The Boy in the Snow

by M. J. McGrath

  ‘This girl, Katerina…the baby father is Police Mackenzie,’ Lena said. ‘I seen his picture on TV.’

  From over on the other side of the room, Bob Truro groaned.

  Olga called for someone to fast-forward the footage. Truro got up and made himself busy. He stopped the film just as Marsha Hillingberg reappeared down the path, this time without the baby.

  Lena said, ‘They told me in the morning. They said he was gone to new home, but later I hear Tommy Schofield, the Hillingberg woman fighting. She told Tommy Schofield she gave my baby back to Nature. She call Vasilly “God’s Little Error”. When Tommy Schofield left, he was crying. He didn’t want Vasilly to die. Maybe Tommy thinks he is God’s Little Error too. I saw him go out into the forest. I think he collect Vasilly body. Later, I go out into the yard, I see footprints but I cannot get through, past guard. In the next night, I climb snow bank and I took out camera memory card and I hid this. Then I say Olga, we are leaving now. If they kill us, it will be nothing. Without our children, we are dead anyway. I wait for security guard, Vasilly father. I tell him, the Hillingberg woman kill your son. Two days he doesn’t care, he doesn’t do anything. Then he signal to me and in the night he let us out of the gate.’

  Once more her eyes welled with tears.

  ‘We come to Anchorage near two months, we clean in club, sometime we do’ – her features bunched up in disgust – ‘other things. But we are trapped. We cannot leave because we have no papers. Since Vasilly body found, I am afraid they will say I kill him. When the Logan woman come looking for me, I call you because I am very frightened she will find me and kill me before I can get justice for my Vasilly.’

  Edie jumped off the bed, kneeled down beside Lena and took her hands in hers.

  ‘She’d have to kill us first,’ she said.

  41

  Edie woke with a fluttering heart, looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings, heard Derek Palliser breathing heavily in the bed beside her and remembered where she was. They had taken a room at the front of the Bear Motel from where they could watch vehicles enter the property, the idea being to take shifts through the night. Edie had fallen asleep on her watch, which had ruined the plan somewhat. Blinking away the remnants of sleep now, she realized she’d been dreaming about drinking. An enormous desire came over her, as strong and ineluctable as a spring blizzard. There was a twenty-four-hour bar only a block away from the motel. She had already registered its presence, which made her wonder how far a recovering alcoholic ever recovered. Softly, doing her best not to wake Derek, she unpeeled the bedcover, went to the window and pulled back the drape just enough to see out. It was nearly dawn. The lot was quiet. In a back room, Olga, Lena and the baby would be asleep, with Bob Truro propped up in the chair, on guard.

  Derek’s voice, as drowsy as a late summer bee, drifted from over the other side of the room.

  ‘Edie?’ The bedside light went on. Derek was sitting up on his elbows, blinking. ‘My shift?’

  ‘Go back to sleep,’ she said.

  He checked his watch. ‘I’m done with sleeping.’

  Edie turned from the window. ‘Sammy’s due in when exactly?’

  ‘Last time I spoke with Zach, he said Sammy was at Elim. They’ll still make him wait the statutory eight hours at White Mountain, so I’m guessing he’ll be shooting over the finish line in just under twenty-four hours from now.’

  ‘OK, then, so that’s how long we got.’

  Derek rubbed his hand across his face. ‘Got for what exactly? Aileen Logan’s disappeared and I don’t think she’s gonna be making an appearance any time soon.’

  Edie moved away from the window and sat on Derek’s bed.

  ‘I’m talking about Marsha Hillingberg.’

  ‘What?’ He looked irritated. ‘Edie, I’m not gonna be the one to give the news to Lena, but that CCTV footage doesn’t prove anything.’

  ‘It connects her to a place that was trafficking underage girls, then selling their babies.’

  ‘Marsha would have a hard time coming up squeaky clean but you want justice for Vasilly, you won’t get that from the CCTV footage. It’s not like we can even go to the APD. Mackenzie’s up to his neck in this.’

  Derek was up now, dressed in only a pair of boxers, fiddling with the ancient coffee percolator on the table. She thought about how it would be to lead him back to bed.

