The Boy in the Snow

by M. J. McGrath

  Aileen was coming for them.

  39

  Derek had been trying to reach Edie all night and was now feeling very anxious. When he’d spoken to her, she’d seemed intent on going back for the tape, which he’d thought was probably a bad idea, but that was over eight hours ago and he’d heard nothing from her since.

  No one in Nome had slept much that night. News of a plane crash had come in around five, a couple of hours before Duncan Wright was due to cross the Iditarod finishing line. What little information was available seemed to suggest that this was the plane belonging to Mayor Hillingberg and began to seem more and more likely as Wright’s finishing time drew nearer and the mayor had still not made an appearance. Things weren’t made any easier by Aileen Logan’s sudden departure that afternoon for what she described as a ‘personal health emergency’. The woman wasn’t even answering her phone. Gossip suggested that she’d had some kind of breakdown. One or two of her colleagues speculated that she’d left the country altogether. Aileen’s deputy, Chrissie Caley, had been doing a good job of reducing the inevitable chaos to a minimum, but amidst all the rumour and counter-rumour, it was difficult to work out where the truth lay.

  While Wright was checking in at Safety, only an hour or so from the finish line, confirmation came through that the plane which residents at Rainy Pass had reported to be in trouble was indeed Chuck Hillingberg’s and that wreckage had been seen burning just a few miles north of Rainy, not far from the landing strip at Farewell. A search and rescue helicopter hadn’t been able to reach the site on account of some localized weather but the S&R team was able to corroborate the testimony of the residents of Rainy Pass that the downed plane was a Cessna Stationair and to further report that there were no signs of life either at the crash site or nearby.

  The Champions Dinner had long since been cancelled and Marsha Hillingberg was reported to be getting ready to return to Anchorage. Governor Shippon had issued a statement of support and condolence to the Hillingberg family, which had been duplicated by the mayors of Alaska’s other major population centres at Fairbanks and Juneau. By the time Duncan Wright spun across the finish line, the Iditarod had come to seem like a distraction.

  Amid such turbulence and uncertainty, Edie Kiglatuk’s failure to get in touch was of no consequence to anyone but Derek. Sammy, of course, didn’t know. He was making his way along the Yukon River, with a couple of days still to go before reaching Nome.

  The door from the bedroom swung open and Zach blundered in and went directly to the coffee pot.

  ‘You get any sleep at all?’

  ‘Not much.’ Derek mentioned not hearing from Edie. ‘I tried Olga’s number, Edie’s, nothing.’

  ‘You know anyone else who could go round and check on her?’ Zach sat himself down on the sofa, stretched his legs a little, yawned. ‘You need to get back down there, man. I can keep an eye on Sammy at the checkpoints.’ He took a gulp from his coffee and picked the sleep out of his eyes. ‘I don’t need to tell him anything he don’t need to know. Just say you got some police business from home to attend to.’

  Derek checked his watch. The first flight out of Nome bound for Anchorage would be leaving in a couple of hours’ time. He thought about calling the APD in the city but when he remembered Galloway and Schofield he decided against it. An idea came to him.

  ‘Mind if I use your laptop?’

  Zach waved in the direction of the little table in the corner of the room.

  Derek waited for the machine to boot then tapped in Snowy Owl Café, got up the phone number and called. A man answered, said Stacey was filling the breakfast shift and would be too busy to talk. When Derek said it was an emergency, the man reluctantly agreed to bring her to the phone so long as whatever Derek had to say was quick.

  Stacey immediately offered to go round to Edie’s studio. She sounded genuinely worried. Derek gave her the Spenard Road address but told her not to knock on the door.

  ‘You see anything there, don’t get involved, just call me, OK.’

  He promised to wait by the phone until she called back.

  Megan appeared. She, too, looked wrecked. When Zach explained the situation, she soon gathered herself and went off to the kitchen to make breakfast so Derek wouldn’t have to fly on an empty stomach. While he was waiting for Stacey to get back to him, he put his mind to thinking about where Edie might have got to. Homer was one obvious possibility, the other was the Old Believer compound up at Meadow Lake. He just had to hope something hadn’t happened, either at the studio or at Lena and Olga’s place.

