Purgatory Ridge

“The promise of money. Tell them you’ll have it but you need more time. If it’s money they’re after, they’ll wait. And then something will break for us, I’m sure of it.”

Lindstrom looked at her, his face gone empty again. “I’m so tired.”

“Karl.” Cork put a hand on his shoulder. “We have the money.”

Every face turned to him.

“You know George LeDuc,” Cork said.

“Of course.” The look Lindstrom gave LeDuc was full of puzzlement. In all their dealings, the two men had been adversaries. What could possibly be the purpose of the Indian’s presence in this business that was no business of his?

“George has promised us the money,” Cork said.

Lindstrom squinted, as if he hadn’t quite heard or didn’t quite believe. “How?”

LeDuc replied, “I’ve asked the manager of our casino to put it together. You’ll have it pretty soon.”

Lindstrom’s look did not change. “Why?”

“Because it’s what people should do,” LeDuc told him. “Wealth in and of itself isn’t an Ojibwe value. The value for us lies in how the wealth is used.”

Lindstrom seemed stunned, truly stunned. “I… don’t… know what… to say.”

Cork had a suggestion. “Migwech would be just fine, Karl.”

“Migwech?”

“It means thanks.”

Lindstrom’s arm slowly rose and he reached out to George LeDuc. “Migwech,” he said, as he shook the Ojibwe’s hand. “I will repay you, I give you my word.”

“We’ll speak of that later.”

“Is that where you’ve been all night?” Schanno asked Cork. “I’ve been trying to get in touch with you.”

“It’s better you don’t ask, Wally. But listen. I was at the clinic on the rez. Adrianne Wadena, the physician’s assistant out there, agreed to give me something to help me stay awake. When we got to the clinic, we found that somebody had broken into the place.”

“Drugs?”

“That would be my first guess. She’s doing an inventory, but you’d best get someone out there to check on it.”

“Thanks, Cork. I will.”

Cork walked to where Arnie Gooden was fiddling with the recording equipment with Kay looking over his shoulder. “You’re set up for the call?”

“Phone company’s helping with another trap-and-trace,” Kay replied. “But this time we’re better prepared. We’ve located all the public phones within a twenty-mile radius. One hundred seventeen. Of those, forty-eight are situated outside business establishments. We have enough agents and officers to cover thirty-three, and they’re in place now. Chances are very good we’ll spot the caller.”

“And?”

“If it seems appropriate, we’ll make the arrest.”

“That doesn’t necessarily ensure the safety of our wives and children.”

Kay breathed out deeply. “What does, Mr. O’Connor?”

She was right, and Cork let it go. “Anything more on the ransom notes or any of the evidence you’ve gathered?”

“I’m afraid not. We’re following up any reasonable reports that come to the sheriff’s department and hoping something might turn up there. For now, that’s the best we can do.”

Cork said, “Thank you. I appreciate what you’re doing.”

She smiled. Slight but definite. Like everyone else, she looked pretty well beaten.

“I need to call home,” Cork said to Schanno.

“The phone in my office,” Karl Lindstrom said. “Or my cell phone.” He took a small unit from his pocket and offered it.

“I’ll use the one in your office, thanks.” He headed away.

Rose sounded tired but as if she was holding up. “They came early, Cork. Before it was even light. Those reporters, they’re…” She searched for the word.

“Vultures?” Cork offered.

“I was going to say sons of bitches.”

“How are the girls?”

“Exhausted. They finally fell asleep a little while ago. I’ll wake them if you want to talk to them.”

“Let them sleep. But I’ve got some good news for you to give when they wake up. We have the money.”

“Oh, Cork.” Her voice died in a moment of tears. “Thank God.”

“And the Iron Lake Ojibwe.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’ll explain it all later. I have to go. The kidnapper will be calling soon. Take care of my girls, Rose. I’ll be home when I can.”

“God be with you, Cork.”

Lindstrom had drifted to the window and stood now in sunlight, staring out at a lawn that up until that morning had been a beautiful expanse of empty green. Cork joined him. He could see reporters snapping pictures of him and Lindstrom together, but he didn’t care. He caught sight of what looked like a dry white stone, bobbing through the crowd. The shaved head of Hell Hanover. Cork felt his stomach tighten. He had business with Hell, and he would see to it very soon.

“This is my fault,” Lindstrom said.

“Don’t do that to yourself, Karl.”

“It is my fault. I’ve been so worried about that damn mill and the great Lindstrom name that I let go of what was really important. I should have been here that night.”

“Nobody could have known.”

“Why is it you don’t think about taking care of what you love until it’s too late?”

“It’s not too late, Karl. We’re going to get them back.”

The man turned to him, and Cork thought he saw something spring to life again in the dark where Lindstrom’s tired eyes had tunneled. “I think I believe you.”

The phone rang.

“This is it,” Special Agent Kay said.