Chapter 43

“We’re getting close to finding the slimy son-of-a-bitch, Chester. The dots are finally connecting.” Maggie leaned over and scratched the dog behind the ears. “When we get that shit head, I’m buying the best magnum of champagne I can find and drinking it straight from the bottle.” The dog looked at her. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you, too. I’m buying you a steak, and maybe I’ll pick up a fresh trout fillet for Samantha. How’s that sound?” Chester turned his big head to one side and licked her hand.

Since Jake moved in, Maggie rarely had time to herself like this. She put on her Inishwen CD and cranked up the volume. “Maybe, tonight, once I’m done going over these files, and after we find that cabin, I’ll get back into my Gaelic lessons,” she said. The cat meowed. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I need to take a shower and brush my hair, too. Not everyone is as prissy and neat as a damned Siamese cat.”

Meow.

“Don’t look at me like that. I never get a full morning to spend in my robe.” Maggie sat in the niche by the window at her desk. A raven peered in and cawed. “What are you looking at? Didn’t I buy good quality corn last time? ”

She booted up her PC and resumed her research into the child murders. “Samantha, I see a clear pattern here.” She stroked the cat. “I don’t agree with Jake’s assessment that we might be dealing with two killers, one a copycat, no offense. Our guy is working alone. No one knew the murderer kept the kids and fed them before he killed them. This sicko doesn’t have access to the police records, so, a copycat wouldn’t know.”

Someone knocked at the door. She stood, closed her robe and crossed the room. She found Happy wearing his lopsided grin standing on her porch.

“Hi, there,” she said. “Come on in. I haven’t even showered and the place is a bloody mess.”

“Oh, I don’t care. Hope it’s okay I stopped by. I know you were looking forward to the rest of the morning alone.”

“Thought you were doing something with your boys. You’re still in uniform.”

“We had to cancel. Something came up. Since Jake is covering the office, I thought I’d drop in and talk to you about the investigation. It’s been a long while since any twins have gone missing. What brought on this sudden interest to go looking in the forest for a cabin?”

The dog lumbered to him for a scratch. “Hi, big guy.”

“He didn’t even bark when you came in the door. Thanks a lot, Chester. Some ferocious watch dog you’ve turned out to be,” Maggie said. “You wouldn’t mind letting him out? He probably has to pee. Been in all day sleeping, like the lazy lout he is.”

Happy let the dog out the door, closed and locked it, then returned to Maggie.

“You’re getting close to finding who the killer is, yeah?” He grinned in a way that reminded Maggie of a little boy.

“I think we’ll ID our killer before the week is out.” Maggie smiled. “Are we about ready to meet with Jake and go find the cabin? I’ll call him.” She reached for her cell.

“Let’s talk for a few minutes first, and formulate a plan. I could sure use a cup of coffee.”

“No problem. By the way, I’ve been meaning to tell you something.”

“Yeah?”

“I have to say I’m impressed with the dedication you’ve put into this case. You’ve been more than helpful, even though we haven’t had anything to go on for a long while. I know some people were resistant to the idea of you being sheriff, but you always had my vote. Jake and I think you are doing a fine job.”

“Thanks. Right now, let’s catch this guy. What do you say?”

“I say, ‘Hell yeah’, and once we get the rotten child-killing prick, we’ll invite you and Rosa over for dinner to celebrate.”

*

His foot jammed on the accelerator, every muscle in Jake’s body tensed. Sweet God, please, don’t let me be too late. He redoubled his efforts and pushed down even harder on the pedal, swerving to miss rocks.

*

“What else have you got on the investigation besides the whereabouts of the cabin? And…out of curiosity, how did you even know about this place?”

Maggie looked away then back at Happy. “I know you want to know, and I promise I’ll tell you the whole story later, but would you trust me for now?”

“Fair enough.”

“The important thing is that after all this time, the pieces are fitting together. We are closer now than ever to finding out who this is.”