  When the phone rang, it startled him. The number at the studio flipped onto the caller ID. For a tiny moment he allowed himself to think that it was Edie calling, then Stacey’s voice came on.

  ‘Derek, I’m real worried. Bonehead’s here. He’s had an accident on the floor and he’s real hungry. I don’t think anyone’s been here at all since last night. I went down to that big old house you said? Edie’s truck was parked outside, but there’s no one in and no sign of her. No message, nothing.’

  He told her he’d be down just as soon as he could. He didn’t have to ask about Bonehead; she volunteered to take him.

  At the airport he remembered Detective Truro. Lena and Olga had mentioned him. He called Zach from the phone booth and, remembering that Truro had been suspended, asked him for Truro’s home number and address. He dialled but got a blank tone. Thinking he’d misdialled, he repeated the call and got the same tone. He spent the flight making lists of the possibilities on his beverage napkin.

  At the airport in Anchorage he went straight out onto the concourse, picked up a cab and gave the driver Bob Truro’s address.

  40

  An old model, beat-up SUV came bowling around the corner. Edie stepped into its path, waving her arms, and it slowed to a halt just ahead. A woman leaned out.

  ‘You all in trouble?’

  Lena opened her mouth to speak but Edie flashed her a warning look.

  ‘Our truck broke down is all.’

  The woman scanned the road for the breakdown.

  ‘It’s just up that path a little.’ Edie waved in a vague direction behind her. ‘The axle hit something hard, a rock most like.’

  The woman hesitated, then waved them up.

  ‘Well, OK then,’ she said, glancing at her watch. ‘I guess I could give you all a ride to the next tow-truck place. C’mon in then, before you all catch your death of cold.’

  Edie clambered in the front passenger seat, Lena got in the back. The woman introduced herself as Toni. She’d just been to see her elderly mother in her care home and was heading to her shift at work in a yard selling construction materials on the other side of the city.

  ‘What brought you all out here?’

  ‘Dogs,’ Edie said. ‘Malamutes and huskies, mostly. There’s a kennel…’ she tailed off.

  The woman glanced at Edie and reached for the radio. The car filled with the sound of golden oldies.

  ‘I guess you people have a natural ability around huskies.’

  ‘I guess,’ Edie said. She glanced into the rear-view mirror to check whether Aileen was following. The road was empty.

  They came to the junction of Bragaw and Debarr and stopped at a red. On the opposite corner was a gas station which doubled as a tow, repair and tyre shop and she let them out. Lena made a call from the gas station phone.

  Now the immediate danger was over, Edie allowed herself to feel the full force of the Nembutal comedown. A taxi drew into the forecourt and a man with a crooked mouth honked his horn. Lena went over and had a word with him then came back.

  ‘His name is Jeton. He’s Albanian. He knows me as Nina. He looks after me when I’m working. I’ve told him you are a friend and your name is Sacha.’

  They got in. The car smelled heavily of cheap air freshener. Jeton had laid lacy antimacassars across the seats. He smiled and nodded a friendly greeting to Edie. It wasn’t just his mouth that was crooked, his teeth looked like scr
ee.

  They drove through the suburbs of Anchorage, past the pretty houses of professionals lying in the shadow of the Chugach Mountains, north and westward until the houses got smaller and less spaced, then gave way completely to sullen strip malls and drive-throughs selling unbranded fast food. Jeton finally dropped them in the parking lot outside what looked to Edie like a strip club.

  They went in the back door, through a series of ill-lit and smelly corridors to a room full of women dressing and undressing. Lena asked Edie to wait and disappeared into the throng. Not long afterwards she returned holding a key ring which unlocked a battered-looking Chevrolet crouched in a far corner of the parking lot. They got in and Lena drove between heaps of dirty snowdrift, through the poor, unlit streets of the city. They turned into the parking lot of a cheap motel on the northern outskirts of downtown with a broken neon sign over the entranceway which once read ‘Bear Motel’. Lena led them around the back to the service area then through a yard to a small concrete cabin divided into two apartments, with steps leading to the upper floor. The blinds were closed but the light was on. She knocked and said something in Russian. The door flew open. Olga glanced outside, briefly checked up and down, then closed the door and threw her arms around her friend.

