Edgewise (12 page)

Now Tasha appeared. Her chestnut-brown hair was tangled and she looked pale and tired. She was wrapped up in a thick blue blanket but she still looked cold. Lily felt as if her chest were being crushed.

“Mommy's going to be worried,” she said. “I think you should take us back home.”

A second man in black circled around Tasha and grinned at her with his two front teeth missing. He had an almond-shaped head and long greasy black hair that was swept straight back from his forehead. “Don't you concern yourself about your mommy,” he said. “Your mommy's real hot on this idea.”

Victor Quinn said, “Shut up, Tony.”

Jeff walked out of sight and Lily could hear him talking to Sammy. “We can swim on the beach; we can go horseback riding. We can do anything you want.”

“I'm cold,” said Sammy. “I don't want to go on vacation. I want to go back to bed.”

“Sorry, kid,” said Victor Quinn. “This ain't really up for negotiation. You're going on vacation whether you like it or not.”

Jeff, for some reason, shouted, “
Hey!
Come back here!”

It was then that Sammy appeared, running straight toward the door. Lily took a step back in alarm. She could see Sammy's face—his eyes wide, his mouth tight, grimly determined that he was going to get away. Jeff made a grab for him and caught the front of his pajamas. He swung him around and lifted him right off his feet.

That was too much for Lily. She seized the edge of the access door and wrenched it open.

“Put him down, you bastard!” she screamed.
“Put him down!”

There was a wave of icy-cold pressure, just like the pressure that Lily had felt in the birch wood. She almost felt as if she were being lifted off her feet. Then there was a deafening slam, and she found herself standing in an empty barn—no Jeff, no Sammy, no Tasha. No Victor Quinn, and no sign of his toothless friend Tony.

Lily thought she saw an elongated shadow in the far corner, but it turned away from her and vanished. And at the very instant it vanished there was a loud cracking noise, and a huge section of the barn roof collapsed in an avalanche of snow and wooden shingles. Then another section fell in, almost on top of her.

The whole barn gave a groan that was almost human, and lurched to one side. Two central beams fell sideways and bounced against each other on the floor. The hayloft dropped and a rusty block-and-tackle missed Lily's shoulder by inches. She turned around and threw herself back through the access door, jarring her shoulder. She leaped into the snow and rolled over and over.

The noise was extraordinary. It was more like a massacre than a building falling down. Nails were shrieking as they were dragged out of timbers; rafters were shouting as they tumbled on top of each other. And there was the ceaseless clattering of roof shingles, like hundreds of people running for their lives.

When Lily climbed back on to her feet, she saw that the entire ramshackle barn had been leveled, and not a single upright had been left standing.

What had John Shooks warned her?
“You don't want to start interfering with an influence like that.”

She walked slowly back to her SUV, nursing her shoulder. She looked back two or three times, but she didn't see any more lights flickering, or any shape that could have been something from the forest, with its great dark heart.

She met Bennie at the Bakery on Grand, which was only two blocks away from his apartment. It was five after twelve, and the place wasn't yet crowded. They sat at a corner table and the waiter brought them warm, crusty baguettes and two glasses of red Lirac. Bennie immediately cracked open a baguette, buttered it thickly, and started to push pieces into his mouth.

“The bread is so darn good here. I don't know why I order anything else.”

“Bennie . . . there's something I have to ask you.”

“Sure, whatever.”

She didn't quite know how to explain what she wanted. It was obvious that Bennie's brother Myron hadn't told him about the Wendigo, and she could understand why. What was she going to say?
“I've employed a Native American forest spirit to find Tasha and Sammy, and I need a really valuable piece of real estate to pay for it.?”

On the wall behind Bennie hung a mirror with a stripped-pine frame and she could see herself in it, pale-faced, with shadows under her eyes because she hadn't been sleeping. She had tied a lavender-colored silk scarf around her head and she was wearing a purple roll-neck sweater, and somehow they made her look even more anemic.

“Seeing that guy on the news last night—that really shook me,” she said.

