Windigo Island

by William Kent Krueger

  “Do you have someplace to go?”

  Another slight headshake.

  “I’ll take you somewhere, to someone who’ll help you figure what your next move will be.”

  “Not the cops,” she said.

  “Not the cops,” Cork assured her. He waited, but received no response. “So, do you want to go with us?”

  She looked at Jenny’s father in the same way she probably looked at every man by then. There was no trust left in her. Why should there be? And why should she trust Cork O’Connor or Daniel or even Jenny? All she knew of them was violence, whose proof lay at her feet. Although that violence had been directed at Wolf, her keeper, her own experience probably told her that sooner or later it would be visited on her. But there was also a look on her face that seemed to Jenny old and beaten and must have been simply the realization that in her life she had no real choices.

  She said, “I’ll go.”

  Cork and Daniel hauled Wolf to his feet.

  Jenny said, “What about the dog?”

  Chapter 32

  * * *

  They walked into Rollie’s Large Animal Clinic, and Louise looked at them curiously. “Where’d you get the mutt?”

  “His name’s Ember,” Jenny said. “He belongs to Manny, but don’t hold that against him. He’s a sweet pooch.”

  The old Irish setter trotted forward as if Louise were very familiar. He nuzzled the hand she held out to him. He went to Rollie Downfeather, who was keeping Louise company, and did the same.

  “Where’s Henry?” Cork asked.

  “Him and Lenora are sitting with Raven,” Louise said. “She wanted Henry there.”

  At that moment, Meloux came from the exam room where Raven lay. When Ember spotted him, it was as if the dog had found someone lost to him long ago. He bounded to the Mide and, if he’d been smaller or Meloux larger, would have leaped into the old man’s arms.

  Meloux was clearly taken with him. “Who’s this?”

  “His name’s Ember,” Jenny said.

  “Ember, eh? Good name.” Meloux worked his hands lovingly across the dog’s coat. “You’re old like me, but I can tell that you, too, have a lot of fire in your heart.”

  “What about the man?” Louise said. “Maiingan?”

  “Under a blanket in Daniel’s pickup,” Cork said. “We’ve got him trussed up like a mummy with duct tape so he can’t move or talk. We’re taking him back to Tamarack County.”

  “Why so far?” Louise said.

  “I want to question him in my own way. Best I do it there.”

  “But what if Windigo is here, in Duluth?”

  “According to Raven and the girl who was with Manny tonight, Windigo’s been gone awhile.”

  “Another girl?” Louise said. “Where is she?”

  “We put her in the hands of Bea Abbiss,” Jenny said.

  Louise seemed satisfied. “So, we’re going to Tamarack County?”

  “Not all of us,” Cork told her. “You and Daniel are heading back to Bad Bluff. I told Raven we’d protect her family. I can’t do that if they’re in Wisconsin. Lindy Duvall doesn’t know Daniel, but she knows you, Louise. You have to convince her to come to Tamarack County with her children until we’ve taken care of Windigo.”

  Louise said, “I can do that.”

  “Good. It’s settled. Let’s get Raven into the Explorer. The sooner we start the better.”

  Lenora Downfeather brought them a wheelchair, and Jenny and Daniel helped Raven into it. Daniel wheeled her out to Cork’s Explorer. He lifted her from the chair as gently as if she were his own sister and laid her on the mattress they’d put in the back at Nishiime House.

  “My family?” she asked.

  Jenny watched Daniel lean over the girl, big and gentle and protective, and when he spoke, it was with such tenderness that Jenny’s heart seemed to crack. “I’m going to get them, Raven. I’ll keep them safe, I swear to you. Just rest. You’ll see them soon.”

  He drew back and stood up. To Jenny, in the moonlight, he looked armored in silver.

  They transferred the man who called himself Maiingan to the Explorer. He sat in the backseat, his mouth and feet taped, his hands in cuffs. Ember jumped into the vehicle, too, and made himself comfortable at Manny’s side on the broad seat. They said good-byes and thank-yous to Lenora and Rollie Downfeather.

