Steve Hamilton - Blood is the Sky

I looked out into the next room. “I hope I’m not disturbing them.”

“I doubt it. They’re both dead.”

I sat down at the table. My collar felt hot around my neck.

“Look,” she said, “are you going to tell me what this article means?”

“Please sit down,” I said.

She let out a long breath and sat down across from me. I couldn’t help but notice what the antique light did to her eyes. And for the first time I saw a hint of red in her hair.

“Read the names again,” I said.

She looked at the article. The expression on her face changed. “Gannon. St. Jean. Trembley.” She looked at me. “Where did you get this?”

“Someone at the newspaper ran a search with those names. It was easy.”

“I know what happened up at that lodge,” she said. “I read your statement. Was that the way it really went?”

“I thought you said you were on leave.”

“I’m getting a little concerned here. Maybe you should go.”

“There’s another name in that list,” I said. “Olivia Markel.”

She looked at it again. “I see it. What about her?”

“Her father was your partner.”

It took a few seconds for that to sink in. “Claude had a daughter? He never said anything about her.”

“It was a long time ago. Before you even knew him, I’m sure.”

“I don’t get it. What does this have to do with… with anything?”

“They were all together,” I said. “Those people at the lodge, and Claude. They’ve been together ever since that fire in Detroit.”

“But Gannon-” She thought hard about it. “Gannon was the one who killed him.”

“In the end, yes. When Vinnie and I found out what they had done to those men, Claude apparently wanted Gannon to come clean.”

“How do you know this?”

“I assume you have something like the Fifth Amendment up here in Canada?”

“Just tell me.”

“I have to know I can trust you.”

She looked at me forever. Somewhere in the house, a grandfather clock chimed nine times.

“Tell me,” she said.

I told her about Helen, and what Vinnie and Maskwa had done for her. And my own part in it. I told her the whole story. When I was done, she sat back in her chair and closed her eyes.

“They’ll find out eventually,” she said. “Someone else will make the connection.”

“Someday,” I said. “Maybe. But it doesn’t have to come from you.”

“So is that why you came here? To tell me the truth about Claude? Is that going to change anything?”

“Yes,” I said. “It changes everything. He left you behind for a reason. You don’t have to blame yourself anymore.”

She shook her head.

“Did you hear me?”

“Yes,” she said. “I understand what you’re trying to tell me. But-”

“Why are you here?” I said.

“What do you mean?”

“In this house. It looks like it hasn’t changed in fifty years.”

“When I took the leave,” she said. “I came back here.” She looked up at the ceiling, like she could see through it to the farthest corners of the house. “This place means a lot to me, but I’m wondering if maybe it’s time to do something with it.”

“Just like me,” I said. “For me, it was my father’s cabins.”

She put her elbows on the table. She leaned forward and looked at me close. “I’ll give you one thing,” she said. “You were right about the people at work. Nobody would even look me in the eye anymore.”

That was all I needed, just the way she had moved toward me. It was a little thing, just a few inches. But it was enough. I was building another bridge over another chasm, this one maybe the biggest of all. Another bridge, another connection. Another step for me on my way back into the human race.

Outside, a northern wind picked up. It was cold out there. It was cold and dark.

“You’ve been through it,” she said. “You know how it feels.”

“Yes,” I said. “But I had to do it alone.”

She kept looking at me. “What am I supposed to do now?”

“It’s New Year’s Eve,” I said. “You feel like making a toast?”

“Depends on what kind of champagne you brought. Is it any good?”

“Hell if I know.”

“I’ll get the glasses,” she said. “Don’t go away.”

I didn’t. And that’s how it began.

Happy New Year.