  ‘Right now Marsha Hillingberg is bombproof. She’s enjoying a widow’s premium.’ The TV news had shown scenes of a sombrelooking Marsha accompanying her husband’s coffin off the plane at Anchorage airport, surrounded by emoting fans. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if she announces her candidacy for governor any time now.’

  He poured out the coffee, threw six spoonfuls of sugar in Edie’s and passed it over to her. She drank down the bitter fluid and remembered how much she preferred tea. An idea suddenly came to her.

  She said, ‘The black widow’s forgotten something.’

  ‘That so?’

  ‘The spirit world.’

  Derek let out a sour, dismissive laugh. ‘Or maybe the spirit world’s forgotten us,’ he said. He thought of himself as a rationalist. But his blood was Cree and Inuit and that kind of blood, blood thick with ancient stories, that was just the kind of blood the spirits kept close. ‘What we got? Some CCTV footage doesn’t prove anything and the testimony of a couple of hookers, only one of whom speaks English, a girl in a nut bin, and a few whacked-out Jesus-heads in old-time robes.’

  ‘Maybe you’re forgetting where we are, Derek. Hookers, lunatics, religious freaks, garden variety Alaskans. This state is on the migratory path for every lame duck and dodo who can’t settle anywhere else. The bats out of hell, the flying pigs, they all come here to roost.’

  ‘Just your kind of place,’ Derek said drily.

  ‘My ma always used to say that bad things happen when good people do nothing.’

  ‘I hate to be the one to break this to you, but your ma was wrong. Bad things happen whatever good people do. You wanna know why? Because it’s not the good people who are doing the bad things.’ He flashed her a look of exasperation, then went over to the bed and lit a cigarette. For a moment he just sat with his head in his hands, smoking. ‘Here’s what we’re supposed to be doing, you and me. What we’re supposed to be doing is helping out an old friend who’s had some bad times. Instead we’re talking about nailing some woman we don’t even know in a country we don’t even live in.’

  ‘You even hear yourself, Police?’ Her former notion of taking Derek to bed had disappeared as swiftly as a hard-on dipped in icy water. She now felt more like punching him out.

  Instead, she moved away from him, closing her eyes and summoning the image of the spirit bear leading her through the forest on a morning which already seemed so distant. Derek would scoff, but in Edie’s mind she had no doubt that the animal had come with a message. What could the bear tell her? What was he trying to tell her? An idea bubbled up.

  She said, ‘Why would the Old Believers suddenly decide to sell their land?’

  Beside her Derek took a breath. ‘Because they’re under pressure?’

  ‘From who? Tommy Schofield’s dead.’

  Edie and Derek looked at one another, thinking the same thing. Byron Hallstrom. Edie went over to the wardrobe, pulled her outerwear off the hanger and began to throw it on. Derek reached out a hand and grabbed her arm.

  ‘Promise me, after twenty-four hours, if we don’t get what we need, we’ll let Detective Truro take this one.’

  She shrugged him off.

  ‘I can promise, Police, but you should know that people break promises all the time.’

  They made their way up the Glenn Highway for what they both hoped would be the last time. Edie drove, the route so familiar now it seemed to her like something out of a recurring dream. Two weeks in Alaska had taught her how to drive a truck without stalling the engine or bouncing off the verge. It had also taught her that she preferred to be in places where there were no roa
ds or trucks or verges. Her longing to return home to Autisaq was a hollow hunger in her belly. This was the reason they called it homesickness. Angirraqsirniq. A griping feeling of nausea. She yearned for the horizons, for the great sweep of ice and rock and for the people she loved there. But she also missed the fact that things were simpler there, too, that there was an acknowledgement of the smallness and frailty of human life which, for her, was part of what made it worth living.

  Turning onto the Hatcher Pass, she imagined Natalia, not knowing whether she would ever see the father of her baby. Though Edie could never share it, there was nevertheless something wondrous about the young woman’s faith, not so much in God as in Galloway himself. No human being, except perhaps for her darling Joe, had ever engendered such confidence in Edie. As they rolled and bumped along the rugged track through the forest, she thought about Lucas and Vasilly and felt a deep mournfulness for those two newly minted lives which would never now grow old or wise or fully comprehend, even as spirits, the riches they had been forced to leave behind.

