“Wait. Are you talking about leaving me? About prison?”
“Just go get Large Marge.”
“You are not going to prison for killing a man that everyone in town knew was abusive.”
“I don’t care. You’re safe. That’s all that matters.”
“What if we get rid of him?”
Mama blinked. “Get rid of him?”
“We could make it so this never happened.” Leni got to her feet. Yes. This was the answer. They would devise a way to erase what they’d done. Then they could stay here, she and Mama, and live among their friends, in this place they’d grown to love. The baby would be loved by all of them, and when Matthew finally got better, Leni would be waiting.
“That’s not as easy as it sounds, Leni,” Mama said.
“This is Alaska. Nothing is easy, but we’re tough, and if you go to prison, I’ll be alone. With a baby to raise. I can’t do it without you. I need you, Mama.”
It was a moment before Mama said, “We’d need to hide the body, make sure it never gets found. The ground is too frozen to bury him.”
“Right.”
“But Leni,” she said evenly. “You’re talking about another crime.”
“Letting you be called a murderer? That would be a crime. You think I’m going to trust the law with your life? The law? You told me the law didn’t protect abused women, and you were right. He got out of jail in a few days. When did the law ever protect you from him? No. No.”
“Are you sure, Leni? It means you’ll have to live with it.”
“I can live with it. I’m sure.”
Mama took a while to consider, then extracted herself from Dad’s limp, bloody body, and stood. She went into her bedroom and came out a few moments later dressed in insulated pants and a turtleneck. She dumped her bloody clothes in a heap by Dad’s body. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Don’t open the door to anyone except me.”
“What do you mean?”
“Step one is to dispose of the body.”
“And you think I’m going to sit here while you do it?”
“I killed him. I’ll do this.”
“And I’m helping you cover it up.”
“We don’t have time to argue.”
“Exactly.” Leni stripped out of her bloody clothes. Within moments she was in her insulated pants and parka and bunny boots, ready to go.
“Get his traps,” Mama said, and left the cabin.
Leni gathered the heavy traps from their hooks on the cabin wall and carried them outside. Mama had already hooked the big red plastic sled to the snow machine. It was the one Dad had used for hauling wood. It could hold two large coolers, a lot of chopped wood, and a moose carcass.
“Lay the traps in the sled. Then go get the chain saw and the auger.”
When Leni returned with the tools, Mama said, “You ready for the next part?”
Leni nodded.
“Let’s go get him.”
It took them thirty minutes to drag Dad’s lifeless body from the cabin and across the snowy deck, and then another ten minutes to get him settled on the sled. A bloody trail in the snow revealed their path, but within the hour, with snow falling this heavily, it would be gone. Come spring, the rains would wash it away. Mama covered Dad with a tarp and lashed him and it down with bungee cords.
“Okay, then.”
Leni and her mother exchanged a look. In it was the truth that this act, this decision, would change them forever. Without words, Mama gave Leni the chance to change her mind.
Leni stood firm. She was in this. They would dispose of the body, clean the cabin, and tell everyone he left them, say he must have fallen through the ice while hunting or lost his way in the snow. No one would question or care. Everyone knew there were a thousand ways to disappear up here.
Leni and her mama would finally—finally—be unafraid.
“Okay, then.”
Mama pulled the cord to start the snow machine, then took her place on the two-person seat and grasped the throttle. She fitted a neoprene face mask over her bruised, swelling face, and gingerly pulled on her helmet. Leni did the same. “This is going to be cold as hell,” Mama yelled over the roar of the engine. “We’re going up the mountain.”
Leni climbed aboard, put her arms around her mother’s waist.
Mama revved the engine and they were off, driving through the virgin snow, through the open gate. They turned right on the main road and left onto the road that led up to the old chromium mine. By then it was deep night and blowing snow and cold. The thread of yellow from the snow machine’s headlight led the way.