Read Online Northwest Angle by William Kent Krueger - Free Book Online
Authors: William Kent Krueger
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makeshift shelter. Of course, he saw the baby’s upper lip, the wide cleft. But what was there to say about that? He said nothing.
When the bottle was prepared and the baby feeding, she told him the story.
Though he couldn’t see the cabin, he stared east where it stood. “I think I need to take a look.”
“Wait,” she said. “How did you find us?”
“Like I said,” he rasped, “I’ve been swimming from island to island all afternoon, hoping like crazy you and the boat made it somewhere safe.”
“What happened to you? I looked back, and you were gone.”
“The wind knocked me right out of the boat. Felt like a semi plowed into my back. Next thing I know I’m in the water, and the waves are all over me, and I’m thinking I’m a goner. And you, too, kiddo. I finally washed up on one of the islands and hunkered down until it was all over, then I came looking for you.”
“Just luck you found us?”
He shrugged. “I could’ve sworn I smelled something cooking.”
“Spam,” she said and laughed. “I’ll fix you some.”
“Later.” He stood up from where he’d been sitting on the blanket. “First I want to have a look at that cabin.”
“I’d rather you stayed, Dad. I feel safer with you here.”
“Safer?” He looked around him. “Kiddo, you’ve been doing just fine without me. I won’t be gone long, promise. Just keep that boy quiet if you can. He’s got a set of lungs on him, and until we understand what’s going on, I’d just as soon nobody knows we’re here.”
“All right,” she said, but he could hear her reluctance.
He followed her directions and found the cabin without difficulty. The destroyed tree cover made the small structure easy to see once he knew where to look. He could tell that before thestorm the cabin would have been invisible from the lake. Probably a good place to hide, if that’s what you were hoping for.
In the blue light of dusk, he entered. The place was just as Jenny had described it. He spent a few moments taking stock of the layout, then went to the tumbled logs from the damaged rear wall and slipped through the gap his daughter had created earlier. The girl lay just as Jenny said she’d left her, on her back with her dead eyes to the twilight sky visible through the rend in the cabin roof.
Though he was absolutely certain he’d find no pulse, he pressed her neck, the carotid artery there. Her skin was cold. He examined the bruises and the burns Jenny had described. The girl had suffered before she died. There were a couple of short lengths of nylon cord on the floor nearby, and Cork checked her wrists and ankles. He found bruising and figured she’d been bound, maybe to the chair that lay tipped over near her body. In the end, she’d been killed with a single bullet to her brain. Entry wound in her forehead, no exit wound. Small caliber. A .22 probably, chosen for the execution because the bullet wouldn’t penetrate the back of the head and would ricochet several times inside the girl’s skull, making Swiss cheese of her brain in the process. It was sometimes the way people who killed for a living operated.
He rolled her onto her stomach, which was how she’d been positioned when Jenny found her. He retreated from the body and tried to return the fallen logs to the way they’d probably been before Jenny had disturbed them. He looked the cabin over and knew there was no way to disguise the fact that someone had been there and had taken things.
But it was what it was.
He left the cabin and scoured the area outside for anything additional that might be important. He found a washtub and a clothesline, and finally an old wooden outhouse destroyed in the storm. At last, he headed through the twilight back toward the shelter, where Jenny and the child were hiding.
* * *
She was changing the baby when her father returned.
“So?” she said.
“Someone wanted something from her.” He sat down against the fallen pine log that
When the bottle was prepared and the baby feeding, she told him the story.
Though he couldn’t see the cabin, he stared east where it stood. “I think I need to take a look.”
“Wait,” she said. “How did you find us?”
“Like I said,” he rasped, “I’ve been swimming from island to island all afternoon, hoping like crazy you and the boat made it somewhere safe.”
“What happened to you? I looked back, and you were gone.”
“The wind knocked me right out of the boat. Felt like a semi plowed into my back. Next thing I know I’m in the water, and the waves are all over me, and I’m thinking I’m a goner. And you, too, kiddo. I finally washed up on one of the islands and hunkered down until it was all over, then I came looking for you.”
“Just luck you found us?”
He shrugged. “I could’ve sworn I smelled something cooking.”
“Spam,” she said and laughed. “I’ll fix you some.”
“Later.” He stood up from where he’d been sitting on the blanket. “First I want to have a look at that cabin.”
“I’d rather you stayed, Dad. I feel safer with you here.”
“Safer?” He looked around him. “Kiddo, you’ve been doing just fine without me. I won’t be gone long, promise. Just keep that boy quiet if you can. He’s got a set of lungs on him, and until we understand what’s going on, I’d just as soon nobody knows we’re here.”
“All right,” she said, but he could hear her reluctance.
He followed her directions and found the cabin without difficulty. The destroyed tree cover made the small structure easy to see once he knew where to look. He could tell that before thestorm the cabin would have been invisible from the lake. Probably a good place to hide, if that’s what you were hoping for.
In the blue light of dusk, he entered. The place was just as Jenny had described it. He spent a few moments taking stock of the layout, then went to the tumbled logs from the damaged rear wall and slipped through the gap his daughter had created earlier. The girl lay just as Jenny said she’d left her, on her back with her dead eyes to the twilight sky visible through the rend in the cabin roof.
Though he was absolutely certain he’d find no pulse, he pressed her neck, the carotid artery there. Her skin was cold. He examined the bruises and the burns Jenny had described. The girl had suffered before she died. There were a couple of short lengths of nylon cord on the floor nearby, and Cork checked her wrists and ankles. He found bruising and figured she’d been bound, maybe to the chair that lay tipped over near her body. In the end, she’d been killed with a single bullet to her brain. Entry wound in her forehead, no exit wound. Small caliber. A .22 probably, chosen for the execution because the bullet wouldn’t penetrate the back of the head and would ricochet several times inside the girl’s skull, making Swiss cheese of her brain in the process. It was sometimes the way people who killed for a living operated.
He rolled her onto her stomach, which was how she’d been positioned when Jenny found her. He retreated from the body and tried to return the fallen logs to the way they’d probably been before Jenny had disturbed them. He looked the cabin over and knew there was no way to disguise the fact that someone had been there and had taken things.
But it was what it was.
He left the cabin and scoured the area outside for anything additional that might be important. He found a washtub and a clothesline, and finally an old wooden outhouse destroyed in the storm. At last, he headed through the twilight back toward the shelter, where Jenny and the child were hiding.
* * *
She was changing the baby when her father returned.
“So?” she said.
“Someone wanted something from her.” He sat down against the fallen pine log that
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