covered the wooden floor. I knocked on the door a few times, but nobody answered.
“I think I see a light on,” Maven said. “They’ve got to be here. Both cars are here.”
“Hello!” I said. “Sergeant Steele!”
I knocked on the porch door again, and then I opened it and went inside the porch to the next door. The whole place needed about a hundred hours of sanding and then two or three coats of good paint.
“Donna! Sergeant Steele!”
Maven came up beside me and looked through the window next to the door. I don’t know which came first, him seeing the two bodies on the floor or me noticing that the door was slightly ajar and pushing it open. The smell came out, riding on the warmer air from inside the house. It washed over me, turning my stomach inside out.
We had found Sergeant Steele, just like we had promised, but we sure as hell wouldn’t be bringing him back home.
Maven got on his cell phone and called 911. I went outside and stood there with my hands on my knees, trying hard not to throw up.
“They’re on their way,” he said after he hung up. “Are you all right?”
I shook my head. I wasn’t ready to stand up.
“Two sons and two fathers now,” he said. “Plus one girlfriend. McKnight, I think we’ve got something terrible going on here.”
And we’re rolling…
… Things are getting a little dark here. We need a bright shot to shift the mood.
… This is the Mackinac Bridge, gleaming in the sunlight.
… Some bouncy travelogue music would be great here. Don’t you think?
… Here’s the bridge. Here’s the way out. Here’s all the hope, right here on this one thin ribbon of pavement.
… Five miles long. Too far to run. Unless you’re the fastest man on earth.
… Even then, they’ll catch you. They always catch you.
… Get the sunlight. So bright it hurts. That’s right.
And cut.
CHAPTER NINE
We waited for the police to arrive. The county guys came first, from their post in Marinette, followed closely by the Wisconsin State Police officers from Fond du Lac. They came out of their cars with guns drawn and Maven and I were smart enough to keep our hands in plain sight. When Maven flashed his badge, the guns went back in their holsters, even if some of the confusion remained. Here was a chief of police, after all, not just from across the border but from way the hell on the other side of the state. It would have been like the chief of police from Milwaukee coming to Sault Ste. Marie and calling in a double homicide.
The preliminary identifications were indeed Sergeant Donald Steele, age forty-three, from the Iron Mountain post of the Michigan State Police, and Donna Krimer, age thirty-eight, a waitress from the Starlight Bar and Grill up the road in Niagara. Both victims had been shot with Seargent Steele’s service revolver, Sergeant Steele in the back and Ms. Krimer in the head. The revolver had not been recovered.
They estimated that the two had been dead for approximately three days, but we didn’t stick around to see the medical examiner do his work. The police took full statements from each of us, and then we were free to go.
“Who’s notifying the next of kin?” Maven asked the state detective who seemed to be in charge.
“We’ve got a couple of men from Sergeant Steele’s post on their way down to talk to his wife,” he said. “Ms. Krimer is separated from her husband, but we haven’t located him yet.”
Maven thanked the man and promised him we’d both be available at any time if they needed us. Then we climbed in my truck and got the hell out of there.
“Are we going back to see her?” I said. I didn’t have to specify who.
“It was bad enough for her before,” he said. “Now she really needs somebody else to be there.”
I didn’t argue. We went back over the river, back to Michigan and to all of the misery waiting for us there. When we got to the Steeles’ farm, there was a state squad car in the driveway. It was getting late in the day now. We could hear the unhinged, almost inhuman sound of her crying before we got to the front door.
We introduced ourselves to the troopers. We stayed there for about an hour, trying to help them calm her down. In the end, I saw Maven grab one of the troopers by the collar and make him promise that they wouldn’t leave her alone. I’d known enough state cops in my time to know that you don’t grab them. Ever. And you don’t tell them what to do. Ever. But Maven did both and it seemed to work.
We left the place as the sun was going down. Back up that big curve to the top of the hill, where you could look down and see the whole farm laid out like an early American painting. I kept driving, back through the forest, back along the coastline, back to Sault Ste. Marie, with neither of us saying more than a few words the whole time.
There wasn’t much left to say.
It was almost midnight when we pulled up to Maven’s house. There was a Soo police car waiting in the driveway. A young officer got out, the very same officer who had been first on the scene when I found Raz on the kitchen floor.
“Good evening, Chief.” His eyes looked tired. He’d obviously been waiting there a long time.
“What’s going on, Ray?”
“I’m supposed to let you and Mr. McKnight know that the FBI agents will be back in town tomorrow. And that you should plan on making yourselves available to them.”
Maven let out a heavy sigh. It was so cold out now, we could see our breath as we stood there shivering in the driveway.
“I don’t suppose they gave you a specific time,” the chief said.
“No, I’m afraid not.”
“You actually had to wait here until we got back, just to tell us that in person?”
“Those were my instructions, yes.”
“From the agents? They’re the ones who told you to do this?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You know, Ray, I know you’re new at this, but here’s one little tip for you. If somebody who isn’t in your immediate chain of command tries to tell you to do something, even if that person is a federal agent, you should always at least consider the option of telling that person to blow it out their ass.”
The poor young officer wasn’t sure what to make of that one.
“It’s okay,” I said, trying to help the kid out. I knew the chief was just as tired and just as shell-shocked as I was. The last thing he should have been doing was giving out career advice. “We’ll be around. Just have them call us and we’ll come right in.”
The officer thanked us and got back in his car. He drove off, presumably to sign off from his shift and go home to bed.
“Those agents are going to try to put us through the ringer tomorrow,” Maven said.
“They have no reason to. Not really.”
“Since when did that ever stop them?”
“Well, get some sleep,” I said. “It’s been a long day.”
“You can say that again.”
I left him there to open the door and to go into his empty house. Then I drove home, trying to keep my eyes
