Copper River (7 page)

“I will.”

He looked up and smiled. Smiled so like his father that she flashed on Daniel in a way that felt like a hard blow to her heart.

“You okay, Mom?”

“Fine, Ren.” She gathered herself and turned to the door. “Be good. Be careful.”

“Always am.”

With a stab of fear she could do nothing about, she thought,
Not always.

C
ork stared at the exposed rafters above his bunk, solid pine logs honey-colored and varnished. They made him think of Jewell’s father, who’d built the cabins himself. He’d been a strong man, straightforward, with a comforting, easy humor that Cork would have thought of as Ojibwe, except that neither of Jewell’s parents was eager to acknowledge that part of their heritage. Both were of mixed blood—Irish on her mother’s side, Swedish on her father’s. They grew up in a time when being Indian only invited problems, so they put forward the white in their blood and turned away from Indian associations. It had been a bit of a sore point between Cork’s mother, who was proud of her Ojibwe heritage, and Jewell’s mother, who was not, but that didn’t keep them from loving each other as sisters should. Across a lot of summers, he’d visited the resort with his mother, creating history. It occurred to him, lying there nearly helpless, that that was much of what family was about. History. And from history came community. And community was something that spread out beyond itself, resulting in towns and nations. But it all began with family.

Family was why he was lying there with a hole in his leg. Because of the Jacobys, a family unraveled, and his own, a family he was trying desperately to protect. If he’d stayed in Evanston with Jo and the children, they would surely have been in harm’s way. Jacoby had put a half-million-dollar bounty on his head. Five hundred large. For that kind of money, there was a kind of man who wouldn’t hesitate to take out Cork’s whole family to get to him. Leaving them was the smart thing to do.

Wasn’t it?

An eye for an eye.
That was the last thing Jacoby had said to him. The man was old, but he was the most dangerous kind of adversary: a guy with nothing to lose. His sons had been murdered and all his money could not change that. No telling the lengths he’d go to in his hunger for vengeance. The idea of a hit, Cork could handle. What worried him most was that Jacoby, in his craziness, might turn his anger toward Jo or the children. In which case, abandoning them might turn out to be the worst thing he could have done.

Cork hammered his fist against the mattress. Damn, what he wouldn’t give to be in the same room with the son of a bitch. Didn’t matter that Jacoby was old: Cork would have loved the chance to beat some sense into him. Instead he lay there helpless, battling two enemies he couldn’t lay a finger on: uncertainty and rage.

Christ, how fucked was that?

The door creaked. He glanced over, expecting Ren with breakfast. It wasn’t.

“Dina,” he said.

The woman who had saved his life on two separate occasions was not very tall. She stood five-four on tiptoe, weighed maybe 120 pounds. She had light brown hair, green eyes, and a face no less lovely than the best Hollywood had to offer. Her name was Dina Willner. She called herself a security consultant, a term that covered a lot of ground.

“Where’d you come from?” he asked. “I didn’t hear a car.”

She looked the cabin over carefully, stepped inside. “I parked in town and walked through the woods. Didn’t want anyone to see me coming here. Also, I wanted to be able to reconnoiter a little first.” She crossed to his bunk, looked down at him, shook her head. “Can’t leave you alone for a minute, can I? How’s the leg?”

“Healing. Or so my cousin, the vet, says.”

“Were you a good patient, and did you get a doggie biscuit?” Her eyes flicked toward the door. “I saw a woman drive away. Her?”

“Jewell, yeah.”

“Who else is here?”

“Her son.”

“Guests?”

“They don’t rent out the cabins anymore.”

“Shame. Nice place.” She went to the table, grabbed a chair, and placed it next to Cork’s bunk. “So, what’s the story?”

“I screwed up.”

“I figured. How?”

“After you left me in Evanston, I hitched a ride north, went up to Kenosha, Wisconsin. I wanted to make sure I was clear of any kind of net that Jacoby’s goons had thrown around the North Shore of Chicago. I checked into a fleabag motel there, place called the Lake Inn. First thing I did was use some of the money you gave me to get a set of wheels.”

“The shot-up, piss-colored Dart behind the shed?”

“That would be the one.”

“How’d it get shot up?”

“I’m coming to that.” He shifted and grimaced from the pain it caused his leg. “I called Jo at her sister’s place.”

“Big mistake.”

“I know. The phone must’ve been tapped.”

“I could have told you that.”

“Next time I’ll be sure to ask.”

“How long before the goons showed up?”

“They waited until dark. I’d gone out to get some dinner. They tried the hit as soon as I came back and got out of the car.”

“The motel lot?”

“Yeah, pretty public. The car got the worst of it, but I took a bullet in my leg.”

She shook her head. “Amateurs. But with half a million on your head, even my grandmother would be tempted.” She gave an admiring look. “You drove all the way here with a bullet hole through your leg? That’s a good eight hours.”

“I used my sweatshirt as a compress to stop the bleeding. After that it was a matter of gritting my teeth and hoping shock didn’t set in. Amazing what you can do when you’re motivated. Like running for your life.”

“Why didn’t you head back to Minnesota?”

“I figured they’d be watching for me there.”

“You’re probably right. Lucky you had family to fall back on up here.”

“My cousin doesn’t think so.”

“How soon before you can move?”

“I can move now, just not very far or very fast.”