  Cork said to Louise, “You make sure you bring Raven’s family back.”

  “What about my family?” she asked.

  “Let your brother know what’s up. You have lots of relatives in Bad Bluff. It’s time they started looking out for one another. Once we have a fix on Mariah, we’ll make sure they’re all well protected.”

  Jenny touched Daniel’s arm. “Before you go, I owe you something.” She lifted her face to his, intending to give him that kiss on the cheek she believed she’d owed him since the incident on Superior Street the night before. Instead, her kiss landed full on his lips. She stepped back, surprised—though not completely—by what she’d just done. “I’ll see you in Tamarack County.”

  The big Shinnob, whose face had so often been a desert of expression, looked absolutely stunned. He said, “Okay.” He got into the truck with Louise and drove away.

  Cork handed Jenny the keys. “You drive. And Henry, you can sit up front.”

  “I’d rather sit beside the old dog,” Meloux said. “It will put me closer to the girl, if she needs me.”

  “Your choice, Henry,” Cork said.

  “You’re sure you want me to drive, Dad?”

  Her father gave a curt nod. “I’ve got calls to make. A lot of wheels to set in motion. The clock’s ticking, and we don’t have much time.”

  With that, they took their places in the Explorer and headed north.

  • • •

  It was nearing one in the morning when they pulled into the garage on Gooseberry Lane. Rose was expecting them. Rainy was there, too, something Cork had arranged. Jenny’s little Waaboo was in his bed, sound asleep. Cork carried Raven into the house. He took her to his own room and laid her down on his bed. Meloux had followed them inside the house, accompanied by the old Irish setter.

  “Who’s this?” Rose asked, when the dog padded into the kitchen.

  “His name’s Ember. He’ll be staying with us for a while,” Jenny said.

  Trixie came from the living room, and the two dogs spent a moment nose to nose, then noses to other places. In the end, they seemed just fine with each other.

  Meloux and Jenny went upstairs, where her father had taken Raven. The girl on the bed looked up at the old Mide, pleading in her eyes.

  “Don’t leave me,” she said.

  “Granddaughter,” Meloux replied, “that is not even a possibility.”

  Cork pulled an armchair to the side of the bed, and the old man made himself comfortable in it.

  “Grandfather,” Raven said, addressing Meloux for the first time in this way.

  “What is it, child?”

  “This is my fault,” Raven said. “It’s all my fault. Carrie’s dead. Mariah? I don’t know. I’m to blame. I lied to them.”

  Behind Meloux, Cork spoke. “How did you lie to them?”

  Tears ran from the corners of her bruised, swollen eye sockets. “Carrie was already messed up. Her son of a bitch stepfather was already using her. Mariah was going to be part of that, sooner or later. That asshole Verga was working on her. I told them it would be different with me. They could model. They’d have nice clothes, cars, bling. And no one like Demetrius Verga to worry about. They’d be free of all that crap, that’s what I told them. I’m a liar, grandfather. A liar and worse. So much worse.”

  “What you did is done,” Meloux said gently. “What you were is not what you are and not what you will be. Rest, child. You are safe now.”

  Cork said,
“I have to go, Henry.”

  The old man nodded. “Maiingan.”

  “And after him, Windigo.”

  Because he sat, Meloux had to look up at Jenny’s father, who was standing. The old Mide studied him a very long time. “You will take me on that hunt.”

  “If that’s possible, Henry, I will.”

  “Do not hunt this windigo without me, Corcoran O’Connor.”

  Meloux’s voice was sharper than Jenny had ever heard it. This was no request. This was an imperative. If it had been said to her, Jenny would have knuckled under in a flash and done whatever it was Meloux wanted. But her father gave the old man—his friend, his mentor of a lifetime—a long, steely-eyed look.

  “I began this hunt without you, Henry. If I need to, I’ll finish it that way.”

  “What does it take to kill a windigo?” the ancient Mide asked.

  “The balls of a windigo,” Cork replied. Without another word, he turned and left the room.

