On Crow Point that morning, Jenny walked Daniel to his truck. “Take care of yourself. And good luck with the hunt today.”
“You take care of Waaboo,” Daniel told her. “Mathias Paavola is still out there.”
“Between Prophet and Henry and me, we’ll keep him safe, I promise.”
She kissed him goodbye, and in his rearview mirror as he drove away he saw her standing there, waving, struck with sunlight in a way that made it seem as if her blond hair had been spun from pure gold. Then she turned back to the cabin where Waaboo was still sleeping.
Daniel headed to Allouette along a rugged track mostly used by Prophet in the ATV on those rare occasions when Meloux wanted to go into the reservation town. It led along the northern shore of Iron Lake, which, through the broken wall of trees, was cobalt blue under the morning sky. As he jostled over the rough ground, he thought about what might be ahead that morning. Events had been unpredictable for so long now, he desperately wanted a day in which he could grasp something solid, put all the upheaval to rest. Along with Monte Bonhomme and Agent Danette Shirley, he hoped he might be able to do just that.
The tragic history of Fawn Blacksmith had led them to the speculation that human trafficking was at the heart of the events in Tamarack County. They were looking for a connection between Fawn Blacksmith, Adrian Lewis, and Mathias Paavola. Billy Bones seemed the most likely candidate.
When he arrived at the tribal police office, Daniel found Monte, Agent Shirley, and Officer LuJean Desjardins in conversation over coffee. Monte looked up and smiled. “Ready to roll?”
“Whenever you are.”
“Zippy could hold down the fort,” LuJean said.
Monte shook his head. “I need you here.”
“Do me a favor, then,” LuJean said.
“What?” Monte replied.
“You get this Billy Bones, you bring him here. I want to personally kick him in the balls.”
Agent Shirley said, “I understand the feeling, but we’ll let the law do that. You’ll get a visit from BCA today. They’ll be following up on a discussion I had with them last night about what’s gone on out here, the shot at Waaboo and the shooting of Lewis. Be helpful.”
“Always am with our fellow law enforcement agencies.”
“Feel free to tell them where we’ve gone,” Monte said. “But don’t say anything about kicking Billy Bones in the balls, okay? If we get him, I don’t want any claim of police brutality.”
Desjardins shrugged, then said unconvincingly, “You’re the boss.”
They took Monte’s cruiser and headed south toward Bixby and Sizemore School. As they drove, they went over what they knew and what they suspected.
Mathias Paavola was the most likely link to the blueberry patch and old cabin. Paavola and Lewis were connected at the very least through their drinking together at the Howling Wolf, but probably also through their work on the pipeline. If Fawn Blacksmith was being trafficked, it might well be that she was being used to service the men working the pipeline, a common circumstance in places and on projects that involved a lot of manpower. If someone had been grooming her for trafficking, Billy Bones seemed to be the likely candidate. The most promising lead on how he’d managed that seemed, at the moment, to be Sizemore School.
There was another wrinkle. Irene Paavola was still missing.
“Maybe her brother was afraid of what she knew and that she might talk to the police,” Daniel said.
“Cork and Marsha Dross questioned her,” Agent Shirley pointed out. “She didn’t seem to be able tell them much that was helpful except how to track down her brother.”
“That doesn’t mean she didn’t know more,” Monte said.
“If her brother grabbed her, what are the chances she’s still alive?” Daniel asked.
“We don’t really know Mathias Paavola or what he’s capable of,” Monte said. “If he was involved in the death of Fawn Blacksmith and Olivia Hamilton, he could be capable of anything.”
The day before, they’d been directed to talk to Candyce Osterkamp, who, apparently, was close to Irene Paavola. She’d been gone picking blueberries that day, but she was at work at the school when Daniel and the others arrived. They tracked her down to a flower bed filled with an array of blossoms.
“My butterfly garden,” she explained, rising from where she’d been at work on her knees, a little trowel in her gloved hands. She wore a broad-brimmed straw hat that shaded her face. She was sixtyish, slender, smiling. “What can I help you with?”
They introduced themselves and showed their IDs. “We’re trying to track down a man who may have worked here at one time,” Agent Shirley explained. “Does the name Billy Bones mean anything to you?”
Osterkamp furrowed her brow and thought, then shook her head. “I can’t say that it does.”
“What can you tell us then about Irene Paavola?”
A darkness crossed her face that had nothing to do with the shade from her hat. “She’s still missing, isn’t she?”
