“Jeez, Ray, think about it, will you?” Lew banged her steering wheel in frustration. “I’ve got a limited number of authorized personnel and even less time. At least this snowstorm buys me a window. And we’re due to get another foot before morning. I don’t see Theurian going anywhere and that science project in his basement sure isn’t walking. If things go halfway decently, I ought to he back here with the sheriff in a couple hours.”
“I never got any breakfast,” said Ray in a tiny voice.
“Out!” said Lew with a mock swipe of her hand. “And Doc—drive slow. The last thing I need is one of us in the ditch.”
Half a dozen fender benders around Loon Lake and enough snow to force traffic to a crawl delayed everyone, including Arne Steadman. While Lauren was using the ladies’ room, the adults gathered in Lew’s office for a quick debate. It was decided that Gina would deliver the news.
“Lauren, come over here and sit by me,” said Gina, patting the seat of the chair beside her as Lauren walked into the room. The girl loped over and plunked herself down.
“Can we call Nick?” she said.
“In a minute, hon,” said Gina.
Ray and Doc, steaming mugs of coffee in hand, pulled over two more chairs. As they were settling in, Lew’s phone rang. She hit the speaker button. “What is it, Marlene?”
“Michalski’s on his way back to your office. I told him not to interrupt your meeting, but he said his grandfather is stuck and he can’t wait, he has to be somewhere—”
Before Marlene could finish, there was a quick knock and the door to Lew’s office opened. Bud Michalski poked his head in, “Sorry, Chief Ferris, but I have to leave. Grandpops was supposed to tell you that I can’t start work until after the first of the year …”
Lauren was on her feet. “That’s him! That’s the man I saw with my stepmom. He’s the guy who was in the ice house. He was at our house this morning—”
Ray was fast. He tackled Bud in the hall. But the man kicked back, his boot slamming into the bridge of Ray’s nose. Ray cursed and grabbed at his face, blood spurting through his fingers. Lew had her gun out and was shouting, but Bud scrambled down the hall and through the main doors. A cluster of people filling out accident reports in the front foyer made it unwise to get off a shot.
Lew dashed through the doors after Bud, but he must have parked on a side street. There was no sign of him in the unplowed lot serving the department. With the snowfall limiting visibility, it was impossible to see past the parking area.
“Dammit,” said Lew. She hurried over to Marlene at the switchboard. “Where’s Roger? Where’s Terry?”
“Accidents all over town—they’re working the bad ones.”
It took half an hour to get a license plate number from the DMV for the car registered to Bud Michalski. Spelling was a problem for the clerk on duty. Once Lew got it, she put out an APB for a black Chevy Blazer—as well as a red Hummer, license plate unknown.
Lauren drove Ray to the emergency room in Osborne’s car, while Gina and Osborne worked the phones. A call to Dave Theurian for help in locating his wife went unanswered. Sheriff Kopitzke said he didn’t care how many, if any, body parts were involved, it would be at least an hour before he could get to the Theurian home. He had six more accidents on county roads.
“How about getting some live people to the hospital first,” he said before hanging up on Lew.
She stared at the phone in her hand. “That man is going to have a heart attack.”
She reached Bruce at the crime lab in Wausau, and he said he would be happy to help out, but Highway 51 south of the exit for Highway 17 was closed due to three jack-knifed semi-trailer trucks. As soon as the roads opened, he promised to be on his way. With the wind whipping the snow to near-blizzard conditions, Bruce’s arrival time was pushed back to early evening.
It was one-thirty when a state trooper radioed in that Bud’s Blazer was parked at the Thunder Bay Bar on Highway 47.
“Don’t approach, I’ll take it from here,” said Lew.
“Chief Ferris, these roads are bad,” the trooper said. “We’ve got motorists stranded from here to Hurley. You make sure the guy is worth it before you risk your life in this weather.”
“Doc, I’d like to take Michalski by surprise if I can,” said Lew, “but I’ve got Roger and Terry out for at least another half hour.”
