William Krueger - Boundary waters

Schanno hurried to the dispatch desk where Borkmann had been monitoring the frequency used by Search and Rescue. Jo and Benedetti were right behind him. The airwaves crackled with static. Borkmann said, “They’re standing by.”

Schanno took the mike. “This is Sheriff Schanno. Do you read me? Over.”

“Loud and clear, Sheriff. This is Dwayne.”

“What’s the situation up there?”

“We’ve ID’d the bodies from their driver’s licenses. Roy Alvin Evans and Sander Carlton Sebring. According to their licenses, they’re residents of Milaca. From the looks of their gear, I’d say they came to fish.”

“How’d they die?”

“Gunshot wounds to the chest on both of ’em. The cold makes it hard to tell, but I’d say they’ve been dead a while. Looks like they got snowed on after they died, and the snow’s pretty well melted off ’em now.”

“Any sign of Cork and the others?”

“Negative. But someone’s made sure the canoe these guys came in wasn’t going to take them or anybody else out of here. Big hole’s been punched through the hull from the inside. What do you want us to do, Sheriff?”

“Stand by,” Schanno said into the mike.

He stepped to the wall where a map of Wilderness Lake and the surrounding section of the Boundary Waters had been posted. He ran his finger over the map and tapped the place where the bodies had been discovered. His finger moved slowly southeast, following a blue line that indicated a river. He nodded to himself and lifted the mike back to his mouth.

“Schanno coming back at you, Dwayne. Do you read me? Over.”

“Still loud and clear, Sheriff.”

“This is what I want you to do. You stay with the bodies and keep the scene as undisturbed as you can. Get the plane back in the air and have it head down the Deertail River. That’s the start of the circle route out if any of these people are coming out where they put in. Once the plane hits the Deertail Flowage, have it head west to do another flyover of Embarrass Lake. You copy all that?”

“Ten-four, Sheriff. Over and out.”

Schanno’s gray eyes offered Jo a look of relief. “Not Cork or the others.”

Jo sat down and let out a deep breath. “I want to say thank God, but those two men may have families, too.”

Benedetti asked Schanno, “Do you think it had anything to do with Shiloh?”

Schanno let out a short, bitter laugh. “Since that woman went out there, people have been doing nothing but dying. Yeah, I’m sure it has everything to do with Shiloh. I just don’t know what.” He turned to Borkmann. “Give Hans Friedlander a call. See if he’d be willing, at county expense, to fly his float plane out to Wilderness Lake with a couple of deputies aboard. If he agrees, you and Dross take the evidence kits and get out there to give Dwayne a hand with the crime scene. And tell Les to give Gus and Jake a call to come in. I’m running out of officers.” Schanno rubbed his temples. “I’d better give Harris the word.”

Jo used the phone at the dispatcher’s desk to call home. “Rose? It wasn’t Cork.” There was a slight catch in her throat, and she saw Benedetti smile sympathetically. “Tell the girls, all right?” She listened and replied, “Two fishermen, it looks like. Sheriff Schanno doesn’t know how it’s related.” She shook her head. “No, no word about the others yet. I’ll keep you posted, okay?” She hung up, stepped out of the dispatch area, and started slowly for Schanno’s office. “You look tired,” she said to Angelo Benedetti, who walked at her side.

“I didn’t sleep much last night. Too worried. That’s a new one for me. I didn’t eat any breakfast either. The truth is I’m starved and tired and I’d kill for a cup of good coffee.” As soon as the words were out, he grimaced. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“That’s all right,” Jo said.

In the doorway of Schanno’s office Benedetti stopped. “Have you eaten?” he asked her.

“No.”

“Would it be inappropriate, Ms. O’Connor, to offer to buy you…” He checked his watch. “Brunch?”

“I appreciate the thought, really, but I’d rather not leave.”

“Sure, I understand.” He glanced around the department. “Maybe there’s a vending machine where I could get us a couple of Twinkies and the battery acid that passes for coffee?”

Jo smiled. “There’s a good coffee place two blocks down. The Moose Juice. Cappuccino, latte, whatever you’d like. And delicious bakery goods.”

“Great. Can I get you something?”

“Latte, made with skim. And a scone. Thanks.”

“A scone? It’s yours, whatever it is. Sheriff?”

Schanno looked up from a map on his desk. He reached down and lifted into view a big metal thermos. “Got everything I need right here, thanks.”

“All right, then. I’ll be back.”

Schanno’s eyes trailed Benedetti out of the department. When he looked back at Jo, she asked, “You don’t like him?”

“I don’t trust him.”

“Nor do I. But that’s not what I asked.”

Schanno thought it over. “He stands by his old man. He doesn’t back down easy. If he were Lutheran, I guess he’d be just fine.”

Deputy Borkmann stuck his head in the door. “Sheriff? Sorry to interrupt, but there’s a reporter for the Duluth Register-Guard on the phone. Says he’s got word that the country singer Shiloh’s lost up here and we got us a manhunt mounted to find her. He wants to talk to you.”

Schanno took a deep breath. “Patch it through.” He looked at Jo like a man about to eat raw squid. “It’s starting.”

Fifteen minutes later, as Schanno appeared to be winding up his conversation with the Duluth reporter, Borkmann thrust himself into the doorway, looking excited. Schanno said, “That’s all I’ve got to say at the moment,” and hung up quickly. “What’s up?”

“Search plane’s spotted smoke from a campfire on the Deertail just above Hell’s Playground. Guess the trees made it hard to see but it looked like several people. On the second pass, a man and a boy come out waving their arms. Appeared to be Stormy and Louis.”

“Any sign of Cork?” Jo asked.

“Like I said, search plane reported several people at the campfire in the trees. No reason for all of them to signal the plane. I’d say we found ’em.” He offered a reassuring smile.

“Get on the radio to Dwayne. Have the helicopter pick them up.”

“I already did.”

“Wally, may I use your phone?” She felt like Christmas had come two months early.

“Be my guest,” Schanno beamed.

Rose wept at the other end of the line when Jo gave her the news. Jo hung up and said to Schanno, “Now Sarah Two Knives.”

When Sarah didn’t answer her phone, Jo grabbed her coat. “I’m going out to the rez. Sarah needs to know. I’ll be back in an hour.”

“They’ll practically be home by then,” Schanno said. Relief filled every hollow of his long, gaunt face.

Angelo Benedetti pulled into the parking lot just as Jo stepped from the building. He got out carrying two lidded hot cups and a white bakery bag.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“They’ve found the men. I’m on my way to tell Sarah Two Knives.”

“Mind if I come along?” Benedetti gave a nod to the items in his hands. “I’ve got breakfast.”

“Be my guest,” Jo offered with a broad smile and a sweep of her hand, hallmarks of that brief moment when all seemed well.

How long he’d been running, Cork couldn’t say. An hour? Three? He felt as if he’d been tortured for a century. Each stride was like drawing a rusty saw blade across his shoulder. He moved no faster than a rapid walk. The old road hadn’t been used for logging in years and was overgrown with rye grass and wild oats and timothy. Two swathes of crushed stalks straddled the center as if two huge snakes had passed there, side by side, an indication that a vehicle had traveled that way recently. Forest service, Cork guessed, or maybe mushroomers. He tried to keep to one of the swathes. Whenever he strayed, his feet tangled in the tall grass and threatened to trip him. Another fall would put an end to what little resolve he had left.