Come Find Me in the Midnight Sun, page 25
“Well, that’s a hell of a claim, Officer. And who would want to kill a college boy hitchhiking around the wilds?” He raises his eyebrows at me.
“We believe he was pulled into a drug-running scheme by Branden Halifax. We found a note with Branden’s phone number. They had arranged a meeting. The two of them also match the description of two men chased off the cruise ship for trying to sell drugs to the staff.”
“So, you think Branden killed him over some drug deal, then disappeared out of guilt or something?”
“We don’t know if Branden killed him and was then killed himself, or if they were both killed by a third party. But we do believe the drug scheme they were involved in is widespread.” I pull out the statistics for missing people and place it on his desk. He glances at it and nods.
“You’ve been doing a lot more than looking for bodies.”
“Yes.”
He slows his speech like some people do when they’re talking to someone they don’t think speaks the language well. “But you were only sent here to look for bodies.”
“Yes.”
He appraises me. Maybe he’ll throw us out. He gets up to check outside the door before he returns to his seat. There’s no one else in the station.
“Let’s get to it, shall we? You figured out the missing men began in earnest when Mr. Drew arrived.”
“You know.” It’s a statement. Of course he knows.
He laughs. “I certainly know. It’s my town, after all.”
“And you’ve done nothing because Mr. Drew is your friend.”
“Oh, no—no. There you are wrong, Officer.” His face is dead serious. “No one is Mr. Drew’s friend. He may keep this town running and food on our tables, but he is no one’s friend.”
“And the drugs?”
“We haven’t found any hard evidence to link them to him. We know drugs come out of Seward and disperse on cruise ships, to other towns, but they never quite come back to Mr. Drew. There’s always some kid from out of town to take the fall. Never seems to tie back to the locals. They never get caught with anything, though they do have a habit of turning up missing.”
“And you’re okay with this?”
“No. I don’t want our folk here getting hurt. But I also realize that, should anything…happen to Mr. Drew, most of the people in town would be without work, and many are not skilled in tourism. They’d be beat out of jobs by the seasonals. That would be a real shame, wouldn’t it? It would just be one big souvenir shop without the locals.”
“So, you won’t follow up on this evidence we’re giving you.”
He pyramids his fingers and then leans over his desk. “Here’s what I’ll tell you, Officer. Between the three of us. Any evidence you have will be carefully protected and maintained so that if the situation in Seward ever changes and the people wish to live…different lives, even with another police chief, the records will be there for follow-up. Unless, of course, there is concrete evidence in that file?”
I can’t say anything because I know there’s not. Besides, if I do say anything, it will most likely get me fired.
Mikey thanks Chief Willington for his time and assures him we’ve been happy to help out, but seeing as how our cases are all closed, Chief Quint wants us back in Anchorage. Mikey quickly ushers me out of the building and directly into the Tank. I grind my teeth so hard, my jaw hurts. He pulls into the hotel parking lot but doesn’t get out of the car. He turns to me.
“Louisa, I think you might as well let it out.”
I scream. I scream as loud as I can for as long as I have breath. People on the street could hear me if there were any. Maybe people in the hotel can hear me through the Tank’s thick walls. I don’t care. Mikey just sits there with me, unflinching.
* * *
I’m packed in less than five minutes. Turns out Mikey wasn’t lying, though I hoped he was. Chief Quint does want us back in Anchorage. He talked to Mikey this morning. There’s a major bust going down and it’s all hands on deck. He warned Mikey personally because his cousin is involved. I’m ready to go as soon as I’m packed. I don’t want to be in this town anymore if I can’t get to the bottom of what’s going on here. I hear Mikey’s phone ring, so I take Tails out and give Mikey time for whatever conversation he’s having. When I get back a few minutes later, he knocks on my door.
“Hey, you okay with leaving after lunch?”
“What? I thought we were leaving now.”
“Yeah. Sorry. I got a phone call and I’ve gotta…I’ve got an appointment.”
