Free Ice Run by Steve Hamilton Page B

chance to find out more about him. Maybe you’ll even recognize somebody there. At the very least, you can meet his family, tell them how sorry you are. If it goes well, you could even ask them to help you figure out why he thought he knew you.”
    “I don’t think I want to do that.”
    “I’m not telling you to crash the funeral, Alex. I’m just saying, go pay your respects. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
    “I’ll think about it,” I said. “Thanks again for your help.”
    “You sure you’re okay?”
    “I’m just fine, Leon. I’m just fine.”
    It started snowing harder. The wind picked up and whistled through the chinks in the walls. I put more wood in the stove.
    The phone rang again. I went through the same routine again, as unavoidable as a reflex. Maybe it’s her. But this time it was a man from downstate, asking me if there was enough snow up here to jump-start the snowmobile season. I told him there sure as hell was. He made a reservation.
    I knew others would come. I’d be busy again. That was good.
    The phone didn’t ring again. I plowed one more time, then I went to bed. I lay there staring at the ceiling, listening to the wind.
    Someday, I thought, that’ll be me. The whole picture came into my head, all at once. I’ll sit at the Glasgow Inn all day. Maybe Jackie will be gone by then. His son will own the place. But I’ll still go down there and nobody will mind, because I won’t be bothering anybody. I’ll sit there and look out the window and think about things that happened a long time ago. Then one night I’ll go outside into the cold, cold air and they won’t find me until the next morning.
    Just like Simon Grant. Frozen stiff in a pile of snow. All alone.
    That’ll be me.

Chapter Six
    The men from downstate arrived the next day. They must have gotten up at three in the morning to get here so early. There were four of them in two SUVs, with four identical Arctic Cat sleds on the two big trailers. I got them set up in the third cabin and stacked a quarter cord of wood by their front door. Then I went back to my cabin, split another full cord, then plowed the road again.
    I cleaned my cabin within an inch of its life, throwing out food from the refrigerator and picking up old magazines and books. I finally hung those extra shelves I needed. I even cleaned the bathroom.
    It kept snowing lightly all day long. I went out and plowed again, then shoveled the walkways in front of all the cabins. I knew they’d all be occupied before the week was over.
    Finally, I went down to the last cabin site and knocked most of the snow off the blue tarp. I wished like hell I could get back to work rebuilding it. That’s the kind of job I could lose myself in for days at a time. But that would have to wait until springtime.
    When the day was almost over, I went down to Jackie’s place. He slid a cold Canadian my way. I asked for a little something else to go with it. He poured me a shot and watched me knock it back. He didn’t say a word.
    I had dinner by the fire. Vinnie LeBlanc came in and sat down next to me. His ear was still taped up and in the firelight I could see the scar on his cheek, the scar that he would carry for the rest of his life. It made me think about how he had gotten it, and how I had met this woman named Natalie up there, this policewoman from the OPP.
    “You don’t look so good,” he said to me.
    “What else is new?”
    “Things okay with Natalie?”
    “Things aren’t okay. I’m not sure they’re anything at all.”
    He nodded his head. “I’m sorry, Alex.”
    “It’s all right.”
    Jackie brought me another beer and another shot. He stood above me like he was going to say something, but he never did. He put his hand on my shoulder for a moment, then walked away.
    “I’m impressed,” I said to Vinnie. “He didn’t even say, ‘I told you so.’”
    Vinnie didn’t comment on that, or on anything else. That was one of the best things about the man. He