Jonathan tensed and stood back. “You went out there!”
“With the sheriff, but they’re gone, Jonathan. Agnes and Sara are gone.”
“Let’s go inside where you can sit down. You really shouldn’t be out today.”
“I’m fine,” she said. “We have to find them, Jonathan. He’s taken them and there’s no one to protect them,” she continued, the panic clear in her voice.
They entered Jonathan’s office and he had her sit in his big leather chair behind the desk. He went out and brought back two glasses of water.
“What did the sheriff say he was going to do?” Jonathan asked, sitting down next to her.
“They’re just going to keep looking, but they could be anywhere,” she said. “What if he hurts them again?”
Jonathan looked at his wife’s face and it pained him again to see the bruises and then the panic in her expression. Her eyes were moist, and she looked at him as if he might actually have a solution. He felt helpless and frustrated and furious all at the same time. He should have gone after Slayton yesterday when he had a chance, he thought. He could have come back through the woods with his own shotgun and taken him by surprise.
“Where would he take them, Jonathan?” he heard his wife ask.
An idea came to him and he reached for her hand. “Let’s go, I think I might know someone who can help.
A few minutes later they parked his truck downtown and Jonathan got out and went around to help Emily down. They were parked in front of The Helm, an old bar Jonathan’s brother used to frequent much too often back before he died.
Jonathan led Emily into the darkly lit bar. The stale smells of sweat and old beer came back to him. He looked over at the bar that had become the regular place for his brother to drink away a life that had betrayed him. Emily had been here before as well when she and George Hansen confronted Luke McKendry about the death of George’s sister. It was a flood of sad memories coming back to both of them as they walked over to the bar.
The old bartender, Bud, looked up when he saw them. He was in his seventy’s now and time had not been kind to him from the smoke and the booze and late hours.
“Well I’ll be damned,” he said. “That you, Jonathan?”
He nodded and sat down on one of the stools, helping Emily to do the same.
“How’re you doing, Bud?” Jonathan asked.
“Good as can be expected.”
“You remember my wife, Emily.”
“Sure do,” Bud said. “That was a damn scary night in here when old Luke came after you, ma’am. You’re a doctor now, ain’t you?”
“Yes,” Emily said and she was thinking back to that night when Luke sat right where they were now and in his drunken state, as much as admitted to her and George he had killed Catherine Hansen before he lashed out and attacked George with a bottle and then threatened to cut her with it before he ran out. The memories of it all made her shiver.
Jonathan tried to push the memories of his brother aside and said, “Bud, maybe you can help us. You ever see a man in here named Harold Slayton?”
The old man looked up and shook his head with a disgusted look. “More than I’d damn well like,” he said.
Jonathan and Emily sat forward on their chairs. “You know Harold Slayton?” she asked.
“Yeah, the bastard… sorry mam. Yeah, he’s in here a couple of times a week. He’s a nasty drunk. Have to throw him out all the time,” the old bartender said.
“He’s disappeared with his family,” Jonathan said. “Any idea where he might go?”
The old man reached for a mug on the bar and took a drink. Jonathan could smell it was whiskey, not coffee. He put it back down and scratched the stubble on his unshaven face.
“You know, son, he talks now and then about this old hunting shack he’s got up in the hills over past Boyne Falls.”
“You know where it is?” Emily asked.
“Yeah, he’s told me. Let me think, somewhere over off the Lake Louise road, right along Bear Creek I think.”
“If he comes in here, Bud, you need to call the sheriff right away,” Jonathan said.
“What’s he done now?”
“He’s been beating his wife and daughter,” Emily said, “and he came after me the other day.”
Bud squinted in the dim light and saw the bruises on her face. “Yeah, just possible he’d go out there.”
Emily looked over at Jonathan with a hopeful expression.
“Thanks Bud.”
“Can I buy you all a drink? Hell, it’s close to noon.”
“Another time, Bud.”
Chapter Twenty-three
The icy cold of the river knifed at his bare legs as he lowered himself down into the pull of the current. With just a pair of shorts on, Will Truegood felt his feet touch the soft sandy bottom of the creek, the long grasses along the high bank tickling at his back. He was taking a swim to clear his head and wash off the sweat and dirt from chopping wood all morning.
This part of the river was about twenty feet across and only two or three feet deep in most places. Old cedar stumps and logs lay under the surface in a patchwork of shapes. Tiny brook trout hid out in the quiet recesses, protected from the current and other predators.
He reached for a bar of soap on the bank and started to lather it in his hands under the water, suds flushing out and carried downstream. He washed his face and the cold water was shocking and satisfying at the same time. He dipped all the way under the surface of the clear river and the chill gripped at his lungs and he could feel his heartbeat pounding. He couldn’t stop from shivering, but he kept washing his body with the bar of soap. He finished and threw the soap back up on the bank and then turned to drop back under the surface. His eyes were open, and he could see the sandy bottom and logs and rocks. When he came up, he turned back to the bank, reaching over to get his towel.