“On my way into town, I saw a sign:
Home of the Bobcats. 1980 Class C State Football Champions.
A place like this is dead center in the middle of nowhere. You’re four hundred miles from Chicago. Who would think to look for you here? You might as well stay put.”

Cork wasn’t a hundred percent convinced. “With his money, Jacoby can throw a big net,” he said. “Tell me about Lou.”

“The Winnetka police are keeping a lid on everything about Ben’s murder, so I don’t know.”

The door opened. Cork had never seen anybody move as fast as Dina. She was out of her chair and had spun around before he could blink.

Ren was obviously startled by her presence, but he looked even more surprised by the gun that had materialized in her hand from nowhere.

“Easy, Dina,” Cork said. “It’s Ren. He’s family.”

She was a woman like the cougar Ren had imagined. Her hair was that color, her movement that swift, her eyes that focused, knowing, and hungry. She was probably the size of the cougar, too, should the animal stand on its hind legs. She looked every bit as dangerous.

“Close the door,” she said.

Cork saw the boy’s wariness and wanted to put him at ease as quickly as possible. “Come over here, Ren. I want to introduce you.”

Ren had a tray in his hand that held a covered plate of eggs and bacon, a small glass of orange juice, and a cup of coffee. He went to the table, put the tray down, then walked to the bunk. His heart beat against his chest like a boxer working a bag. His eyes never left the gun and the woman who held it.

“You’re making a horrible first impression, Dina,” Cork said. “Put your gun away.”

She looked Ren over a moment longer, then as quickly as she’d produced the gun she flashed a smile. The Glock slid into a holster under her sweatshirt, and the same hand that had threatened Ren was held toward him, open and empty.

“How do you do? I’m Dina Willner.”

He shook her hand warily. It felt strong as a man’s, but different, too.

“Ren DuBois,” Cork said, because Ren, who was still trying to put everything together, hadn’t replied. “Dina’s the friend I called last night.”

“Oh.” Ren nodded slowly.

“Are you always this talkative?” Dina asked.

“Huh?” Then he got it. A joke. He smiled.

“Sorry about the gun.” She patted the place where it was holstered. “You surprised me.”

Ren wondered if he’d surprised her any more, would he be dead?

“Mom asked me to bring Cork’s breakfast.” It sounded apologetic, a little pathetic, and he didn’t like that. He stood straight and as tall as he could. Even so, his eyes were not quite level with the woman’s. “I didn’t see your car. I didn’t even hear you drive up.”

She took the chair she’d been sitting in, flipped it around, and sat down again with her arms folded over the back. She continued to study him with her green, catlike eyes.

“I came through the woods,” she said.

“You should be careful. There’s a cougar out there.”

“What I carry would stop a bear.”

“You wouldn’t shoot him,” Ren objected.

“I’ve never harmed a thing that wasn’t trying to harm me. If I run into this cougar, what do you suggest I do?”

Ren glanced at Cork, who was enjoying the conversation immensely.

“First, you never turn your back on a wild animal,” Ren said seriously. “You should stand as tall as you can, get up on a tree stump or something to make yourself look even bigger. It sometimes helps to wave your arms and shout. Usually, unless you’re threatening its young, it will leave you alone.”

“You’ve had that experience?”

“It’s what I’ve read.”

He stood awkwardly, aware that he’d interrupted something and should probably go, but he wasn’t sure. Adults weren’t easy to figure.

Dina’s stomach let out a long growl. “Sorry,” she apologized. “I haven’t eaten this morning.”

“I could fix you something,” Ren offered.

She laughed. “The last time I had a man fix me breakfast, it turned out to be beer and corn dogs. What I’d really like is a latte.”

“Do you like
kolaches
?”

“Do you make
kolaches
?”

“No, but the Taylors do. In town. Really good ones. And they have espresso and stuff.”

“Long walk for coffee,” Dina said.

“I’ll take the ATV. I was thinking of going anyway. I have a friend and I was going to take her some breakfast.”

“Charlie?” Cork said.

“Yeah. Sometimes there’s not a lot of food in her house. I could drop a
kolache
off at her place and be back here in half an hour.”

“Or I could just share whatever’s on that tray you brought,” Dina said.

“I don’t mind going.”

“Ren,” Cork said, sounding as gravely serious as he possibly could, “if you go into town, you have to promise not to say anything about me or Dina.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

“And make sure, absolutely sure, that Charlie doesn’t, either.”

“I can do that.”

“All right. Why don’t you head into Bodine, then,” Cork said, thinking it would give him a chance to talk to Dina alone. “I’m starved and I’ll be damned if I’m giving up my breakfast.”

“Here.” Dina pulled a wallet from her back pocket and took out a twenty-dollar bill. “A vanilla latte and a
kolache
for me. And get whatever you want for yourself and for your friend. How about you, Cork?”

“I’m fine.”

“Thank you, Ren,” Dina said. “This is quite nice.”

“’S okay.” He gave a nonchalant shrug, but the glow on his face was obvious. He went to the door and just before leaving glanced back at Dina. His eyes lingered a hair too long for mere curiosity. Dina smiled at him. The boy blushed and hurried out.

“Nice kid,” she said to Cork. “But can we trust him to keep his mouth shut?”

“Unless you want to shoot him, we don’t have much choice.”