reynaud.”
Okay, I thought. This is good. Everybody is looking at the spinning gun. The other gun, Natalie’s automatic, that’s closer to me. That’s the gun I have to go for.
The Bulldog came to a slow stop. The barrel was pointing right at DeMarco’s stomach.
“Let’s try that again,” he said. “This time for real. Did you ever play Spin the Bottle when you were a kid? Now we’re going to play Spin the Gun That Killed My Father in Cold Blood. Unless you’d care to tell me where that videotape is…”
Come on, Vinnie. Now would be a perfect time.
“Natalie? Mr. McKnight? Do you have anything to say?”
Right now, Vinnie. You have to be out there. You have to help us.
“All right, then,” DeMarco said. “Let’s see who gets it first.”
He spun the Bulldog.
This is it, Vinnie. With or without you, I’ve got to make my move.
Spinning.
DeMarco is focused on it. When I make my move, he’ll reach for that gun first. He has to.
Spinning.
No external safety on the Sig Sauer. Double-action trigger. Just grab it and fire.
Spinning.
I can do this. I am fast. I am lightning.
Spinning. It’s starting to slow down.
You’re an old man, DeMarco. No matter how many times you’ve had your face lifted, you still have old-man reflexes.
Spinning slower. Slower.
Everyone watching it spin.
Then a sound. Outside. A muffled shout.
DeMarco looking to his right, toward the door.
I explode. Over the table. DeMarco’s face, showing surprise. His right hand reaching out, first for the Bulldog, then the automatic, his fingers touching it.
But it’s mine. I take it from him in that hundredth of a second. I roll onto my back. I fire the gun. Once. Twice. Right over Natalie’s head. I hit the big man in the chest. He has no idea what has just happened to him. He’s looking down at his chest like somebody has just played a cruel joke on him.
DeMarco’s hands on my face now, digging at my eyes. I bring my arms back, two fists, two handcuffs still on the wrists, one gun. I hit him in the nose and feel it give. As I sit up, he’s already going down. The blood is already coming out.
“Natalie, you okay?”
“Yes,” she said. “Go!”
“Here,” I said. I slid the Bulldog to her. The man behind her had a hand on her shoulder. He was bending over like he had just dropped something. As he pulled his hand off her body, he folded up and collapsed.
I rolled off the table and ran to the door. As I put my shoulder into it and pushed it open, I ran right into Vinnie. He had a gun in his hand.
“Alex,” he said. “Are you all right? Where’s Natalie?”
“Inside,” I said. “Where’s the other man?”
I saw him before Vinnie could answer. He was on his hands and knees in the snow, almost blending in with his white camouflage.
“How’d you get his gun?” I said.
“It wasn’t easy,” Vinnie said. “This guy got Natalie before I could do anything. I didn’t have a weapon, Alex. Then you came later, from the other side. I was starting to think we had no hope.”
“How’d you know to follow her in the first place?”
“Come on,” he said. “She’s the worst liar I’ve ever seen.”
I was about to say something else. Then I saw the man in white going for his pant leg. I saw the ankle holster. I saw a flash of silver.
“Drop it!” I said.
But he was already swinging it. I shot him four times. I stayed there in my pose for a long time, the gun still pointed at the spot where he had been. Vinnie went over to him, leading with his gun. He took one look down at the man and relaxed.
“He’s done,” he said. “I wish he didn’t tie his hair back like that. It makes him look like an Indian.”
I let out a long breath. I had just killed two men. Six gunshots rang in my ears.
Then, from somewhere inside the house, we heard the seventh.
I rushed back inside, with Vinnie right behind me. Natalie stood with the Bulldog in her hands. DeMarco’s chair was tipped over. His body was still in it, as if he had sat back down before he died.
“Natalie.”
She didn’t look up.
“Natalie,” I said. “He went for your gun, right? You had to shoot him.”
She kept looking down at him. She didn’t move.
“Natalie, am I right?”
Nothing from her. Nothing.
I stepped up to her.
“Tell me,” I said. “He went for your gun. You had to shoot him.”
She finally moved. She looked at me.
“Yes,” she said. “He went for my gun. I had to shoot him.”
She looked back down at him. Natalie had shot her stepfather right between the eyes.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The sun came out on Valentine’s Day. I woke up early. The bright light on the snow didn’t make my head feel any better. It had been a long night at the Glasgow. I had sat with Jackie and Vinnie by the fire until it was time to close the place. Jackie had a few drinks. So did I. Vinnie had his usual 7 Up.
When I had said good night to him in the parking lot, Vinnie had told me he was already thinking about working on the cabin with me again, the one that had burned down. I told him I’d be ready as soon as the weather broke. I thanked him again for everything. I didn’t have to make a list for him. He knew what I was talking about.
A few hours of sleep later, here I was heading out again. I drove to the Soo and met Leon for breakfast. It felt good to see him without having to ask him to look up something for me. No mysterious hats to photograph in the parking lot. No newspaper articles about murders that happened thirty years ago.
I gave him his gun back. I told him I hoped I’d never have to borrow it again.
After breakfast, I drove across the bridge to Canada. The sun was still shining. When I pulled into the Memorial Hospital parking lot, Natalie was there waiting for me. She was wearing a sweater and a leather jacket. Blue jeans. She looked better than ever. She gave me a quick kiss, then we went upstairs to the sixth floor.
When we got to the station, there was no nurse there. We walked down to Mrs. DeMarco’s room and looked in. The bed was empty.
“Mr. McKnight?” I turned and saw the nurse, the same nurse who had been there the night I had paid my visit.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “She went early this morning.”
I thanked her. There was nothing else to say.
“Do you know who I could give this box to?” she said. It was the box she had shown me before, with all the photographs and documents.
“I was her stepgranddaughter for a while,” Natalie said. “I think I’m as close to family as anyone.”
I was surprised to see her take the box. I carried it down to her Jeep for her. We sat together in the front seat while she looked through it. I couldn’t help thinking about everything she had been through, the whole history of three families and how it all went back to one night on a frozen river. She passed quickly through the pictures of Albert, the newspaper articles, the report cards. She stopped when she got to the picture of herself as a twelve-year-old, blowing out the candles at her birthday party. “Everyone’s gone now,” she said. “I’m all alone.”
“What are you gonna do with all this stuff?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “This is the last thing I need, another box of old stuff to take with me.”
To take with me. That was the one thing we weren’t talking about. None of us had faced criminal charges. Not me. Not Natalie. Not Vinnie. But Natalie was an OPP officer, on administrative leave. In another two days, she would appear before a review board. They would decide whether she was to be reinstated. If she was, they’d almost certainly reassign her. Her old commander, Staff Sergeant Moreland, had told her he wished he could transfer her to the Mounties and send her to the Yukon. He was probably only half joking.