North Country(86)

But slowly, we’re getting to know each other again. These versions of us. Like, Sarah’s learning quickly that I don’t give a shit about gossip, I don’t talk much, and I reveal even less, much to her annoyance. I’m learning that Sarah will complain about Jon’s lack of child-rearing abilities, but she thrives on being in the thick of everything where her children are involved. She complains that she’s exhausted, and yet she’s called my mom three times since we left with last-minute ideas to boost sales around the holidays—sleigh rides, daytime firepits with hot chocolate—all things that add work to her own plate.

For the first time in forever, I feel hope for my sister and me to repair what I broke.

“Fancy meetin’ you here.”

My body instantly tenses as Hank Murphy appears.

There goes a good morning …

Strolling in, he leans against the back of our truck, peeling the cellophane wrap off a pack of cigarettes before letting it fall to the ground. “Thought any more about my question?”

I’m on high alert. Is he alone? I scan the parking lot, noting a red tow truck on the far end and the familiar face sitting in the driver’s seat. It’s the guy from the arena that night, Ian’s son. Is this a coincidence or were they following us?

“I told you already. I don’t have a clue what you’re looking for. Now get the fuck off my truck.”

“Sure you do. You were his kid brother. He talked about you nonstop.” He lights his cigarette, despite the sign on the post two feet from his greasy head strictly forbidding it. “You just have to think hard enough. Come on … Jay must have had a favorite spot, a place he’d hang.”

The pump reads fifty dollars. This truck needs a lot more to fill, but I cut the flowing gas early, intent on getting out of here before this clown says something I can’t ignore or blows us all up.

“If you help us find it, there’s a piece for you. You can have Jay’s share.”

As if I’d ever touch anything Ian and Jay had their dirty hands in. “Why don’t you tell me exactly what it is I should be looking for?”

Hank grins, showing off crooked, stained teeth. “You’ll know when you find it. And I’ll bet you’ve been lookin’, haven’t you? Working out there, all day every day. It’s gotta be somewhere on that big ol’ ranch of yours, right?”

My eyes narrow. Is that where he thinks Ian and Jay hid this secret stash? On my family’s property?

“Everything good here?” Sarah calls. She’s climbed out on her side, her stony glare settled on Hank.

“Sarah, isn’t it?” Hank’s eyes twinkle at her glower.

My teeth grind at the sound of her name in his mouth. “All good. We’re leaving now.” I screw the cap on. “Get back inside where it’s warm.”

“Sure. After you,” comes her crisp response, telling me she’s not going anywhere. “What do you want, Hank?”

“Just catching up with your little brother.”

“We are not catching up. I don’t fucking know you. I don’t like you.” And the last thing I want is for anyone to think otherwise.

“You knew my brother, though.” Hank takes a casual drag off his cigarette. “Terrible thing that happened to that girl. Holly.”

I wait impatiently for the receipt, not appreciating the subject change. “If you were involved, the cops’ll figure it out sooner or later.”

“Funny you say that, seeing as how many people think you had something to do with it.” He smiles. “Don’t think that pretty neighbor of yours is gonna be able to save you from this one. And she is a pretty thing.” He adds after a beat. “So is her daughter.”

Rage that was simmering deep inside erupts. I know a reaction is what he’s aiming for. I need to get out of here before he succeeds. The thin strip of paper finally appears. I snatch it from the machine. “Stay the fuck away from me, if you know what’s good for you. ”

“You’re not gonna lay a finger on me, ’cause if you do, you’ll end up back in that hellhole.”

I step in close, letting my chest bump against his as I lean in and whisper, “If you threaten anyone I love again, I will gladly go back to hell, and I’ll take you with me.”

“Logan!” Sarah barks, a touch of hysteria in her voice. “Let’s go!”

Hank backs up, sending a cagey glance Sarah’s way. “Get what belongs to me, and you’ll never hear from me again.”

Back in the driver’s seat, I watch from the side-view mirror as Hank saunters to the tow truck, like it’s a balmy summer day. Meanwhile, my hands are shaking.

“What was that about?” Sarah asks, accusation in her tone. “What do you have that belongs to Hank Murphy? Who is he threatening? What the fuck is going on!”

“I don’t have anything!” I squeeze my eyes shut. But now, there’s no way I can keep this from her. With a heavy sigh of resignation, I start the truck. “Which way to the school?”





Sarah groans at the lengthy driveway ahead of us. “I give up.”

The little white bungalow sits at the end of a dead-end street next to a flat, open field where wind is free to barrel through. Some of these snowdrifts must be close to three feet high, only slightly higher than the wall of snow the plows left at the end of the driveway.