Iron Lake (Cork O'Connor 1) by William Kent Krueger

Author:William Kent Krueger [Krueger, William Kent]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Crime, Fiction, General, Mystery & Detective, Private Investigators, Suspense, Thrillers
ISBN: 9781439157282
Google: nSEVSnb8wpUC
Amazon: 1439157286
Goodreads: 6558081
Publisher: Atria Books
Published: 2009-06-09T05:00:00+00:00

25

IN THE LANGUAGE OF THE ANISHINAABE, December was called Manidoo-Gizisoons. The month of small spirits.

It was late afternoon by the time he entered the limits of Aurora. December 20. One day away from the shortest, darkest day of the year. The forecast was for continued snow, heavier during the evening, additional accumulations of up to three inches by morning.

Cork wished there were a forecast for his spirit. He felt the dark and the cold penetrating deep in him. He wondered when there would be warmth again, when there would be light. He also wondered if his ribs would ever stop hurting.

He parked in front of Sam’s Place and stood a moment looking through falling snow at the geese who were bound to their small world of open water. In a strange way, he figured he knew what that was like. To have the world close down around you. He took his keys and moved to the door. It was already unlocked. He was careful not to look at the windows and wondered if even now he was being watched. He turned away casually, as if he’d changed his mind naturally, and he walked to the side of the Quonset hut; then he edged to the kitchen window that was covered with cardboard. He listened for a minute. Inside, just a couple of feet from his head, a cupboard door squeaked.

They’d looked for something after the judge was killed. Now Lytton was dead. Were they looking this time for something Lytton had? He tried to think of some plan, some way of trapping them. Then he heard glass shatter inside.

The sound of the breaking broke something in Cork. It was like the ripping of a membrane, a thin sheathing that had contained his outrage and his anger. His whole body drew taut and a bitter taste flooded his mouth. His home was being violated again. His whole life was being violated. He headed to the Bronco, took out the tire iron, and stepped to the front door. He took a deep, painful breath, clenched his teeth, kicked open the door, and rushed them.

Jenny crouched in the kitchen near the sink, picking up pieces of a broken glass. She cried out when Cork came at her, and she fell back, holding her arms up to protect herself. Cork stood over her with the tire iron raised.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, hoarse with the rage that still ran in his blood and with the pain that knifed at him from his ribs.

“I . . . I . . .” she stammered. Her eyes were full of terror. “I just wanted to help clean up.”

Cork lowered the iron and held his side.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m sorry I scared you. You had me scared, too.”

He glanced around. The place had been picked up. Everything was in order. Dishes sat dripping in the rack by the sink. White suds clung to Jenny’s hands.

“Are you all right, Dad?” she asked, seeing how he held himself.

“Fine. Here, let me help you.

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