“That’s what your wife said, too. Wouldn’t tell me a thing.” She gave him a scornful look, then turned and gave the same to the woman. “If I find out you’ve lied to me, I’ll be back, folks, and I guarantee I won’t be nice. Step aside, Mr. Durkee.”
She stared at him until he moved from the door. She took Charlie’s arm and guided her past him. Jewell followed them outside. Returning to the brightness of the morning sun, she found herself a little blind. The cocker spaniel padded aside and let them pass. They trooped to the Blazer in silence, got inside, and Jewell started to back out.
“We’re just, like, leaving her?” Charlie asked.
“We’re just, like, leaving her,” Dina said.
“He might hurt her.”
“He might.”
“Shit,” Charlie said. She crossed her arms and hunched down.
“Exactly,” Dina said.
“So what was that all about?” the girl asked. In the rearview mirror, Jewell could see the frown on her face.
“Unless I’m mistaken,” Dina said, “Frank Durkee doesn’t know anything about Sara. That’s important.”
“Yeah? Why?”
“Eliminating possibilities, Charlie. It helps us know better where to focus our energy.”
“So where do we focus now?”
Dina looked out at the pine barrens. She was quiet for a minute, then she said over her shoulder, “Charlie, do you have any idea where the kids from Providence House hang out when they’re not at the shelter?”
31
T he Killbelly Marsh Trail connected with the Copper River Trail half a mile south of the cabins. Ren turned the ATV onto the well-worn path that wove among the trees and rocks along the riverbank. The river was thirty yards wide and swift flowing. Near the banks, the water was clear and Ren could see the bottom, which was sand and rock. Toward the middle, the water deepened to a black flow.
Cork, who held on to Ren from behind, called, “Stop a minute.”
The boy let the engine idle.
“Bodine’s that way?” Cork pointed east, downriver.
Ren nodded. “About a mile.”
“What’s between here and there?”
“Bunch of cabins on the other side of the river. Summer places. I haven’t seen anybody there lately.”
While he considered the river as it flowed toward Bodine, Cork gently rubbed the place on his leg where the bullet had exited. “Okay,” he finally said. “Let’s keep going.”
The far bank of the Copper River rose in a steep incline. Occasionally sunlight flashed off the window glass of a hidden cabin. A little farther on, they came to the place where the river funneled between rocky ridges as it curved northwest into the Huron Mountains. Ren glanced up the slope at the thick blackberry bramble that covered the entrance to the old mine where Charlie had hidden. From the river, the mine was impossible to see. He considered pointing it out to Cork, but thought better of it.
Cork tapped his shoulder and called, “Stop for a minute, Ren.”
The boy brought the machine to a halt. Cork eased himself from the seat, walked to the river’s edge, and scanned the far height.
“Any cabins along there?” Cork asked.
“No. Some new ones are being built near the county road, but that’s a couple of miles away. I guess it’s too hard to get equipment and stuff all the way to the river.”
“What about on this side?”
“Nothing from here to the Hurons.”
“Any logging roads, bridges, trestles?”
“Yeah. An old trestle crosses a few miles upriver. No trains run on it anymore.”
Cork spent a minute considering the terrain.
It was a warm afternoon and humid as a result of the rain. The blackflies and mosquitoes that often plagued the woods in summer were gone, but the air was still alive with other insects that lazily buzzed past. Ren was aware of the deep tracks the ATV tires left in the wet earth, and he felt bad about it. ATVs weren’t allowed on the trail, which was supposed to be only for hiking and snowmobiling.
Cork started back toward the ATV, then stopped and bent close to the ground. Without looking up, he said, “Your cougar’s been here.”
Ren got off his seat and knelt beside Cork. He saw the print clearly. And he saw something else. “Look. Scat.” He walked over to the droppings, bent and sniffed. “Whew! If what Mr. Schenk said is true, that’s got to be a cougar.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Cork said.
“Do you think he’s following the river?” Ren asked.
“Maybe. Keeping to the trail because it’s easier. Would make sense if he’s hurt. Do many people hike here?”
“In summer. In fall, most of the trolls stay on the road and just drive around looking at the color from their cars.”
“All right.” Cork climbed back onto the ATV. “Let’s see that trestle.”
They rode for another fifteen minutes. The river rushed past tall cliffs and channeled through narrow cuts. Beside it, the ATV climbed hills and bounced across stony brooks. Ren felt the grip of Cork’s hands around his waist, holding tight for balance. It made him feel good-important-to be involved this way. It made him feel as if he were doing something for Stash and Charlie’s father and the dead girl. He was thinking that his father might be proud of him, too.
The old trestle loomed into sight, a black spiderweb of posts and beams. Ren stopped beneath it, and once again Cork dismounted and considered the area. This time Ren saw a dark stain on the inside thigh of Cork’s jeans.
“You’re bleeding,” he said.
“I know.” Cork didn’t even look down. His eyes ran across the trestle from one end to the other. The south side broke from a stand of maples deep red with fall color. The north side disappeared into blue-green spruce. “You said this railroad isn’t used anymore?”
“That’s right. Not for years, I guess.”
“Where does it come from?”
“An old logging camp at the edge of the Copper River Club, maybe five miles north. Like, twenty miles south, it connects with the main line to Marquette.”
“The Copper River Club, you said?” He glanced back at the boy.
“Yeah. You know about the Copper River Club, right?”
“Some. But tell me what you know.”
The Copper River Club was one of his favorite subjects, a favorite subject of everyone in Bodine, and Ren eagerly filled Cork in.
“There were these really rich guys a long time ago, like a hundred years, see? I mean the richest guys in the whole country. Henry Ford and guys like that. And they didn’t want the Huron Mountains to be spoiled by logging the way the rest of Michigan was. So they bought up most of the land and built cabins for themselves and their families, and they won’t let anybody in there who’s not a member of the Club. They protect the woods and try to keep everything like it always was. Like, once there were plans to build a road from Bodine to L’Anse over on the Keweenaw. These guys kept it from happening. So there aren’t roads or anything that go through that part of the U.P. Now movie stars and famous writers and people like that belong or they visit. A couple of years ago I saw Tom Cruise in Bodine. He was stopping for gas on his way up.”
