“I’ve been thinking about that,” Rude said. “I’ve been thinking about Will Pope’s vision. He saw the eagle descend from the sky and glide into a box, where it was covered with a white blanket, right? What if the box was an airplane hangar and the white blanket was the snow on the roof?”
“Does Nightwind have a hangar along with his private airstrip?” Cork asked.
Rude smiled. “He does indeed.”
“Can you draw me a map that’ll take me there?”
“I’ll take you there myself.”
“No, from this point on you stay clear of us. Things could get difficult, Jon.”
“That doesn’t worry me.”
Cork said, “Maybe not, but I’ll bet Diane doesn’t like the idea.”
Rude looked up at his wife, who said, “If Cork really needs you, I won’t stand in your way. But I’d prefer to know you’re safe. I’d like Anna to grow up with a father.” She didn’t smile, and Cork understood that everything she said was true.
Rude spent a long moment weighing his response, then gave a nod. “All right.”
When they returned to their hotel, the desk clerk signaled to them as they passed. She was a woman of Indian descent, India of the subcontinent. She wore a smart blue suit and had an ornamental spot in the middle of her forehead. She smiled and handed Cork a note.
“The sheriff was here earlier. He asked me to give this to you.”
“Thank you.” Cork opened the note. It said, “Call me. Kosmo.” He’d written both his office phone and his cell phone number.
Upstairs in the room that, for safety’s sake, he and Parmer had decided to share, Cork called the Owl Creek County sheriff. Because it was late, he tried the cell phone first.
“Kosmo.”
From the background sound, the harsh music of casino slots, Cork knew where the man was.
“This is Cork O’Connor.”
“Heard you were in town. I’d like to have a talk with you first thing in the morning, O’Connor.”
“It’ll have to be early, Sheriff. I’ve got a full day planned.”
“Make it seven. My office.”
“I’ll be there.”
When Cork ended the call, Parmer said, “Well?”
“We’ve been summoned.”
“What do you think?”
“I don’t know. Tomorrow will tell. Been a long day. Let’s get some sleep.”
“Hang on. Something I want you to see.” Parmer hefted his suitcase onto his bed and opened it. He dug under some of the clothing and drew out a large handgun, a Ruger Blackhawk.
“Four seventy-five caliber?” Cork asked.
“Yep.”
“That’s a substantial piece, Hugh. Could bring down an elephant. Planning on hunting while you’re here?”
“I figure it’ll stop any critter, elephant or otherwise, intent on doing us harm.”
“Got a permit?”
“Wouldn’t be without one. I also have a permit for this.” He reached back into his suitcase and drew out a slightly smaller firearm, an S amp; W Sigma 18. He held it out, offering.
Cork shook his head.
With a shrug, Parmer put the gun back. “It’ll be here if you decide you want it.”
Cork laughed. “I honestly don’t believe they’ll break down our door during the night. If they’re going to jump us, they’ll do it in the middle of nowhere.”
“Lot of nowhere out here. And won’t it be a good thing that I have a gun that’ll bring down an elephant?”
Cork said, “I’m going out for some air. I’ll be careful to watch for elephants.”
He left the room and walked to the courtyard, where the little pool was filled with water from the hot springs. He stared up at the clear black sky and the stars, and thought about Stephen, who was alone in the deep Minnesota woods, staring up at the same sky. He drove out of his heart any worry about his son. Stephen had spent much of his life in the forest, and he understood its ways. He was in the keeping of the spirits of that land and under the watchful eye of Henry Meloux. Cork’s only concern was whether Stephen would be granted the vision he sought. And over that, no man had control.
The night was cool but still much warmer than any had been when he’d stood there months earlier during his first search for the missing plane. Those cold nights he’d held desperately to hope. What he held to now was something very different, a resolve like a hard fist in his heart. After months of torturing himself, he’d finally stopped re-creating in his mind the morning of Jo’s disappearance, which he’d accepted as the morning of her death. Then Liz Burns and Becca Bodine had brought him the videotape. And now he understood that much of what he’d imagined, particularly the ending, was untrue. There probably had been no problem with turbulence, no sudden tilting of the wings, no long, irrevocable slide toward earth. What had been the true end for Jo? The kiss of a gun barrel against the back of her head? Did she know what was coming? Oh Christ, did she know?
Alone in the courtyard under the black sky, Cork stared down at his empty right hand and closed it slowly until it was a rock of bone and flesh.
THIRTY-TWO
The next morning at seven sharp, Cork and Parmer stood at the public contact window of the Owl Creek County Sheriff’s Office. Dewey Quinn was on the desk and buzzed them through the security door. He left his chair and greeted Cork with an enthusiastic handshake.
“The sheriff told me you were in town. Good to see you.”
“Dewey, this is a friend of mine, Hugh Parmer. Hugh, Dewey Quinn.”
“A pleasure,” the deputy said. He looked at Cork questioningly. “Here for…?”
“Just here, Dewey. It’s been a while.”
“And the snow’s starting to melt in the high country,” Quinn said. “I don’t want to discourage you, Cork, but it’ll be a while before enough of it’s gone to expose the plane.”
“Thanks, Dewey. I’ll keep that in mind.”
“The sheriff’s expecting you. He told me to send you right in.”
Sheriff Kosmo stood at a window, his back to the door, which was open. Cork stepped inside, Parmer behind him. Kosmo had his hands clasped against the small of his back. He seemed intent on what lay beyond the window glass.
“Sheriff?” Cork said.
Kosmo didn’t turn. He said, “Have a seat, gentlemen.”
Two chairs with shiny metal frames and orange plastic seats and backs had been set before the desk. Cork took one and Parmer the other.
“Tell me why you’re here,” Kosmo said.
“Because you asked me,” Cork replied.
Kosmo turned to them. He looked like a man who hadn’t slept in a month. Bags of flesh hung under his eyes. His face was waxen and his lids heavy. A tall man, he looked down at them. “No, tell me why you and Mr. Parmer are here in my county.”
“I’m searching for answers to a few questions that have come up lately.”
“What questions?”
“About the plane that went missing with my wife aboard.”
“Until we locate it, we all have questions.”
“When do you expect that will be?”