“An appointment?”
“Yeah…Chief Willington wants to meet with me, just to wrap some things up, I guess. Paperwork maybe? You know. Case closure stuff.” Mikey could stand to take some lessons in lying from Mr. Drew.
“Why didn’t he ask me?”
“I don’t know. He asked me specifically…Maybe he figures you’re pissed at him. I mean, your face was obvious.”
“Okay. Go do whatever he wants you to do.” I shut the door before he’s even turned away. I hear Mikey sigh. It’s a few seconds before his footsteps proceed down the walkway. I sit on the bed, betrayed. I wonder how I’m going to kill five hours.
I need to get out of the room. I consider walking down to the water one last time. But when I get out to the parking lot, I see the Tank. I assumed Mikey would take it, but it’s there with a note flapping against the windshield. I read Mikey’s cursive. I thought you might want to go see Anna.
Anna. We were supposed to have dinner at her place. Maybe I can catch her before she gets to the hospital.
* * *
Almost all the lights are on in Anna’s house, pouring pale, warm light out onto the still-dark street. Winter is setting in. I park across the street and turn off the ignition. I can see a silhouette in the kitchen. Her shape comes and goes as she gets blocked by doorways and partial walls. I think I hear strains of music, but it could be drifting from a boat out on the water. It could be inside my head. There’s a moment when she bends to reach down, maybe to pull something out of a cabinet. When she stands again, she turns toward the road such that the light falls on her face. She looks content framed by the bright yellow of her home, like she’s standing in a patch of sunshine while the snow falls around without being able to touch her.
I realize I can’t knock on her door. If she invites me in, I’ll want to stay in Seward forever. I can’t stay in Seward another day. I can’t work for Chief Willington or the police force here and ignore Mr. Drew. And what else would I do? Sell fake native hunting knives? So, I make the easy choice. I do what I always do. Instead of dealing with complicated emotions, I drive away.
The sun tries to rise somewhere, but gray clouds force it back into an inept position. The snow blows toward me in a hypnotic funnel. I lean forward in the seat, squinting even with the wipers on high, but I look away occasionally so I don’t go into a trance. Halfway there, I realize I’m going to the airstrip.
The spot where Branden ran his truck into the bank is hard to identify. I pass it and recognize after half a mile I’ve gone too far. I park where he was parked, where his footsteps marked the snow, which is much deeper now. Somehow, I clamber up the bank the same way he did, the snow past my knees. It’s a brand-new landscape. The trees are ominous, towering as if they’ve grown centuries in the week or so since we searched for Branden. The ground is a blank slate, entire boulders invisible. There’s no chance of finding anything in this, but its newness has a strange allure. I keep moving toward the tree line.
I don’t know how long it takes to reach the pines because the light doesn’t change through the snow. It would be impossible to pick out the long landing strip without its obvious lack of underbrush and trees. It’s a sheer expanse of shimmering, crystalized snow for hundreds of feet in front of me. There’s nothing here, and I don’t know what I expected. I kick at the powder, which flies up and showers down, settling into place. It doesn’t mind my disturbance at all.
I’m on my knees, digging with my gloved hands into the deep snow, which has been gusted into mounds by the wind. As I dig, the snow collapses onto my hands, into the hole, and covers my progress. I grunt and scream at it, flinging it to the sides until I can see the yellow markings of the runway. They don’t tell me a goddamned thing. There’s no blood. No berries. No body. No Branden I can present to Marli, frozen but otherwise looking exactly like the man who walked out of her house so recently. I move forward a couple feet and dig again like a wild animal. Wild animals may be nearby. I don’t care. I dig and dig and move forward. I dig to the paint and move forward again, digging. Dig. Digging. Digging.
I’m near the end of the runway. My legs are weak from walking through waist-high snow. There’s nothing here and the tiny frozen flakes come so fast. I squint and it still gets in my eyes. I don’t care. I dig. But there’s nothing. No blood. No berries. No Branden.