“Hey, I'll bet it did. They had his picture on the front page of the
Tribune
this morning, too.”

“The FBI seem to be pretty confident that they're going to catch him.”

“Well, I darn well hope that they do. And I hope he gets the needle. I don't usually believe in the death penalty, but for what this guy's done . . .”

Lily sipped her wine. “I met with John Shooks yesterday morning.”

“How did that go?”

“Well, it was interesting, to say the least. He introduced me to a Native American tracker.”

“Really? A real live Native American tracker?”

“That's right. He's a Sioux, and he's supposed to be the best in the business. Apparently, he can find anybody, no matter how carefully they've covered their tracks. He thinks he can find Tasha and Sammy in two or three days. In fact he's already started looking for them.”

“That's great news, Lil. You know that we're all praying for you, don't you?”

Lily gave him the thinnest of smiles. “Thanks, Bennie. You've been very understanding, all of you.”

Bennie was about to stuff another piece of baguette into his mouth, but he stopped himself. “What is it?” he asked her. “There's nothing wrong, is there?”

“It's the price,” said Lily. “This tracker—well, he's asking for a lot, and I've already agreed to give it to him.”

“Okay . . . how much is ‘a lot,' exactly?”

“I'm not too sure. I need
you
to tell me that.”

“Me? I don't understand.”

“You know the residential development at Mystery Lake? You know that spit of land where they're planning to build the marina?”

“Of course. What about it?”

The waiter came across the creaky, boarded floor and asked them if they were ready to order. “Sure,” said Bennie. “I'll have the bean and butternut soup, and then the roast duck. How about you, Lil?”

“I'll just have the eggs
en cocotte
, thanks.”

“You're missing something if you don't have the duck,” Bennie told her. “They stuff it with oranges and rosemary, and they roast it until it's almost black.”

“I can taste some of yours, can't I?”

“Of course you can,” said Bennie, taking hold of her hand. “What's mine is yours, Lil. You know that. So . . . what about this spit of land at Mystery Lake?”

“That's what the tracker wants, in return for finding Tasha and Sammy.”

“He wants the
land
?” Bennie stared at her as if she had said something in a foreign language. “What the hell does he want the land for?”

“I'm not too sure. It's supposed to be sacred to the Mdewakanton Sioux. It's the place where some god appeared to one of their chiefs.”

“Jesus,” said Bennie. “I hope you haven't forgotten that it's also the place where we're going to be constructing a picturesque New England—style jetty for the tying up of very high-end leisure craft.”

“I know, Bennie. But that was what the tracker asked for.”

“What about money, for Christ's sake? Won't he take money?”

“He's not interested in money. Only the land.”

“I don't know, Lil. I don't know what to say to you. I'm as anxious as you are to get Tasha and Sammy back safely, but
this
—this is out of the question. Apart from anything else, that land doesn't even belong to Concord Realty; it belongs to Kraussman Resort Developments, Inc., and there is no way that Philip Kraussman is going to give half of his harbor to some . . . Sioux.”

Lily squeezed his hand tight. “Bennie, I've thought about it, and it wouldn't take too much of a change. They could build another jetty about fifty yards farther east. It would only take concrete pilings and maybe some extra dredging.”

“Lil, sweetheart—even if you could afford to buy that piece of land and defray the extra cost of building another jetty, Philip Kraussman simply wouldn't agree to it. I'm not being bigoted here, but Mystery Lake is going to be one of the most exclusive residential resorts in Minnesota, if not the whole Northwest. The kind of people who are going to be buying homes there—well, they won't want to have Native Americans for neighbors. You know the problems: the alcoholism, the trash, the rusty old trailers.”

Lily said, “I don't think the Mdewakanton want to live on this land, Bennie. They just want it back, because it's holy. Because it's
theirs.
”

Bennie shook his head. “Those treaties we did with the Indians—they may seem to be unfair. Okay, they
were
unfair. They were daylight robbery. But those were different times, Lil. Pioneering days. It was every man for himself, and every woman, too. Besides, if it hadn't been for those treaties, there wouldn't be any Twin Cities. All you'd have here would be wall-to-wall wigwams.”

