Northwest Angle

by William Kent Krueger

  “No. And if you’re wondering do we want children, yes. It just hasn’t happened.”

  “Children,” he said, as if the word were a hard, heavy stone.

  “You don’t want children,” she said. It wasn’t a question.

  “Children, in my experience, are an inconvenience. And children, in my experience, are mostly a disappointment to others and are themselves disappointed. Nobody wins.”

  “I’ve never looked at it as a competition.”

  “You understand what I mean.”

  Rose watched two gulls ride the strong wind over the open water, maneuvering in the difficult air currents with extraordinary grace.

  “I do,” she said. “And I disagree. But my experience is different from yours.”

  “And what do we base our choices on but our own experience?” he asked.

  “Faith,” she offered.

  From inside the lodge came the sound of the baby crying. It was quite loud, and easily heard above the rush of the wind. Aaron looked there, and his face, in the shadow of the long brim of his cap, was dark.

  “I’m not a religious man,” he said coldly.

  “Faith in people,” she said. “Faith in Jenny. Faith in yourself.”

  He gave her a sidelong glance, and the coldness seemed to melt for a moment. “You were a cheerleader in high school, I bet.”

  She laughed. “Hardly.” She draped an arm over the back of the bench and faced Aaron directly. “I’ll tell you something. My childhood and much of my early adult life was a nightmare of taking care of an alcoholic mother. I prayed sometimes for her to die. When she did, I discovered it wasn’t the release I’d thought it would be. My life had been so defined by caregiving that, unless I had someone to help, I didn’t know who I was. That was the real reason I agreed to live with Jo and Cork and give a hand with Jenny. I thought it would save me from having to stumble around searching for a life.”

  “You just went on being a caregiver,” he said.

  “No. I learned what it was like to nurture. Which is different. That’s what the children did for me.”

  “Semantics,” he said, dismissing her.

  “I’m not trying to convince you of anything, honestly,” she said. “I just believe there’s another way to look at life.”

  The wind gusted with a sudden, unexpected ferocity, and tore Aaron’s cap from his head. Rose shot a look toward the southwest, the direction from which the terror of the derecho had come only a couple of days earlier. Although it was filled with speeding clouds, the sky was a soft blue, and nothing threatened on the horizon.

  She heard the sound of an outboard and saw Bascombe’s launch approaching.

  “They’re back,” she said.

  Aaron glanced down at the rifle that lay at his feet. “Finally,” he said with clear relief.

  Once again, they clustered around the table in the dining area of Bascombe’s lodge. The gathering reminded Jenny of a war council.

  “Amos Powassin is right,” her father said. “It’s what I’ve been saying all along. The safest thing for everyone is if we get the baby away from the Angle altogether, the sooner the better.”

  “So let’s give him over to the authorities. The sheriff or somebody,” Aaron suggested. “They’ll come for him soon enough anyway.”

  Jenny shot him a killing look. “I’m not putting him into the hands of someone who doesn’t love him. I’m not giving him up until I know that he’s absolutely safe.”

  Aaron opened his hands toward Cork in a gesture of reasonableness and an invitation to agree. “They have the resources to protect him, right?”

  Her father didn’t answer immediately, and Jenny watched his face closely. She could tell there was a conflict in his thinking, though what exactly it was, she couldn’t say.

  At last he shook his head and replied with what seemed great reluctance. “Based on the response Tom got when he tried to convince the sheriff that our situation up here was bad, I wouldn’t rely on them right now. I’m not sure they’d take our concerns seriously. And even if they did, they’ve already got their hands pretty full.”

  “Okay,” Kretsch said. “We get him off the lake and take him where?”

  A thoughtful silence settled over the table.

  Stephen looked up suddenly and offered an answer. “We could take him to Henry Meloux.”

  “Meloux.” Just saying his name gave Jenny an overpowering sense of relief.

  “Who’s Meloux?” Aaron asked.

  “A friend,” Stephen answered. “And a really special man. He lives in the safest place I can think of.”

  “Where’s that?” Bascombe asked.

