C. Box - Cold Wind

“Are you on your way back home now?” she asked.

“Nope.”

“Where are you going?”

“Believe it or not,” Joe said, “Orin Smith claimed he knew where I could find Bud Longbrake Sr.”

Laurie Talich pulled her Audi Q7 into the shaded lot of the dance studio in Oak Park, shifted into park so she could keep the motor running and the air on, raised her large sunglasses to the top of her hair, and turned in her seat to address her two girls. Melissa was twelve years old and Aimee ten. Both wore black leotards over pink tights and clutched their shoe bags. Melissa had dark hair and olive skin like her, and Aimee was fairer but had her father’s light cruel eyes, if not his temperament, thank God.

She said, “I’ll be back here in two hours. Don’t dawdle this time. I don’t know why it takes you two so long to change from your ballet shoes, but you need to hustle this time.”

Melissa said, “It’s Aimee.”

“Is not!”

“It’s Aimee,” Melissa said, nodding her heard.

“I don’t care whose fault it is. I don’t want to have to come in and get you this time. I’ll be right here.”

Aimee was in Contemporary Ballet I, and Melissa Contemporary Ballet II. Neither was very good yet, and neither had shown any passion for dance, although Laurie held out hope for Aimee.

“Can we go to McDonald’s for dinner?” Melissa asked.

“We’ll see,” Laurie said. It was always a hassle to drive home and start dinner after dance practice because the girls were starved and grouchy, so they usually went out. “It depends if you two hustle out here.”

Laurie valued the two hours she got to herself while her daughters were at dance. She usually drove to a coffee shop and knitted or read while keeping an eye on the clock.

“Tell her ,” Melissa said, jabbing her little sister with a finger in the ribs.

“Ow! She’s hurting me!” Aimee cried out.

“I barely touched her,” Melissa said in defense.

“Girls!” Laurie said. “Go!”

The two unbuckled their seat belts as Melissa pushed the door open. Hot and humid air filled the Audi.

Laurie said, “Have a good practice, girls. Give me a kiss.”

Melissa did a drive-by kiss because she saw her friend Sarah getting out of her father’s car and she wanted to join her. Aimee kissed her mother good-bye, and said, “Melissa is the late one. She’s always talking.”

“Don’t tell on your sister,” Laurie said. “Now go. See you in two hours. And shut the door. You’re letting all the hot air in.”

She sat in the car to make sure both her girls went safely inside. It was a good neighborhood: leafy and prosperous. The children of the city’s elite families attended the same dance school, and it was hard to get in. She wished her girls were better dancers and would stand out, but.

She gasped when the passenger door opened suddenly and a tall and rangy man swung in beside her and slammed the door shut. She instinctively reached for her knitting bag, but the big man placed his hand over hers and said, “Don’t.”

Laurie was paralyzed with fear and she went for her door handle, but the man pressed the cold muzzle of a large handgun under her right arm. He said, “Don’t do that, either. Just drive.”

“My girls. ”

“Are fine,” he said. His voice was deep and breathy and his eyes were slightly hooded. He was so calm it unnerved her. And he was familiar to her in a way she couldn’t place at first.

He said, “Drive. Take us to the park in front of the Navy Pier. It’ll take less than twenty minutes.”

“I know where it is.”

“Good. And don’t think about anything but driving safely and calmly, and about the fact that if you don’t, I’ll blow you away.”

He dug into her knitting bag and found the gun-a.38 Smith amp; Wesson Model 36 Lady Smith-while they drove past Columbus Park. He checked to see if it was loaded-it was-then snapped the cylinder home and slipped it into his waistband. He said, “You won’t be needing this.”

As she joined the flow of traffic on Dwight D. Eisenhower Expressway toward the lake and Navy Pier, he said, “Do you know who I am now?”

“Yes.” She chanced a glance at him while she drove. “I thought you were blond.”

“I was,” Nate said. “Before I came out to find you.”

“How did you. make it?”

“I wasn’t there when your monkeys fired the rocket.”

She could feel his eyes on her, picking up every flinch, every twitch. She knew she’d reacted to what he said.

“My woman was there. Her name was Alisha.”

“My husband’s name was Chase.”

He was silent for several minutes. It made her more frightened than when he talked. But she found some comfort in the fact that he wanted to go to the pier. On a warm evening like tonight, she thought, there would be plenty of people around. It would be public. Someone might see them. Or maybe she’d have the chance to escape.

They approached the pier. He directed her toward the most remote parking lot. It was practically empty because it was the farthest away. She was dismayed to find that there weren’t many people around.

“Here,” Nate said.

She pulled into a space. Lake Michigan dominated the view of the windshield. The pier reached out into it on their right, and small waves lapped against the pilings. The city was behind them. She could see how simple it would be for him to shoot her in the car, leave her body, and just walk away. Maybe there were cameras-they were everywhere these days-but even if he was seen by them, she would still be dead. She thought about Melissa and Aimee, and pictured their faces when they came out of the studio looking for their ride to McDonald’s. She couldn’t stop from tearing up.

She said, “How did you find me? How did you know about dance practice?”

“Wasn’t hard. Google,” he said. “Your name is all over it. You’re listed as a patron of the dance studio, and the hours and classes are posted. And there were a couple of newsletters listing the students in each class. Melissa and Aimee, right? I figured you’d be dropping them off or picking them up.”

She stared at him. “But how did you know it was me?”

He said, “I killed your husband, but it wasn’t personal. I didn’t even know who he was at the time. He was just a man who turned on me, holding a weapon that a minute before he’d been aiming at an injured girl we were tracking. I had no doubt that he would have finished her off. I didn’t think twice about it at the time and I’d do it all over again in the same circumstances.”

She shook her head. “Chase wouldn’t. ”

“Of course he would,” he said. “Don’t be dumb. You know what kind of man he was and you’re not a stupid woman. You married him, after all.”

She tried to find the right words to establish some kind of connection with him so he might let her go. But he was inscrutable and impossible to understand. Kind of like Chase. She said, “Did you find Johnny and Drennen?”

“Yes,” Nate said. “I can find anybody.” And by the way he said it, she knew they were dead.

“They didn’t tell me about your wife,” she said. “They never mentioned there was anyone else down there.”

“That’s what happens when you work with amateurs.”

“Professionals are hard to find.”

“In Chicago?”

“I wasn’t in Chicago. You weren’t in Chicago. You were in Podunk, Wyoming.”

“Careful there,” he said. For the first time, she thought she saw a slight smile, an opening.

Then he shut it. “So it was an eye for an eye,” he said.

“My father. my father said revenge is a cleanser. I needed. ” She searched for words and he let her search. “I needed to show myself I wouldn’t just take it. I wouldn’t just let someone take my husband away like that and there would be no consequences. And if the law wouldn’t or couldn’t do it, someone had to.”