“And who would that be? Not Mingan? I honestly think it is him, and that’s where we need to focus our energy…on finding him.”

“We know it’s not some transient or Sally’s husband. But we don’t think it’s Mingan. Besides, he ran off with his tail between his legs. He may even be dead, for all we know. I’m positive he’s not coming back to Wicklow. He doesn’t quite fit the profile of our killer, either. I think it’s someone local for sure, and someone working alone. Even Jake is beginning to come around to that idea.”

“Really? Well, that’s fine news. You wouldn’t mind if I stepped out back for a quick smoke?” Happy retrieved a pack of menthols from his shirt pocket.

“I thought you quit.”

“Nerves.” He rolled a cigarette between his fingers and examined it. “Rosa is having a fit about it. I had to promise her I’ll quit, but I’m not quite ready.”

“Thought you were a Marlboro Red man?”

“Sometimes I like menthol.”

“I’m surprised you’d go for American Spirit menthols, though, I mean given…why not Marlboro Green?” She scrunched up her face. “Oh, never mind. Go have your smoke. I’m searching through a few more online articles. I’ll put on a pot of coffee. We’ll make a plan, and then we can meet Jake.” Happy wrinkled his brow and his expression darkened.

“Everything fine with you?” she asked.

“I’m exhausted from working so long on this and coming up empty handed…it’s been, what, close to two years? Maggie, really, I should close this case. We’ve got other pressing matters to attend to, and the taxpayers are not going to be happy to know how many man hours, resources and money we’re spending on a dead-end.”

Maggie’s voice tightened. “You agreed if I stayed on in the reserves that I could continue to work on this. If you don’t want to help, or if you have something more important to deal with, I’ll do it on my own, but you will keep your promise, dammit.”

“It’s fine, Maggie.” He put his hands up. “Settle down. You can work the case. Well…it’s…I guess you really are getting close, right?” His forehead broke out in a sweat.

“Very. Hey, are you coming down with something?” She reached up to feel his forehead. “Maybe you need to get home to Rosa and let her take care of you. Jake and I can go to White Cliff on our own.”

“I’m fine,” he said moving his head away. “I want to know honestly, how close you are to catching this guy.”

“I told you. I’ll probably know who the murderer is before the week is over. You don’t look good.”

“I’ve got a stress headache. That’s all.” He reached up with one hand to massage the base of his skull.

“Well, I suppose you’re entitled. Sheriff’s job isn’t exactly a piece of cake.” When he didn’t smile, she added, “There’s aspirin in the cupboard where the coffee mugs are. Take a couple, go outside for your smoke, and I’ll get the coffee going.”

“Yeah, thanks, I think I’ll do that.” He walked out back without going for aspirin. The screen door slammed behind him.

Maggie ground coffee beans. Through the kitchen door, she watched Happy pace across her deck in hard anxious steps, muttering to himself, flicking his cigarette. Something is really not right with him today. But…if he doesn’t want to talk about it…

She put on the coffee, then sat down to continue surfing the web. She input for the umpteenth time, “Child murders, Canada.” Headlines popped up, and she scrolled through them looking for something she’d not noticed before. After pushing the “page down” button dozens of times, a decades old headline caught her attention. Algonquin Family Trapped by Avalanche Eats Child to Stay Alive

“My God,” Maggie said after she clicked on the link.

A grainy photo appeared of a native family, a handsome man, a pretty thick-hipped woman, and slight built twin boys, five or six years old. As she read the copy, ravens battered her window with their beaks. “Get away,” she pounded on the glass. They fluttered backwards but returned pecking the window even harder, cawing and knocking in a relentless, dissonant chord. “More corn? You damned birds are getting to be too expensive. I’m switching you to stale bread crumbs.”

*

Each time he hit a bump on the logging road out of the forest, Jake clinched his teeth. His kidneys hurt. His hands, clinched on the wheel, turned from white to purple. He never lost speed. He hit a jack rabbit. He felt the thud of the body under his tires.