  The only light came from a small bedside lamp. Meloux sat in the dim glow, staring at the empty doorway Jenny’s father had just passed through. He said, very quietly, “No, Corcoran O’Connor. The heart.”

  Jenny followed her father downstairs and into the kitchen, where Rainy intercepted him.

  “Cork?”

  “What is it?” Not harsh words, but impatient.

  The door was open at Rainy’s back, the black of night impenetrable beyond the screen. Moths and night insects buzzed against the mesh, trying to get inside, get to the light.

  Rainy spoke carefully. “I know you made me a promise in the beginning of all this, and I love you for that, but I won’t hold you to it, Cork. What you’re about to do, you don’t have to. You know that.”

  “I keep my promises, Rainy. But this isn’t about a promise anymore. These men need to be taken down.”

  “And you’re the only one who can do that? It won’t bring her back, Cork. It won’t change what already is.”

  Jenny knew what she was saying, knew that Rainy wasn’t talking about Mariah Arceneaux or what had happened to her.

  Her father didn’t answer. He stared at Rainy a long time, then turned, shoved the screen door open, scattered the flying insects, and was eaten by the night.

  Rainy watched him go. “Did you see?”

  “See what?” Rose asked.

  But Jenny had seen it. She said, “Murder in his eyes.”

  Chapter 33

  * * *

  It had been a long time since Jenny and Henry Meloux had eaten. Rose reheated lasagna she’d made the night before and threw together a tossed salad. Rainy took a plate up to her great-uncle. She returned and reported that Raven was sleeping soundly. After they ate, Jenny cleared the dishes, and Rose made good coffee. She always made good coffee. She had cookies in the jar shaped like Ernie from Sesame Street, which had occupied its place on the kitchen counter as far back as Jenny could remember. They sat at the table, drank coffee, ate cookies, and while the night lay deep around the house on Gooseberry Lane, gave themselves comfort in talking.

  At first they talked about Raven and the whole awful situation with the man who called himself Windigo. And then they got onto the subject of how a young girl could fall into that kind of mess.

  Rainy said, “Try to imagine what it’s like growing up Indian. You’re part of a culture that white people have, from the beginning, done their best to eradicate. The whole smallpox on a blanket thing. Bounties on our scalps. The government schools, which were really an attempt to drive the Indian out of us and to get free labor in the bargain. Even in today’s enlightened times, if you’re Indian and you walk into a store up here, you’re noticed and you’re watched.”

  Rose said, “Even you?”

  “No one who’s clearly Ojibwe hasn’t experienced that up here, Rose.” Her face went troubled, and for the first time Jenny could remember, Rainy looked at them as if they were strangers. “Being Indian is living with a wound that’s never healed. The violence, the alcoholism, the unemployment—White people think that’s who we are, who we’ve always been, that somehow we deserve this. No matter how many of us they see who don’t fit that image, they continue to believe it. And you want to know the worst thing? A lot of Indians believe it, too. So is it any wonder that a girl growing up Ojibwe or Lakota or Cree on a reservation sees no hope for herself there and falls into the hands of someone like Windigo?”

  “What do we do?” Rose asked. “How do we help?”

  “You don’t. It’s something we need to do for ourselves. And we are, Rose. It’s going to take time, but it’s happening. Believe me, it’s happening.”

  Hearing her say this and hearing the certainty in her voice, Jenny believed it, too. Even so, there was a girl out there named Mariah who, unless she was found soon, would never benefit from the hard work so many of her people were doing.

  Then Jenny caught herself. Her people. Those were the words she’d thought, although she, too, had Anishinaabe blood flowing in her veins. Her great-grandmother Dilsey had been true-blood Iron Lake Ojibwe. One-eighth of her genetic makeup had come from The People. Still, despite the powwows she’d attended, despite the fact that she had blood cousins on the Iron Lake Reservation, and even despite having adopted a son who was fully Anishinaabe, she’d never truly thought of herself as anything other than white. Most of her ancestry was Irish. She was blond and blue-eyed, just like her mother had been. It was Stephen who looked Ojibwe and who had somehow ended up with a profound Ojibwe sensibility. Jenny had always been fine with that. Now she was angry at what she understood had been her willing disregard for an important element of herself, her family, her heritage, and with Waaboo, her maternal responsibility. She felt like a traitor. Or worse, a coward. And she knew that changing this was a part of the journey she was on, and maybe a part of the vision that had begun it.