Sitting by the riverbank, he toweled off and felt the rush of blood back into his extremities as his body warmed. Hearing a small splash, he looked over to see the ring of a trout’s rise along the far shore. He continued to watch the run in the creek knowing the fish would come up again as soon as the next bug floated by. There was a hatch of small mayflies swirling over the creek and as they landed to lay their eggs, the eager trout would make short work of most of them. The fish rose again, and this time Will saw the open mouth come slowly up out of the water and sip in the little mayfly. He could tell it was a good fish because it rose slowly and confidently, knowing it could take the bug on its own terms. The smaller trout would fly out of the water in panic chasing the bug, unsure of their ability to catch their next meal.
Thou shalt not mimic or mock the mountains or the rivers...
These words from his people came back to him at times like this when he sat alone by the creek or out in the fields. The whisper of the current over the rocks and fallen trees was a comforting sound that put him to sleep at night through the open windows of his cabin, followed him as he stalked a trout in behind a protected lie, that stayed with him when he was away and wanted to be back.
The smell and touch of Megan Clark eased back into his thoughts and he remembered the kiss from the night before. A sadness came over him because he knew there was no future for him with this girl from the city and from a life so different from his own.
Megan Clark waited in the coffee shop down on Bridge Street after she called Rick on his cell phone to come down to meet her. She had been back in town for an hour after the lunch with her father and Sally down at the Landings. She knew she had to talk to Rick and get all of this out between them.
A plastic cup of iced coffee sat in front of her on the table. The shop was busy, and most tables were filled with shoppers taking a break or locals on break from work catching up with friends.
The bell on the door jingled and Megan looked up to see her friend, Rebecca, coming through the door. They were both surprised to see each other. Rebecca came over and gave her a hug.
“Hi str
anger,” Rebecca said. “Where have you been?”
“I was out for lunch with Dad and Sally and I’m waiting for Rick.”
“Let me get a drink first,” Rebecca said and went over to the counter to order. When she came back and sat down, she said, “Okay, all the dirt, please.”
Megan took her time and told her friend Becca all the details of the past day’s events with Will and Melissa’s stolen car and then the confrontation last night with Rick and Will, and then the kiss.
“You let Will Truegood kiss you!”
“I kissed him back.”
“Megan Clark, what am I going to do with you? Rick is going to be furious.”
Megan heard the door chime ring again and looked over thinking it might be Rick coming in. It was a mother with two small children. “I don’t see much future for me and Rick Brandtley,” Megan said.
“Don’t say that. This will work itself out.”
Megan got irritated at her friend’s clueless attitude. “Becca, this won’t work itself out. I’ve seen a side to Rick I don’t care to see anymore, and I can tell you he’s about had it with me, too.”
The bell rang again and this time it was Rick Brandtley. He saw Megan and Rebecca right away and came over to the table. Megan felt a familiar attraction and then sadness as she realized this was behind them now.
Rebecca stood up, “Hey Rick.” She gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “I was just heading out to run some more errands. I’ll see you guys later. Megan, call me.”
Megan nodded as her friend walked out the door. Rick stood there a while longer looking down at her. The look on his face was strangely different, no longer friendly and welcoming. “Sit down, Rick,” she finally said.
He pulled a chair up next to her and sat down.
“Rick…”
“No, wait a minute, Megan. Let me start. First, I’m sorry about last night. Jimmy and I were way out of line and I’m sorry.”
Megan didn’t answer when he paused to wait for her response.
“But, I do have to say I’m really fed up with you and whatever’s going on with this Indian kid.”
Megan felt her temper flare and she couldn’t help lashing back, “Rick, that’s enough!”
People around their table looked up in surprise.
He seemed startled as well and just looked back at her.
“Rick, whatever happens between me and Will Truegood, or anyone else for that matter, is no longer any of your business.”
“Megan…”
“No, you and I are through and I’m sorry, but this just won’t work anymore.”
“What’s gotten into you this summer, Clark?” he asked, his own anger coming forward.
“I think you should ask yourself that same question,” she said.
“What?”
“Rick, whatever you’re doing to get Will in trouble needs to stop …Melissa’s car, whatever.”
“Megan Clark, you are one crazy woman,” he said.
“Rick, listen to me. I’m serious about this. I don’t want to go to the police about this, but I will if I have to.”
He shook his head in disgust. “You’re willing to alienate all your friends up here for some stupid local kid who lives in a shack in the woods?”
“I don’t have to explain myself to you or anyone else,” Megan said, trying to keep her voice down from the other people in the shop.
He reached out to take her hand, but she pulled it away.
“This is over, Rick,” she said, “and you need to make this right for Will on Melissa’s car.”
Rick Brandtley stood up shaking his head. “You have no idea what you’re doing. You’ve lost your damn mind.” He turned and walked out of the shop.
Anna Bataglia was working on the deck of the EmmaLee when Sally and Alex returned from lunch. She had papers spread out on a table in front of her and her cell phone to her ear. Half a sandwich lay uneaten on a plate and what looked like iced tea was half gone. She waved when she saw them come onboard. She finished her call and put her phone down.
