Ruth reached out and gave his arm a squeeze.
“Thanks for a wonderful evening,” she said. “And take care of yourself. Whoever shot at you last night is still out there.”
“Don’t worry,” he said, “I’m not about to let myself get killed just when my life has gotten so much more interesting.”
Ruth went into the house. Kane got back in his truck and drove the short distance to his cabin. No one shot at him as he plugged in his pickup and let himself into the cabin.
He flipped on the lights. The place had been torn apart. His clothes and camping gear were strewn about the single room, his CDs tossed all over. He stood looking at the mess for a moment. Then he built a fire in the wood stove. He went around picking up his belongings and putting them back into their bags. He found his copy of Eric Clap-ton’s
Unplugged
on the floor of the bathroom in two pieces. That had taken some effort, so destroying it had been a calculated act of spite. Having his stuff handled made Kane mad, but the fact that someone had gone to the trouble told him he was on the right track.
I must be onto something, he thought as he got ready for bed. Now if I could just figure out what.
He was actually happy the cabin had been ransacked, until he came upon his coffee, dumped into the kitchen sink with what looked like his shampoo poured all over it.
“I’ll get you for that,” he said aloud, thinking of mornings without coffee stretching out into the future. “I’ll solve this case and hunt you down, and God help you when I do.”
But as he lay there waiting for sleep to come, he found himself thinking not about Faith Wright, but about Ruth Hunt.
15
The whole head is sick, and the whole heart faint.
ISAIAH 1:5
KANE AWOKE EARLY AGAIN. THE ROOM WAS COLD, AND with no chance of coffee, the prospect of climbing out of his sleeping bag appealed to him not at all. He lay there thinking about Ruth Hunt and dozing for a while, then wriggled around until he could reach his Bible and flashlight. He turned on the light, held it in his mouth, and leafed through the Bible. He did this for several minutes before setting the book down and shutting off the flashlight. Then he climbed out of the bag, put on some long underwear and socks, and started a fire in the stove. He whistled as he did so. When the stove started throwing off heat, he went into the bathroom, where he stripped and showered, singing Van Morrison tunes in a voice that would have brought the Irish rocker to his knees in tears. When he was shaved and dressed, he loaded everything into his pickup and looked at his watch. Not quite six a.m. He locked up the cabin and drove to the community building.
The lights in the cafeteria came on as he pulled into the parking lot. A couple of men wearing white uniforms and white paper hats were putting out containers of food.
“Ruth Hunt?” Kane said.
“I’ll tell her you’re here,” one of the men said, heading into the kitchen for another container.
When the men finished loading the line, Kane picked up a tray. He spooned canned peaches into a bowl. He filled a second bowl with oatmeal and sprinkled brown sugar over the top. He filled a cup with hot water, picked up a package of tea, and carried his tray to the nearest table. Then he went back for silverware and a paper napkin. He’d just taken his first bite of oatmeal when Ruth came out and sat across from him.
“You’re an early riser,” she said.
“You should talk,” he said. “You must get up before the chickens.”
“Not usually,” she said, “but my kitchen manager had to go to town for some emergency dental work. I didn’t find out until I got home last night, so it’s a good thing we weren’t any later.”
Kane felt himself starting to blush.
“Good for Rejoice,” he said, “but not so good for me.”
He ate some oatmeal.
“How do you manage to get up so early and stay up so late?” he asked.
“I take a nap in the afternoon,” she said, grinning wickedly. “Just me, all alone in a big old bed.”
The two of them sat there looking at each other. I must look like a teenager making moony eyes at his girl, Kane thought.
“I woke up early,” he said, grinning back, “so like any good resident of Rejoice, I read my Bible. And I couldn’t find a word about tea in it.”
Ruth looked at him and nodded.
“I might have known,” she said. “I’ve probably told a hundred people the same story, and nobody ever checked up on me before.”
“Once a detective, always a detective,” Kane said. “But surely Moses Wright knows the truth.”
“The truth is, I told Moses Wright that if he didn’t allow coffee, I was going to serve wine with every meal. Wine is in the Bible. So we compromised on tea.”
