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No one else would dare think of such things. They would never discuss it. He’s too powerful. I’m the only man who can get close, the only man who knows all the things he’s done to maintain his position of power. I know better than anyone the steps he’ll go to in order to remain on top.
I fail and Imelda and Sarah die. That’s a hell of an incentive to get this right. This means I need to stop daydreaming about Chloe and get on with the job.
I start the car engine and head out onto the blacktop. I’ll get to the site. Get the box. Go back and steal the necklace from her. Snatch it off her neck and shove her to the ground if that’s what it takes. She can hate me but she’ll be alive to do it. I’ll walk away without looking back. I will not get caught up in anything else. I won’t let my lust for her color my judgment.
Nothing else matters but getting the job done. I might have a connection with her but it’s irrelevant to the matter at hand. Another time, another life, and it could have worked but this is the real world. Shit doesn’t go down that way. Fate laughs at you for trying to get by, and throws one rock after another at you until you bleed to death, battered and broken.
I know I’m being punished for what happened back then. I deserve it. That’s the truth. All the rocks that can be thrown at me and more.
She doesn’t deserve any of this. She was and is innocent. But because of me, she’s caught up in a lot of trouble. No more. I’ll get out of here without doing anything else dumb.
I drive toward Chippewa Falls. I can’t be sure what I’m going to find out there but I know one thing for certain. I won’t find peace. For a man like me, that’s the one thing that can never be found, no matter where I might look.
13
CHLOE
* * *
The bus is hot and unpleasant. The sun beats down through the glass, unseasonably warm and with no cloud cover.
I’m stuck next to an obese snoring man with a bad case of body odor, crushed up against the glass with nowhere to escape to.
He got on at the same stop as me and was asleep within a minute. He doesn’t stir the entire journey except to try and use me as a pillow when we’re not even outside the town limits yet. I give him a shove and he doesn’t stir, just shifts his bulk the other way then farts to add to the wonderful atmosphere.
The smell in the air is mostly him but someone’s trying to sneak a cigarette in here, maybe weed too. The driver doesn’t seem to give a shit. Music is coming from about four different cellphones.
The child in the seat in front of me keeps turning around to stare at me for no apparent reason. I try making conversation to pass the time but his mom yells at me and then slaps him across the top of the head, leaving him hating me more for some reason. He keeps turning and sticking his tongue out.
The guy’s snoring reaches new heights of ear-splitting volume. By the time we get to my stop, I’m already dreading the return journey.
There’s no way I can afford a cab back but with my clothes clinging to my body from the lack of air conditioning, it’s not going to be fun getting back home.
Maybe I’ll have something to distract me by then. Maybe I’ll know what it was my parents were burying or digging up out here in the middle of nowhere.
I climb down at the gas station marked on the map I checked online. The trail next to it heads up the side of the mountain. The bus engine shudders into life as it sets off, leaving me in a cloud of dust that gets me coughing and my eyes watering.
I head into the gas station, as much to get out of the dust as to leave the heat behind for a while.
“Help you?” the woman behind the counter asks. She’s mid to late fifties, got a straw hat on over a sunburned face, a red and white check tee-shirt, and she’s chewing gum as she looks at me without smiling. “Well? I ain’t got all day.”
“Can I get a soda?”
“Cooler’s behind you.”
I get myself a drink and walk up to the counter with it. “I’m looking for Chippewa Falls,” I say as I hand over a five-dollar bill. “Is it around here somewhere?”
“What do you want to go up there for? Ain’t nothing but scrub and bear shit.”
“I read online it was a good place for a hike.”
“You read wrong,” she says while handing me my change. “Ever since the campsite shut, there’s no reason to go that way. You want to cross the road and take the trail to Lake Wannsett. Much prettier and they’ve got camping if you’re staying overnight.”
“That’s great, thanks. I’ll bear it in mind. Look, would you mind taking a look at this?” I dig out the photo from my backpack, and place it on the counter, tapping it with my finger. “Do you recognize these people by any chance?”
“When was this taken?” she asks.
“About twenty years ago.”
