Page 38 of Leave No Trace
‘Why do you say that?’
His lips thinned out. ‘Cops are pretty fair psychologists, too. I don’t know exactly what happened to Heather Price, but I do know Josiah Blackthorn was hiding something.’
The Cheetos had sucked all the moisture out of my mouth. Clearing my throat, I thanked Sergeant Coombe for his time and got up to go, but he stopped me, making me wait while he left his office – to do what? Get a tape recorder? Another officer? I wasn’t at liberty to reveal anything Lucas had told me, but maybe he could see it in my eyes. A body – Heather Price’s body – draped over Josiah’s shoulder. I checked my phone and thought about leaving before he could come back, but as I moved toward the door he appeared again, handing me a box that looked like it held files. I set it on the desk, lifting the lid.
‘That came up for disposal a while ago. I’m not sure why I had them keep it.’
Reaching in, I pulled out a plastic bag holding the agate, my mother’s agate, still crusted with remnants of dried blood. It felt lighter than I remembered, the colors less vivid, but still warm to the touch.
‘I’ve never given anyone back a murder weapon before.’
‘Don’t worry.’ I dried my eyes and put the bag in my backpack next to the picture of Heather Price. ‘I won’t tell anyone.’
17
Modern science says: ‘The sun is the past, the earth is
the present, the moon is the future.’ From an incandescent mass we have originated, and into a frozen mass we shall turn. Merciless is the law of nature, and rapidly and
irresistibly we are drawn to our doom.
– Nikola Tesla
Josiah
Damaged people recognized their own. Josiah could smell it on Heather Price as she led him and Lucas through the vacant apartment.
‘The ad said it was furnished.’ He opened a few cupboards and glanced in the fridge, where a brown ring stained one of the empty shelves. A folding table and two chairs sat under the bare bulb in the dining room, coated in a fine layer of dust.
‘There’s a bed.’ Lucas, already far ahead of the adults, reported from one of the bedrooms.
‘Partially furnished.’ Heather held her elbows and walked to the couch in the living room. ‘You’re not going to find that in Ely at this price. Trust me.’
She pivoted and gave him another once-over without any attempt to disguise what she was doing, her gaze settling somewhere near his wallet. Her hair was limp and tangled, falling almost to her waist, and any luster it might have possessed had leached out a long time ago. Her skin looked brittle, her movements jerky, and it seemed like all the life in her had been sucked into those too-bright reptilian eyes. For someone who’d moved as many times as he had, Josiah had seen plenty of landlords and no matter what the exterior looked like they all spoke the same language.
‘Two hundred and fifty a month? I can give you the first and last month today.’
She backed into the shadows, unblinking. ‘I told you the first month is free.’
‘Dad, the toilet sounds like a frog. Come listen!’ Lucas called from another room.
He glanced at the trampled carpet, the yellowing walls, and the hook in the corner of the ceiling where someone had maybe tried to hang a plant once, as if a tiny gasp of green could make any improvement to the place.
‘Nothing’s free. You can put it toward a damage deposit if you want.’
That made her blink and after a fraction of a pause she reached a hand out of the shadows. He didn’t want to, but he shook it.
Over the next few weeks, he and Lucas settled into the duplex and bought their usual necessities – sheets, toilet paper, bleach – lots of bleach – and also found a secondhand canoe that they stored in the living room. Lucas did his homework every night in the belly of the boat, balancing his worksheets and library books on the thwarts and afterward he wrote and illustrated stories about their adventures, which always ended with treasure and ice cream. Josiah taped all his stories to the walls, next to maps of places they’d been, places they were planning to go, and some places they could only imagine.
