I fired up the truck and brushed the snow off my hair while I waited for the heater. Then I picked up the phone and called the sheriff’s office again. He still wasn’t in, and the woman still wouldn’t give me his home number. Instead of trying to leave him a message again, as long as I was in town I figured I’d just go to his office and write it myself.
I pulled out of the driveway and headed west toward the City-County Building. I didn’t see anybody following me, but the snow was bad enough now, they probably couldn’t even drive in it. I was an idiot myself for being out here, but what else was new?
It took me a good twenty minutes to travel three miles across town. I pulled in behind the building next to the sheriff’s office. The little jail courtyard was empty of everything but a waist-high drift of snow. As soon as I got inside the place, a deputy stopped me. “You shouldn’t be out, sir,” he said. “There’s a state of emergency.”
“I just have to leave a message for the sheriff,” I said. I asked for a piece of paper and pen, and wrote down everything I would have told him if he was there to hear it. My place was trashed yesterday. I know Bruckman’s place was trashed, too. Yes, I found out where he was staying. Two men are following me. Don’t know who they are. Here’s their license plate number. Please run it and call me as soon as you can. Beers are on me. Thank you. Signed Alex.
I put the paper in an envelope and pushed it under his door. “Please tell him there’s an urgent message for him,” I told the deputy.
“You’re not going back out in this snow, are you?”
“This is nothing,” I said. “I can still see my truck out there.”
The deputy just shook his head as I left. When I was back in my truck and ready to head out, somebody rapped on my window. I turned to see Chief Maven’s face a few inches from my own. My bad weekend had just gotten worse.
“McKnight!” he yelled at me. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
I rolled down the window. “Chief Maven,” I said. “What a pleasant surprise.”
“There’s a state of emergency,” he said. “That means you keep your ass off the road.”
“I appreciate your concern,” I said. “But I’m not spending the night here. If you’ll excuse me…”
“As soon as you hit that street,” he said, “you’re breaking the law.”
“I can see right through you, Chief. You just want me to stay here so I’ll be close to you. Isn’t that right?”
Maven shook his head and looked up at the sky. When he looked me in the eye again, he was smiling. It was a horrible sight. “Okay, McKnight. You go right ahead. Don’t let me stop you.”
I hesitated. This is a trap, I thought. As soon as I go out on that street, he comes and gets me, and then gives me a ticket.
“Go on,” he said. “Go home and build a snowman or something.”
“Okay, I’m going,” I said. He can’t give me a ticket. It would be entrapment, right?
“Have a nice day,” he said. “Drive carefully.”
“I will,” I said. I put the truck in gear, looked at him one more time, and then punched it. He stepped backwards, but not quickly enough to avoid the spray from my back wheels. When I was a half a block down the street I looked back and saw him brushing himself off. Then I saw him wave to me. You’re hallucinating, I told myself. The snow has finally driven you crazy.
I made my way back to 75. The snowplows were fighting a losing battle, but it was clear enough for me to get through. M-28 was a little worse, but I was fine as long as I kept it under twenty miles an hour. It was a long, hard ride, but I was tired and hungry and thirsty, and I wanted to get to the Glasgow. I pictured a steak sandwich with grilled onions and a cold Canadian in front of the fire and kept going. When I got to the turnoff for Paradise, I had been on the road for a good ninety minutes. I fought my way into town, seeing only the occasional snowmobile. Everyone else was smart enough to be inside.
I finally saw the Glasgow Inn appear on the right side of the road. I was about to pull in when an unwelcome thought hit me. My road was filling up with snow fast, and if I didn’t go plow it a few times during the evening, by morning there would be too much snow to plow at all. I’d have to wait for the backhoes to come dig me out, along with everybody in the cabins. Goddamn it all, I said to myself. I better go give it a run now before I get comfortable. Or I’ll never do it.
I kept going up the main road and then turned left onto my access road, lowering the plow into the snow. It was a hard push, but with all the weight I had in the back of the truck, I was able to make my way all the way down the last cabin. I turned the truck around and came back down. I should plow out Vinnie, I thought. Was Vinnie’s car there? I didn’t even notice. I should probably do my driveway, too.
I slowed down near my own cabin and started pushing the snow off the driveway. It was the middle of the day, but with the sun hidden behind the clouds and the weight of snow in the air, there was an oddly muted light, dim yet persistent as each snowflake seemed to glow with its own energy. I stopped for a moment to watch the snowfall, hypnotized by the sight of it and by the sound of my own breathing.
And then I noticed that my door was open again.
“Now what?” I said aloud. I left the truck running, the headlights pointing off into the trees. It must have blown open again, I thought. I wonder how much snow will be in there this time.
When I stepped into my cabin, something hit me in the stomach, knocking the wind right out of me. I went down on my knees. I couldn’t breathe. The next blow came to the side of my head, sending me sideways on the rough wood floor. I tried to reach into my coat pocket for my gun, but I never made it. Somebody was grabbing each of my arms and pulling me to my feet. I took a few shots to the ribs, started to sag back down to my knees, and was pulled up again. I couldn’t see anything. The room was dark. Finally, my eyes came back into focus and I saw that there were five men in the room. A man holding my left arm, another on my right. Two behind me. And in front of me… I knew that face.
I felt his hand on my throat. “Start talking,” he said.
I tried to draw a breath. I looked at him and said nothing.
He pulled out a gun. He held it to my forehead. I could feel the cold touch of steel against my skin. “I said start talking,” he said. “What did you do to her?”
I found my voice. “What the fuck are you talking about, Bruckman?”
He pressed the gun into my forehead. “She came here,” he said. “And now she’s gone. What did you do to her?”
I didn’t know what to say.
“I’m going to count to three,” he said, “and then I’m going to blow the top of your head off.” He put his face in front of mine, close enough for me to see the madness in his eyes. “Where is Dorothy?”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I didn’t like the way Bruckman was holding the gun. Beyond the simple fact that he was pointing it at my head. The way it was shaking in his hand, I was afraid he’d shoot me without even meaning to. It had been three days since I saw him on the ice rink. Whatever was racing through his blood that night, there had to be twice as much of it now. He was practically vibrating.
“Put the gun down,” I said.
“Talk,” he said.
“After you put the gun down.”
“You’ve got three seconds,” he said. “Start talking. Where is she?”
“I don’t know where she is,” I said.
He switched the gun over to his left hand and then hit me across the face with his right. It was more of a slap than an outright punch, but it was enough to make me taste blood.
“Where is she?” he asked again.
“You took her,” I said. “Why are you asking me?”
He switched hands, then hit me again. It would have been a lot more efficient to just keep the gun in his right hand and hit me in the face with that, but I wasn’t about to make the suggestion.
“I swear to God, Bruckman. I thought you took her. I’ve been looking for you.”