My arms hurt and my fingers are so numb. I can’t feel them now. The snow won’t move anymore. I need to take a break. I settle back onto my heels, and the snow stains the seat of my pants. My whole lower body is cold. The snow spins, the clouds spin, the trees spin. People and animals come in and out of my view. Branden moving across the snow. Kyle, purple and poisoned. Lee, with half his head. Bears and moose and eagles. I close my eyes.
When I open them again, the snow falls slower. I can barely see the sun overhead. My body is numb. Everything is still and solid, as if I could walk across the two feet of snow and not make a dent. Why am I here? I try to stand, but I can’t feel my legs. I place my gloved palms flat on the snow and try to push up, but my arms sink. I push up. I stand, teetering. I move in slow motion. I see the tree line below me, but it seems forever away. What did I think I would find here? It makes no sense now.
My new goal is the tree line. There’s nothing in my lungs, in my stomach, in my muscles. I can’t feel. I’m moving a ghost.
Much later, I’m at the pines. My sweat freezes in place. There’s the road, the Tank. I can’t feel my fingers, so I track their progress into my pockets. If there’s metal there, it’s the same temperature as my limbs. The idea of being stuck here overtakes my breath. I panic. My throat is closing.
I can’t be here.
I stop, close my eyes, and breathe in and out. Deep breaths.
Keep trying. I feel again. The sharp end of a key pokes my finger. I drop my keys three times, then hold them in both hands. I manage to unlock and then fall into the Tank.
Somehow, I arrive at the hotel. I don’t remember the drive. I spill onto the pavement. When I get to my door, it’s bewildering. I can’t open the door. I can’t remember how to open the door. I stare at it, then let my head drop against it. I hear whining on the other side, but I cannot get to Tails.
There’s a loud noise.
“Louisa? Jesus Christ!” It’s Mikey. I must look bad. He rushes to me with his arms spread out. What’s he doing? He bear-hugs me, rubbing my arms so quickly a little bit of warmth generates.
“Where’s your key?” I just look at him. “Hang on.” He disappears in the direction of check-in and then returns to open the door. He peels my wet and frozen coat off and puts all the blankets from the bed around me. He even wraps a towel around my head like a turban.
I suddenly feel like an idiot. Tails jumps on the bed to thoroughly lick my face. His breath is warm, so I let him continue. Mikey squats next to me and just looks at me until I speak.
“I couldn’t.” My voice is just a rasp. I clear my throat and try again. Mikey leaps to his feet and starts the coffee maker. “I couldn’t find anything.”
“You went looking for Branden.”
“Yeah.”
He shakes his head, but he looks sad more than anything. “I should have known you would. I should have gone with you.”
“No. I had to do it myself.”
“That could have been really bad.”
“I know.”
He thankfully doesn’t say anything else about it. He just checks my fingers for frostbite, runs hot water in the bathtub, and tells me to get in to get properly warm. He’ll come back with food. He instructs Tails to take care of me.
Tails looks at him and then at me like he fully understands.
I don’t know how long I’m in the bath, but I am slowly able to make out the room more clearly. Tails stands on the white tile with his head over the tub rim, licking at the water. As soon as my eyes open, he licks my nose. I breathe in, trying to draw all the air in the room into my lungs. I look into the overhead light.
There’s a knock on the door.
“Just me,” Mikey yells. “I’ve got food whenever you’re ready.”
I scarf a massive portion of fish and chips. Then I ask if our cases are officially closed. Mikey nods but doesn’t make eye contact.
Still lying, I see.
I let Mikey drive back to Anchorage. It’s not like me, but I’m exhausted. We stop for coffee twice. We don’t talk much. He turns on the radio occasionally, only to turn it off when it turns to static.
* * *
When I arrive at work the next morning, Chief Quint claps me on the shoulder and congratulates me.
