Winter of the Wolf Moon by Steve Hamilton Page A

He could have followed my truck all the way down the main road, but then how would he know which cabin she was in? He couldn’t have followed me all the way down my access road, could he? Could I be that fucking oblivious?
    I didn’t call the police. I didn’t stay with her. I left her alone in a cabin with no phone.
    The county car pulled in then and saved me. A few more minutes alone with my thoughts and I would have killed myself.
    They came out of either side of the car, their Chippewa County hats worn just right, a young man anda young woman. The both of them put together weren’t as old as me.
    “Where’s the sheriff?” I said.
    “He’s busy,” the young woman said. Her dark hair was tucked up beneath her hat.
    “Call him,” I said. “I want him out here.”
    “I told you, sir,” she said. “He’s busy.”
    “Busy, my ass,” I said. “He needs to be here.”
    “Take it easy, sir,” the young man said. He had the standard-issue police buzz cut. He approached me with his hands up, the way you’d approach a dog you think might be rabid. “Are you Mr. McKnight?”
    “I told the dispatcher I wanted Bill himself,” I said. “And nobody else.” Bill Brandow was the county sheriff, if not exactly my best buddy then at least a friendly acquaintance. I had bought him a couple Canadians one night, traded a few cop stories. There was something fundamentally competent and trustworthy about the man. It was his face I needed to see right now, not these two kids who looked like they were on their way to a high school costume party dressed as deputies.
    “I told you, Mr. McKnight. The sheriff can’t be here. You’re gonna have to calm down a little bit here.”
    “A woman has been kidnapped,” I said. “Do you have anybody out looking for her? Is Bill going to do anything besides sending two teenagers out here to tell me to calm down a little bit?”
    “Has it occurred to you that maybe the sheriff is out looking for her right now?” he said. “And this guy, what’s his name?”
    “Bruckman,” I said. “Lonnie Bruckman.”
    “Where do you want him to be, Mr. McKnight? Out there looking for them or standing here in the snow making you feel better?”
    I clenched my gloved hands into fists, looked up into the winter sky, then I took a deep breath and let it out. “Okay,” I said. “You’re right. Let’s just …”
    “Tell us what happened,” he said. “Where’s the cabin she was staying in?”
    “This way,” I said. “Right around the bend.”
    We all got into the county car, the two deputies in the front, me in the back. It wasn’t more than a quarter mile to the first rental cabin, but we rolled slowly down the road, the tires scrunching over another half inch of snow that had fallen since I plowed. I gave them the quick version of what had happened. Dorothy meeting me at the bar, asking for my help. The way she talked about Lonnie. The genuine fear in her voice when she told me he’d kill her if he ever found her.
    We got out of the car and stood there a moment, the deputies looking up and down the road. Nothing to see but trees. “She stayed alone in this cabin last night?” the woman asked.
    “Yes,” I said. “I really don’t have much room in my cabin. And besides …” I didn’t finish it.
    The deputies traded a quick look at each other while they walked through the snow to the cabin.
    “No footprints here,” he said.
    “I didn’t see any,” I said. “It snowed too much last night.”
    “No tire tracks either?”
    “No,” I said. “None at all.”
    “Even with the snow,” he said. “You’d see something,wouldn’t you? It didn’t snow
that
much.”
    “When I plowed the road it looked totally untouched,” I said. “Like nobody had driven on it for days.”
    “This unlocked?” he said when he got to the door.
    “Yes,” I said. “It was unlocked this morning.”
    “Was it locked last night?”
    “Yes, she locked it when I left.”
    The deputies