Page 70 of God’s Country

“We can’t trust this bastard.”

Stan seemed to agree. He eyed me a long time while he caught his breath. Finally he said, “You take us anywhere but north and I won’t be responsible for what my brother does to you.”

I gave a nod, then even managed a smile. “North it is.”

CHAPTER 38

The Sand River flows almost directly north. Not far from the Sand River Falls, it empties into a very large lake the Anishinaabeg call Asabikeshiinh, which means “spider,” because there are many inlets like legs off the main body. On Boundary Waters maps, you’ll see it called Lost Man Lake, because there are also dozens of islands, and if you didn’t know the territory and had no map, you could paddle that lake for days and not find your way off. Although Canada was only a few miles north now, I planned to canoe Lost Man Lake in circles until I decided exactly how to mete out justice in the way the darkness of my soul demanded.

As the current of the Sand River carried us along, we were able to collect much of our gear, which had become caught up among rocks and brush along the banks. It was late in the day when we reached the lake, and we paddled to the nearest official campsite. We drew the canoe from the water. I refused to help set up camp, and Ollie was ready to have a go at me with the butt of the Glock, but Stan said he’d take care of everything.

“We need a fire,” he pointed out. “We have to dry out.”

“And it’ll keep the mosquitoes away,” Ollie added.

He was an idiot, but he was learning.

“You,” Ollie said, pointing the barrel of the Glock at me, then waving it toward the woods. “With me.”

I was still wearing my life vest. I took it off, tossed it on the ground, and Ollie followed as I headed away from the lake and began to gather wood.

“Once we’re in Canada, I’m going to enjoy killing you slow.”

“And you’ve killed lots of people, I suppose,” I said in a bored way.

“Enough to know what I’m doing.”

“Tell me about your first,” I said.

I wasn’t interested in this bit of dark history, but in the back of my mind, an idea was forming. If I could get this bastard to become distracted with his blabber, I might be able to knock him silly with a big stick before he had a chance to shoot me.

“Oh, I remember that one real good. I was sixteen. Me and my brother were home alone. Our old man and our uncle were out on some job for Wollersheim. This guy comes to the house looking for my father. Not a big guy, but he’s got a face that looks like the Devil stepped on it. Says he’s got a message for us. Then he smiles real big. Now, my old man had told us that there was code in his business. A message meant a killing. That guy was there to kill me and my brother, a message to my father. We’re standing at the front door, and he pulls out this nine-millimeter Luger, a Mossberg. Nice piece. He’s thinking we’re just a couple jerk teenagers, and he’s sloppy. Before he gets the Luger into position for a shot, I’ve broken his nose. Then I broke every bone in his face. Then I broke every finger. Then I shot him.” He smiled, as if truly enjoying the brutal memory. “Let me tell you, the first kill is always the best.”

“What about Stan? What was he doing?”

“Stan’s different. Puked all over himself. You ever kill anybody when you were a cop?”

“Yes.”

“What’s the story?”

“Not going into it.”

“I’ll make a deal with you. Tell me your story, and when the time comes, I’ll kill you quick.”

“Why don’t you just kill me now?” I said.

He laughed. “You’re getting us to Canada first. And then, before I kill you, I’ll make you tell me that story.”

“Hey!” Stan called from the camp.

I was bending to the trunk of a birch that had come down in a heavy wind some time ago, roots and all. The wood was dry and brittle, and I’d snapped off a big limb. It was heavy, and I thought it would do the job. I glanced at Ollie, who’d turned toward the sound of Stan’s voice. He was about ten feet away. I figured I could reach him in three long, quick strides. Could I make that distance before he knew what I was doing? This was the moment I’d been hoping for. Maybe I wouldn’t get another chance.

“What?” Ollie hollered, turning almost fully away.

I gripped the branch tightly, prepared to use it as a club, and tensed for my attack.

“Women!” Stan called back.