“Moses Wright made that decision?” Kane asked. “I thought his son was in charge in Rejoice, at least in civil matters.”
“He is now. That decision was made several years ago. Moses Wright handed the administration of Rejoice off to Thomas after Thomas’s wife died. Everyone thought he was trying to take Thomas’s mind off his troubles. Moses said he wanted to spend more time with his Bible. The administration runs much smoother now, but the change wasn’t all good. Moses’ sermons keep getting longer and longer.”
Kane laughed.
“I guess Moses Wright has his followers, though,” he said. “The older people certainly seem to be behind him, and I hear your stepson is a student of his.”
“Matthew is an intensely religious young man. He studies daily with Moses Wright and can’t say enough good things about him.”
She shrugged.
“To each his own, I guess.”
“I’d love to stay and tuck you in for your nap,” Kane said, “but I’ve got to drive to Anchorage and see to a few things.”
“What about your search for Faith?”
“My next step is to talk to her high school teachers and friends and search her locker, but I can’t do that on the weekend anyway. I should be back by the time school opens Monday. I don’t suppose there’s any way you could come with me?”
A long silence ensued. Kane ducked his head and ate. When he was finished, he sipped his tea.
“I was impetuous last night,” Ruth said finally. “I don’t regret it, but that’s not really who I am or how I handle things. So, no, I can’t accompany you.”
“I didn’t think you would, but you can’t kill a guy for trying.”
“That depends on what he’s trying, doesn’t it?”
She reached out and covered his hand with hers.
“If you’re driving to town, you’ll need a lunch. I’ll go make you one.”
He sat sipping his tea, watching the early arrivals picking up their food and chatting. For a moment he wished he were one of them. As his world became more complicated, the appeal of Rejoice’s simplicity increased. He knew he couldn’t settle here with Ruth, but maybe somewhere else. Maybe having her in his life would help him shake off prison and make sense of the rest of the world. Maybe that’s what all this religion on his mind was about, making life make more sense.
Ruth came back with a brown paper bag and set it in front of him, then sat and leaned close to him.
“I’m sorry if I’m giving you mixed signals,” she said, “but I guess it’s a reflection of my own confusion.”
Kane patted her on the shoulder and got to his feet.
“If you aren’t confused about life, you aren’t paying attention,” he said.
He picked up his tray and carried it to the counter, walking along with Ruth like they belonged together. Then he put on his coat, picked up his brown paper bag, and went out to the truck.
He drove to Thomas Wright’s cabin. No lights showed. He walked up and hammered on the door with a gloved fist. After he pounded a second time, he heard the sounds of someone rustling around inside. As he waited for the door to open, he realized that the air temperature had warmed some. Must be cloud cover, he thought.
Thomas Wright opened the door. His hair was uncombed and he was wearing an old flannel robe. His legs, clad in long underwear, stuck out of the robe and ended in big fur slippers.
“Mr. Kane,” he said, opening the door so the detective could step in. “What brings you out this early? Have you learned something about Faith?”
The inside of the cabin was cool but not cold. Kane made a show of not being able to see his breath.
“We have electric heat,” Thomas Wright said. “Rank has its privileges, I guess.”
Kane took off his coat, walked into the living room, and sat down. Wright moved in to join him.
“My cabin was searched while I was out yesterday,” Kane said. “There was no sign of forced entry, so I assume the searcher had a key. You weren’t there looking for something, were you?”
Wright looked at Kane like he’d grown an extra head.
“Why would I search your things?” he asked. “I’m the one who asked you to work for us.”
“Why people do things is often elusive,” Kane said, “even to themselves. But I didn’t really think it was you. How hard would it be for someone to get a key to that cabin?”
Thomas Wright thought for a minute.
“Not that difficult, I suppose. We lock things mainly as a means of impulse control. People, particularly young people, often have poor impulse control. But if someone really wanted to get in somewhere? The head of physical plant has a set of master keys. So does the chief of the volunteer fire department. And there are a couple of sets in the administrative offices. These keys aren’t secret, so anyone with a little bit of guile could get their hands on them.”