“Bennie, I promised. I made a deal.”

“Well, I'm real sorry, Lil. But you can't make deals with something that isn't yours. You'll have to go back and tell this tracker that he's going to have to settle for something else. My friend Lewis runs a Cadillac dealership in Roseville. I can get him a terrific deal on an Escalade.”

“I can't go back to him. He's started to look for Tasha and Sammy already, and I don't have any idea where he is. Besides, he made it absolutely clear that he wouldn't consider anything else.”

Bennie sat back. “You've really committed yourself, haven't you?”

“I was desperate, Bennie. I didn't have any other choice. I'm
still
desperate.”

Bennie thought for a while. Then he said, “Okay . . . I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll take Philip Kraussman to lunch and see if I can sweet-talk him into some kind of a compromise. Maybe I can persuade him that a gesture to the Sioux could be good public relations. He may want a guarantee that no Native Americans are actually going to
live
on that piece of land. But maybe he wouldn't object to a memorial stone, or a plaque, or a totem pole, or whatever.”

“Bennie, you're an angel,” said Lily. She stood up, leaned over the table and kissed him on the forehead.

“Hey—don't start counting chickens. We still don't know how much Philip Kraussman is going to ask for it. And I don't think that moving that jetty is going to be anything like as easy as you think it is.”

“I trust you,” said Lily. “I really trust you. I'm sure you can do it. You can't even imagine know how grateful I'd be.”

The waiter brought Bennie's soup. Outside, the sky had grown very dark, almost charcoal gray, and a strong wind had got up, so that snow whirled across the sidewalk like Catherine-wheels.

She heard nothing for two days. She phoned John Shooks every few hours, but his cell was switched off.
“This is John Shooks. Leave me a message or leave me alone.”

Robert called unexpectedly and asked if he could take her out to dinner. She said yes, because she was feeling so edgy, but an hour later she changed her mind. What on earth could she talk to Robert about? How a Mdewakanton spirit was hunting for her missing children? Robert's idea of a supernatural manifestation was a “miracle” gust of wind that had blown his golf ball away from the rough. She called him back and said sorry, but no.

“I'm disappointed,” said Robert. “I'd really love to see you again. You know—catch up.”

“I'm sorry, Robert. But I'm not the woman I used to be.”

“I booked a table at Goodfellow's, if that makes any difference.”

“That's great. I love Goodfellow's. But take somebody who's not going to put you off your Thaispiced pork loin. Take somebody who can make you laugh.”

“Okay, if I really can't twist your arm, I understand. I'll call you sometime. Take care of yourself. I miss you.”

“Yes,” she said. “You too.”

I'm lying
, she thought.
I don't miss him at all.

Next she called Agnes, but Agnes was helping at a neighbor's birthday party. She could hear the children screaming in the background. Then she called Fiona at Concord Realty, but Fiona was out of the office, showing off a newly restored property in Loring Park.

She decided to go out shopping, and maybe stop for a pastry and a cappuccino at Café Latte, and she had just buttoned up her coat and pulled on her woolly home-knitted hat when the phone rang.

“Lily,” said a faraway voice. “Lily, this is Jeff.”

For a moment she couldn't believe what she had just heard. “Jeff?
Jeff?
Where the hell are you?” She couldn't help visualizing the “Jeff” she had seen in Sibley's Barn, picking up Sammy and swinging him around. “What the hell have you done with Tasha and Sammy?”

“Tasha and Sammy are okay, they're fine. They're both well and they're having a really great time.”

Lily could hardly breathe. “You bastard! You
bastard
! You utter, unutterable bastard! Bring those children back to me today! Bring those children back to me today or by God I'll kill you with my bare hands!”

“Lily—I've only just found out about those guys from FLAME. I didn't realize what they were doing. I just didn't realize.”