“Surprise?” said Osborne, jumping to his feet without hesitation. “Driving up in your cruiser isn’t what I’d call surprise. We’ll take my car.”
“No, I have a better idea …” A quick check with Marlene confirmed that Roger, slow out of the gate as usual, had not yet picked up the department snowmobiles. They were still parked at the trailhead near the Corner Bar, one half mile from Thunder Bay.
“We’ll ride up just like any customer. But, Doc. your helmet and clothes—don’t tell me they’re back at your house?”
“Still in my trunk from the other day.” Osborne was on his way to the parking lot as he spoke.
“Doc, I want you armed. We don’t know what to expect …”
“I’m no good with a handgun, Lew. My twenty gauge is in the car. I’ll get that, too.”
Within five minutes, they were sweating as they finished pulling on the heavy snow pants and thick boots. They had just zipped their parkas and grabbed for helmets and gloves when Arne Steadman blocked the door to the office.
“Out of the way, Arne,” said Lew. “Emergency. We’ll talk later.”
“What’s this about my grandson?”
“I said we’ll talk later.”
“Paul,” Arne shook a thick finger at Osborne, “what do you know about this?”
“Sorry, Arne,” said Lew, shouldering her way past the old man. “Doc’s working on city time right now. You heard me—later.”
Osborne and Lew hurried outside. Even though it was only mid-afternoon, the falling snow so darkened the day it looked like the sun had already set. Lew paused at her cruiser. “Maybe we should take yours instead. That way someone driving up Highway 47 won’t see mine and get spooked.” They climbed into Osborne’s car.
Lauren and Ray had returned it after getting his nose taped. He decided it would be safer to walk Lauren and Gina over to the Pub for a late lunch. With all the excitement, no one had yet taken the time to tell the teenager why—if Ray’s assessment of the contents of Mitten Theurian’s wild game lockers was correct—her father and stepmother were soon to be arrested.
The drive to the Corner Bar was excruciating: a forty- minute crawl along the highway instead of the usual fifteen. But once they were on the snowmobiles, it was less than five minutes to the Thunder Bay parking lot, where Bud’s Blazer was one of two vehicles parked in front.
Laura, the bartender they had spoken with the day before, had the door open before Lew touched the handle. “I’m closing,” she said.
“Not yet you aren’t,” said Lew, pushing past her. The darkened interior was empty.
“Where’s Bud? Whose car is that parked next to his?”
“That’s my car—he’s gone. Left about fifteen minutes ago. He left with the boss. Her car’s out back. She brought the sleds, and they took off on one.”
“Which way?”
“To the east, I think. Sounded like, anyway.”
“Did you say they’re on one sled?”
“Yeah, he couldn’t get the other one started.”
“But they didn’t say where they were going?”
“Did that guy do something wrong?”
“Credit card fraud. Laura, tell the others this bar is closed.” The bartender put a hand to her throat. “I had noth—”
“Don’t worry, you’re not under arrest. We’re after Bud and Karin Hikennen. If there’s anything you can say that will help us …”
A crafty look came over the woman’s face. “Chief, I couldn’t tell you this yesterday. I didn’t dare even tell you his name. I couldn’t risk losing my job, y’know.”
“Make it
fast, Laura.” Lew’s voice was kind but firm.
“When that rider from Tomahawk—the one that’s missing …”
“Right.”
“The night he was here, Bud and him were talking about some kind of party Bud was taking him to. Bud kept calling it a ‘real party,’ that the girls were more fun and the booze was free. Told the guy where to meet him—”
“By snowmobile?”
“Yeah. I couldn’t say anything before. I mean, if that was just a party and Bud knew I said something that got him in trouble …”
“It’s okay. That helps.”
“Anything else, anything that Bud or Karin might have said before they left …”
“She has a really foul mouth and was going bananas waiting for him. When he finally got here, he kept trying to calm her down. I couldn’t really hear what they said, y’know. I just wanted to keep out of their way.”
