Read Online So Cold the River (2010) by Michael Koryta - Free Book Online Page A

that hung loose and untucked.
    “Kellen Cage?” Eric said. This was not who he’d expected to be doing a thesis on the history of a rural Indiana town.
    “Ah, so you are Eric.”
    “How did you figure that out?”
    “In your e-mail you said you were working on some sort of film project. And I’m no detective but I can’t imagine there are
     many people walking around here with a camera like that.”
    “Right.”
    “What are you shooting?” Cage said, surveying the area.
    “Ah, nothing. Landscape, you know.”
    “Yeah? Well, you ought to park somewhere else, man, or at least close the door. Somebody’s gonna take it off, you leave it
     like that.”
    Kellen Cage had walked closer, all the way down the hill, andhe looked even younger now. Maybe twenty-five, twenty-six at best. His size was more evident down here, too. Eric wasn’t a
     small guy—six feet and one hundred and eighty pounds that had been pretty hard pounds before he’d left L.A.—but this Kellen
     Cage, taller and broader and knotted with muscle, made Eric feel tiny.
    “So what’s the problem with your camera?” Cage said when Eric didn’t respond.
    “Nothing, man. Nothing.”
    “You were giving it one hell of a lecture over nothing.” He had his head leaned to the side, was studying Eric with a skeptical
     look. Eric didn’t answer, just set to work removing the camera from the tripod and replacing it in its case.
    “So what kind of film are you doing?” Kellen Cage asked.
    “Oh, just a minor thing, nothing worth talking about but something that pays, and considering doing more. What about you?”
    He was struggling with the camera because his hands were shaking, and he hoped Cage hadn’t noticed.
    “Been coming down here for months,” Cage said. “Working on a thesis for my doctorate up at Indiana. I’d like to get a book
     out of it, though. Came down and thought, man, there’s a lot here. Hate to waste it.”
    “Focusing on the hotel?”
    “Nope. All the historical attention paid to this place has revolved around the hotels and Taggart and Sinclair, but there’s
     a strong black history, too. Joe Louis came down here all the time, used to train here before big fights, thought there was
     some sort of magic to the springs. Swore he never lost a fight after leaving the place. He didn’t stay in this hotel, though—stayed
     at a place called the Waddy that was for blacks. And they had a baseball team made up of porters and cooks and groundskeepers
     fromthe hotels who played with the major-league clubs that came down here for spring training. Played
well
with them, is the way it’s told, beat the Pirates once. The black teams they had down here could’ve played with anybody.”
    Eric finally had the camera in the bag. It took him a few seconds to realize that Kellen Cage had stopped talking and was
     waiting on a response.
    “I read some about Louis,” Eric said. “Didn’t know the baseball stuff.”
    “Oh, there’s plenty of more important elements to it, but I always catch myself telling the sports side first. Most of what
     I’m doing is focused around that Waddy Hotel. It’s important to bring these two hotels back to life. I just want to make sure
     the Waddy doesn’t get forgotten.”
    Eric slid the camera bag over his shoulder, then went to pick up the tripod, dropped it, and nearly lost the camera bag when
     he bent over to pick it up. Kellen Cage reached down and took the tripod.
    “You want to go on to the hotel and grab that drink as planned?” he said. “No offense, my man, but you look like you
need
one.”
    “Yeah,” Eric said. “Yeah, I could definitely use a drink.”

9
    H E DIDN’T GO UP to the room, choosing instead to bring the camera along with him as they walked across the atrium, Kellen explaining something
     about the bar’s hours and Eric hardly hearing him.
    Don’t overthink it, Eric, the way you did with the Harrelson tape. The way you did in that valley in the Bear Paws. In