  Waiting for them inside were Derek Palliser and Bob Truro. It was such a relief to see them there that Edie felt her legs give way, but Derek leapt forward, grabbed her by the arms and pulled her in to him. He held her like that until she felt herself soften, then she pulled away.

  ‘Kiglatuk, you disappear like that again, I’m going to have to kill you.’ He noticed the fresh wound on her head. ‘How did this happen?’

  She pushed his hand away. The wound was throbbing but she didn’t want to have to think about it just now.

  She said, ‘How did you find us?’

  Derek flipped his head in Truro’s direction. Truro gave a tiny nod but Edie didn’t feel in the mood to acknowledge it.

  They were in the kind of place you wouldn’t want your mother to know you knew about. Thinly painted drywall, pitted and stained where the damp had come through. In the centre of the room a low-hanging plastic light fixture dimly illuminated whatever action took place on the sagging bed. The carpet tiles were brown, but they hadn’t started out that way. On one side of the bed were stacked a small pile of clothes. On the other a baby was sleeping in a carrycot.

  While Edie told the men what had happened, Lena went over and cooed at the baby. As he listened, Bob Truro crumpled into a chair at his side with his head in his hands. When she was finished the detective took a deep breath.

  ‘Miss Kiglatuk, Edie, believe me, I’m more sorry than I can say for the way this has played out. I had no idea how far it had reached until they took me off the case.’

  Edie felt a wave of nausea rise up. Most of it was anger, directed at the balding zealot on the other side of the room. The rest was Nembutal.

  ‘I don’t need your apology, detective. But Lucas Littlefish and Jonny Doe do.’

  Truro bristled a little. ‘That’s why I’m here.’

  The truth was on the point of bursting out of her. She wanted to tell Truro that Jonny Doe had a name, that he was Vasilly Chuchin, and that he was loved and that his mother, Lena, was standing right there, in the room, and that she and Vasilly deserved justice, just as Lucas and TaniaLee Littlefish deserved justice. She felt Derek’s hand on her shoulder, pressing, squeezing and checked herself. Right now they needed Detective Truro on their side. In any case, if anyone was going to tell Truro about Vasilly, it had to be Lena herself. She sat down and flashed Derek a look of gratitude, which he returned with a wink.

  ‘We went round to the old house, where I first met Lena and Olga, but there was no sign of anyone, so we drove to Aileen Logan’s place. We thought you might have contacted her. There was no one in and no vehicle in the driveway,’ Derek explained.

  ‘Because…she was out looking for us.’ Edie suddenly felt sick again. ‘Is there any chance?’ She checked the two men and saw they were both armed.

  Derek shook his head. ‘Aileen Logan has no idea about this place. We only found Olga here because Bob knew who to ask.’ Edie noted the familiar. Bob. So, she guessed, Derek and Bob were a team now. ‘We were just figuring out what to do next when you showed up.’

  Lena and Olga had been hunched over the baby, talking animatedly in Russian. Lena came over now and placed a kiss on Edie’s cheek. Edie patted the woman’s arm. In the other corner of the room she saw Derek bite his lip.

  ‘When I called, I was scared,’ Lena said. ‘A few days ago, friend of me at the club say a woman came in, asking for me. I wanted someone to help.’ She took a breath and started to tremble. ‘You risk your life, Edie,’ Lena said. ‘And maybe you save mine.’ She ran a hand over Edie’s hair and gave a nervous laugh. ‘Small lady, but not so small here.’ She pressed her palm over her heart.

  ‘I want justice for Vasilly Chuchin, Lena, same as you.’ At the name, Olga looked up anxiously.

  Derek said, ‘Who’s Vasilly Chuchin?’

  Edie looked to Lena. The woman closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She was sweating slightly and the cords on her neck stood out like parcel string.

  ‘Jonny Doe is Vasilly Chuchin. He was son of me.’

