But I want an answer now, mister. “Could I reach him there?”
“What’s this about, miss?”
Think fast, Arden. My missing brother? No good—that would set off alarms even before I talked to Pete. “His son.”
“Not in trouble again, is he?”
“I’m a friend from school. Peter said his father might look over a car for me.”
“Well, like I said, he’ll be in Sault this week. Starting a new guy.”
“He’s what?” My voice spun down an octave as my heart flew up into my mouth.
“Starting a new mechanic at the shop, another muscle-and-vintage guy. Don’t know why they need two there when we could use one here, but I’m not the boss.”
“Thank you, sir. Thank you very much.”
*
Muscle-and-vintage guy—perhaps a ’Cuda specialist? I hadn’t believed it would be so easy. One phone call and I’d found him.
Almost found him. No way I was going to make the final snare over the phone.
I had long-term goals: high-school graduation, college, travel, become an obnoxiously doting aunt. All in good time. But just then, the only thing I wanted to do was walk into Pete’s Harbor View Auto and drop a net over my brother’s bald head. Gotcha.
CHAPTER 16
In eighth grade I had a student teacher in social studies who was really into geology. She’d bring in rocks and we were supposed to marvel at them.
“Precambrian!” she exclaimed once, holding up a nondescript chunk that looked like it had been lifted out of someone’s backyard landscaping. “From right here in Wisconsin. Does anyone know what Precambrian means?”
Possibly some of us did, but her enthusiasm dampened our flickering interest. No one spoke.
“Very, very old,” she said patiently. “Only the humblest forms of plant or animal life had appeared. This rock is over a billion years old.”
I knew there were at least a half dozen kids in class who didn’t believe in evolution and would be ready to stare her down and rattle off a theory of creationism. But I suspected they were thinking the same thing I was: Fresh teacher, don’t bother, she’ll burn out soon enough.
She did. By the end of her eight-week stint she’d given up on show-and-tell and was simply assigning text pages to read and giving multiple-choice tests. She must have left something with me, though. As I drove across Wisconsin and then Michigan’s snow-covered Upper Peninsula, through the Porcupine Mountains, and across the flats down toward Sault and Canada, I couldn’t help thinking about the origins of the area—how it resulted from the combination of glaciers and volcanoes. Cold and hot, pretty much how I felt about my brother. Bone-chilling grief and fiery rage. Ice and fire.
*
Seven hours after I’d talked to the guy in Thunder Bay I was at the international border, crossing from Sault Ste. Marie, Michigan, to Sault St. Marie, Ontario. You’d think they might have tried harder with the names. I was the only car going over the bridge, so maybe boredom was the reason the guy took a long time to check my ID and car papers.
“The reason for your visit?” he asked.
“Visiting relatives.” Bit of a stretch, of course.
“School holiday?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” I said truthfully.
He waved me through and I cruised slowly. I didn’t have a clue as to where I should go, I didn’t even know if I needed to drive on the wrong side of the road. I pulled over, parked, looked around. My first time ever in a foreign country, though I don’t know if most people think of Canada that way. I guess visiting there is sort of like Travel for Beginners.
I stopped at a service station, got directions from the clerk, then found the garage with only two wrong turns. The shop should never have been called Harbor View. It was a sprawling mud-brown building on a busy commercial street far from the water. I parked and watched the entrance. The wide service door rolled up and a blue pickup drove out. The door rolled down. It was growing dark, the end of the workday. I watched three more vehicles leave. Each time the door dropped, my hopes sank further. He wasn’t there. I knew that from just watching the shop and feeling the rumble of the truck traffic on the street. Scott ran away for this? All I could see was a cold, wintry port city. Duluth or Superior, with even less charm.
Leave no stone unturned, though. I got out and jogged across the street. An older woman was approaching the shop and I waited while she opened the door; then I followed her in. The receptionist smiled, but only at the woman. She seemed to assume we were together. Fine. I looked down a hall past the counter, saw a door marked GARAGE—EMPLOYEES ONLY. I checked over my shoulder and saw the two women discussing a bill. I slipped down the hall, peeked through the window on the garage door, saw a head approach, then spun around and bent down to get a drink at the fountain. Spat it out. Warm water.