“Welcome back. How was the cruise?” she asked.
“We had a nice run down to the South Arm to get some lunch with Megan,” Alex said.
“You look like you’re feeling better,” Sally said.
“The miracles of modern chemistry,” Anna replied. “Alex, you and I need to spend some time before I catch the plane back to the city.”
He looked over at Sally. “Now’s probably as good a time as any. Can you excuse us for a while, honey?”
“Sure, I’m going to run up into town and visit with a few old friends,” Sally said. “Take all the time you need.” She looked down at Anna and the woman looked away, searching through some papers.
Alex kissed Sally on the cheek. “I’ll see you in a while, honey. We’ll get a nice dinner somewhere in town tonight.”
“Sounds good,” Sally said and turned to leave.
Alex pulled up a chair to the table. “What’s happening?”
Anna took a drink from her glass. “Do you know a man named Alberto Manta?”
“Sure, he’s one of our investors.”
“Do you know what he does for a living?”
Alex seemed confused. “I don’t know, trucking, I think. Louis brought him in as a major investor in this last deal we did.”
“You know I’ve had a couple of investigators digging deep on all of this, particularly on Louie. Well, they’ve found a few things that are quite interesting.”
“Okay,” he responded.
“First of all, Louis Kramer is in severe financial difficulties. He’s basically on the edge of bankruptcy.”
Alex seemed shocked. “You’ve got to be kidding. Are you sure about your sources?”
“Very.”
“I knew Lou was running into some difficulties with some of his other deals and companies,” Alex said, “but I had no idea it was this bad.”
“Well, it seems this investor, Alberto Manta, has been investing with Louis for a long time, including the money he put into your new venture.”
“Right.”
“Alex, Manta has some nasty connections. This is real dirty money.”
“Oh shit!” was all Alex could manage.
Anna continued. “I don’t know how the guy has stayed out of prison. The authorities have been trying to build a case against him for years. And now he shows up as a major investor with Alex Clark and Louis Kramer.”
“Anna, I had no idea.”
“That’s what I figured. The problem is, the Feds won’t care, and this makes everything look just that much worse.”
Alex sighed and looked out across the water. “God, what next?”
“Well, there’s more. Apparently, Manta is facing some difficult financial issues of his own and according to one of the contacts my people came across, he’s leaning heavily on Louis to get his money back.”
“Well, he’s just going to have to be patient. The stock’s frozen and he wouldn’t want to sell it at this depressed price anyway.”
“He doesn’t want to sell any stock, Alex. He just wants his money back.”
“And Louis doesn’t have any money.”
“That would be correct,” Anna said. “Sounds like a bad combination of circumstances for our friend, Mr. Kramer.”
Connor Harris and his son Dylan drove along the north road through the hills along the lake between Charlevoix and Boyne City. Dylan was at the wheel of the long white Mercedes convertible. The car rolled smoothly through the curves in the road; heavy forest whirring by at times, open farm fields at others; occasionally a glimpse of the blue lake off to the right. Connor held a set of construction plans in his lap, looking down and paying little attention to the spectacular scenery speeding by.
“So, you and your team go before the approval committee again on Tuesday?” Connor asked.
“Yeah.”
“We need to know what the answer is going to be before we get you into that room.”
/> “I know, Dad, dammit! My people are in touch with everyone on the committee. I think we’ll still have trouble with one vote that will be the tie-breaker.”
“And I assume you’re taking steps to correct that problem?”
“It will be taken care of. We still have a couple days. I’m more concerned about the neighborhood association and the environmentalists who live out there,” Dylan said.
“Build them a damn pool or something!” Connor said. “Everyone has a price.”
Dylan rubbed his face in frustration. “You think we aren’t working through all that?”
“These damn tree huggers!” Connor said in frustration. “What is so damned important about that swamp, or wetlands? It’s a damn swamp for chrissakes!”
Megan Clark moved slowly down along the docks on Round Lake among the boat people and the tourists looking at the boats. She walked almost in a daze, not really noticing the people around her, tears running in slow trickles down her cheek.
A woman bumped into her. “Are you okay, dear?” she said
Megan looked at her and just nodded her head yes and then continued on. She had left the coffee shop and as she crossed the street into East Park up above the Round Lake public docks, it occurred to her she had cast herself adrift, away from her friends, away from a boy she thought she really cared for.
As she continued along the docks, the emotions and sense of loss overwhelmed her, and she questioned herself for the stand she was taking and what she was trying to do to help another friend. Her cell phone rang in her purse and she started to reach for it and then decided to just let it ring.
Chapter Twenty-four
Jonathan and I never did get out to Horton Creek that night with Sammy Truegood. He and Emily were hell bent on finding Harold Slayton and his wife and daughter. It was a damn good thing they were.
… the summer of 1952.
Emily sat at the small table in their kitchen, a cup of tea steaming in front of her. Jonathan was on the phone with the sheriff’s office discussing the news about Harold Slayton’s hunting cabin. She heard Jonathan hang up the phone and come back into the room.
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