  The truck rounded a corner where the large spruce stood and they came before long to the gate fronting the Old Believer property. Edie pulled up and they both got out and went over to the guard standing there in his thick, old-fashioned overcoat and fur hat.

  She said, ‘We’ve come to see Natalia or Anatoly Medvedev.’

  The guard nodded an acknowledgement, pulled a walkie-talkie from his coat pocket and began talking into it in Russian.

  ‘He coming, you wait.’

  They stood on the far side of the gate, stamping their feet against the cold while the guard stamped on the other side, neither party speaking. After what seemed like the longest time there was a light and Medvedev came striding down the path.

  ‘Edie Kiglatuk,’ he said. She introduced Derek Palliser. The old man eyed him wearily. ‘Why are you here?’

  ‘We know Peter Galloway is alive.’ She caught his eye in hers and gave him no opportunity to look away. His face clouded over, then he frowned and swung his head about, as though checking that they hadn’t been overheard. This was not news to him. What had taken him aback was the fact that Edie knew.

  ‘How can I trust you, Edie Kiglatuk?’

  She turned and squinted through the light at him. ‘Right now, I’m about the only Outsider you can trust.’

  He took this in. ‘What about this man?’

  ‘My name is Palliser. I am a police sergeant, from the Ellesmere Island Native Police,’ Derek said, in Russian. For a moment Medvedev froze, then, when Derek added that he was not here on official business but as a friend of Edie’s, the Believer seemed to relax.

  ‘We’ll go back to the house in your truck. You can have some hot tea.’

  He climbed into the front passenger side. Edie got in beside him and took up the steering wheel. Derek clambered into the back. They drove to the house at the far corner of the compound, but instead of asking them to park up, Medvedev waved Edie on towards a narrow track winding through spruce. ‘Through there.’ She pulled the steering wheel around and did as he suggested. The truck rocked along deep ruts leading into the forest for half a kilometre or so, to a small clearing at the back of which stood a small cabin.

  They got out and Medvedev led them towards it. Derek waited until they were behind him, then, placing his hand on the weapon he was carrying, he flashed Edie a warning look, which she returned with a nod. The Old Believer held the door for them and they went into the cabin’s only room. There were thick drapes at the window. Medvedev took out a lighter, lit an oil lamp and drew the drapes. He pulled aside a large, knotted rug to reveal a small hatch, from around whose edges a thin light shone. He knocked twice then opened the hatch. Natalia’s face appeared, and when she saw Edie standing above her she broke into a wide smile, grabbing at the steps and launching herself up and into the room. Seeing Derek, she hesitated, glancing anxiously towards the hatch. Medvedev said something to her in Russian and she softened, went back over to the hatch and spoke down into the hole. A pair of hands appeared, then two burly arms and Peter Galloway stepped up into the room.

  He held out a hand then, and when Edie did not take it, he let it go slack at his side.

  ‘Edie Kiglatuk, I used you very badly.’

  Her eyes narrowed to take him in. He seemed thinner than from a few days ago. ‘I guess you’re now going to give me your excuse.’ In her peripheral vision she saw Natalia run a hand over her belly.

  ‘No excuse,’ Galloway said. ‘I’m not proud of what I did to you. Anatoly thought I would want to see you, but he was wrong. I had to get away.’

  Natalia cut in then. ‘Edie, my husband had nothing to do with the death of those children.’

  Derek stepped forward. ‘I guess you know this man’s history?’

  Natalia dropped her gaze to the floor, allowed herself an instant of shame, then took in a deep breath and raised her head so that she was looking directly at Derek.

  ‘I know that God made all men capable of redemption.’

  Derek gave a little cough. ‘Even Tommy Schofield?’

  Galloway shifted on his feet. ‘I didn’t kill those babies and whatever you think I didn’t murder Tommy Schofield.’

  Edie said, ‘I’d like to shake the hand of the man who did.’

  Galloway gave a low, sorry laugh.

  Medvedev coughed. ‘Natalia, do we have tea?’

  She nodded and made for a little gas burner on one side of the room. There were four rustic-looking chairs and a worn leather pouf. Edie sat down. Derek continued to stand. Galloway glared at him.

