Page 66 of At Midnight Comes the Cry
The afternoon light was low, golden and slanting, when they found the truck. It had tipped between two eastern pines on a small slope,leaving its rear wheels entirely off the snow-covered ground. “Wow,” Hadley said.
“Yeah, I really screwed the pooch on this one. That truck’s not coming out until the summer.”
They parked the snowmobile, trading the constant whine of the engine for the vast silence of the forest. Hadley spread the quilt across the rescue basket while Paul unlocked the tailgate. Beneath the protective truck cap, Pierre’s body was untouched, still cradled by her scarf. Paul carefully hitched himself onto the truck bed and scooted to the cab wall. He turned his hands up for a moment, murmuring something, then gestured for Hadley to catch his uncle’s feet as he slid the body forward.
When they had him secure by his ankles and shoulders, they set him in the basket. Paul wrapped the quilt around the body, covering Pierre in faded stripes and triangles, so many different fabrics every piece must have once been a loved one’s shirt, or dress, or apron. It was as if his whole family had lain down with him, and the thought brought a hot pricking behind Hadley’s eyes.
She took a breath to compose herself. “What was it you said before you moved him? If I can ask.”
Paul cinched the straps over Pierre’s body before standing. “It’s something I say whenever I deal with a body. Which, you know, in the Park, happens.” He turned his hands up as he had done in his uncle’s truck. “Bless these hands to their sacred task, and make me mindful of this honor.”
Hadley thought about it for a moment. “I like that.” She turned her own hands upward, catching the long, amber light. “A sacred task.”
The return trip was easier, but slower; the trail Paul had created by experimentation meant no awkward side trips, but they had to take care the rescue basket didn’t flip as they descended through the trees. The first stars were out by the time they placed the body in the bed of Van Alstyne’s truck and hooked up the trailer and sled again.
They had agreed to meet the coroner and the local funeral director in the school parking lot in Newcomb, and the two were already waiting for them when they pulled in. Beneath the orange halogenlights, the coroner pronounced Pierre dead, Hadley and Paul signing his document as first responders. Then the mortician took charge of the body, loading it into a van for the trip to Plattsburgh, where the autopsy would be performed. The two professionals departed, leaving a sudden emptiness after a day that had been all urgency.
“I should have gone with the funeral director,” Paul said.
“It’s already”—Hadley checked her watch—“God, it’s after six. It’ll be eight before they get to the hospital. Tomorrow noon before the pathologist has a report.”
All the energy that had kept Paul moving, planning, pushing through the past two days seemed to drain out of him. He leaned against Van Alstyne’s truck and rubbed his face. “I guess I ought to start figuring out how to retrieve my own vehicle.”
“No. You ought to drop the snowmobile at your uncle’s place, grab your toothbrush and a change of clothes, and come home with me.”
He looked at her.
“Notthatkind of ‘come home with me’!” She threw her hands up. “I live with two kids and my granddad. Believe me, if I want some adult fun, it’s not happening there.” She dropped her arms and looked around at the empty parking lot, with its chemical orange glow beneath already black skies. “I just don’t think you should be alone, kicking around your uncle’s cabin tonight. It’s not much, but I can promise you a hot meal, a hot shower, and a surprisingly comfortable sofa bed.”
She could see him wavering on the offer. “Plus, I’m going to need to tell Clare about the chief, and I could really use you there for that.”
He nodded. “Okay. Thanks. You’re right.” He smiled a little. “And having met Reverend Fergusson, I can see why you might want backup.”
Hudson and Genny were decidedly blasé about seeing her, despite the fact she’d been away from home for five nights. She suspected Granddad had been ignoring the nutritious dinners she had packed in the freezer in favor of takeout from Burger King.
They were much more excited about the real-live forest ranger shehad brought home with her, and peppered Paul with questions until she called a forcible halt. “Ranger Terrance is going to take a shower andyouare going to show me the homework you’ve allegedly finished for school tomorrow.” He disappeared upstairs to the sound of dramatic groaning.
She slung a frozen lasagna into the oven while the kids got their assignments from their backpacks. She had them seated at the dining room table, working on pre-algebra—Hudson—and a book report onThe Lightning Thief—Genny. Paul came downstairs in bare feet, looking and smelling much better, and she swapped places in the bathroom, soaking under the hot spray until she risked running the water heater dry.
Hudson and Genny finished and were released to watch TV—Granddad had, in fact, gotten them fast food a couple hours before—and she and Paul sat down to consume the lasagna. It was a good thing the kids had already had dinner, because the two of them plowed through the pasta as if they’d never eaten before. Which didn’t feel that far from the truth.
When they finished, there was barely enough for her lunch tomorrow, and she couldn’t take another bite. She could definitely stand a drink, though. She pushed away from the table. “Want a beer?”
“I won’t say no.”
She cracked open two bottles and settled back in her chair. Paul took several swigs before crossing his arms on the table. “I feel guilty.”
“Why?”
“’Cause I’m here with your nice family, stuffed with a good meal, and Pierre’s lying in a refrigerated box in Plattsburgh.” He sighed. “I haven’t even had the chance to let my kin know. My mother’s going to be crushed.”
Hadley nodded. “I hear you. I feel guilty.” Paul opened his hand, inviting her to spill. “I was the one who kept pushing to find out what happened to Flynn. And now not only do wenothave him back, but the chief’s a prisoner up there on that damn mountain. If he’s not dead.”
Paul took another drink. “I don’t think your Flynn will let any harm come to him.”
“He’s notmyFlynn.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Isn’t he?”
