Purgatory Ridge

“And that’s why I’m here,” Lucky Knudsen put in. “Delivering the guv’s promised manpower.”

Schanno said, “I don’t have enough deputies to ensure the security of something like this. But with Lucky’s officers, we can probably do what’ll need doing.

“Specifically, Agent Owen is out at the Quetico as we speak, securing the facility, which, with the help of the state police, will remain secured up to and throughout the event. We’ll have an officer at every entrance and exit. Only authorized staff or guests with invitations will be admitted to the building. Because Karl seems obviously the target, I’ve prevailed upon him to wear body armor.”

Cork nodded. A good idea. “So what am I doing here?”

“His idea.” Schanno waved toward Lindstrom.

“I’d be obliged if you would be at the Quetico tonight,” Lindstrom said. “I appreciate that yesterday you were willing to put yourself at risk for a guy who’d been pretty rough on you. I’m prepared to pay. Think of yourself as a hired bodyguard.”

“I’ll be there,” Cork replied without hesitation. “But you can forget about paying me.”

“Thanks, Cork.”

“Well, gentlemen,” Schanno said, rising from his chair. “We have a lot to do between now and this evening. I suggest we get started. Karl, I’d like you at the Quetico a good half an hour before festivities begin. We’ll get you suited up. And Lucky, when you know your roster, get back to me.”

“Will do, Wally. See you this evening, Cork. Say hello to Jo.”

Karl Lindstrom and Lucky Knudsen left Schanno’s office, but Agent David Earl lingered a moment on his perch on the windowsill. He was looking at Cork, not happily.

“Something on your mind?” Cork asked.

“O’Connor, I know about Burke’s Landing.”

“That was a while ago,” Schanno said from across the room.

“I’ve already expressed my concern to everyone else. I just want to be straight with you,” Earl went on. “There’s every intention of arming you this evening. I’m more than a little concerned about a man like you carrying a loaded weapon in a situation like this. But it’s not my call.”

He waited, as if expecting Cork to argue the point. Cork didn’t.

“Well. Until this evening, then.” Earl looked for a place to drop the last of his cigarette. Schanno offered him nothing, and Earl left, still holding the smoking butt.

“He doesn’t know you, Cork,” Wally Schanno said.

“He’s probably not alone in his thinking, Wally. People haven’t forgotten Burke’s Landing. I’m sure the truth is that there are probably a lot of them who’d rather not see me ever strap on a gun belt or wear a badge.”

“Doesn’t matter who’s in this job-some people are going to feel that way.”

Cork walked to a window and stood gazing at the town. In the morning light, it had a quiet, peaceful look to it. Across the street, the bell tower of Zion Lutheran Church rose with simple grace. Beyond that were the stores on Center Street. And not far beyond that, the lake, cut by white sails and the white wake of motorboats. When he’d occupied that office, the view had been a reassuring one. He’d felt as if being sheriff were part of a larger concept, sometimes as difficult to understand and to justify as the mysterious ways of God and Kitchimanidoo, but the purpose of which was clear to him-to help people live their lives with peace of mind. It hadn’t been an idea with a lot of grandeur to it, no more far-reaching than the boundaries of Tamarack County, yet it had been a part of who he was-until a few confused moments on a cold morning at a place called Burke’s Landing had left two men dead and brought to an end much of the way Cork thought about everything.

Even in his bitterness afterward, he’d never blamed Schanno for taking the badge. It was just the circumstances; it was just the time. And since his fall from grace, Cork had managed to put his life back together again. Did he really want to be back in that office with that view? Hadn’t Burke’s Landing or the years since taught him anything?

“Lindstrom trusts you,” Schanno said at his back. “And for the record, so do I.”

22

“WE’RE CLOSING EARLY TODAY,” Cork said.

“When?” Annie asked.

“Now.”

“Now?” Even Jenny, who usually was delighted to shave off a bit of her time at Sam’s Place, seemed perplexed.

“But it’s only five-thirty,” Annie said. “And look. There are boats headed this way.”

“Shut the serving window and put out the Closed sign,” Cork told her.

“It’s Saturday,” she argued on. “People expect us to be open.”

“If it will make you feel better, write a note and tape it to the window. ‘Family emergency.’ “

Jenny suggested, “How about ‘Closed by order of the health inspector’?”

“Let’s not go overboard.” Cork began cleaning the grill.

Jenny got paper for the note, but Annie stood her ground. “What will people think?”

“Let it go, Annie,” Jenny said. “It’s not like it’s a sin.”

“Why are we closing?” Annie demanded.

“Family dinner,” Cork explained. “It’s been too long since we all sat down together.”

“Does Aunt Rose know?”

“Yes. But it’s your mother who’s fixing dinner.”