  “On the Iron Lake Reservation in Tamarack County.”

  “Where you’re from, right?”

  Stephen nodded. “Henry has a cabin in the woods there, and I know he’d help.”

  “Wait a minute.” Aaron put his hand up as if stopping traffic. “This feels to me a lot like kidnapping.”

  “How can you kidnap a child who has no parents, no home, and no real official existence at all?” Jenny snapped at him.

  “You’re equivocating,” Aaron said.

  “And you’re an ass,” Jenny shot back.

  “Hold on a minute,” her father said. “Aaron’s concern is valid. If things don’t work out, we could be in a lot of trouble. Maybe it would be best to take him to Marsha Dross instead.”

  “Who’s that?” Bascombe asked.

  “The sheriff of Tamarack County,” Jenny’s father answered. “And also a good friend.”

  “Easier to get rid of the baby that way,” Bascombe pointed out. “Off your hands quicker, Cork.”

  Her father appeared uncomfortable, as if he didn’t particularly appreciate the light in which Bascombe’s words cast him.

  The comment made Jenny furious. “I’m taking him to Meloux’s.” She leveled an icy look at her father. “He’ll understand.”

  “Jenny, I’m just trying to think what’s safest for us all.”

  “No, it’s like Seth said. You’re just looking for the quickest way to get my baby out of your hair.”

  “He’s not your baby,” Cork said.

  “And he’s no one else’s either. Just look at him. Who’d take a child with a face like that?” Now she shot an accusing glare at Aaron.

  Silence settled in the room, an uncomfortable waiting. For her part, Jenny felt like a cannon, primed and ready to fire. She watched her father closely.

  Finally he shrugged and said, as if in defeat, “Meloux it is, for better or worse.” He scanned the room, his gaze settling one after the other on them all. “Are we agreed?”

  They all said, “Yes,” except for Aaron. He sat back, darkly mum, and although Jenny could see clearly that he disapproved of the idea, he gave, at last, a reluctant nod of assent.

  Kretsch offered, “If you really believe the safest place for the child is with this Meloux, you go ahead and take him there. If it causes any legal problems, I’ll take the heat.”

  “How do we get the baby away without anybody seeing?” Bascombe asked. “Powassin was right. A lot of eyes are watching you folks, and we don’t know who among them might be in cahoots with Smalldog.”

  “What makes you think he’s not acting alone?” Cork asked.

  “He’s a smuggler, and in my experience in ATF, smugglers don’t operate alone. He’s probably got other Ojibwe helping him. And, hell, maybe even a white man or two. Around here, it’s tough to make a living, and throwing in with Smalldog could be a tempting proposition. Besides, there was someone with him when he came for the baby last night.”

  “We could sneak him out tonight,” Anne suggested.

  “I don’t know that night is the best time,” Bascombe replied. “The lake’s tricky enough during the day. And if Smalldog’s thinking we might do something with the baby, he’ll figure night’s the best time. It’s what I’d figure.”

  “What if we all go together,” Rose said. “Just head over to the A
ngle and load up in Aaron’s truck and drive out. Wouldn’t there be safety in numbers?”

  Bascombe’s face showed that he clearly didn’t like the idea.

  Apparently, neither did Cork, who said, “I don’t know Smalldog. It might be he’s crazy enough to do something desperate, and one of us—or several of us—could get hurt.”

  “The road out from the Angle cuts through a lot of empty, isolated woods,” Kretsch added. “If Smalldog knew we were running, there’d be a number of old logging roads he could take to cut us off.”

  “You think he’d really do that?” Rose asked.

  “A man who’d do what he did to his sister, no telling what he’s capable of,” Bascombe answered.

  “So let’s take the baby out by water,” Stephen said. “Across Lake of the Woods.”

  “Across the big water?” Kretsch said. “In broad daylight? We’d be sitting ducks for Smalldog and that cigarette boat of his. He’d run us down like a wolf would a rabbit.”

  “Cunning,” Cork said. “That’s what Powassin suggested. Somehow we have to take the boy right out from under Smalldog’s nose without Smalldog knowing.”

