15
He rejoined Irene and Nina by his cabin and called Nina aside. They walked off into the trees out of earshot and Broker told her simply: “Put it in one sentence and no bullshit.”
She stood very erect and looked him in the eye. “Tuna strongly suggested that a case can be made against LaPorte about what happened to my dad.”
“I need proof.”
She glanced around. “Maybe we’ll get some tonight.”
As they walked back to his cabin their hands grazed accidentally on purpose and Broker decided to take a calculated risk with the green Saturn. The local coppers were there as backup. He’d just lay back and let it unfold.
He got out his keys, went up the redwood porch, which was cluttered with flowerpots, and opened the door. Nina carried their bags in from the Jeep and squinted as she passed through the narrow doorway.
Inside, light came mainly from skylights. The windows, like the doors, were built excessively narrow. The interior consisted of a long main room with a small kitchen at one end, a large wood stove, comfortable couches and chairs, and a big kitchen table. A doorway, again too narrow, opened on the left to a bedroom and off the bedroom another door opened on a sauna with its own woodstove. Another doorway beside the kitchen led to a deck that overlooked the shore.
Irene gave the short tour. “Notice how the furniture and appliances don’t fit through the doors or windows. He built the entry and windows after he moved everything in, too small for the stuff to fit through.” She smiled. “My son the cop.”
A wood box and chopping block sat next to the Fisher woodstove. Broker picked up a short splitting ax in his good hand and stared at the woodbox. Nina quickly stepped in, took the ax, and efficiently knocked several pieces of oak into kindling.
“For the sauna, and the stove. It’ll be cold out tonight,” said Broker.
“Gotcha. You take a break, I’ll get it going.” She went into the sauna with her kindling and some newspaper. A few minutes later the smell of smoke and a rusty groan of heating steel permeated the cabin.
“The damper, you gotta-” he yelled.
“I can
Broker sat in a chair and stared at his throbbing, bandaged left hand. Nina and Irene returned with a handful of…weeds.
“What?” he asked.
Irene held three big dandelions, roots and all, under the sink faucet, washing them. She laid them aside and then lifted a large stained kettle. She respected her son’s privacy and now, in among his belongings, she had the curiosity of a woman in the men’s lavatory. “When’s the last time this was clean?” she asked.
Broker shook his head as she filled the kettle with water and threw in the dandelions and set the burner under it. Nina checked the fire in the sauna and then said she was going to look over the beach.
“Keep the dog with you,” admonished Broker.
The next thing he knew the phone was ringing. He had crashed again. He smelled the soupy acid simmer of the kettle, saw by the long slanting shadows that the sunlight was going. He went to the phone. Jeffords.
“Your green Saturn is checked into the Best Western. Minneapolis Airport rental to a guy named Bevode Fret who signed in with a Louisiana license, New Orleans address. He followed you out of town and made Mike’s place. He took the room for two nights. What do you think?”
“Tom, I got a bad feeling-” But it really was a curious feeling. A kind of litmus test.
“What?”
“Somebody might do a house invasion on me.”
“Lyle Torgeson’s got patrol tonight. I’ll tell him to keep an extra sharp eye up your way. And I’ll pull a couple of the boys from Grand Marais down to lend a hand. You want state patrol?”
“Nix on them. Keep it local. And tell Lyle I’m leaving the dog out.”
“You really think that’s a good idea?” Nina said when Broker insisted on a sauna. Her eyes scanned the treeline.
“Relax. Every copper in the county is watching this place and your green Saturn. Let’s see what happens.”
“So, now I’m bait,” she said.
“You got it. You scared?” he taunted. She reached over and squeezed his injured thumb. “Ow, damn.”
Grumbling, he cut off the bandage and stared at the taped splint against his puffy thumb. He’d been wearing the same clothing for forty-eight hours and after one try it was clear that he couldn’t get his boots off. A nurse had helped him back into them at the hospital.
“Hey,” he protested as she started to undress him.
She shrugged elaborately, a casual gesture that involved a subtle flourish of her eyes and a slow pony toss of her short hair. Femininity. A weapon held in reserve. “I’ve never thought of you that way. You never let me…” She lowered her eyes for a heartbeat. Then she spoke briskly. “Besides, in the army I trained my ovaries not to advance unless they get a direct order.”
Bullshit. She was working on him. She was a regular arsenal. If the steel trap didn’t take the hill, send in the tender trap.
When she got to his undershorts he warded her off and stepped into the sauna chamber, pulled off his shorts, and sat with a towel around his waist. She came through the door stripped down to nothing but her pale swimsuit stripes, the small skull-and-crossbones tattoo stamped on her shoulder, and two scarlet dimples in her left hip and buttocks where she’d taken the two Iraqi Kalashnikov rounds.
“Put on a towel,” he said, clearing his throat but looking. It had been a long time since Broker had seen a naked woman-except when he was working and they didn’t count.
She smiled with satisfaction, seeing how Broker had to tear his eyes away. “It’s a sauna,” she said.
“Towel.”
Nina returned wrapped in a towel and filled a bucket. Broker tossed a couple of ladles of water on the stones on top of the stove and the first rush of steam rose. He repeated the process until the moist steam cut back and the searing dry heat came on. Trying to ignore the back-beat throbbing in his thumb, he soaped his face and picked up a razor.
She was beside him. “Here. Lie down and put your hand up.” He let her ease him down on the bench and situate his hand. Then she took a can of lather from a shelf, the razor, and shaved him. After she rinsed off the soap, she started in with a big-toothed plastic comb, taking the tangles from his thick dark hair. In the close confines, their skin touched, slick with sweat. Little discoveries.
“I’ll get it cut tomorrow,” he said.
Nina shook her head. “Keep it. With short hair you almost look like a nice guy.”
Broker studied the shiny expression on her face. The way her skin glowed against the redwood. Under her tomboy scruff she was-well, hell, he figured it was time to get out of here. He lurched upright. She raised her eyebrows.
“I’m going to jump in the lake. It’s traditional,” he muttered.
“Never happen.”
He handed her a terrycloth robe, put on his own, and slipped his feet into a busted out pair of running shoes. Unsteadily, he negotiated the front porch stairs and walked down the path to his small beach. The wind had swung to the south and the clouds fluffed up in a South Pacific haze of magenta, pink, and purple. He shivered in the soft breeze. She was right. No way he was going to jump into anything. He dropped his robe and kicked off his shoes and started to wade into the chilly water. His bare feet rebelled at the stony bottom, feeling fragile and vulnerable. He backtracked, put the shoes back on and went back in. Shuddering, he ducked under the water and quenched his flaming thumb in Lake Superior.
