the movement of the men on the floor the same as it had been three years ago. “This is Millers Kill,” he said, bewildered. “What the hell does a company from Malaysia have to do with us?” He wasn’t even sure where Malaysia was.
Johnson allowed himself a ghostly smile. “You don’t pay attention to the news much, do you, boy?”
Randy bristled. “Just because I didn’t graduate-”
“Calm down. I’m not yanking your chain.” Johnson sighed. “It doesn’t matter anyway. No jobs here. And if you’re looking for another logging job, you’d better get to it, because a lot of the big outfits are bringing up Mexicans to do the work now. Cheaper than a white man, you know.” He grinned outright.
“Yeah. Thanks for the tip.” Randy spun on his heel and marched away before he could say something to get himself into trouble. It wasn’t Johnson’s fault there was no work to be had.
No work. A cold wind blew up inside him, and despite the heat on the pulping floor, he shivered. He had always thought of the mill as the workplace of last resort. A place he might not choose to go but that would always be there. Stupid. Stupid.
What was he gonna do? Trucking? Work at the Kmart? Clean up after tourists at a ski lodge? None of that would cover the bills sitting on the kitchen counter right now, let alone support his family if a baby came along.
He emerged into the same cold, bright air. What was he going to do? What?
Russ watched Eugene’s face as he read the letter and examined the brochure from the Planetary Liberation Army. In the dining room, breakfast was winding down to the last few scrapes across syrup-coated plates and the dregs from the coffeepot. Russ had asked their host quietly if he and Clare might have a word. Eugene had led them into the living room. Leather and wool-blanketed chairs sprawled invitingly around them, but no one sat.
Van der Hoeven looked up at him. “I’ve heard of the group.” He frowned at the letter. “She’s always been a bit of a nut about her causes, but I can’t believe Millie would get involved with extremists like this.”
“How long has your sister been living with you?” Russ asked.
“Since late August.” He turned the brochure over. “There’s no date on either of these. Perhaps she brought them with her?”
“They were in the kitchen,” Clare said. “Is that likely to be where she would store papers she brought from- where’s her home?”
“Montana.” He was standing near the enormous river-stone fireplace, in such a way that his scarred flesh was partially in shadow. Russ wondered how much of his positioning was deliberate and how much an old habit. “No, I have to confess it’s more likely any mail in the kitchen arrived here. I pick things up from the box at the end of the road, and I tend to dump it on the kitchen desk. It’s where I do the bills.”
Russ glanced at Clare, and he swore he could read her mind.
He focused in on Eugene. If his sister was mixed up in a piece of nasty work, he might be genuinely ignorant. Or he might be protecting her. “Mr. van der Hoeven, I know you’re worried about your sister.” Russ dropped his voice. He was concerned. Eugene could confide in him. “I’m starting to be worried, too. You say she’s good in these woods, that she’s known them all her life. Does it make sense that she’d wander off at night and get herself lost?” Toward the other end of the great room was a glassed-in case of hunting rifles and a table, next to the window seat, made from what looked to be elk antlers. It didn’t take much detective work to figure out where van der Hoeven’s sympathies lay. “Or could it be that she’s been sucked in by some radical environmentalists? Gotten in over her head? Could that have anything to do with her disappearance?”
Eugene nodded thoughtfully. “I did hear a car, early this morning. Before I discovered Millie wasn’t in the house.”
Russ smoothed the surprise off his face. He hadn’t expected to get anything from his fishing expedition. He just liked to tie off any loose ends.
“You didn’t mention a car to the search team,” Clare said.
Their host quarter-turned to her, just enough to be polite, still keeping his good side toward her. He did it more with Clare than with the men in his house, Russ noticed. He wanted to say,
“I didn’t think it signified.” Eugene gestured toward Russ’s camo and blaze orange. “On a Saturday in hunting season, it’s not unusual to have cars or trucks drive in here by mistake. Hunters looking for one of the access roads.”
“Do you have any reason to think Millie might have been involved with the PLA?” Russ asked.
“If she was, she certainly didn’t tell me. She’s hooked up with the local chapter of this Adirondack Conservancy Corporation.” Eugene’s face was still expressive enough to register what he thought of them. “A bunch of old ladies and newcomers from New York City. She had them up here just this past week. Do you think they…?”
“Are a front for the PLA? No. I, um, know the president of that group pretty well. They’re more into… passive resistance.”
Clare looked at him, one eyebrow quirked.
“She is seeing someone from town,” van der Hoeven said slowly. “Romantically, I mean. At least, that’s what she told me. I have to say, that’s unusual for her. She doesn’t have much of a track record with men.”
“Maybe she prefers women,” Clare said, her face bland.
Eugene dropped the coy sideways glance and stared her straight in the face. “Certainly not.” Russ could see him reassessing the priest in light of her scandalous statement.
“What made you think she didn’t go with her boyfriend last night?” Russ asked.
“She’s always told me before. That she’d be away.”
“How long has she been seeing this guy?”
“Almost since she got here. At least since early September.”
“That’s fast work for someone who doesn’t have much of a track record with men.”
“She’s twenty-six,” Clare pointed out. “You fall madly in love overnight when you’re that age.”
“That’s true,” Russ said. “It’s also true that the presence of a boyfriend, real or not, can cover up all sorts of activities.” He turned to van der Hoeven. “Have you met this guy? Has she had him over to the house here?”
“No.” He said it slowly, as if considering for the first time that there might be more to his sister’s nocturnal activities than young love’s first bloom. He looked down at the letter in his hand. “Do you really think-is there a chance she might really be in danger?”
Russ made a noncommittal noise. “We might all be blowing smoke at this point, but I think it’ll be worthwhile to track down this friend of hers. What’s his name?”
“Um…” Van der Hoeven tilted his head back, thinking. “Michael. Michael McWhorter.”
“And when did you hear the car in the drive?”
“Before I was up. So it must have been around four, four-thirty.”
“You told us her bed hadn’t been slept in,” Clare said, “but she could have made it up before leaving.”
“Of course. I just never considered Millie might be… sneaking off without telling me.”
Russ raised his hands. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here. The first assumption has to be the original one. That she got lost while walking last night and needs help finding her way back.” He nodded toward Clare. “The second assumption I’m going to work on is that she decided, for whatever reason, to meet up with this Michael McWhorter in the wee hours, and the car you heard in the drive was him picking her up.” He nodded toward van der Hoeven. “The search team will work on the first assumption. I’ll take care of the second.”
Eugene was clearly worried now, his shoulders hunching, his hands clenching and unclenching. Russ gentled his voice. “Chances are, if she’s not out in the woods, she’s holed up with her boyfriend. Clare’s right, at twenty-six, you don’t always think about notifying other people before you dash off to do something stupid and romantic.” He glanced toward the dining room, where the other members of the search team were clearing away the dishes. “Why don’t you go talk to John Huggins and let him know the police will be following up on this possible boyfriend thing.”
