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woman screamed.
    Rick knew he had about
fifteen seconds to exit before Steve would come hurdling down Summer
Hall to reach the scream.
    He felt the cold handle
of The Jane’s door and then the knob of the storage closet. In what
seemed to be an instant, he made it outside. The escape seemed
surreal, as if floating through time, unhinged from reality. He had
to go to the woman from the motel room—across the border, to
Canada—but could not fathom what would be waiting for him there.

Chapter 8: Tony
    When Tony came to a
small shanty sided with dark brown shingles, he had been driving down
an unmarked road for seven miles. Luckily the area had a thaw that
melted the underlying snow, which if covered, would make traversing
the sparsely traveled road impossible. The cottage bellowed out smoke
from a blackened chimney top, and a weather vane shaped as a rooster
wobbled precariously during abrupt gusts of wind.
    * * *
    Tony didn’t think
he would ever find the house of Elias Kingbird upon his arrival in
Salamanca earlier in the afternoon; he hadn’t received much help
from the locals. A man looking at hunting knives said Elias died
years ago. Others said he fled the country. An elderly Seneca man
said he had him in his pants pocket and doddered of to commence what
the senile do. A shop clerk confirmed that Elias drove an ‘86, or
‘87 Cutlass, but he had no idea where he stayed, and said he hadn’t
seen him in a few years.
    The pursuit to find
Kingbird had gone absolutely nowhere. As he walked outside on to the
store’s deck a very pregnant woman approached Tony as he exited
through the door.
    “Excuse me sir, but I
heard you were looking for Elias. Why?” asked the young woman with
big brown eyes.
    “I’m Tony Delgado;
I work for a nursing home in Williamsville. We recently have taken in
a patient who has serious health issues.” He sheltered his hands in
his pockets from the frozen air. “I’m here to get background on
her—perhaps the name of a former doctor who can supply us with a
comprehensive history. The Sheriff’s office has found some
surveillance tape that implicates Kingbird as a person of interest
for her abandonment. I want to try and smooth the situation over
before the patient’s health further deteriorates.”
    “I see—my name is
Jennifer,” She put out her hand and shook Tony’s softly. “The
Kingbirds were friends with my family before Elias’s wife, Meni,
died. I remember her saying that they cared for Elias’s grandmother
at the house—perhaps she is your mystery patient?”
    “So are you still in
contact with Elias? Is there any way you can point me in his
direction?” He zipped his winter coat up to the top of his neck.
    “The Kingbirds lived
out on the edge of the reservation. Their house is on land adjoining
Allegheny State Park. It borders three sides of their property,
running for roughly twenty miles on each way. Needless to say,
secluded,” Jennifer smiled, touching the bottom of her swollen
stomach. “But I haven’t talked to Elias in years . . . nobody has
since Meni died, and I don’t know much about Elias’s
grandmother’s condition either. Meni had mentioned the woman was
mentally ill, and that they struggled to care for her.” She sat in
a wicker chair on display and squinted at Tony. “You do seem like
you are truly here to help—I’ll give you the benefit of the
doubt. I can draw you a map to their land. But it’s kinda tricky to
get to.”
    She dug in her purse
and pulled out a napkin and a black ball point pen. She drew a box
for the general store and a line for the main road that ran through
the reservation. Then an arrow that indicated the direction of travel
would be south west, through the neighboring town of Red House. She
finished lining in a road that intersected southbound. Next to it she
wrote “OSR” .
    “This is Old Spirits
road, you take a left here,” Jennifer said. She penned in a small
cross on the east side of OSR, followed by a