The garage door swung open and a small man with gray hair came out. No mechanic’s overalls, just a tweed sport coat, shirt, tie.
Pete the Boss? I let him get a few steps away; then I slipped through the door. My jacket pocket snagged on the doorknob and I twisted around to release it.
“You lost, angel?”
I looked up. Half a dozen mechanics in dark blue coveralls were crowded around a suit holding a clipboard.
“What can we do for you?” the suit asked.
“Nothing. Just checking on the car for my mother.”
“Name?”
Aw, geez. “Never mind, I see it, looks like it’s almost done.”
The suit turned to the man on his left. “And in case we haven’t loaded you with enough the last couple of days, Rooney, here’s another rule to memorize: no customers in the shop. The boss got sued once when some idiot barged in and slipped on something and cut a pinkie.” He eyed me. “Employees only, no exceptions.”
Rooney, the new boy, nodded eagerly, then turned to me and imitated the suit’s glare. I took a last look at his long lean body, the yellow-toothed sneer, his greasy blond ponytail. I’d driven seven hours to check out the new guy at Harbor Auto and now I’d seen him. An oaf.
Back in the hallway I was bumped by the grayhaired guy as he rushed from an office. We both apologized; then he disappeared into the men’s room. I glanced into the office.
“Oh, man,” I muttered.
The walls were covered with photographs of sky divers. Solo jumpers, duos, circles of eight holding hands.
Let me know when you’re ready to jump.
Pete Senior hadn’t been offering my brother escape and a new life, just the chance to leap into the sky.
*
The clerk at the Super Sleep Motel turned my ArdenArt Visa over several times, as if he was looking for fine print that said “Yes, just as you suspect, this is a fake.”
“I have a small business,” I said. “Craft items. I’m in town visiting vendors.”
“Uh-huh. May I see an ID?”
I was ready with my license. Not a great picture, but good enough. The clerk held the two cards side by side, then shrugged and let me register.
I used my ArdenArt phone card to call the Drummonds as soon as I was in the room. John, I hoped, wouldn’t scrutinize my business bills as closely as my personal ones. A call from Wild-Goose Chase, Michigan, would look mighty suspicious.
Mrs. Drummond answered. She sounded pretty wiped—no surprise, considering she’d buried her mother that afternoon. I tried to sound cheerful. Yes, I was fine, I murmured. Yes, it snowed a bit. Did the funeral go okay? Oh, what did I do today, you ask? Studied, worked in the shop, shoveled. Good night and good-bye.
I bounced on the soft mattress of the double bed in a cheap motel in Michigan and wondered when I had gotten so good at lying.
CHAPTER 17
I did shovel when I got home. Cleared my walk and drive, then worked on the Drummonds’. There’d been only a few inches and it didn’t seem worthwhile to fire up the snowblower, so I did it the old-fashioned way. An hour later my muscles were screaming. This should not have
surprised me, considering that the most strenuous exercise I usually enjoyed was lifting and lowering a hammer—and I hadn’t done even that for weeks.
While Scott’s tub was filling, I called Jace. “Is it important?” his mother asked. “He’s been running a fever all day and he’s resting.”
I politely assured her that it was. “You don’t sound feverish,” I said as soon as he answered. “Faking, I bet. Did you get to ditch school, or are you on break, too? I hope so, because today I got this other idea and I have something else I want you to do. I was thinking we should get copies of the color picture you made and take them around to travel agents. You kept one, didn’t you? I could send you some, but it would be faster if you could run off a few more on your own and then take them around to the travel agencies in Duluth. I’d pay you for the copies.”
“So you did get the picture.”
“Didn’t I thank you? It was great, kind of weird to look at, though. Have you had a chance to check the mailbox rentals and the car lots? I need that, Jace; I feel like time is running out.” I used my foot to nudge the tub faucet off. The flow of water sputtered to a halt. “You would not believe where I’ve been.” I gave him a quick recap of my Canadian trip, skipping the geology lesson.
