Page 28 of At Midnight Comes the Cry
“Okay,” Yíxin went on. “You’re the dad, you’re the mad mom looking for your money. When are you going to go?”
“I’ll need a day to prep my outdoor gear.” Despite his earlier caveats, Russ brightened at the thought of trekking through the High Peaks in winter.
Hadley looked at him doubtfully. “I don’t do camping.”
“Just in case. I’m sure there’s lodging.”
“There better be.” Hadley turned to Yíxin. “I’ll have to get my granddad lined up to take care of my kids.”
Clare folded her arms. “I still think someone should keep an eye on the Smiths. To try to see where they fit in with Calvin March.”
“Absolutely not.” Russ’s tone was not to be argued with. “We went over there once and you’re not going to convince them to stop being happy little Aryans. As for March, I don’t want you anywhere near a guy who did two years for assault.”
“I’m a pasty-white woman. He’s not going to go after me.”
Yíxin shook her head. “He wasn’t convicted for a race-related crime. His then girlfriend got an abortion, and when he found out, he beat the crap out of her. Put her in the hospital.”
Clare, who had been half teasing Russ, felt the bottom drop out of her stomach. “His wife said they’re trying for another baby.”
“Clare.” Russ took his glasses off. “It’s not your problem. Stay out of it.”
She looked at Hadley, who gave a tiny nod. “Don’t worry, Chief. I’m sure the reverend wouldn’t do anything you told her was dangerous.”
3.
TUESDAY, DECEMBER 9
As it turned out, it took two days, not one, for Hadley to get on the road with the chief. First she had to preload for Granddad and the kids—if she didn’t have dinners in the freezer, he’d take them to Burger King for every meal. Then, it was pulling out all the clothing she thought might be suitable for the High Peaks in December, and, once Van Alstyne had loaned her a backpack, putting two-thirds of them back again. He kept muttering about warm and dry feet, so she brought more socks than anything else. Finally, MacAuley insisted her turning in all her overdue paperwork was the price for two days off, and she wasn’t finished until after noon on Tuesday.
Their late start didn’t bother the chief, who adored outdoor activities. He grew more animated the farther they drove. Hadley had been inside the fabled Blue Line—the bounds of the Adirondack Park—before. Lake George, where she took the kids for the great beach and mini golf, fell entirely within the Park, and she’d even been up to Lake Inverary in Essex County one memorable time. But those places had been entirely civilized, or at least felt a lot closer to home. Once the chief exited off the Northway near the end of Schroon Lake, they were in a whole different world.
Endless woods, broken by steep rockfalls and snow, scrolled by. Hadley leaned forward, looking for some break in the forest, but… nothing. No houses, no businesses, definitely no hotels. “You said we won’t have to camp.”
“I brought the equipment as a just-in-case. We’ve got two roomsconfirmed at the Inn at Santanoni.” He took his eyes off the road for a second to glance at her. “You know, winter camping can be a lot of fun. Great family activity for you and your kids.”
“Really? Does Clare feel the same way?”
“Well…” He scratched his nose. “I’m still working on that.”
They went past a sign declaringNEWCOMB, THE HEART OF THE PARK. She started to see a few houses, driveways leading straight onto the state highway. The chief pointed as they crossed over a shallow, rocky stream. “That’s the Hudson River.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No, the headwaters are only fifteen, twenty miles from here.”
The landscape to her right began to flatten and open a little. It was hard to tell the difference between what was commercial and what was residential in the scattered clearings between tracts of leafless trees—they were probably one and the same in most cases. They drove past a school and a church and finally turned off the highway to their destination. The inn was an older house, prettier than most she’d seen on the way. Hadley gratefully got out to stretch. “I always thought Millers Kill was a small town, but next to this place, we’re practically New York City.”
The chief laughed. “The folks who live out here like it just fine.” He double-checked and tightened the tarp covering the please-God-unnecessary camping gear in the truck bed, while she pulled their bags from the crew cabin, leaving a box of groceries for later.
They stepped through the side door into a kitchen and dining space decorated, like the porch outside, for Christmas. Hadley scuffed her way along a generous mat. “Hello?”
“Oh, hello!” A woman in her mid-fifties truckled down a flight of stairs leading to the cozy living room. “Sorry, I was just making sure everything is set in the bathrooms. I’m Sue Hansen. You must be Russ and Hadley.”
“Yep.” The chief thumbed in the direction of his truck. “Okay parked out there?”
“You’re fine, you’re fine. You’ve got the whole place to yourselves—you hit us just between the fall hikers and the cross-country skiers. Not that there’s not plenty to do in Newcomb! We have some restaurants still open, and there are some adorable home crafts for sale, and we have a historical museum—”
The chief broke in. “Actually, we’re trying to find my son. He’s gone with a group, a sort of militia, that’s camped somewhere around here. Would you know anything about them?”
