Envy the Night

“Yeah.”

“From?”

“All over. Chicago, originally. I’ve moved around.”

“But you’ve been here before.”

He turned back from the window. “You say that like you’re sure about it.”

She flicked her eyes to the rearview mirror as she accelerated onto the highway.

“You call it the Willow. Not Willow Flowage, not the flowage, but the Willow. First-timers don’t say that.”

“Interesting. If I want to impersonate a real tourist later, I’ll keep that in mind.”

“But I don’t see any fishing tackle in your stuff, which makes you a real mystery. Everybody that goes to the Willow in May is going to fish. I think you got here about a week early, though. Season hasn’t started yet.”

“I may do some fishing. The gear’s already up at the cabin.”

“Really? You own the place? Nice.”

“It’s my father’s.”

“Is he joining you? A little father-son bonding?”

“He’s dead,” Frank said, and she winced.

“I’m sorry.”

“That would make you one of the few.” Then, to fill the awkward pause, he said, “What’ll you do with that car? The Lexus.”

“I’m not going to fix it, that’s for sure. Minute I hear from him, he’ll hear from the cops.”

“They ran the VIN and the plate, right? Did they tell you who owned it?”

He was thinking of that powerful and total conviction he’d had when he saw the Florida plate. Devin Matteson’s car. He’d been sure of it in that moment. Sure of it and reaching for his gun.

“If they already know, they didn’t tell me,” Nora said. “I bet it’s stolen, though. As crazy as all this got, I’m almost positive they won’t be able to find out who that guy was from the car.”

“Maybe.”

She shot him a glance. “You disagree?”

“Not necessarily. I’m just thinking about how fast his buddies showed up. Guy wrecks his car out in the woods, nobody else around except me, and then people immediately are looking for him at your shop. They knew the car was there, but they didn’t know where he was, or even what name he was using. How?”

“That’s a fancy car. Has the navigation system, the satellite link. Maybe they used that somehow? Called Lexus and reported it stolen or something, got the satellite to position it.”

“Could be.” Frank was thinking about other methods, though. Things like tracking devices, which, when mixed with men who carried Glocks and had no problem attacking strange women, did not present an appealing scenario.

“All I know is I want that damn car out of my body shop,” Nora said.

“Aren’t the cops going to impound it?”

“Yes, but I need to get it put back together first. Can’t tow a car that’s in a dozen pieces, you know? I’ll call Jerry in the morning, ask him to come in and put the parts back on so I can get it out of my sight. He’ll demand time-and-a-half, I’m sure, but I don’t care. I want it gone.”

There was vehemence in her voice that Frank hadn’t heard before. It was as if she blamed the car.

“Where do you live?” he asked, looking for a more relaxed topic of conversation.

“Almost up to Minocqua. You’re not far out of the way for me at all.”

“You always lived here?”

“Nope. I’ve been here for about a year.”

It was a disclosure that presented all sorts of questions—where was she from originally, what in the world had brought her to a body shop in Tomahawk—but Frank didn’t ask them. She was quiet for a bit, as if waiting for the inquisition. When no questions came, she offered another of her own.

“When was the last time you were up here?”

“Seven years ago.”

“That’s a long time. How do you know the place is still standing?”

“Guy named Ezra Ballard checks in on it, keeps it in shape.”

“Well, no wonder you’re so relaxed about it. Nobody in the world’s more reliable than Ezra.”

“You know him?”

“Everyone does. He’s one of a kind. Supposed to be the best guide in the area, too. At least that’s what I’ve been told.”

Frank nodded without comment. A hunter without peer, that was Ezra’s reputation. The stories Frank knew were probably far from those Nora Stafford had heard, though. A different sort of prey.

They were on Willow Dam Road now, the Chevy’s headlights painting the pines with pale light, and at Frank’s instruction Nora turned left, toward the dam. This was maybe a quarter mile from where the wreck had taken place. He’d been that close to his destination. Once they were across the dam and past the Willow’s End Lodge, he instructed her to take a right turn onto a gravel road leading to the lake.

“You’re lucky to have a place right on the water,” she said. “That’s tough to find at the Willow, with all the development restrictions.”

“Yeah.” Frank’s interest in conversation had vanished when she made the turn, taking all the moisture in his mouth with it. This felt stranger than he’d expected, and he’d expected it to be damn strange.

They rumbled past the three-way fork that divided the gravel road into separate drives, and Frank told Nora to stay left. Then they were past it and facing the cabin.

“Home sweet home?” Nora said.

“Yeah. This is it.”

He sat there silently until he felt her curious eyes on him, and then he shook his head and opened the door and stepped out into a cool breeze that came at him like a kiss. In front of him the dark lawn ran out to a hand-laid log wall that stood above the beach. Since it was still spring, the water would be high enough to bang against the logs when the wind blew. By midsummer, it would be down, fed out of the dam regularly to replenish the Wisconsin River and its valley. Stars and a half moon hung above the lake, everything pristine until Frank turned his head a touch to the right and saw the blinking red lights of a cellular tower miles away. He remembered when the cell tower went up. His father hated the tower. Loathed it. One night, sitting with the Coleman lantern crackling beside them, he’d taken out a gun and emptied a clip in the direction of the tower, the bullets dropping harmlessly into the water. They’d had a hell of a laugh over that.

“Beautiful,” Nora said softly, and only then was Frank aware of her standing beside him.

“Yeah,” he said. “It’s all right.”

He turned back to the truck, and she went with him, grabbed one of his bags out of the bed, and started for the cabin.

“Just set it down outside the door,” he said. “Thanks. I’ll get the rest.”

“I’ll help you get everything inside. It’s not a problem.”

“No. Thank you, but no. Just set it outside the door and I’ll take care of it.”

She stood with the bag in her hand and cocked her head, puzzled. Then she raised her eyebrows and made a slow nod—whatever you say, psycho—and dropped the bag to the ground in front of the door. Frank felt a surge of irritation and embarrassment at his snapped words, but he couldn’t help wanting her gone. He didn’t want anybody walking into that cabin with him when he stepped inside for the first time in seven years.

“Okay,” she said. “Well, then, I guess I’ll take off.”

“Thanks for the ride.” He pulled a few more bags out of the truck. “Really, this was a huge help. I didn’t want to spend the night in a hotel.”

“Hey, least I could do.”

They stood there awkwardly for a few seconds, facing each other in the dark. Then she moved toward the truck, and he lifted two bags to his shoulders.

“I’ll give you a call soon, let you know what sort of time frame to expect on your car,” she said, pulling the