Paul Doiron - Massacre Pond

“I appreciate it.”

Kathy was one of only a handful of female wardens in the state and the lone sergeant. She had been a trailblazer in the service, resented at first by the old-school chauvinists like McQuarrie, but she had demonstrated her mental and physical toughness over the course of two decades. She’d dedicated her life to arresting scumbag poachers who boosted their incomes selling oxycodone to middle schoolers. She’d located the dead bodies of more raped and murdered women than anyone should ever be forced to see. And she’d shot a three-hundred-pound wife beater to death in self-defense. I had decided long ago that if I ever heard one of my colleagues make a sexist crack about female wardens, I would pop him in the nose on Kathy’s behalf.

Inside, I started a fire in the woodstove, and we sat down across from each other at the kitchen table. Pluto plopped his tired old body next to the heat and fell back asleep in seconds. Kathy and I looked at the dog as he started snoring, and then we smiled at each other. She picked up a squirrel pellet and made a comment about how at least I wasn’t living alone anymore. She took a sip of coffee and put the cup down, and suddenly she was all business.

“So this Cronk guy saved your life?” she said.

“Yes, he did.”

“That will count for something at sentencing. You must have had a few tense moments in that pit. I would have wet my undies.”

“No, you wouldn’t, Kathy.”

She leaned forward and rested her forearms on the table. “You did good, Mike. While everyone else was patting each other on the back, you went out and found the guys we were looking for. Don’t think that will go unnoticed.”

I hadn’t told her yet about Matt and Merritt Skillen. As glad as I was to see Kathy, I didn’t seem to be in a talking mood. I kept picturing the diamond ring Stacey had left on that table. It seemed like the one hopeful thing I could cling to at the moment.

“Rivard is going to be demoted,” she said. “Word around Augusta is that the colonel is hanging him out to dry for everything that went wrong with the investigation. Queen Elizabeth has too much money and too many powerful friends. If Rivard had done his fucking job and not zeroed in so fast on Khristian and LeClair, there’s a good chance her daughter would still be alive.”

“It’s nice to think so.”

“You’re having doubts about the Warden Service.” She scratched her freckled nose. “I know you, Grasshopper. This whole fiasco has left you wondering whether you made the right choice. I fought hard for you those first two years when you were hell-bent on getting yourself fired, and I’m not going to watch you quit now.”

“I don’t know, Kathy,” I said. “I just don’t know.”

“What if I try to pull some strings and get you reassigned?”

My cell phone rang on my belt. I reached for it and saw that the number belonged to Neil. His silence had been another blade hanging over my head.

“Excuse me a minute,” I said.

I got up and walked into the bathroom and stood over the sink, looking at my gaunt reflection in the mirror. “Hi, Neil,” I said. “How is she doing?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t call you back, it’s just that-”

“What’s wrong?”

“Your mom has a fever and a low white blood cell count. Febrile neutropenia is the term the doctor used. They think she has an infection from the chemo. We’re in the hospital in Portland. Is there any way you could come down here?” His voice cracked. “It would mean a lot to us.”

“I’m on my way,” I said.

Rain was pattering on the roof as I returned to the kitchen table.

“I need to go to Portland,” I said. “My mom’s in the hospital.”

Kathy stood up. Her knee knocked the edge of the table, causing it to shake. “What’s the matter?”

“She has ovarian cancer. Now they think she has an infection from the chemo.”

“Jesus, Mike,” she said. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

I didn’t know. My mother had told me that I’d shut her out of my life, and I’d heard the same thing from my girlfriend Sarah. It seemed to be a pattern I was doomed to repeat forever. “I’ve got to go.”

She grabbed her coat from the back of the chair. “I’ll go with you.”

“It’s a four-and-a-half-hour drive,” I said. “Maybe five.”

“So what?”

“You really don’t have to do that, Kathy.”

“I’m your friend.” She reached out and touched my arm with an uncharacteristic gentleness. “Now stop being a stupid idiot and let me help you.”

I felt something break inside me. I’d struggled so long to keep the cracks from showing, but suddenly the wall just gave way.

“Can you drive?” I said.