Kane nodded.
“I figured it would be something like that.” He took the keys to the cabin from his pocket. “I’m headed to Anchorage. When I come back, I’ll find my own lodgings. No offense, but yours are a little too public for my tastes.”
“Is the trip to Anchorage connected to your investigation?” Thomas Wright asked.
“To one of them,” Kane said.
Wright raised an eyebrow.
“I really can’t say more than that right now,” Kane said.
He got to his feet.
“I’ll be back in a day or two,” he said.
Wright walked him to the door.
“I’m sorry that Rejoice has proven so inhospitable,” he said to Kane.
“Not your fault,” the detective said. “You’re not set up for keeping an investigation private, and there’s no reason you should be.”
“And your investigation?” Wright said. “Is it going well?”
Kane shook his head.
“So far, it’s like a winter day,” he said. “Mostly darkness with a few glimmers of light. But I’m hoping for better soon.”
“We’ll say a prayer for you,” Wright said.
“Do that,” Kane said. “Can’t hurt, might help.”
When he was halfway to his truck, he stopped, turned, and retraced his steps.
“Sorry to bother you again,” he said after Wright opened his door, “but do you happen to know where Gregory Pinchon’s first wife is living these days?”
Wright thought for a moment.
“I don’t,” he said. “She left some time ago, you know. But I can try to find out.”
“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble,” Kane said, “I’d appreciate it.”
“Can you tell me why you want to know that?” Wright asked.
“I’m not really sure,” Kane said with a smile. “It may not be important at all. But I’d still like to know.”
His drive into Anchorage was fast and uneventful. The roads had been cleared, and although the skies were overcast, no snow fell. As he drove, he sorted his CDs into those that still played and those that were trash. There were quite a few of the latter. He knew he’d have to do some shopping to replace the damaged ones. He could live without a lot of things, but not music. The damaged CDs were pretty old—most music recorded since the early ’70s left him cold—so maybe he’d be able to find replacements at a used music store.
He tried to sort out his thoughts about Faith Wright and his feelings about Ruth Hunt with less success. He didn’t have enough information about the first, and he had too much about the second. Best to stick to what he knew and take one step at a time.
Kane stopped in Palmer to get a large coffee. The temperature was easily fifty degrees warmer than it had been in Rejoice. He took his time driving into Anchorage, sipping his coffee and thinking about what he had to do next.
He pulled into a downtown parking garage just after noon. He walked to the Fifth Avenue mall and spent an hour going through the stores, buying clothes that were not blue work shirts and jeans. He drove home, unloaded his truck, stripped off his clothes, and took a long shower, making the water as hot as he could stand. Then he got dressed: T-shirt, Levi’s, athletic socks, and lightweight hiking boots. He stripped the tags off of his new clothes and took them, along with his dirty ones, downstairs to the laundry room. On his way back up, he stopped at the manager’s door to collect his mail. Aside from junk aimed at current occupant, that consisted of a fat, white envelope with an Anchorage Police Department return address. Inside were his retirement forms, all filled out, and a note from Emily Lee telling him that if he would sign them and mail them back, she’d take care of the rest. There was even a stamped return envelope. Jeffords wasn’t taking any chances.
He was hungry, so he opened the bag Ruth had given him. It contained a large tuna sandwich, a wizened winter apple, and three big homemade cookies. It also contained a handwritten note that said: “I want things to work out for us.” The note was signed with an ornate capital R.
He bit into the sandwich, then walked to the refrigerator to get something to wash it down. He passed up the soda there for a glass of water. I must be watching my weight, he thought. But why? In prison, he’d stayed in shape because he knew that he might have to defend himself at any moment. But now? Now, he guessed, he really hoped that things would work out with Ruth and, if they did, he didn’t want to be carrying around any spare tire. He hadn’t been naked in front of any woman but Laurie for a long time, and he didn’t want the sight to cause anybody to go blind. That didn’t stop him from eating the cookies, though. One bite and he didn’t stop until they were all gone.