They did everything together – cooking, grocery shopping, spending afternoons at the library to surf the Internet and read back issues ofNational Geographic. He refused to leave him with strangers. The entire concept of exchanging money for childcare hinted too much of his own childhood and then there was the other problem; when Lucas was out of sight, a quiet panic began building in Josiah’s chest. When Josiah had to work evenings, his boss let Lucas hang out in the office. He got up at least once a night to watch the hypnotic rise and fall of his son’s chest and sometimes when he woke up, Lucas’s frame was illuminated in his own doorway, checking on him, too. When he was younger he asked questions from those shadowy doorways. ‘What was Mom’s favorite holiday?’ ‘Did she like cats or dogs better?’ By the time they moved to Ely, though, Lucas just blinked sleep-swollen eyes and turned around, heading back to burrow into his bed. Josiah worried about his son’s lack of friends. He knew what it was like to grow up alone, but every time he mentioned it Lucas scoffed. ‘I’m not alone. I’ve got you, Dad.’ And for the rest of the day he would stand a little closer, talk a little more, showing Josiah with every word and action that there was nothing missing. Together they formed their own discrete ecosystem.
Within their first month in Ely, it became obvious Heather Price was part of no such community. No visitors came in or out of her side of the duplex. She never spent time outside and when Josiah found a citation for yard maintenance in their mailbox, he had to knock on her door for a solid minute before she answered and then she tumbled into an incoherent speech about mayors and her work schedule and neighbors who were trying to repossess her house. Josiah left her mid-rant and found a broken lawn mower in the garage, showed Lucas how to take it apart and fix it, and then mowed the tiny lawn every week until the snow came. Heather watched him from her window, her seemingly lidless eyes following his every move. Lucas studied her in his turn and, like a budding naturalist, called out his observations from their living room window. ‘It’s Work Heather today’ or other days ‘Ugh, Home Heather’ and the two were easy to differentiate. Work Heather had wet hair pulled back into a ponytail and white lab coats frayed at the edges; she stumbled down the street toward some job that required breath mints and hastily applied lipstick. Home Heather, the one they’d seen during the duplex tour, rarely went anywhere and when they did run into her outside it felt somehow calculated. She fawned over Lucas, who at nine years old was long past the age when boys wanted to be fawned over, petting his hair and telling him bizarre facts about his classmates as Lucas jerked out of her spindle-armed reach.
Then, as winter set in, the price of her free rent started coming due. She began asking for money early each month, knocking on their door at two in the morning when they both worked the next day, always with a reason ready – the utility company was screwing her over or she’d gotten scammed by a credit card collector. When that didn’t work she started offering up her body, not like a barter so much as something she wanted to be rid of. Josiah stopped answering the door. He listened to the knocking while lying in bed, staring at the water stains spreading over the bedroom ceiling like an insidious cancer.
In a perfect world Josiah would have helped her, invited her into his life and tried to show her she was worth something, but in reality he just wanted her to stay as far away as possible from him and his son. At the very least they should’ve moved, they should’ve packed up and found some other place in Ely or even Babbitt, which was only twenty minutes down the road, but two hundred and fifty a month was dirt cheap. He was saving more than ever, stockpiling money for all the things Lucas might someday need – casts for broken bones, his first car, college tuition, or maybe a trip around the world. He might actually be able to see the Amazon or the Nile, all the rivers he pretended to navigate from the carpet-grounded canoe in their living room. So they stayed. He shot down Heather’s advances, installed a chain lock on their door, and put the cash in her mailbox on the first of every month. It didn’t take someone with his police record to smell the trouble reeking from the holes in her arms. He itched to move on, counting down the days until Lucas finished third grade, and in the meantime they found sanctuary in the Boundary Waters.
Camping most weekends and on school holidays, they explored the giant wilderness where civilization was strictly prohibited. No motorized boats. No cans. No bottles. Any stain of human habitation had to be scrubbed when you left. It was the guiding principle, the bedrock rule for entering the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness, a place that changed even the language people used to describe it. When passing other paddlers, everyone asked the same questions. ‘When did you come in?’ ‘When do you go out?’ The paradigm shift was subtle, but complete. This world where bear and moose still roamed, where loons cried like melancholy ghosts and the Milky Way raged overhead in a storm of shadows and stars, this place was the pulse, the center, theinside, and everything else, the stuff people built their lives on, was merely theout.