  “How do you propose we do that?” Kretsch asked.

  Jenny saw that her father didn’t have an answer. They sat, staring at one another or out the window, and for a while the only sound came from the rush of the wind in the trees.

  Finally Mal said, “Ah,” as if he’d just eaten something delicious that Rose had baked, and he grinned broadly.

  “What?” Rose said to her husband.

  They all fixed their eyes on him.

  Mal said slyly, “Have you ever played three-card monte?”

  THIRTY-FOUR

  As soon as they all understood and had agreed to Mal’s plan, Bascombe left with Kretsch, Stephen, and Aaron and headed toward the Angle. The others began their preparations. Anne and Rose helped Jenny get the baby’s things ready, while Cork and Mal walked to the end of the dock with rifles in hand to stand sentry. After a long while, Jenny came out with the baby in the basket. She’d put on a red ball cap that her father had given her, and a purple Vikings jersey, and green capris. She stood out like a clown at a wedding. She walked to the bench at the end of the dock, put the basket down, and took the baby out.

  Mal said to Cork, “You got this covered?”

  “Yeah.”

  “All right. I’m inside if you need me.”

  Mal left the dock to Cork and his daughter.

  Cork stood looking out at the lake. It was early afternoon, hot and windy. Gulls rose and spun and dove above the channel, as if dodging the silver bullets of sunlight that shot from the waves. Everything appeared normal. The destruction that had been visited on so much of the lake had missed the islands nearest the Angle. Although he knew it wasn’t so, Cork felt as if a great deal of time had passed between the storm and this current moment. Changes unforeseen and momentous had occurred. And, once again, he was reminded that life was no more predictable than the flight of a dragonfly.

  “Do you think they’re watching?” Jenny asked.

  “I hope so,” Cork said.

  She was quiet. Then she turned her face up to him. “Do you think it’ll work?”

  “It’ll work,” he said, although the truth was that nothing was certain. “Are you scared?”

  “No. Well, yes, but not for me.”

  He understood what she meant, even though he wasn’t comfortable with it. He was a father, and his fear—he could feel the worm of it in his stomach—was for Jenny, not for himself. In her own mind, Jenny was a mother, and her concern was for her child, a concern that put her in terrible danger. And placed the rest of his children in jeopardy as well, though Cork wouldn’t say that to her. Decisions had been made, and they’d all agreed, and now they needed to be together in their intent and their actions.

  He went back to watching the lake, to looking at the wall of vegetation across the channel on Birch Island for any sign that someone there was keeping them under surveillance. It was probably too much to hope for the flash of sunlight off the lenses of field glasses, but if it was there, he didn’t want to miss it.

  “Dad?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I know you think this is crazy.”

  He glanced down at her as she cradled the baby, and he didn’t have to ask what she meant. “Children are important,” he said. “That’s one of the reasons I took you out to see the pictographs. I sensed that it was an issue between you and Aaron. I haven’t had a chance to get to know him. I imagine he’s a fine man in a lot of ways, but I get the feeling that being a father isn’t big on his agenda. I wanted to let you know that I was on your side. I want you to have children. I just didn’t figure it would be this way.” He looked at the unsettled surface of the lake and heard himself sigh. “We’ve all suffered a lot of loss. You especially. It makes a certain sense to me, how you feel about this baby. And who knows? Maybe it would be good to have a strong breath of life come back into our family.”

  “He’s not really family,” she said. “I’ll have to give him up eventually.”

  And that, too, had been a part of his objection all along. Even if they all got out of this okay, Jenny, in the end, would be hurt. And her hurt would be his, because that’s what it was to be a parent. Still, he had to admit that it felt strangely right, the child there in Jenny’s arms. And from the way the baby’s dark eyes so often held on her face and his little mouth formed the odd-shaped smile when she spoke to him, it was clear to anyone with half a brain that something powerful bound these two.

  She touched his nose with the tip of her finger, and he responded with a sound that seemed to Cork damn near a giggle. “I’ve been imagining what it would be like if somehow I was able to keep him,” she went on.

