Steve Hamilton - Blood is the Sky

“That’ll be them,” she said. “I’d know that sound anywhere.”

We followed her outside. She went down to the dock and stood there watching the northern sky. A speck appeared above the trees. It got larger as the sound of the motor grew louder. The plane seemed to bob up and down in the wind as it cleared the tree line. Then it hit the water, touching down as smoothly as a loon returning to its nest. The plane cruised in across the length of the lake, slowing down as it approached the dock. I could see Hank Gannon’s face through the windshield.

He cut the motor. The sound kept ringing in my ears. Helen stepped up and caught the plane with one hand, then looped two ropes around the cleats on the float, front and back. The door popped open, a small ladder came out, and Hank climbed down to the dock.

“Isn’t this cozy?” he said, looking right at me. I was still holding my mug. “Did you bake them a cake, too?”

“The police told them to come back up,” she said.

“Yeah, no kidding. It sounds like they’ve got some real good questions to ask them.”

A woman stepped out next. This had to be Constable Natalie Reynaud, wearing the distinctive blue uniform of the Ontario Provincial Police. She had dark hair pinned up under her hat, and I would have put her age around thirty-five if I had to guess. She hopped off the last step of the ladder like it was nothing.

The man who followed her took a lot longer to get down that ladder, and he sure as hell didn’t jump off the last step. He was wearing the same uniform, but aside from that he was everything his partner wasn’t. He looked like he was in decent shape for a man in his sixties, but I knew that was old for a man on active duty.

“That was a bumpy ride,” he said. “Feels good to be on the ground again.”

“Did you find anything?” Helen said.

“Just a big mess,” the old cop said. “Those boys don’t know how to clean up after themselves.”

“I tried to clean it up a little bit,” Hank said. “Sorry we took so long.” He looked at me again, and then at Vinnie. “We shouldn’t have left you here, Helen.”

“One of the windows was knocked in,” the older constable said. “Looks like a black bear did it. Probably smelled the garbage.”

Constable Reynaud came up to me and looked me in the eye. “You must be Mr. McKnight,” she said. “And this must be Mr. LeBlanc.” She had a nice face, and green eyes. But you could tell in a second she was all business. “This is my partner, Senior Constable Claude DeMers.”

He shook out the kinks as he came over to us, and he shook my hand. “Thanks for coming up,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind if we ask you a few questions.” All of a sudden, he didn’t look so old anymore.

“Yeah,” Gannon said from behind them, “start by asking them why they didn’t give us their real names.”

DeMers turned and gave him a look. “Hank, I told you. Let us handle this. I’m sure there’s a good explanation.”

Gannon just turned away and gave him a wave of his hand. He climbed back into his plane, grabbed a big trash bag from inside, and threw it down onto the dock. It landed with a heavy thud.

“Helen,” the cop said, “is there someplace we can have a chat with these gentlemen?”

“Use the office,” she said.

“You should send Hank back out to fix that window,” he said. “You don’t want any more bears in that cabin.”

“Doesn’t matter much now,” she said. “They can move in for all I care.”

DeMers shook his head at that. “Hell of a thing,” he said. “I hope we find those boys soon so we can put an end to this.”

“Where are you looking?” Vinnie said. “They’ve been missing for five days. Are you covering all the roads back to Detroit?”

DeMers looked at him. For one long moment the only sounds were the wind and the waves. “My partner tells me your name is Vinnie,” he finally said.

“Yes.”

“Not Tom.”

“No, Tom is my brother.”

“Well, Vinnie, like we said, we need to ask a few questions. What do you say we start with you? I mean, now that we’ve established your real name-”

“Vinnie,” I said, “you don’t have to say anything right now. I think maybe we should talk to a lawyer first.”

“I’ll tell them what they need to know,” Vinnie said. “I’ll tell them the truth.”

The whole thing went downhill from there. They took Vinnie into Helen’s office for questioning. I sat by myself in the main room, trying not to look up at the moose head.

An hour passed. It felt like a day. I got up and went to the window, watched Gannon cleaning out his plane. The other man appeared on the dock, the silent one. What was his name? Ron, that was it. He took the big bag of garbage away, then he came back with a broom and swept the dock. The man’s wife appeared. Millie. She went to the end of the dock and looked out at the lake. Ron stopped sweeping and went out to stand next to her. He put his arm around her. She put her head on his shoulder.

I heard a noise behind me. The door to the office was closed. I heard the noise again-it sounded like… like a low wailing. Like somebody moaning. I stood still, holding my breath, listening.

There’s nobody here, I told myself. Nobody but-

The moose, for God’s sake. It sounds like it’s coming from the moose. That would make this day complete. A haunted moose head.

I went over and stood below it. The sound came again, this time a lot louder. But not from above me. I bent down and looked in the fireplace. The moaning sound was the wind passing over the chimney. The updraft was so strong I could feel the air rushing past me.

Helen came in through the front door. “Are they still in there talking to your friend?”

“Yes,” I said. “I’m next.”

She stood by the door, looking uncertain. “I wanted to start packing up the office. I was hoping we could get out of here by tomorrow morning.”

“This is quite a fireplace you’ve got here,” I said.

“Oh, that. Yeah, we don’t use it anymore. Hank says it doesn’t draw well.”

“Are you kidding? It’s practically sucking me up the chimney.”

“I think there was a nest up there,” she said. “Raccoons or something. Maybe they’re gone now. God, what a horrible thought. All those animals crawling around up there.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “I’m sorry. Listen to me. Now that I know we’re leaving for good, I just can’t stand being here another minute. I hate it like a sickness. I think we all feel that way now, all four of us.”

“You said you’re all gonna move back to Sudbury?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have family back there?”

“We have each other,” she said. “We are a family.”

“No children?”

“No,” she said. “We sort of all have that in common.”

I looked outside the window again. Ron was still standing at the end of the dock, his wife’s head still on his shoulder. Her back was shaking now, like she was crying. Ron put his head on her head and pulled her closer.

Gannon had picked the broom up. He was holding it in both hands, his eyes closed. He kept tapping the dock with it, again and again.

A thought hit me. “The Indian you use as a guide,” I said. “He was here yesterday, too. I saw him on the dock as we were leaving.”

“Guy? No, I doubt it,” she said. “I think he left as soon as he got back from the hunt.”

“Those men who were hanging around, he was out on a moose hunt with them?”

“Yes, his last one of the year. The last one he’ll ever do here, I guess. He left without even saying goodbye.”

“I suppose if I was out in the woods for a week, I’d be anxious to get home, too.”