Coleman Kavanagh was tucked away inside a boat that was sailing at roughly 10 knots on Lake Memphremagog. He sipped on hot tea and looked at the expiration date on his Visa. He reached his hand and scratched the scruffy beard on his face. He was pushing his luck and he knew it. All this sneaking around, avoiding public transit, and border patrol, but he had no idea how Roger was handling his disappearance, and he didn’t want to extend it for very much longer. He had one more person to speak to before he headed back to the brownstone, and that was Stella.
Coleman had learned over the years that sometimes all you needed was a simple conversation with people to unravel a mystery. He could start talking about the weather and end up with answers to questions he didn’t know he had. A man handed Coleman a flannel shirt, which reminded him to change out of his suit. He would be in Vermont soon and he needed to fit in.
Coleman walked off the boat behind eleven people, and he kept walking all the way to St. Mary’s church on Prospect St. He waited inside. Coleman thought to pray a Hail Mary as he stood in front of a statue of the Mother Mary. He was reminded of home, and of Father O’Malley, and the words spoken to him when he was only eight years old.
“Hey, you, come on, come on,” she whispered, waving her hand.
Coleman followed. The description fit. Her name was Willow, and Kitchi trusted her to get Coleman where he needed to go. Kitchi had no idea where that was but it was better that way.
The Jeep Wrangler sat in the lot behind the church.
“Her name’s, Squirt.”
“You named your car?
Of course, every Jeep owner does. My girl’s name is Squirt.”
They buckled up.
“Clouds held off long enough I guess.”
It started to pour rain.
“Well, at least it’s not snowing,” Coleman smirked.
“Snow? Ha! That’d be better. Rain is the worst during mud season. Especially where we’re headed.”
Willow reached over and gave a good tug on Coleman’s seatbelt.
“Isn’t there an easier route?” Coleman whined as the jeep drove down a bumpy road.
“You wanna stay off the radar?”
“Yes.”
“Then, no.”
The rain was torrential at times, but that didn’t stop Willow. If Coleman were driving he would have pulled over by now. He had no choice but to trust her. She followed Route 100 until she got onto Buck Hill Rd. The rain was a little lighter in this area and Willow took advantage to speed things up.
“This is where we make up time. No cops around usually, and it’s paved. Once we hit Hazen’s Notch, it’s gonna get sketchy.”
Willow was right. Just 200 yards later she hit mud. Hazen’s Notch was a road that was typically closed in the winter, and when you drove it in these conditions you understood why. Thick, deep woods, with houses and cabins scattered around, rarely seen from the road. No trespassing signs hung with heavy chains to let you know someone lived beyond the trees at the roads edge, far from the wandering eye. The lack of sun and pouring rain made it look like midnight. Willow turned the headlights on.
“Don’t worry, I’ve been down this road hundreds of times, know it like the back of my hand.”
Coleman was not comforted. He could barely see 10 feet in front of him and the jeep shimmied in the mud like it was ice.
“You better put that jacket on,” Willow pointed at a heavy water resistant coat that sat on top of a pile of various coats, boots and other gear.
Not a minute later they saw what looked like a huge lake. The road was gone, washed out by the rain. The tires of the jeep gripped onto the only track it could as Willow guided it off the road and into the woods. She reached into the back seat and grabbed her Muck boots.
“This is gonna take me a minute.”
“What are you going to do? We can’t get past that,” Coleman pointed through the rain-spattered windshield.
“Grab a pair of mud boots and follow me!” she shouted.
Coleman grabbed the flashlight on the dash and followed her, mostly out of curiosity. He didn’t think there was much that could be done except wait it out. The rain was a little less powerful under the trees, but it was much darker. Willow turned her headlamp on.
“What are you doing?” Coleman wiped the water from his face.
“I’m looking for a trail for Squirt. If I can bypass this area we can get back on the road up a ways. See here,” she pointed between the trees, “these are snowmobile trails and that’s plenty of room for Squirt.”
All Coleman could see were trees. “That looks pretty risky. Can’t you call someone for help?”
“No cell service in this area and we like it that way.”
