Meloux supplied it. “They fed.”
“Fed?” Rainy said, aghast. “You don’t mean they cannibalized their victims?”
“Do you know the story of the Windigo, Niece?”
“A monster with a heart of ice. A cannibal.”
“They were both Windigos,” Meloux said. “They did not start out that way, but they did not start out as whole human beings either. They were born with something missing. They did not have souls.”
“Everyone has a soul, Uncle Henry,” Rainy said.
“What is a soul? I believe it is our connection with the Creator and our deep awareness of our connection with all things created by him. And this is what they did not have. Some people who have souls make choices that lead them to evil. These two did not have a choice.”
“
“I have lived a very long time, Niece, and I have seen many things I do not understand. I only know they are so.”
“If Broom and Monique Cavanaugh didn’t start out as Windigos, Henry, what happened?” Cork asked.
“A small evil is like a shadow. It follows us but it has no effect. But when evil finds evil, it can become a different creature, Corcoran O’Connor. It can become huge and monstrous. When those two soulless people met, something worse than what they had been before was created. They fed on their own evil and then they fed on The People.”
“Why The People?”
“Because if the Ojibwe disappeared, who would care? Only the Ojibwe and we were few and powerless.”
“How did these two find each other, Henry?” Cork asked.
“I do not know.”
“My father knew about them, didn’t he?”
“He knew.”
“What did he do about it?”
“Your father was a good man. One of the best I have ever known. But he was not one of The People.”
“What does that mean?”
“You are not yet at the end of your journey, Corcoran O’Connor. When you have reached the end, you will understand and my answers will not be necessary.”
“It was my father’s gun that killed Monique Cavanaugh, wasn’t it, Henry? Explain that to me.”
“You still ask in anger. The end of your journey is a place without anger. Come to me when you have reached that place.” Meloux slowly stood. “I am going to bed now.”
Cork watched the dark between the outcroppings swallow his old friend.
“Shit,” he said under his breath.
Rainy said, “He can be hard to understand sometimes, but in my experience, he’s usually right.”
“Oh shut up,” Cork said and got to his feet.
TWENTY-NINE
He dreamed his father dying.
And he woke anxious and angry.
Clearly, he was nowhere near the end of the journey Meloux had referred to.
But he had an idea, which he wanted to pursue, and he got up quickly and prepared for the day.
Before he headed out, his phone rang. A call from his daughter Jenny.
“Dad?” She sounded worried.
“Hey, sweetheart, what a nice surprise.”
“I just heard about what’s going on up there in the Vermilion One Mine. Jesus, Dad.”
“Yeah, pretty crazy stuff.”
“On CNN, they reported that you found the bodies. Is that true?”
“Afraid so.”
“My God. Are you all right?”
“Me? Fine.”
“Are you … involved?” She phrased it much the way her mother might have, her words both a question and an admonition.
“Just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. No need to worry.”
“Just happened? Right.”
“Look, sweetheart, I’d love to talk to you, but I have some pressing business—”
“Does it have to do with—what are they calling it—the Vanishings?”
“I’m just going over to the rez to visit Millie Joseph. You remember her?”
“Old and a little senile, but nice.”
“That’s her. I try to visit whenever I can these days. So don’t worry about me, okay?”
“I can come up if you need me.”
“No, sweetheart, I’m fine. Give that boyfriend of yours my best.”
When he hung up, he wasn’t proud of himself, but at least he’d avoided actually lying to his elder daughter. He had enough to worry about without being concerned about her worry.
When he reached the Nokomis Home, he found Millie Joseph rocking in the porch shade. It was morning and still cool, and she had a knitted shawl around her shoulders.
“
Cork let her question slide and pulled up a chair next to her. “A beautiful day, Millie,” he said, looking toward the steely blue of the lake.
“At my age, Corkie, every day you wake up is beautiful.”
“Millie, could I ask you a question?”
“Sure. But it will cost you.”
“What’s the price?”
“Today’s Friday. Sarah LeDuc over at the Mocha Moose makes fry bread on Fridays. I’ll answer your question if you bring me back some fry bread.”
“It’s a deal,” Cork said.
“Ask away.”
“Indigo Broom—” Cork began.
“Oh,” Millie said, and her face changed. “Not him.”
“I just want to know where Indigo Broom lived.”
“Why do you want to know that?”
“Do you want fry bread?”
She weighed her craving against her reluctance to answer and gave in. “He lived way over south on the reservation. An old logging road off Waagikomaan. He had himself a little cabin there. But you won’t find it now.”
“Why not?”
“Burned down.”
“When?”
“Long time ago. About the time he left, I think.”
“You mean disappeared.”