He didn’t say anything when I finished. “Have you ever been to Sault Ste. Marie?” I prompted.
“Arden,” he said slowly, “my mom’s not real happy about all these assignments you’re giving me. She knows the deputy who was in charge of the search, and well, they’ve talked and everything, and now Mom doesn’t think it’s such a good idea for me to be taking the car and driving around hunting for your brother.”
“What do you think?”
“It’s kind of a lot to do—sports stores, mailbox rentals, now travel agents.”
“I need help, Jace.”
“I’d like to, but…Arden, it was really nice seeing you and spending that day together. I wish we lived closer. I mean, I could even see working out a long distance, um, thing. I guess what I mean is I’d be happy to be your boyfriend, but I’m not wild about being your assistant. And it seems like that’s what you want from me.”
“I don’t think of you that way.”
“I’m not sure you think of me at all, except to give orders. I don’t want to be too rude or anything, but would it hurt you to say ‘How are you?’ before you say ‘Do this’?”
Even in the steamy bathroom, I could feel the chill. “I’m sorry you feel that way. I’ve been preoccupied, I know, but it’s important.”
“I know that, Arden, and I know I’m sort of being a jerk, considering it’s been a pretty bad winter for you and all, but if the only thing you want from me is someone to play detective, well, I’m out. By the way, I got a part in the play. Thanks for asking.”
I let a silence build a bit, then thanked him—sweetly—and hung up. Not much more to say after that, why pretend?
I lowered myself into the bathwater. It was almost unbearably hot, but not nearly as scathing as Jace’s kiss-off. Well, since he’d already scalded me, why not get parboiled?
I sank into the water until it lapped at my ears. A long-distance thing, he’d called it. Maybe he was right—what was the future in that? No big loss.
The phone rang while I was drying and the machine obediently kicked in. Maybe Jace had had second thoughts and was calling to apologize. I heard Hannah’s voice, but not what she was saying. Another get-lost message, no doubt.
Later I made some toast and listened to her funny rundown of the prices of the cards I’d given her. I checked my watch. Not too late, I could still give her a call. Okay, she wasn’t an attractive guy with a gentle kiss, but if a six-year-old was the best I could do for an admirer, I’d settle. Just as I picked up the portable to call her back, the doorbell rang. I wasn’t dressed, of course. People never dropped in when I was dressed. By the time I reached the front door, the visitor had given up on the bell and started knocking, louder and louder. My hand froze on the knob.
“We know you’re there, so let us in.” Cody and friends. “C’mon, Arden, we’ll be good this time.” The pounding grew harder. “We see the lights. Open up.” There was some murmuring, a mix of male and female voices. Then: “Go see if she left the back door open.”
Had I locked it when I came in? I wheeled around and looked across the living room to the brightly lit kitchen. The blind over the window was open and anyone walking by could look in and see me standing there. I dropped down to the floor, out of view, and sat with my back against the door. Someone opened the storm door and pounded hard enough to bounce my shoulders.
“Oh, Arrrr-den,” Cody called. “We know you’re there!”
There was banging on the back door, and someone had a finger glued to that bell. It had a high tinny ring. Cody heard it and started ringing the front bell to answer.
Real funny, ha ha. The bell ringers pressed faster and harder: front, one-two-three, pause; back, one-two-three; pause. The ringing smeared into screeching.
I pulled up my knees and the cordless phone fell out of my hand.
People want to help you; let them; it’s a sign of good judgment.
I picked up the phone, rose, and unlocked the door.
Cody and cohorts stood on the stoop.
“Knew we’d get you. C’mon, Arden—let’s just have some fun. We promise—”
I held up the phone. “Watch this, you bastard,” I said, and punched in 911.
“This is Arden Munro at Forty Riverview Drive,” I told the dispatcher. “I have prowlers.”
CHAPTER 18
“John, I need help.”