This was a time delay he didn’t need. He was afraid he would be arrested before he reached Stella’s. He traveled non-stop since he closed his case, all for the sole purpose of getting answers to questions about the plane crash that killed Lili’s parents.
“I’ve always been able to get out of a jam,” Willow said to ease the tension she heard in his voice.
“That may be true, but I don’t see how we’re going to get by that,” Coleman pointed at a fallen tree blocking their path. “There’s no way your jeep can crawl over that.”
Willow pushed past Coleman and headed back to the jeep.
“Based on my limited experience that is!” he said apologetically. He didn’t want her to give up, but in the hundreds of situations Coleman had been in his career, he had never been in one like this. And all he saw was a waiting game, and this expedition of his had already taken too long.
“Wait here!”
Coleman watched through spats of rain that slapped across the hood of his raincoat and his face. The headlights grew closer. He heard the door slam and then he saw her come around the back of the jeep. He watched Willow yank hard on the pull-start rope until he heard the sound of a chainsaw. All Coleman could do was step aside, watch, and learn from a woman.
After the tree was sufficiently cut, Willow wrapped the log at opposite ends with tow straps hooking the other end to her jeep.
“We’re gonna need some branches, whatever you can drag. These tires are gonna wanna spin.”
In low gear, she pushed on the gas gently picking up the slack of the tow straps. The tree limb didn’t budge. With some branches and a couple of old 2x4’s in place behind the tires, Willow gave a steady push on the gas. The tree limb still didn’t budge. She pressed the gas harder.
“Come on, Squirt. You can do it girl.”
“The tires aren’t spinning. That’s a good sign!” Coleman yelled from outside the vehicle.
Willow gave it everything she could. The tree limb popped out of its position. Willow backed up slowly, dragging the limb out of the way.
Coleman helped unhook the tow straps. Willow wrapped them neatly around her arm and tossed them in the back of the jeep.
Willow continued to follow the snowmobile trail until they had successfully bypassed the washed-out area of the road. The trail was deep with soggy leaves. It felt like she was driving on spongy moss. She came to the edge of another trail that was a path to an old cabin. This was the way back onto the main road. However, they hit another snag.
“What’s that?” Coleman squinted through the rain.
“It’s a no trespassing sign,” she smirked. “Hung on a long chain.”
“Can you bust through it?”
“Probably, but I got an easier way.”
Willow reached into the back seat and rummaged through some tools until she pulled out bolt cutters.
They were finally back on Route 58 otherwise known as Hazens Notch Road.
“How do people live out here?”
“This road is closed in the winter. So, unless you got a truck with a plow you can’t live out here. The town will drop some stone on that washed out area as soon as tomorrow. They’re good about that kind of thing.
I know you’re in a hurry to get to Stella’s but I’m taking you through the Gibou. It’s the long way but it’s secluded.”
“Dirt roads, then?”
“Yes, but I don’t expect any more problems.”
They drove another 40 minutes and the rain had given way to fair skies. The landscapes reminded Coleman of Ireland. Beautiful farmland as far as the eye could see with mountains in the background. It made him long for home.
“There’s my place,” Willow pointed to a long driveway.
Coleman strained his eyes to see a house, but it was well hidden.
“You leave out here alone?”
“Yes. Does living off the grid scare you?
“Off the grid meaning no electricity? Yes, that scares the hell out of me,” Coleman laughed.
“Hey, we’re almost there,” Willow said.
“Is there a back road in?”
“No, but there is a heavily wooded trail. You’ll have to hike in, but the trail will bring you to the back of Stella’s farm.”
“Perfect.”
“Here’s a map I drew out for you. Just keep the Bogue on your left and keep walking till you reach a small, dodgy little bridge that someone built. That’ll put you right in Stella’s backyard.”
“Thanks for your help,” Coleman swung his leather bag over his shoulder. Coleman reached in his back pocket for his wallet, “I’d like to pay you for your time and trouble.”
“You should know better than that,” Willow said.
“I had to try. That was a lot of effort on your part.”
“Kitchi has been there for me more times than I can count.”