“Is Ed Larson in?”
“He’s out in the field, too.”
“Is anybody there but you?”
“We’re a little shorthanded.”
“Look, Bos, I’ve heard that Lizzie Fineday is a suspect in Edward Jacoby’s murder. Is that true?”
“You know I can’t talk about an ongoing investigation.”
She went hot with anger. “Goddamn it, Bos. What can you tell me?”
“Not much, and you know it.”
It was useless to strike out at Bos, who was just following Cork’s instructions. Jo breathed deeply, let go.
“Will you have him call me?”
“Of course. Just as soon as he can. And, Jo”-Bos sounded like a soothing grandmother now-“if there’s anything you need to know, I’ll make sure you know it right away, okay?”
Rose went to the refrigerator and pulled out a pound of raw hamburger and a package of sausage. She was about to start making a meat loaf for dinner. “So what’s going on?”
“I don’t know. Bos is keeping something back, but I have no idea what.” Jo’s whole body felt stiff, and she rubbed the tense muscles on the back of her neck. “It’s not like Cork not to call. Is he angry, do you think?”
“About what?”
“He knows that Ben and I have a past together. He knows that we were out last night.”
“I think you should give him more credit.”
“I know, but I feel like I’m stumbling around in the dark.”
Stevie wandered in to ask about a word in his book. He saw Rose working at the kitchen counter. “Whatcha making?”
“Meat loaf, for dinner.”
“Meat loaf! Sweet! You make the best meat loaf in the whole entire world.” He ran back down the hallway to share the good news with his sisters.
Rose said, “Can you call someone else-not one of Cork’s people?”
Jo leaned on the counter watching her sister shape the loaf. “I suppose I could call Ben.”
“Why him?”
“He hired someone to consult on the investigation of Eddie’s murder. He gets regular updates.”
“Seems worth a try. You’ll certainly be no worse off.”
Jo tried Jacoby’s cell phone, but got only his voice mail. She called his office and was told he was in meetings all afternoon. She left a message.
“What’s in the canister?” Rose asked.
The children had asked, too, but Jo had put them off. Now she unscrewed the cap, took out the canvas, and showed it to Rose.
“It’s beautiful,” Rose said.
Jo told her the history and that Rae had insisted she accept the gift.
“What are you going to do with it?” Rose asked. “Given your history with Ben Jacoby, I can’t imagine Cork would be thrilled to see that hanging in your home.”
“I know. I’ve been thinking. What if I gave it to Ben?”
“That might be the best thing, if he wanted it.”
“I’ll ask him.”
It was three hours before Ben called back, just as Jo had begun to set the table for dinner. The whole house smelled of savory meat loaf.
“I’m in traffic right now, Jo, and I’d rather talk in person anyway. What if I dropped by your sister’s place?”
His tone sounded a little ominous, and if it was bad news he was going to deliver, she wanted to be somewhere the kids couldn’t hear.
“Or,” he went on, “if you’d rather, we could meet at my house. It’s only about ten minutes from where you are now. I’ll be there in half an hour.”
Jo agreed and Ben gave her the address and directions. The house was on Sheridan Road, easy to find. She hung up.
“That didn’t sound good,” Rose said. She was at the stove, checking the potatoes. “What did he say?”
“It’s what he didn’t say, and how he didn’t say it.”
“Until you know the worst, anticipate the best.”
Jo said, “It’s already pretty bad because I have to leave in a few minutes, which means I’m going to miss the best meat loaf in the whole entire world.”
39
“Why Morgan?” Schilling asked.
They were gathered at the dock on Bruno Lake. The gear had been loaded into the canoes, and Cork was looking over the map one last time with Ed Larson and Simon Rutledge. Meloux already sat in the bow of the lead canoe, and Will Fineday had settled into the bow of the second.
Deputy Howard Morgan looked up from where he knelt on the dock, retying the lace of his hiking boot. “Because I do the Boundary Waters a lot. Because I have a sharpshooter rating. Because I don’t whine about assignments. And,” he added, standing up, “because I’m a bachelor.” He gave Schilling a light, friendly jab in the stomach.
“I just meant that I’d be willing to go.”
“I know,” Cork said, glancing from the map. He could have added one more reason it was Morgan who was going. That in a tight situation he’d prefer Morgan at his back.
“The chopper and the critical response team will be standing by,” Larson said. “Give the word and they’ll be there in no time.”
“Sure you don’t want a few more men along?” Rutledge asked.
Cork shook his head. “If I’m wrong about all this, we’d be taking deputies from where they’re needed. If I’m right, we’ve got the CRT for backup.”
“By the way,” Rutledge said, “Dina asked me to give you this.”
He handed Cork a gold medallion the size of a silver dollar.
“A Saint Christopher’s medal?” It seemed an odd gift, because Cork knew Dina was Jewish. “Where is she?”
“She left right after you headed off to recruit Meloux.”
Cork slipped the medallion in his pocket. “We’ll check in hourly with our location,” he told Larson.
“I wish I felt better about this.” Rutledge eyed Meloux with a look Cork interpreted as skepticism of the old man’s ability to be of any help.
“I wish I felt better about everything, Simon. And if you’ve got another idea for saving Lizzie Fineday, I’m still open to suggestions.”
Rutledge only offered his hand. “Good luck.”
Cork stepped into the stern of the lead canoe, and Morgan took the stern of the other. They pushed away from the dock and into the lake, paddling toward the Cutthroat River, which would take them north into the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness. Halfway across the lake, a great bird appeared in front of them, high up, the tips of its wings like fingers scraping against the hard blue ceiling of the sky. Meloux watched the bird closely.
“An eagle?” he asked.
“A turkey vulture,” Cork replied.
“Too bad,” the old man said, sounding disappointed.
“What’s it mean, Henry?” Thinking that for some reason the turkey vulture was not a good sign.
