Regan Wolfrom - Coyote

Soon after that, Fiona came out to make sure that the Marchands were joining us for dinner. I guess for them it was either that or opening a couple cold cans of corn in their truck; they really didn’t have much of a choice.

I went to see Justin Porter for the first time in what seems like forever. We used to be something close to friends, once. Now I know how often he’s stabbed me in the back.

I ran into him on my way to his place; he was on his snowmobile, and he stopped to talk to me with the engine still running, like he was ready to make a quick getaway.

“Cut the engine,” I said.

He shook his head. “I’m meeting someone. Don’t have much time.”

“This is important, Justin.”

He turned off the machine. “Takes a big man to resign his post,” he said.

“Not funny.”

“Who’s joking?”

“It’s true what Stems said, isn’t it? Those guys with the Toyotas and the big guns are from Detour Lake. The same Detour Lake that you were hoping we’d go steady with.”

“That’s not true,” he said, so quickly that I couldn’t tell if the notion had come as a surprise.

“It makes sense. No one screams ‘we like to pretend we’re real soldiers’ like Detour Lake.”

“There’s no way. I know those guys. They’re good people.”

“The same way you’re good people?”

“You really think I’d want us to partner up with them if I suspected for one second that they were behind the attacks?”

“I don’t know what to think. You’ve been running people to Detour Lake behind my back. I know that. You know that I know that.”

“I’m not doing that anymore. I haven’t done a deal since Marc died.”

“That doesn’t make you any more trustworthy.”

“Then it’s all out in the open, is it, Baptiste? Good. Well, I think you’re incompetent. And I want you to admit that you’re beyond hope here, and that I’m a better choice for keeping us safe. That’s it. No other motives… no schemes… just me wanting to keep my family alive. And your people, too… if I can.”

“Fuck, Justin. I won’t trust you, so you can forget about it happening. But I’ll tell you right now: if I ever find out you’re making deals with Detour Lake again, I will kill you.”

“Leave the threats to people who can carry them out,” Justin said. He turned on the engine. “I’m not scared of you.”

And then he drove away.

Sara didn’t come down for dinner, and as much as Fiona tried to cover it up, I noticed when she snuck a plate upstairs.

I did my best to take Sara’s place in the conversation, asking questions about Eva and her family, hoping that I wouldn’t accidentally trigger some tidal wave of grief, but knowing that I had to keep going with it… because that’s what you’re supposed to do.

I wanted to ask about one of her daughters-in-law, particularly about the bulge in her stomach. The Marchands seemed careful not to hint at pregnancy; I’m not sure why they’d think it would change anything for us.

I don’t mind babies as long as they’re not living in my house.

After dinner I excused myself, asking Graham and Lisa to organize the sleeping arrangements, and then I went upstairs to my room to find Sara. I opened the door without knocking, wondering if she’d fallen asleep with the lamp on again, but she was awake, sitting against the headboard with Ant’s journal in her hands.

“Do you remember the day we met him?” she asked.

“Last Christmas,” I said as I sat down beside her.

“He never told me what he had done. I know it must have been something pretty bad to make him leave the Girards’ on Christmas Eve.”

“I know what he did.”

“What was it?”

“He fell in love with Natalie Girard.”

“I don’t really remember her. Wait… she was one of the girls you found up at Silver Queen Lake.”

The way Sara described her felt strange to me, like Natalie was just a “+1” on the dead neighbours list. Natalie meant more than that to me… and she’d meant far more than that to Ant.

“She was a really nice girl,” I said. “But Ant wasn’t actually dating Natalie… I’m pretty sure he was dating her sister…”

“That sounds like Ant.”

“It does.”

“And now they’re all gone. Mon dieu … I never thought I’d see so much death.”

I put my arm around her shoulder, but she quickly pulled it off.

“Don’t,” she said. “I’m still mad at you.”

“I know.”

“You let him in… no problem. Ant showed up, shivering and a little drunk, and you and Fiona had the couch made up for him before he even had his jacket off.”

“I remember… he was more than a little drunk.”

“Why him? Why was Ant okay, but not me? And why was Fiona just fine? Was it that they have something special, or is it just that there’s something wrong with me?”

I almost thought she was kidding, but I could see the tears welling in her eyes.

“I love you, Sara,” I said. “You’re the one who’s special to me.”

“No, Baptiste… you didn’t want me. Now that I’m here, sure… you’ll take me. You’ll let me stay in your room… you’ll let me be your fuckbuddy.”

“Come on, Sara…”

“So what’s the plan, buddy? Are you going to move on to Kayla Fucking Burkholder once you’re bored with me?”

At first I felt bad for her.

“Sara…”

“Oh… sorry… I guess maybe you want to get in on Suzanne Tremblay first, before she gets any older. She’s even older than me… and maybe you’ll make a play for Katie Walker, see if you can squeeze her in before her wedding day… but then… I know you’ll circle on back to Kayla. You want her… do you think I can’t see it? Everytime the two of you are together… mon dieu … it makes me sick.”

I was losing my temper. I didn’t deserve to be treated like that. “You’re being ridiculous―”

“And once Kayla’s old news, how long until Fiona’s ready to go? Will you at least wait until she’s eighteen before you bend her over the kitchen counter? Can you do that for me? Wait until she grows up at least ?”

I never hit Alanna, not once in the thirty years we’d known each other; I’d never come close. And I’d certainly never hit Cassy, either. But there are times when you lose it, when it’s like you’re on the outside watching, not really able to do anything to stop what you’re about to do. Maybe that’s what happened when I hit Marc Tremblay… I don’t know.

I hit Sara, my open hand against her temple, like I was just trying to shove her away. I hit her and then I pulled back, shocked that it could happen so quickly.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” I said. I climbed off the bed, pulling away from her.

She looked just as surprised as I was, staring at me while she gingerly felt her face with her hand.

“I don’t know why I did that,” I said. “Honestly, Sara… I don’t know what just happened.”

“Get away from me,” she said.

“Sara…”

“You need to leave this house right now. Get out of here… or I swear to Almighty God I will get a knife and I will slit your throat.”

She didn’t sound angry. She sounded more self-assured than anything else.

I left the room.

I went down the hall and grabbed a pillow and a couple of heavy blankets from Lisa’s closet.

Tonight I’m testing out the wood stove at a cottage halfway between us and the Tremblays, the one we’ve chosen for the Marchands. Luckily Lisa and Alain had already brought over enough firewood, and all I had to do was clean the stove and wipe down the dusty sofabed.