  ‘Why have you sold your land?’ Edie asked.

  Natalia brought over a teapot and some tiny glasses. Medvedev allowed her to pour the rusty-coloured liquid. When she was done, he leaned forward and said:

  ‘We decided to leave. We have sold everything, this land too. No one wants us here. The moment something happens, then people will start talking about Dark Believers again. There are no Dark Believers here, Edie Kiglatuk, you will not find any. The dark people, the ones in league with Satan, are those who will not allow us to lead decent lives following the word of God.’ He stroked his beard, then put the glass of tea to his mouth and took a sip. ‘There’s a place in Brazil we can go back to.’

  Edie turned to Natalia. ‘You too?’

  Natalia shook her head. ‘It’s too dangerous. Even though he’s officially dead, every port and airport in Alaska will have had Peter’s picture – in any case’ – she folded her palm around her belly again – ‘I am too far gone to fly now.’ She darted a look at her husband. There was anxiety in it, Edie saw, but love too. He reached out and took her hand. ‘The border between Alaska and the Yukon Territory is very long. A lot of it is not guarded.’

  A look passed between them.

  ‘So you sold to Tryggve.’

  Medvedev raised his eyebrows. His eyes shifted to Galloway, who signalled to him that it was OK to talk.

  Tommy Schofield had been pressuring the Believers to sell their waterfront land near Homer for years, but in the last months he’d begun to make threats, saying that if they didn’t sell, he had the funding to build a condominium complex on adjoining land and divert the sewage outpipe onto Believer territory until it was no longer fit for cattle or agriculture. He kept hinting, Medvedev explained, that someone much bigger and more powerful was interested in the land now, and that this person wouldn’t stop until he had it.

  ‘He never said a name, but we knew it was Byron Hallstrom,’ Galloway added.

  ‘We didn’t want to sell the land,’ the old man said, ‘it was our home. When we heard Tommy Schofield had killed himself, God forgive us, we were glad. But then the troopers came. They said they had identified Peter Galloway’s body.’

  ‘My body was released for burial in a closed casket,’ Galloway said bitterly.

  Medvedev took over again. ‘But even allowing for animals, Peter is a large man and Schofield was a small man, and besides we have rituals. We s
aw immediately this was not Peter and they had given us Thomas Schofield’s body.’

  ‘Well, what’s a body among friends?’ Derek’s voice was thick with irony.

  Medvedev glared at him then turned away and shrugged.

  ‘You judge us but you have not suffered like us.’

  Edie put her head in her hands. Us and them. Them and us. How many times had she heard it, repeated over and over as if it was something ineluctable and impossible to overcome. The differences usually started off so inconspicuously. For the Old Believers, it had been the insistence on that extra plank of wood on a cross, one more stroke in genuflection over four hundred years ago. Small differences, between groups of people who were, in essence, the same.

  ‘Please,’ Natalia said, holding up a hand. She gave Edie the look women give one another when they both agree their men are ridiculous.

  Everyone settled down. Natalia poured more tea.

  ‘Maybe you can make this clear to me,’ Derek said. ‘You buried Schofield?’

  Medvedev shook his head. ‘We made a grave for Peter, but we burned the body. We have a brick kiln. It gives a very intense heat. It didn’t matter to us, Schofield is from the Outside.’

  ‘But it did matter,’ Edie said. ‘When you burn a body, no one can ever dig it up.’

  ‘Or learn the truth,’ Derek added.

  Medvedev placed his hands on his knees. ‘The ultimate truth is God,’ he said simply.

  ‘How’s about we settle for the intermediate truth right now?’ Derek retorted.

  Medvedev acknowledged the joke with an almost-smile. ‘I’ve told you everything.’

  Edie shook her head. ‘You owe us, me, more than that. You held out on Hallstrom. Why give in to him now?’

  There was silence. In the chair opposite Natalia bit her lip. She looked at the floor then at Edie, then finally took a breath in and, directing herself to her father, she spoke very quietly.

  ‘For us, this is over, but for the parents of the babies who died it won’t ever be over.’

  ‘Which is why you need to finish the story,’ Edie pressed.