“Yes,” Agent Shirley said.
“Liam,” Osterkamp said, as if the name were foul.
“Liam?” Monte said.
“Liam Boyle. Her ex-husband. There’s a snake who’ll charm your panties off.”
“Tell me about him.”
“Dark, handsome, smart. Devious. Mixed heritage.”
“Mixed?”
“Ojibwe and Irish. He doesn’t talk much about his Ojibwe side, but Irene’s told me he’s kind of superstitious in that he believes in signs and portents and spirits and such.”
“We were given to understand that they divorced because of his drinking.”
“That’s not why they divorced. Well, maybe part of it. But mostly it was because he could be cruel. Abusive. There’s something dark and scary at the heart of that man. I told her to stay away from him.”
“But she continued to see him?”
“Irene is a pretty smart cookie, but some women have a weakness for a certain kind of man. She couldn’t live with him, but she couldn’t live completely without him either. So, yes, she still sees him from time to time.”
“Any idea how we might contact Mr. Boyle?”
“You could check with Edie in the office. She’s in charge of personnel. She might have an address or phone number for him.” In response to their questioning looks, she said, “Liam worked here for a while. He was down on his luck. Uber driver or something. Irene gave him a job. Groundskeeper, facility maintenance, that kind of thing.” She thought a moment and added, “There’s another possibility, I suppose.”
“What’s that?” Daniel asked.
“She still owns the house she grew up in. Never goes there, but she hasn’t sold it, as far as I know. If she’s afraid of Liam, I suppose it’s possible she’s hiding there.”
“Where is it?”
“In Aitkin.”
“Do you have an address?”
“I don’t. But when you find her, will you let me know?” Osterkamp said. “I’d like to be sure she’s safe.”
They promised they would, thanked her, and as they headed toward the administration building, Daniel said, “Liam Boyle. Liam is Cork’s middle name, a shortened version of William.”
Agent Shirley said, “Billy is, too.”
Monte said, “I think we’ve found our Billy Bones.”
The address on file for William Boyle at the Sizemore School was in Duluth, a nondescript apartment building on the West End, not far from the run-down house in Lincoln Park where Fawn Blacksmith had once stayed. There was a sign planted in the dead grass of the lawn: APARTMENT FOR RENT. The mailbox associated with the apartment number they’d been given had no name on it.
They were standing at the doorway, discussing options, when a car pulled into the apartment lot. A woman got out, reached into the backseat for a bag of groceries, then approached, looking at them warily.
They identified themselves, flashed their IDs, and explained that they needed access. “For law enforcement reasons,” Monte said, keeping it vague.
The woman, who looked to be of retirement age, let them in.
“Do you know anything about the man who lives in apartment 3B?” Agent Shirley asked.
“That’s third floor. I don’t know anybody up there. What did he do?”
“Thanks for your help, ma’am,” Monte said. “We’ll take it from here.”
There was, as Daniel expected, no answer to their knock. The door was locked.
“We could contact the company on the sign, see if Boyle is still renting the place,” Daniel suggested.
But Agent Shirley said, “Monte, give me your car keys.” When he’d done so, she said, “Stay here. And Daniel, you come with me.”
He followed her down the flights of stairs to the building entrance. “Wait here and keep the door open.” She went to Monte’s Tahoe, unlocked the door on the passenger side, and bent in for a few moments. Then she closed and locked the door, and she and Daniel returned to the apartment.
“Stand back,” she said to the other two.
Daniel saw that she’d brought up a set of picks, and she began to work on the door lock.
“You carry those with you everywhere?” he asked.
“Pretty much.”
“Not in any law enforcement manual I ever read,” Monte said.
“I learned a long time ago to think outside the box. Et voilà.” She pushed the door open.
The apartment was empty, not a stick of furniture in the place.
“Cleared out a while ago,” Monte said. “Even before he might have been worried that we were looking for him.”
“We could check on a forwarding address,” Daniel suggested.
“Something tells me he probably didn’t leave one,” Monte said.
“What now?” Agent Shirley asked.
“Let’s check in with Cork and Marsha Dross, see if they’ve got any kind of lead on Lewis’s fifth wheel,” Monte said. “If Liam Boyle is connected with all this, that might be a likely place for him to be hiding. And Mathias Paavola as well.”
Which brought Daniel a jolting realization, one that made his gut draw taut. “If that’s true, when they locate the trailer, they may be walking into a nest of vipers.”