Mindy Mejia - Leave No Trace

Camping most weekends and on school holidays, they explored the giant wilderness where civilization was strictly prohibited. No motorized boats. No cans. No bottles. Any stain of human habitation had to be scrubbed when you left. It was the guiding principle, the bedrock rule for entering the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness, a place that changed even the language people used to describe it. When passing other paddlers, everyone asked the same questions. ‘When did you come in?’ ‘When do you go out?’ The paradigm shift was subtle, but complete. This world where bear and moose still roamed, where loons cried like melancholy ghosts and the Milky Way raged overhead in a storm of shadows and stars, this place was the pulse, the center, the inside , and everything else, the stuff people built their lives on, was merely the out .

They camped from the end of summer through the fall, and in the winter Josiah bought his first auger and they taught themselves how to ice fish. Robert Anderson, the man who’d sold them their canoe and the auger, helped them map out some of the best spots to tap the labyrinths of underwater boulders and find the elusive winter fish. They experimented with snow packed tents, heaters, and chimney positions, testing the limits of snowshoes and sleds. Sometimes entire days passed during which they’d hardly spoken a word, bundled up in their hoods and scarves, but they worked together with an implicit understanding, shifting positions on the sled with a touch on the shoulder, signaling a firewood expedition with just a nod to a shrinking pile of kindling. Lucas seemed wise beyond his years and Josiah watched, awestruck, as he grew stronger by the day. Subzero temperatures didn’t faze him. He paced his strides to Josiah’s, reaching his legs longer and farther, and then giggled – transformed into a nine-year-old boy again – when he fell over into a pile of fresh powder. The kids at his school played sports and video games, and when Josiah asked if he wanted to get a Wii, Lucas shook his head and frowned. ‘Why would I want to sit around and pretend to do things when we really do them?’ It wasn’t a question either Blackthorn could answer.

On the first day of Lucas’s spring break, they packed for a weeklong trip and set out on the freshly thawed Fall Lake but had to turn around when Josiah remembered he’d been in such a hurry to leave he’d forgotten their tent. Laughing, they drove back to town and Josiah told Lucas to stay in the truck while he jogged inside the duplex only to find Heather trying to break into the safe where he stored all his cash.

‘What the fuck?’

She panicked and bolted for the door. Grabbing her, he dragged her out of the bedroom and threw her into the wall in the hallway. She bounced off it, unfazed by the pain or maybe too far gone to even feel it. Her eyes were bloodshot and the corner of her mouth was cracked and scabbed over. She screamed and swore at him, accusing him of withholding rent, of stealing from her, and threatened to call the police. He pushed her back into the wall, and right as he heard the satisfying crack of her head against the plaster, there was another noise, this time from behind him.

‘Dad?’

He whipped around and saw Lucas wavering in the front door. His eyes were wider than Josiah had ever seen them, but his narrow shoulders tensed and shifted, squaring up, ready to come to his father’s aid.

‘Get back in the car.’

Lucas hesitated, his hands creeping into trembling fists at his sides, before Josiah barked the order again and he jerked backward, running to the truck that was still idling in the driveway.

‘It’s just a few bucks.’ Heather’s voice was broken, panting. ‘Just a loan. I gave you a free month’s rent, remember? You owe me. I’ll pay you back on Tuesday, as soon as I get my next check.’ Then with barely a pause for air, ‘I took you in with no questions, no applications, or background checks, and everyone knows you’re a goddamn felon. Get your hands off me. I’m calling the police.’

He gave her one last bone-crunching push into the wall and walked back to the safe, emptying the whole thing in front of her, stuffing thousands of dollars in a bag with the tent just so she could smell the ink before tossing two hundred-dollar bills at her face.

‘There’s our first month’s rent, minus lawn mowing fees. Go put that in your fucking arm.’ He didn’t know how much heroin cost, but two hundred dollars had to be enough to keep her high and out of his house for the rest of the week. Dragging her across the living room to the patio door, where Lucas wouldn’t be able to see them, he shoved her out onto the concrete. ‘When we get back from this trip, we’re moving out.’

Then she raged about the lease and taking him to court, hitting him with the wadded-up bills clutched in her fist until he swatted her off and she fell into a heap on the filthy remains of last winter’s snow. Neither of them saw the neighbors frozen in their kitchen window, one holding a coffee cup suspended halfway to his mouth and the other bent over the sink as the unexpected altercation spilled into their weekday breakfast routine. Josiah wouldn’t find that out until seventy-two hours later when the police interrogated him, telling him he was the last person to see Heather Price alive.

‘IT CAN’T BE a good sign, can it?’ Dr Mehta muttered as she stepped her kitten-heeled boots carefully up the gangplank to my dad’s tugboat. ‘The top isn’t supposed to be wet.’

‘It’s only mist.’ I swallowed a smile, trying not to be amused by Dr Mehta’s surprise aversion to boats. Who would have thought psychiatrists had phobias, too?

After the confrontation at Twin Ponds, I’d modified my field trip plans. Split Rock Lighthouse was one of the most famous landmarks on Superior and far too public a venue for Lucas to make an appearance. If he was chased down at as quiet a place as Twin Ponds, he’d be mobbed at Split Rock, so I’d modified the agenda with a little help from Dad. Yesterday Stan and I had taken Lucas to the docks by the longest route possible, driving up through the University neighborhood and weaving our way down the hill to Garfield Avenue, where we doubled back through the ­industrial stretch twice to make sure no one was following us or hanging around. Dad’s dock was in the middle of the harbor and Lucas spent the morning learning how to detail the boat while Stan and I watched with Jasper on the sidelines, pointing and yelling our advice. Butch taught Lucas several key swear words to use on us, but Lucas just kept working, absorbing the nautical nuances and the industry surrounding us on all sides. He didn’t flinch at sudden noises and was even laughing by the end of the outing, scratching Jasper’s scruff as the dog barked at some circling gulls.

Today was our last field trip – a sunrise cruise on Dad’s ­tugboat – and after that, with Dr Mehta’s approval, the Boundary Waters. At the moment, though, she was having trouble focusing on anything besides the giant orange and white hull in front of us.

‘When was the last time this vessel has even been serviced? Did you check?’

I started to reply when a baritone voice cut in over my shoulder. ‘She was dry docked last winter and we do weekly inspections during the shipping season.’

Turning, I caught Butch’s indulgent wink and introduced Dr Mehta to my dad’s first mate. He offered a tattooed arm to assist her the rest of the way up and started pointing out the early morning activities around the harbor, doing his best to put her at ease. I didn’t see Dad anywhere and assumed he was on the bridge.

Below us, Lucas leaned over the rail and peered into the water as if trying to see to the bottom. Bryce squinted up the gangplank with bloodshot eyes and steered Lucas onto the boat, with the other hand resting on his Taser.