I’d caught him eating lunch. He’d tucked his tie into his shirt while he ate soup at his desk. He wiped his chin with a napkin, then sipped from a bottle of water.
“Why aren’t you in school? And don’t ask me to lie about it if the principal calls.”
“Winter break.”
“What do you want?”
“Some of my money. Mrs. Drummond will be home tomorrow and you can talk about it with her then, but I’m sure if you say it’s okay, she’ll agree. And if you let me have what I need, when it’s gone I promise to stop. Completely.”
“You make about as much sense as these suit papers I’ve been reading.” He tapped a file on his desk with his thumb. “Ten-year-old kid hurt falling off an ATV at his cousin’s, now all the aunts and uncles are suing each other. Georgetown Law School, and this is what I do. What do you need the money for?”
“I want to hire a detective.”
*
“I prefer the term investigator,” Rose Vanaci said. She slipped a thumb under the neckline of her dress and adjusted a bra strap. “Detective is a police title.”
Her secretary knocked and poked her head in. “Milwaukee coroner’s office on line two.” Rose shrugged an apology, then picked up her phone. I gave her some privacy by turning my head and looking out the window. I could see my car parked across the street, just in front of the Superior Bar and Grill. A UPS truck blew down the street and covered my windshield with a back spray of brown-sugar snow.
“So you want me to find your brother?”
I faced her and smiled. “Yes. John Abrahms called you, right?”
“He did. He also told me that you are the only one in the world who believes your brother is alive.”
“There are two in the world who know he’s alive: my brother and me.”
“I won’t argue the point. Let’s begin by assuming you’re right.”
I sighed and relaxed in the chair. Okay, even if I had reached the point where I had to pay someone to agree with me, it still felt good to hear: You’re right. “Thank you, Ms. Vanaci.”
“Rose, please. You’ll be spilling all the family secrets to me, so we may as well forget formalities. Now, the first thing I need to know is why you want to find him. By leaving, he’s shown he doesn’t want you in his life. That’s harsh, of course, but it’s my role to probe in some tender spots. From what John ha
s told me I understand you have the means and spirit to succeed on your own, Arden, so why pursue him? Why do you want him back?”
“Not sure I do anymore, exactly,” I said slowly, understanding my feelings only as I chose my words. “But I do want to show everyone that they were wrong and I was right; I want apologies from everyone.” She had a tray of paper clips on her desk. I picked one up and bent it open. “It wasn’t such a great life he had, taking care of me, and I understand how maybe he felt smothered. I wish I’d figured that out earlier and said something; maybe he wouldn’t have gone. But even though I know it’s partly my fault that he hated his life, I’m still mad that he jerked us around this way. I want to jerk him back. It’s all mixed up, I guess. One minute I feel sorry for him, then the next I want to kill him.”
“Honest reasons, but mostly negative ones.”
“Okay, here’s a good reason: You bring him back, and right before I kill him, I plan to say, ‘Thank you for my life.’ Better?”
She smiled. “Good enough. John told me there’s no sign of missing money.”
“Seems that way.”
“That makes it easier for us. A person can’t go far or hide deep with no money. If you’re willing to just wait it out, he’ll probably show up on his own.”
“I want to find him.”
“Ooh, that’s a murderous look. I’ve seen it often.”
“Do you do a lot of this?”
“Missing persons are my specialty. Most of my cases are domestic—moms or dads who’ve snatched their own kids.”
“Were you a cop?”
“Fifteen years, Milwaukee Police. Then I put in seven as a fraud investigator for an insurance company. Now I’m my own man.”
Not a man at all, of course, and certainly not what I’d expected. I’d climbed the steps to her second-floor office overlooking the busiest street in Superior expecting to enter a dark, smoky office. Even the name was right: Rose Vanaci—sounded like a tough broad. Instead I found a tastefully decorated suite of rooms and a middle-aged woman groomed for an appearance on the pages of some upscale magazine. Perfectly frosted hair, tailored mauve silk dress, subtle makeup. She even had disarming family pics on the wall. Husband, two kids, grandchildren. Ugly frames, though.
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