‘All you’ll do is throw your life away. I don’t want to lose you, too.’
Johan got up and pulled her with him. ‘I tried peace. I tried turning the other cheek. Look what it got us. I’m not lying down anymore. I’m fighting back.’
‘I’ll tell your father. I’ll tell the police. They’ll stop you.’
He grabbed her and shook his head. ‘Don’t.’
‘Damn it, Johan, I will. This is crazy.’
‘If you still love me, don’t tell anyone. Don’t tell them what I’m going to do.’ He kissed her, as if he knew she couldn’t resist him, and whispered, ‘Please.’
She tried to hold him, but he ran along the river bank without looking back. He was swallowed by the woods, but she could still hear his footsteps trampling the brush. She stood by the water, torn with indecision. She told herself that he wasn’t really serious about Kirk. He wouldn’t do it. Not Johan. He would be like her, thinking crazy thoughts and finally pulling back before it was too late.
His eyes said something else. His eyes said murder.
She had to stop him.
33
Chris awoke to a buzzing noise, like an insect flying around his face. He opened his eyes, momentarily disoriented. He was alone in Hannah’s bed, and the house was filled with the greasy, seductive aroma of frying bacon. The buzzing noise was his phone, vibrating in the pocket of his pants, which he’d tossed on the floor as he undressed. The slacks were now neatly folded on top of Hannah’s dresser.
Naked, he climbed out of bed and retrieved his phone. He found a text message from Michael Altman on the screen.
Chris texted back to the county attorney.
He took a shower and dressed again. Downstairs, he found Hannah at the stove, with an apron over her work clothes. Olivia sat at the butcher-block table, pushing around a runny egg on her plate and chewing a piece of crisp bacon. His ex-wife nodded her head at Olivia and gave him a meaningful glance. He understood. What had happened between them was a secret from their daughter.
He sat down at the table, and Hannah put a mug of coffee in front of him and a bowl of granola. Olivia’s face was dark, as if her mind were far away. Her leg drummed restlessly like a piston under the table.
‘You okay, Olivia?’ he asked.
His daughter didn’t look at him. ‘Yeah, fine.’
‘You sure?’
She gave him a smile, but it felt false. ‘I’m sure.’
He didn’t push. She’d been through enough. If she needed time, he wanted her to have it.
Hannah sat down between them. She gave him a tiny, embarrassed smile that their daughter didn’t see. They ate mostly in silence, but he realized how much he had missed their morning routine since the divorce. It was like the old days in Minneapolis, each of them getting ready to go their separate ways. When he finished, he put his bowl in the sink and kissed his daughter on the head. She hugged him around the waist, and it felt good.
‘I’ll walk you out,’ Hannah told him.
She accompanied him to his car. It was a gray morning, promising more rain. They lingered on the sidewalk, aware of the awkwardness between them and not sure how to make it better. He thought about kissing her, but he didn’t. They were acting like teenagers again.
‘That was nice,’ Hannah said finally.
‘Yes, it was.’
‘It’s been a long time for me,’ she added.
‘For me, too.’
Hannah smiled. ‘Oh, sure, likely story. What’s a long time for a guy? A month?’
‘A year and a half,’ he told her, ‘and even that was a stupid onetime bar fling.’
‘Really?’ She looked surprised, but then she shook her head, as if she were mad at herself. ‘Sorry, it’s none of my business. I don’t know why I’m talking like this. I never expected this to happen between us.’
‘Neither did I.’
‘Everything that’s going on. The cancer. Olivia. I just—’
‘You don’t need to explain,’ he said.
‘It was a stupid mistake.’
‘Was it?’
She looked uncomfortable. ‘I’m not saying I regret it, but we don’t have to make a big thing out of it, do we?’
‘Maybe we should.’
Hannah reached for his face, but she pulled her hand back. ‘Think about our situation, Chris. We have enough to worry about with Olivia. We don’t need to add more complications right now.’
He nodded, but he wasn’t happy. ‘That’s true.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘No, you’re right.’ He nodded at the house. ‘Do you want to rescind your invitation?’
‘About staying here? No, you should.’
‘What do we tell Olivia?’
‘We tell her that it will be easier if you stay in the house. She doesn’t need to know what happened between us.’
Chris didn’t think it would be easier for him, being around Hannah after they’d made love again, but he didn’t object. He opened his car door, and before he climbed inside, Hannah embraced him. She held on longer than two friends would. When they broke apart, the flush on her face suggested that she was conflicted about their relationship too. He drove off without saying more, but he watched her in the mirror, and she followed him with her eyes until he was gone.
Things were already complicated.
He headed north on the lonely highway toward the courthouse in Barron for his meeting with Michael Altman. When he arrived at the grand old building on the hill, he found the county attorney waiting for him on a bench among the empty flower urns. Altman had his black trench coat draped over his arm and his fedora planted neatly on his head. His black glasses were pushed to the end of his nose, and he had his mobile phone extended at the end of his arm. He squinted, trying to read.
‘Mr. Hawk,’ Altman said. ‘I need coffee, do you mind?’
‘Not at all.’
Altman slid his phone into his suit coat pocket. ‘These little screens are a conspiracy of the young. I’m sorry I won’t be around to enjoy it when the current generation turns fifty and their eyes give out.’
Chris laughed. The county attorney bounded off the bench and led him down the terraced steps toward the town’s main street. He struggled to keep up with Altman, and he was convinced that the older attorney would outlive most of the younger generation. Altman led Chris across the street to a dive called Jack’s that smelled of beer and stale smoke. He waved at the bartender and slid into a booth covered in torn red vinyl. Chris sat opposite. They were the only customers inside.
‘This place is old Barron,’ Altman said, laying his fedora on the table. ‘Pre-Mondamin. It’s been around since before I became county attorney. They water their beer so much they could sell it as Dasani, but I’ve got a soft spot for the place. That, and they make morning coffee so strong you can chew it.’
Without being asked, the bartender dropped a steaming mug in front of Altman and stared at Chris with a question mark on his face. Chris shook his head.
‘You wanted to see me?’ Chris asked, when the bartender was gone.
Altman blew on his coffee. ‘I hear you’ve been busy.’
‘You could say that.’
‘The sheriff says you dropped off bloody clothes belonging to Johan Magnus.’
