Purgatory Ridge

The crowd began almost immediately to disperse. Schanno headed over to confer with the BCA agents. With the help of her son, who’d seemed to come out of nowhere, Joan of Arc of the Redwoods descended from the roof of her van and drove away. Cork left the steps and crossed the street to the little park where Jo was now standing with George LeDuc.

“What do you think, George?” Cork asked when he’d joined them.

“I could’ve done without that firecracker. And Lindstrom, he looked like he could use a change of underwear.”

“What about his offer?”

“I don’t know, Cork. Seems like he’s trying.”

“He’s offering us a bone without any meat on it.” Isaiah Broom came up behind LeDuc. It was the first Cork had seen of him that evening. “Once his machines and men are in there, they can do anything they want to. If you believe him, George, you’re a bigger fool than I thought.” That said, Broom turned and left.

George LeDuc watched him go. “Now there’s a man could piss off a saint.” He looked to Jo. “What do we do now?”

“There’s nothing to do but wait until the ruling comes down. Then we’ll see.”

LeDuc bid them good evening and headed toward his truck. “I’m going to talk to Karl Lindstrom inside the school,” Cork said. “Care to join me?”

“He might not want to see me,” Jo replied.

“He seems in a very forgiving mood.”

The microphone and speakers were being removed. The crowd had pretty much dispersed. Schanno was down by his Land Cruiser talking with a couple of deputies. Cork and Jo went in the front door. Lindstrom had leaned a hand against the wall, holding himself up. When the door opened, he jerked to attention, startled.

“Easy, Karl. It’s just us.”

Lindstrom still looked shaken. “That’s okay. I was just… I’m just a little…” He stopped and seemed to pull himself together. “I’m glad you’re here, Cork. You, too, Jo. I wanted to apologize for my behavior at the mill the other night. I was upset.”

“Forget it,” Jo said.

“You know, I’ve sunk every dime I have into modernizing that mill. I thought I was helping people, doing something worthwhile.”

“You’ve kept a lot of people employed, Karl. That is important,” Cork told him.

“Joan of Arc out there, she makes me sound like a monster.”

Cork could see it hurt. The Lindstroms before him would have grinned and worn the epithet proudly. “Let it go,” he advised.

“You’re right.” His eyes shifted to Jo. “You’ll be receiving a formal outline of my proposal, Jo, but if you’d like one now, I’ve got a copy in my briefcase. It’s in my Explorer.”

“Where are you parked?” Jo asked.

“Out back.”

“I’d like to see it, yes.”

They walked together through the darkening hallways to the back door that was unguarded now. When they reached the Explorer, Lindstrom plucked from the windshield a folded sheet of paper that had been stuffed under the wiper blade. As he read the note, the color drained from his face. He looked at his watch.

“What is it, Karl?” Cork asked.

“Nothing. It’s nothing. Listen, Jo, I’ll get you that document later, all right?”

“Sure, Karl.”

Lindstrom waited. It was clear he wanted them to move away.

“I’ll give you a lift to your car,” Cork offered to Jo.

He turned and headed to his Bronco. When Jo was beside him in the passenger seat, he backed the Bronco out and started it away slowly, watching Lindstrom in his mirror. Jo was watching, too. Lindstrom took an old leather briefcase from the Explorer, opened it, and reached inside. He drew something out and his hand went toward his waist under his sports coat. Then he slammed the door closed and started walking briskly across the football field behind the school.

“Did you see?” Jo asked.

“Yes.”

Lindstrom had shoved a handgun into his belt.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“You know as much as I do.” Cork turned off the engine and reached for the door handle.

“Where are you going?”

“After Karl. I don’t know what was in that note, but it wasn’t good news.”

Jo grabbed his arm. “Cork, this isn’t your responsibility. This is for Wally Schanno to worry about. Get Wally or one of his deputies. Please.”

Lindstrom was halfway across the field. Cork knew if he delayed much longer, Lindstrom would be gone-wherever it was he was going.

“All right.” He drove to the front of the building. No one was left outside. All the cars except Jo’s Tercel were gone. The front lawn was as vacant as it usually was on a summer evening.

“Jo, I have to go.”

“Why?”

Cork looked at her. She was right. There was no reason for him to do this. He was a man who flipped hamburgers now. Except everything in him was shoving him after Lindstrom.

“Go,” she finally said angrily, and grabbed the door handle. “Just go if you feel you have to.” She got out and slammed the door shut. “But if you find yourself in the middle of something-”

Cork didn’t wait for her to finish. He raced the Bronco to the parking area behind the school. Lindstrom was just vanishing into a line of maple trees that edged the field behind the bleachers. Beyond the maple trees was Lake Shore Drive, and beyond the drive lay Iron Lake.