  They’d fallen quiet, the weight of so many awful realities pressing down on them. It was Rainy who jumped to another subject, one she’d clearly been thinking about.

  “So what’s between you and Daniel?” she asked.

  “What do you mean?” Jenny said.

  “I heard you kissed him.” She smiled and said, “Uncle Henry just happened to mention it to me when I took his dinner up.”

  This was a place Jenny wasn’t certain she wanted to go. She was still trying to figure out her feelings for Daniel. Where men were concerned, she’d not been particularly judicious in her choices or wise in her actions. At eighteen, she’d been in love with a poet. They’d dreamed of living together in a garret in Paris, both of them struggling to write works of greatness. But she’d become pregnant, and her gallant young poet had turned out to be a scared kid who wanted no part of caring for a child. A moot point in the end, because Jenny had miscarried. The young poet had abandoned his dream of Paris and settled for becoming a druggist in his father’s pharmacy. Her next love had been a more intellectual choice, another writer, but a man who made sense to her in her own plans for a future. Then she’d stumbled upon Waaboo, and her life changed. But her fiancé had not loved the child as she did, and she’d shoved him away because of it. In the end, he’d sacrificed himself, died trying to save the child and her, and her guilt was still something she hadn’t put behind her. She believed that she’d been the catalyst for the bad that had befallen these two men who’d loved her. And if there was a possibility of another man in her life, maybe only bad would come to him, too. So she’d been content with the company of her son, her father, her brother, and Henry. What more did she need?

  “I kissed him,” Jenny said. “One kiss. No big deal.”

  “No big deal?” Rose’s eyes were huge and curious. “When?”

  “Just before we split up in Duluth tonight.”

  “Well, there you go,” Rose said.

  “There you go what?” Jenny said. “It was just one kiss.”

&n
bsp; “The first kiss,” Rose said. “I remember the first time Mal kissed me. You want to know something? It was the first time any man had ever kissed me. There I was, thirty-nine years old, and I’d never been kissed by a man. Let alone anything else with a man.”

  “A good kiss?” Rainy asked.

  “How was I to know?” Rose laughed. “But I’ll tell you this. I will, to my dying day, remember that kiss, because I knew my life had changed. And what a change it’s been.”

  Jenny envied her aunt, her obvious love of her husband. She’d loved before, or thought she had, but never with the depth that seemed to flow between Rose and Mal.

  “What about you, Rainy?” Rose asked. “First kiss?”

  “Johnny Blumenthal,” Rainy replied. “At the homecoming dance, sophomore year.”

  “Good kiss?”

  “A little sloppy, but it was pretty sweet. We went steady for six months. Then I found out he was two-timing me with Holly Knowles, one of the cheerleaders. Johnny was my first in a series of very bad choices in men.”

  “You were married once,” Rose said. “One of your bad choices?”

  “The worst. I had my head up my ass with that one. Good-looking, Lord yes. But a snake underneath. I finally learned my lesson with him. It’s not what’s on the outside that counts.”

  “I agree. Men are like M&M’s,” Rose threw in. “What’s on the outside is just a thin cover. It’s what’s underneath that counts.”

  “Ain’t it the truth. You’ve got to watch out. What looks like chocolate under that candy coating might be nothing but bullshit,” Rainy said with a laugh.

  “You think Dad’s like that?” Jenny asked.

  “Of course not. But the truth is I didn’t much like him at first.”

  “Cork?” Rose said, surprised. “But he’s such a sweet guy.”

  “I know that now. When I first met him, though, I found him . . . aggravating. He was so sure of himself.”

  “He can be that way sometimes,” Jenny said.