Windigo Island by William Kent Krueger

Author:William Kent Krueger [Krueger, William Kent]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781476749235
Amazon: 147674923X
Barnesnoble: 147674923X
Publisher: Atria Books
Published: 2014-08-19T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 25

* * *

The sky all day had been relatively clear, but after dark, thick clouds stumbled over the hills above Duluth and obscured the stars. It felt like rain, though nothing came for the longest time. The hour was late and no word yet from Bea Abbiss or Dan McGinty. Sleep was out of the question for Jenny. At home when she couldn’t sleep, she usually got up and wrote. And so now she sat at the desk in her hotel room with a small, opened notebook in front of her and a Bic ballpoint in her hand. She stared at her own reflection in the window glass of the room, at the face of a woman who thought of herself as a writer. She could see the lights along the boardwalk behind the hotel and, beyond them, the big dark of the water. She was thinking about this hunt they were on, and the terrible men who were a part of what they hunted. Her hand moved across the blank notebook page. She wrote: Downwind of the Devil. Which, according to Henry Meloux, if they wanted to hunt a windigo, was where they were supposed to stay. She wrote: Mariah. She wrote: Lost, Alone, Afraid. She wrote: Child. She wrote: You save her.

She studied her face in the window. What she saw now was a comfortable woman who knew nothing of what Mariah or the other girls enslaved by Windigo and his brother might really feel. What was it like to be alone on the street at night? What was it really like to have no one to turn to except monsters?

Her cell phone played the first few notes of Cyndi Lauper’s “Girls Just Want to Have Fun.” She took it from her purse and read the display. An unfamiliar number. She answered with “This is Jenny.”

“I want to talk to the Shinnob woman.” The voice was male, growly.

“Louise? She’s sleeping at the moment.”

“Wake her up. It’s about her kid.”

“Mariah?”

“Wake her up.”

“Hold on.” Jenny went to the bed where the woman lay in a dead sleep. She shook Louise gently, then when she got no response, more vigorously. “Louise,” she said. “Louise, wake up. It’s about Mariah.”

Louise’s eyes snapped open instantly, but they were unfocused. She said, “Huh? What?”

“Someone’s on the phone for you. He says it’s about Mariah.”

“Okay,” Louise said, drawing herself upright. “Okay.” She blinked a few times, trying to become alert, then reached for the cell phone in Jenny’s hand. She put it to her ear. “This is Louise Arceneaux.” She listened, squinted as if to focus more intently, nodded. “Is she all right? Just tell me that.” She listened. “Okay. I understand.” She kept the phone to her ear a few moments more, lowered it, and stared at Jenny.

“What is it, Louise?”

“I have to go out.”

“Now?”

“Yes. Now.”

She swung herself around on the mattress and settled her good leg on the floor. She reached for the peg propped against the wall next to the bed, along with her crutches.

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