William Krueger - Red knife

“I can handle a rifle.”

“Let’s hope your hands aren’t taped and your back isn’t turned.” He knew it was over the top, and he reined himself in. “Sorry. That was uncalled for.”

“You bet it was.”

The door banged shut in his face, and he turned to leave. Before he reached his Bronco, another vehicle came up the road and pulled into the drive. Cork waited while it came to a stop beside his own. Dave Reinhardt killed the engine and stepped out. The vehicle was a police cruiser from Yellow Lake, where Dave was the chief.

David Reinhardt was Buck’s youngest child from his first marriage. The other children from that marriage had scattered, and Cork couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen any of them back in Tamarack County. Alone among them, Dave Reinhardt had elected to stay. He’d attended the University of Minnesota at Duluth, then done his police training in Minneapolis, where he’d served for four years before coming home. Cork had hired him as a deputy in the Tamarack County Sheriff’s Department. Although Reinhardt proved to be a good officer, coming back to Aurora might not have been the best choice for him. It put him close to his father, and Dave Reinhardt found himself caught in the sweep of Buck’s relentless ambitions.

Cork always figured it was Buck who was ultimately responsible for Dave Reinhardt leaving the department. When Cork resigned as sheriff and a special election was held to fill the position, Buck boasted that his son would be the next man to wear that badge. Then Marsha Dross threw her hat into the ring. Buck had a field day with that. A week before the election, he took out an ad in the Aurora Sentinel that read, “Dave Reinhardt for sheriff. He’s the only one with the balls for the job.” It got a good laugh in town, but at the polls it had a different effect. Dave Reinhardt lost by a landslide, a result that most people understood was less about his qualifications and ability than it was a backlash against his father. Dave resigned as deputy and took the job as chief of police in Yellow Lake.

“Cork. What are you doing here?” Dave accepted the hand Cork offered and gave it an agreeable shake. He was taller than his father and softer in his features.

“Looking for Buck,” Cork said. “Have you talked to him today?”

“I was here earlier when Ed Larson and the BCA agent questioned him and Elise.”

“What do you think?”

“I think he didn’t kill the Kingbirds, if that’s what you’re getting at. When the shootings went down, he was home with Elise.”

“That’s what they both say, all right.”

Reinhardt squinted at him. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“Dave, I drove out here last night. Buck wasn’t around.”

“I know. He got home after you left. You just missed him.”

“See, that’s the thing. There’s only one way into Skinner Lake and one way out. If Buck got home just after I left, I’d have seen him coming down that road. And I didn’t.”

“You reached the highway before he turned off.”

“Maybe. But I headed directly to the Buzz Saw, where Buck had just got himself thrown out. If he went straight home from there, as he and Elise claim, one way or another I’d have passed him.”

“Could be a lot of explanations.”

“Let me hear one.”

“He’d been drinking. He pulled off the road to piss.”

“You were there when he was questioned this morning. Did he mention that?” When Cork didn’t get an answer-which was answer in itself-he went on. “You’re Buck’s son, but you’re also a cop, Dave. Think like one.”

Reinhardt crossed his arms and leaned back against his vehicle. “Elise said Kingbird sent you here last night. Kingbird’s out of the picture, so what’s your interest now?”

“Aren’t you worried about her safety and Buck’s? With Kingbird gone, it’s hard to know what the Red Boyz might do.”

“Buck can take care of himself.”

“He’s gone a lot. That leaves Elise here alone. I’m thinking it might be best if she went to visit her family for a while.”

“She’s like Buck in a lot of ways,” Reinhardt said. “You couldn’t run her off if you tried. She’s pretty handy with firearms. I’ll suggest she keep one of Buck’s rifles loaded and within reach.”

“Going away would be safer for everybody.”

“Thanks for your concern, Cork. I’ll take it from here.”

Reinhardt moved past him and headed toward the house. He mounted the steps, knocked at the door, and was let in. Cork climbed into his Bronco and left.

Supper was over when he arrived home. Annie had taken her brother and Trixie to Grant Park for an evening romp. Jo fixed him a roast beef sandwich and he pulled a bottle of Leinenkugel’s from the refrigerator to wash it down.

“We ate on the patio,” Jo said. “It’s a little chilly, but if you put on a sweater it’s nice. How about we sit there?”

She joined him in the cool blue that was the shadow of coming night. Cork had built the patio himself, a smallish brick affair that Jo had outlined with hostas. In spring and fall, it was a good place to eat a meal and relax. In summer, there were mosquitoes to contend with and blackflies and yellow jackets. The backyard wasn’t separated from the neighbors’ yards in any formal way; in Aurora, there weren’t many fences. But everyone knew where their property lines ran, especially when it came to mowing grass or raking leaves.

“And?” Jo finally said.

Cork realized he hadn’t said a word since they’d sat down.

“I talked to Tom Blessing, gave him a deadline for putting me in touch with Thunder.”

“He didn’t spit in your eye?”

“No, but he wasn’t exactly quaking in his boots either.”

“Will he? Put you in touch with Lonnie Thunder, I mean.”

“Doesn’t matter. One way or another I’ll find Thunder. By the way, George LeDuc says that Alex Kingbird was seeing Henry Meloux.”

“Now that’s interesting.”

“I’m planning on having a talk with Henry tomorrow, see what he has to say about that. He might have an idea about Thunder, too.”

“Cork.” From the way she said his name-a mix of tender and tough-he knew, more or less, what was coming next. “I know you promised Marsha that you’d help her, but I keep thinking that if you’re alone on the rez poking around trying to find Lonnie Thunder, sooner or later the Red Boyz are going to catch you isolated out there and do something about it.”

He put his beer down and nodded thoughtfully so that she could see he really was hearing what she said. Then he replied, “The people I need to talk to will be more inclined to open up if I go alone. I won’t do anything stupid, I promise. And I won’t be completely alone. I’ll take my thirty-eight, loaded and locked in the glove box.”

She drew a breath and let it out slowly. “I don’t understand what’s so important about bringing in Thunder now. It seems to me the damage has already been done.”

Cork nodded again and then he explained: “The more players we’re able to remove from the situation, the better the chances of handling it.”

“ We’re able to remove? Sweetheart, you gave up the badge. And just exactly who are we bringing in from the other side of this situation? The people on the rez are going to be very interested to see how diligently our sheriff-and those helping her-go after Kingbird’s killer, especially since all the signs point toward Buck Reinhardt.”

“Elise says Buck was with her when the shootings occurred.”

“Oh, now there’s testimony that would convince a jury.”

“I think that at the moment Marsha doesn’t have any evidence to the contrary.”

“She’d better find some fast. Whatever people on the rez thought of Alex Kingbird doesn’t matter. The situation as they’ll see it-and you know this better than anybody, Cork-is that an Ojibwe’s been killed-very likely by someone who’s white-and the authorities are dragging their heels. It doesn’t matter what the reality is, the perception will be damning. You’ll have young Shinnobs lined up around the block to join the Red Boyz.”