“Was she chewing gum?” asked Osborne.
“Doc, we don’t have time,” said Lew, giving him a funny look.
“Shit, yes, like a huge wad.”
“Bear with me, Lew,” said Osborne. “She didn’t happen to spit it out while she was here?”
Laura gave him a strange look. “Couple times—right in that ashtray. I emptied it in the trash.”
“Good. Save the trash for us, would you please?”
Back in the parking lot, Lew pulled out the trail map they had used the day before. “We’ve got a good chance of catching them, Doc. Two people on a sled—especially a guy the size of Bud. They can’t go that fast.” She looked at him sharply. “You okay with your gun slung that way? The trails could be bumpy …”
“It’s comfortable. I’m more worried about finding our way. This snow is deep.”
“I got it down,” said Lew with assurance. “Remember, I know that spring pond. You follow me.”
She paused before she pulled down the face shield on her helmet. “Won’t they be surprised to find the money missing.”
thirty-seven
A man may fish with the worm that hath eat of a king, and eat of a fish that hath fed of that worm.
—William Shakespeare
Osborne stayed close behind Lew’s sled, hoping the high beam from her headlamp would help him anticipate the twists and turns in the trail. But the snow not only reflected the light, it blew straight into his face shield. While he could manage the straightaways, at every turn he was driving blind.
Lew stopped once at the junction of two trails to check the map, then pushed on. To Osborne’s relief, she didn’t drive much over forty-five, but then she had to have limited visibility, too. Finally they reached a long narrow stretch of trail. As he grew more confident on the sled, Osborne’s mind wandered. He couldn’t help but speculate on the two riders in the dark ahead.
Unaware their money was locked away in the Loon Lake Police Department evidence room, they must be planning to pick up their cash, then make their way north by sled. At Hurley, where the storm belt ended, they could grab a car—or more likely Theurian’s missing van—and make the Canadian border before midnight. After all, who would expect them to travel off-trail, much less to a well hidden spring pond.
Of course, they were about to discover that if Bud had checked his phone messages from his new employer …
Lew’s sled disappeared just as Osborne felt his pitching forward. Before he could brake, everything went black.
He woke to such acute pain from his shoulders down that that his first reaction was to recite the Act of Contrition. Two lines into the prayer he knew he wasn’t dying. He must have blacked out when he hit, landing so hard on the flat of his back he had the breath knocked out of him.
As the pain in his chest subsided and he could breathe, he felt to each side with both hands. He was on a cushion of snow, legs splayed. No sled. No gun.
He heard a low moan.
Lew was lying facedown in the snow at the bottom of the forty-foot embankment. Her sled was tipped sideways, pinning her lower legs. Her upper body was twisted away at an angle. Osborne realized he had been thrown clear of his sled, which lay on its side, a silent hulk in the shadows twenty feet away.
“Lew!” Yanking off his helmet, he threw himself on his knees beside her head.
“My arm … my neck.” Her words were muffled by her helmet, which was facedown in the snow. “Hard to breathe.”
“Hold on.” Adrenaline spiked with grim determination gave him the strength to heave the machine forward and off. He dropped to his knees again.
“I’m going to dig the snow out from under your face shield to give you some air—but without moving your head.” Mitts off, he dug with his fingers, never feeling the cold. He cleared a pathway near her breath reflector. “Is that better?”
“Yes.” Her voice was clearer. “I don’t know if it’s my neck or my shoulder—but I hurt.”
“How are your legs?”
“They feel okay—but I don’t want to move.”
“I don’t want you to move.” Osborne got to his feet and looked around. Through the falling snow, he could make out a forty-five degree angle to the hill—way too steep for a snowmobile. Lew must have missed a trail marker.
He crouched near her head. “Did you bring your cell phone?”
“In the travel pack on the right-hand side of the sled.”
Fortunately he had tipped the sled onto its left side. He found the phone—it was on. He punched in 911, hit “send” and waited. And waited.