  Edie got up from the chair and went over to Olga’s baby. She reached out and stroked the downy head. There on the right side, where she had imagined it would be, was the word IIIaXTa. Alarm suddenly signalled on Olga’s face. Seeing it, Lena laid a hand on her arm and spoke to her softly in Russian.

  Edie sighed. “Mine,” she said. ‘I’ve seen this word before.’

  ‘On Vasilly you see it?’

  ‘Yes, on Vasilly,’ Edie said. She explained she’d seen the picture on Truro’s desk. ‘And on a baby down in Homer. You see that word, detective, when you were investigating the death of Vasilly Chuchin?’

  Truro ran a hand over his face. There was a pause, then he nodded, shamefaced.

  ‘I assumed it was part of the Dark Believer ritual, the sacrifice element.’

  Edie said, ‘Is assumption usually part of your investigative method, Detective Truro?’

  Derek grimaced and she backed off.

  Turning to Lena, Derek said, ‘When we met, you told me you came from near Moscow.’

  Lena shook her head. She began to tremble again.

  Edie said, ‘Lena, please, for Vasilly.’

  The young woman shot a glance at the baby, then at Olga. Then she began her story. She’d been trafficked from Bilibino, a remote and depressed gold mining town in the Chukotka Autonomous Region through the Chukot capital, Anadyr, to Nome, by two men, on the promise of a job in a hotel in Anchorage. It was the Russian dream, she said, a chance to escape from the poverty of her surroundings, to earn some money, to become American. She was fifteen, from a small, remote town, and she didn’t know any better. One of the men flew her to Nome. He took her to a hotel and told her she would be flown to her ultimate destination the following day. That destination turned out to be the Lodge.

  For three winters she worked at the Lodge. Initially, she was expected to service the men who came. Only one man never touched her, the cripple. The men never gave their names and for the first year her English was very poor and she could not speak to them. She was afraid all the time. Once she reached seventeen the men seemed to stop being interested in her. She earned her keep cleaning and they told her they would fly her back to Chukotka eventually, but a year passed, and it did not happen. A security guard promised to allow her to escape if she had sex with him, so she did. He went back on his promise, though not before making her pregnant.

  ‘Then I am more afraid because they are taking babies away.’

  It was during that period she made friends with Olga, who was pregnant too. They both dreamed of escaping but they had nowhere to go.

  ‘When Vasilly born special boy, not ordinary boy, I thought they let me keep.’ An odd, animal noise bubbled up from her. Ol
ga came forward and held her.

  Olga gestured to a bag lying under the desk. ‘Watch film,’ she said. Edie went over to the bag and pulled out a memory card. Detective Truro pulled a laptop from his case and fired it up.

  The blank screen was replaced by a grainy black-and-white image of the Lodge, illuminated by security cameras. It was winter, at least it seemed that way to Edie. The centre of the driveway had been cleared but there were deep drifts around the periphery. Before long, the figure of a woman emerged from one of the side doors holding a baby. Beside Edie, Lena began shaking. The woman passed close enough to the camera to be identifiable as Marsha Hillingberg. The baby who lay asleep in her arms was part covered and Edie would not have been able to say for sure that this was Vasilly, though the shape of the face suggested an infant with Down Syndrome. As the woman in the film turned to walk along the side of the snow bank, Olga leaned in and pressed on the keyboard until the picture stopped. Lena’s eyelids were drawn tightly together. She held her fist to her mouth, biting the fingers to stop from crying out. Then she managed to gather herself.

  ‘The mentality is very dark in that place. We mark the children. We think, one day, we can find our children this way. Three babies we mark: Vasilly, Olga daughter and a boy.’

  ‘The Stegner baby,’ Edie said.

  Lena looked at her blankly.

  Edie described the girl she had seen in the woods. The writing on the windshield. ‘Was she the mother of the third child you tattooed?’

  Lena looked at the floor. Her face expressed such infinite weariness, it was as if the spirit in her had been swapped for another.

  ‘Yes, Katerina, maybe.’

  For the first time since she’d sat beside Lena, Edie looked away. Bob Truro was still sitting in the chair with his head in his hands. Next to him, Derek was biting his fingernails and staring at the brown carpet.