*

She returned to the screen, slipped her reading glasses over the bridge of her nose, leaned in and examined the photo. The caption read, The Megedagik family, one week before their fatal elk hunting trip to the La Cloche range. She expanded the picture full-page and looked at the boys in the photo, identical twins wearing green baseball caps. There was something about one of them. His smile. A familiar, crooked smile. He was only a little boy, but she knew him.

“I wish you hadn’t seen that, Maggie.”

She flinched, so engrossed in the article she hadn’t noticed Happy standing behind her reading the screen over her shoulder.

“Happy?”

“You don’t know how much I wish you hadn’t seen that. Why couldn’t you just let it be?”

“Happy. I…”

“Shhhhh…you know I can’t let you live now. This breaks my heart. I really like you. My idea was to come here today and reason with you. I thought I could get you to back off the case, or try one last time to lead you to Mingan. But you couldn’t let it go, could you?”

Maggie’s eyes darted around the room in a frantic search for anything she could use as a weapon. She eyed Happy’s holstered service revolver.

“You were getting too close, especially that bit about the cabin. But I’d hoped…well now…you know. I can’t get caught. Of course you understand, don’t you? I’m so sorry.”

“Happy, please. I…”

He grabbed her by her shoulders and yanked her to her feet, and as he did, he knocked over her chair. He clutched Maggie’s neck with both hands and pressed his thumbs into her throat and shook her. Her reading glasses fell to the floor. She clawed at his face then brought her knee hard into his groin. He grunted, loosened his grip and doubled over.

She reached for his weapon, managing to wrestle it from the holster. He jerked upright, and punched her in the solar plexus knocking the wind out of her. Maggie gasped, and crumpled. With one hand, he grabbed her by the throat and pulled her to her feet, simultaneously grasping her wrist in his other hand. He twisted until she dropped the gun.

She flailed and kicked at him. Her foot connected with his knee, and his shin. With her free hand, she worked at prying his fingers from her neck. She slapped at his face, raked her nails over his cheek, and gouged at his eyes. But he did not react until she brought her boot down hard on the top of his foot. He cried out in pain, relaxed his grip, and she wrenched free. She dashed for the bedroom. Headed for the night stand. Reached for her Glock. He caught up, seized her by the waist and threw her onto the bed. Before she could catch her breath, he was on top of her and had pinned her to the mattress.

The more she fought with ferocity, the more Happy tightened his grip. Blood spotted her arms where his nails dug into her flesh. “Happy, no.”

Maggie smelled the acrid stench of a decomposing corpse. Happy’s face morphed. His cheek bones protruded from the skin, and putrid skin hung in shreds from his chin and neck. Part of a jaw bone and yellowish teeth jutted through one side where a cheek was meant to be. One eye stared at her, the other empty socket writhed with maggots. Viscous liquid dripped from his face onto hers. The stink overwhelmed her and she gagged…or was it that he was strangling off her oxygen and that’s what caused her to choke? Hallucinating again? She squeezed her eyes shut and when she opened them, he’d transformed back into what she had once thought was the sweet-looking man with a boyish grin. The ravens battered the window so hard their beaks bled.

Happy crushed her throat with his left hand. He pressed his knee against her abdomen. With his free hand, he reached for the gun. She gasped for breath. Kicked her legs and punched at him with both hands knotted into tight fists. She struggled to wrench out of his arms.

As Happy’s thumbs pressed deeper into her throat closing off her air, Maggie relaxed a little. She felt herself sliding away. In the split second between the time Happy stretched for the gun with one hand, and pushed her trachea shut with the other, she slipped into a dream. It was foggy. She was vaguely aware she still struggled although with waning, tepid energy. She felt disembodied, watching him as from a distance choking her, prepared to shoot her in the face with her own gun. In this dream, she saw herself in the reflection of a lake shifting from a woman into a raven, growing black glossy feathers and sprouting wings. Only her eyes remained the same…raven eyes, yes, but the same green color she was born with. She let go.