“Extraordinary work, Linebach!” His voice is at a volume for all the gathered officers to hear. The department has a scheduled briefing in a few minutes. He lowers his voice.
“Hang back after.”
I listen to the briefing in a total haze. I couldn’t repeat back most of what the chief says, but I’m familiar with the gang we’re going after, and I know the neighborhoods he’s circling on the giant map pulled down on the conference room wall. The rest of the guys are quiet, maybe pissed about being here on a Saturday. I think I catch sidelong glances my way.
When the meeting breaks up, a few officers smack Mikey on the back.
“Nice job, man.”
“Heard you found a couple bodies.”
“Two out of three ain’t bad!”
I wince at the jovial tone of that compliment. Mikey points at me and starts to say something, but they’re already gone, gathering their bags and coats from their desks.
“Wanna ride together?”
It’s then that it hits me we’re not partners anymore. Not on this case. We’re back to being just two cops in the same station. Who else would I even ride with?
“Sure. I’ve gotta talk to Quint first, but I’ll meet you out there.”
Chief Quint is powering down the projector and seems surprised to see me even though he asked me to stay.
“Louisa.” He repeats his clap to my shoulder. “I just wanted to congratulate you again.” He looks at me expectantly until I utter a dull thanks.
“I also wanted to say,” and now he looks less jovial, “I know how frustrated you must be. I’m frustrated. I investigated this Mr. Drew as much as I could, and he looks shady as hell, but he seems untouchable. I wish I could send folks to do more, but without concrete evidence…”
“Yeah. Yes, Willington said the same thing.”
“Well, anyway, it’s a tough break. That’s the worst part about police work—knowing someone’s up to something and not being able to do anything about it. But you did a great job, you and Mikey. Really, you did. I know he learned a lot. I’m sure you will move up the ranks in no time.”
“Sure.” I sling my bag over my shoulder. I’m ready to end this conversation.
“All right.” He fumbles over what to say next and settles on a “Go get ’em” that leaves me feeling like a middle schooler being ushered into a sporting event. I leave Tails with reception. When I get to the parking lot, Mikey leans against a Land Rover that is distinctly not the Tank.
* * *
The bust goes all right, by paperwork standards. We arrest over a dozen people, Mikey’s cousin included, and seize over fifty bags of product. When we get back to the station and finish the debrief, the other officers gather around Mikey at the back of the conference room. I’m the only one who immediately sits to document my notes. I hear muffled laughter and watch the group briefly. Mikey’s face is bright red. They all grab their things and start to leave together with Mikey at the center of the crowd. He breaks off as he reaches my desk on the way to the door.
“Hey, Linebach, the guys want to take—us out for a drink to celebrate the work we did in Seward. What do you say?” I notice the almost imperceptible adjustment. He indicates the other men. They are still smiling, but it now looks forced. I’m sure we all know I’m not going.
“Nah, it’s cool. I’m pretty tired. Besides, Tails needs fed.”
“You sure? We won’t stay out long, promise. We can find somewhere else Tails can come too.”
A couple of the others look at him, then nod slowly.
“It’s all right. Have a good time, though. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Mikey turns to the other officers. “Hey, I’ll meet you there in fifteen, yeah?”
They shrug and leave. I hear “Nice work” muttered to me as a couple of the guys pat Tails. He leans his head forward for more and gets scratched behind the ears too. I briefly resent Tails for wanting them to pet him. Mikey waits for the door to close before he turns to me. Whatever he’s going to say is not something I will want to hear.
“I wanted to let you know…Chief Willington offered me a job in Seward.”
“A job? Seriously?”
“Yeah. I’m going to tell Quint tomorrow. I was going to turn it down, but we got back here and I arrested my cousin. My family’s going to hate me for it, and I’m sick of having to do that. Just like I’m sick of watching people overdose and just cleaning up the mess and telling their families. If I was in Seward—well, you know how it would be. Petty tourist crimes and lost hikers and all. And missing persons.”