  Cork shifted the rifle, cradling it in his arms in much the way Jenny held the baby in hers. “And how would that work?”

  “Aaron wouldn’t want to be a part of it,” she said.

  “Maybe we both underestimate him.”

  “I don’t think so.” She glanced up at the sky, where clouds hurried across the immense blue in a race without apparent purpose, then she looked at Cork. “I remember a long time ago, when you and Mom were having that really bad patch in your marriage.”

  “I wish you didn’t remember that,” he said.

  “No, it’s a good thing. What I remember is how, through all that hard time, I never felt that you’d leave us. I knew that, no matter what, you’d always be there. I don’t feel that way about Aaron. I don’t trust him.”

  “Okay, if Aaron is out of the picture, what do you imagine with the little guy?”

  Her eyes skated away from Cork’s face, as if she was a little embarrassed by what she was about to say. “When I imagine raising him, I imagine it in the house in Aurora. I see him growing up on Gooseberry Lane, just like I did.”

  “It was a good place to grow up. I ought to know. I grew up there, too.”

  “It’s silly,” she said. “It’s crazy. Impossible.”

  Cork said, “In my fifty-two years on this earth, the one thing I’ve learned absolutely is that nothing is impossible, Jenny. Especially where love is involved.”

  “Maybe so,” she said. “But my life has taught me that you should always be prepared to have your heart broken.”

  Probably wise, Cork thought, though he didn’t say so.

  Bascombe returned first. Kretsch wasn’t far behind him in his own boat, and then Stephen and Aaron, in a rented launch. One after the other, they eased up to the dock and Cork helped them tie up. When they’d all disembarked, they headed with Jenny and the baby to Bascombe’s lodge, where Mal and Rose and Anne were waiting.

  “Any trouble?” Mal asked.

  “Nope,” Bascombe said. “And plenty of folks know about the extra boats, so word’ll spread quick.”

  Cork shot a glance at the clock on the wall. It was set into a polished piece of driftwood.

  “How long should we wait?
” he asked.

  Bascombe said, “Give it another hour. If they’re watching and keeping their ears to the ground, they’ll know by then.”

  “I wish to God I knew who ‘they’ was,” Kretsch said.

  Cork lifted a hand, as if volunteering. “That’s something I intend to find out when Jenny and the baby are safe.”

  “You’re not a cop anymore, Dad,” Anne reminded him.

  Cork replied coldly, “This is personal.”

  “I’m with you on that,” Kretsch said.

  “Me, too,” Bascombe threw in with a thumbs-up. “I haven’t had this much excitement since I left ATF.”

  Rose looked unhappy at that. “Seth, this isn’t a game or some kind of military exercise.”

  “Sorry,” he said, clearly chagrined. “Didn’t mean it that way.”

  “We ought to eat,” Rose suggested. “For some of you, it’ll be quite a while before your next meal.”

  “I’ll help,” Anne volunteered.

  “And the rest of us still have things to do,” Cork said.

  They all stood up, separated, and headed to their duties.

  At four o’clock, Mal’s plan was set in motion.

  They gathered around the table of the lodge. From a back room, Bascombe brought a large, red plastic ice chest. He’d softened the bottom with a pillow and folded blankets. He held it out toward Jenny.

  “Think this’ll do?” he asked.

  Jenny pressed the blankets, felt the softness of the pillow beneath, and smiled. “It’s fine, Seth. Thank you.”

  She’d changed her clothes. She wore jeans and a dark blue T-shirt. Anne was now the one dressed in the purple Vikings jersey and green capris and crowned with the bright red ball cap. She did a little turn for everyone. “How do I look?”

  Jenny saw her father nod seriously. “If you keep your back to the lake and the brim of that cap pulled down low over your face, even if they have binoculars, you ought to fool them, kiddo. Good job.”

  Bascombe said, “I still think we ought to use my boat.”

  “If they’re watching for us to cross the big water,” Kretsch said, “they’ll be figuring for you to do it, Seth.”