“No service, Lew. We’re in a gully here, which doesn’t help. Now don’t you worry. Can’t be too long a walk for me to get help. But before I go, I want to see your head and neck better supported.”
Again, he dug. This time, he pulled off his parka, rolled it up and maneuvered it into place under the face shield of her helmet, taking care not to move her neck or head. She was lying on her left arm, the one that hurt.
“Lew … how’s your right arm and hand?” She could wave from the elbow down.
“If I move any more, the shoulder hurts. But, Doc, how can you go without your jacket? You’ll freeze.”
“I’m fine, this is a heavy sweater I have on. Now here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to walk out a short distance and see if I can’t figure out where we are. I’ll be right back, okay?”
“Can you use one of the sleds?”
“The runners on both are pretty smashed up.”
“Do you have a compass?”
“No, think there’s one in the sleds?”
“Should be.” He checked the travel packs on both snowmobiles but there was no compass. Walking back to Lew, he spotted his cased shotgun in the snow where it had flown off as he fell. He stood it up against a clump of brush. “Okay, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Doc …”
“Yes, sweetheart …”
“Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine, I just need to find us a way out of here.”
He hadn’t gone more than a hundred feet when he knew that was impossible. The scrim of falling snow, not to mention that the snow cover was hip high in spots—and all with no idea which direction was right. Retracing his footprints, he found his way back to Lew.
“Are you warm enough?” he said.
“I’m feeling a little chilled—but I’m okay for now. Any idea where we are? I don’t think we can be that far off the trail.” He gave her the frustrating news, then stretched out long beside her, his body shielding hers from the blowing snow. Neither of them said anything for long while.
“Doc … what are you thinking?”
“That this is bullshit.”
Lew’s body shook slightly. “Don’t make me laugh, it hurts.”
Osborne raised himself up onto one elbow. “I wasn’t trying to be funny.”
Either the snow eased or his eyes had adjusted. “Hey, I can see better … the moon …” He looked up. Something was moving in the dark at the top of the hill.
The cloud cover broke. Light from the hal
f moon glinted off topaz eyes. The wolf stood still, watching them. Then he was gone.
“Wait a minute—” Osborne scrambled to his feet. The moon threw enough light for him to see the trail, which wound down through trees along the side of the hill. The snow was not so deep there, an easy jog to the top of the hill. Once there he found the trail marker that Lew had missed. It was barely visible under a three-foot drift.
From the top, he could see over the trees below to a vast white expanse: lake. Had to be Horsehead Hollow. He looked off to this right—sure enough. He could see the tamarack, towering over the balsams. The tree that marked the famed “beer bowl” of Mallory’s teenage parties.
Osborne hurried back down the hill.
“Lew, I can see now. We’re not far from Horsehead Hollow. I’ll make it across and up to Clyde’s place. If we’re lucky, his phone hasn’t been shut off. But if it has, shouldn’t take me more than ten minutes to the main road.”
“Take my cell phone,” said Lew. “You might get service once you’re over there.”
“Now here’s the only thing I worry about…”
He told her about the wolf, then uncased the shotgun and placed it on its canvas case near Lew’s good hand. “This is a side by side, remember? You’ve got two shells loaded and the safety is off. All you need is a warning shot, Lew, enough to scare him off.”
“Why don’t I use my pistol?”
“Because you’re lying on it, and I don’t want to move you.”
“Oh. Well, heck, don’t worry so much—wolves don’t attack humans.”
“You’re right, you’re right,” he patted her good arm gently. No need to remind her: They prey on the weak.
As he set out, he prayed the snow would continue to abate. He bargained with the clouds for glimmers of moonlight. When he reached the lake, he decided to head straight for the tamarack. Shallow troughs between high drifts made it easier to walk. He stepped nimbly around the deadheads poking through the ice.
Halfway across the lake, he saw a cluster of fishermen, sitting on their pails around a fishing hole. Odd, he thought. No bonfire, and why are they all fishing the same hole? As he got closer, one moved away—on all fours.
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