Steve Hamilton - Blood is the Sky

I went back out to the truck and picked up the cell phone. As I drove away, I dialed the Hearst Detachment. A man answered the phone on the second ring.

“I need to know when Constable Reynaud comes on duty,” I said.

“She comes on at seven,” the man said. “Can I help you with something?”

“Please have her call Alex,” I said.

“Just Alex? Can I have a last name?”

“She knows my last name.”

“Can I have your number, please?”

“She knows my number.” Or if she doesn’t, I thought, she can find out.

“Sir, are you sure I can’t help you with something?”

“There’s one thing you can do,” I said. “I’m going to give you an address in Sudbury. You need to send someone over there.” I gave him the Trembleys’ address.

“Sir? Can you tell me what happened?”

“Tell her to call me,” I said. “Tell her I didn’t do this. And neither did Vinnie.”

I hung up the phone and kept driving.

I left Sudbury and headed north. It was three hard hours to Timmins, Ontario. I crossed the Canadian Pacific Railway just north of Onaping, and then the Canadian National in Gogama. The road was empty, which was a damned good thing. I would have run over anything that got in my way.

Timmins was another old mining town. They had struck gold up here, a long time ago, and you could still see the traces in the names of the streets and the businesses. Prospector Street. The Gold Rush Cafe. A sign on the highway advertised tours in one of the old mines.

It was five in the morning when I stopped to gas up and grab some coffee. This time of year, it was still dark. Sunrise was two hours away.

I drove out of town and it was all wide-open spaces and potato farms for a while, and then it was back into the trees. I finally hit the Trans-Canada Highway and headed west through Smooth Rock Falls and Kapuskasing. The sun was just starting to come up when I hit Hearst. I drove right by the OPP station. It was just after 6:30 at that point, so Reynaud wasn’t there.

I slowed down as I passed the station, then sped back up when I was clear. I drove west, with the sun coming up behind me. I was still half an hour from the lodge.

I passed the turnoff to Calstock and the Constance Lake Reserve. Being up here again, it had to be either a bad dream or a bad joke. I rubbed my eyes with one hand. When I opened them, I was drifting right off the road. Drive off the road and hit a big tree, I said to myself. That would be perfect.

I drove past the turnoff for 631, the road down to Wawa. I had spent the whole night making a big circle through Ontario, from the Soo to Sudbury to Timmins and now back on the Trans-Canada, all the way up here. A few more miles and I saw the little dirt road that led up to the lodge. It was the road Vinnie and I found the first time we came up here, when we weren’t even sure it was the right one. How much had changed since then?

There was a heavy mist hanging in the air as I turned off the highway. The early sun hadn’t burned it off yet. As cold as it was, that mist might have hung around until noon. That last morning, when we were up in the woods, the air had felt exactly the same way. It was just as wet, and the chill was just as penetrating. Even with the windows rolled up, I could feel it.

I took it easy going up the road. I couldn’t see where the hell I was going in the mist, and I didn’t want to end up in the mud again. That plus the fact that I really didn’t know what I was getting into. I had no idea what I was going to find when I got to the lodge.

My cell phone rang. I picked it up. “Is this Reynaud?”

“McKnight, what the hell’s going on? Where are you?”

“I’m at the lodge. I think Helen’s here.”

“Don’t move. We’ll be right over.”

“Vinnie might be here, too. I have to find him.”

“McKnight. Do not do anything, do you hear me?”

“Did somebody go over to the Trembleys’ house?”

There was a brief silence on the line. “Yes,” she finally said. “Alex, please tell me what’s happening.”

“I don’t know.”

“Just sit tight. We’re on our way.”

“Okay.”

“Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

“Can’t do that,” I said. I hung up.

I slowed down as I came up to the sharp turn in the road. I knew the moose probably wouldn’t be standing there again, but I didn’t want to take any chances. I cleared the corner. No moose. But what the hell-

I slammed on the brakes. There was a car off the road, in the same spot where my truck had ended up. I sat there looking at it for a while. It was a black sedan. I recognized it.

I got out of the truck, leaving the driver’s side door open. I took two steps, then turned around and went to the back of my truck. I reached down under the bumper and felt inside for the gun Leon had hidden. It was held in place with tape. When I pulled it out, it felt cold and heavy in my hand.

I went around the back of my truck and approached the car, moving slowly. I couldn’t see anybody inside. My boot sank six inches into the mud as soon as I stepped off the road. I leaned on the car and made my way another couple of steps, then bent down and looked through the driver’s side window. It was unlocked. When I opened the door, I smelled the gasoline.

I replayed that night in my head. Red Albright’s brother Dallas with his big friend Jay along, the way they stopped us on my road. The look in his eyes. He promised us he’d find out who else was involved in his brother’s death. What were his exact words? He’d turn them inside out.

I popped the trunk release, then fought my way back through the mud to the road. When I looked into the trunk, I saw the gasoline cans. It made sense, in a horrible kind of way. If you found out who burned your brother to death, and you had a dark enough mind, you’d be tempted to take your vengeance in exactly the same way.

I noticed one other thing as I closed the trunk. There was a board on the edge of the road. It was covered with mud, so I didn’t see it at first, but as I knelt down beside it, I saw a dozen long nails pointing straight up, with three nails in the middle bent over. I looked on the other side of the car, and thought I could make out yet another board half buried in the mud.

That note on the table, it was put there for a reason. “This was a trap,” I said out loud.

And then I heard the first gunshot. The sound was deadened by the wet air, but I could tell where it was coming from. I got back in my truck and drove the last mile to the lodge. The mist got heavier as I got closer to the lake.

I heard another shot. I slowed down. I sure as hell didn’t want to drive right into the middle of it. There was a turn here, I thought. One final turn in this road and then it ended under those big trees.

I still couldn’t see very well, but I guessed I was just about there, so I stopped. I turned the truck off, grabbed Leon’s gun again, and stepped out onto the road. I listened hard, but there was nothing to hear but the sound of the truck’s engine settling.

I started walking slowly, as quietly as I could. I didn’t like the fact that I couldn’t see more than fifty feet ahead of me. But I figured what the hell, at least nobody could see me. As soon as I came around that last bend in the road, I saw a truck parked among the trees. The fog was too thick to make out the plate number, or even the color. I had to get closer.

I kept low to the ground and made my way to one of the big trees. I leaned against it for a moment and then looked around it at the truck.

It was Vinnie’s.

All the way up here, it had been an idea, a feeling in my gut, based on a couple of maps on his computer, and a newspaper clipping about God knows what. Now it was real. Vinnie was here.