Free Heaven's Keep by William Kent Krueger

Arctic; a man who’d survived a plane wreck in the High Sierra and hiked through wilderness for two weeks to reach safety despite a dozen broken bones.
    Stephen’s spirits seemed to rise with each miraculous tale, and he began pulling them off the computer and printing them to share with the others.
    Downstairs, the doorbell rang. A moment later Mal called up, “Someone to see you, Cork.”
    To his profound surprise, Cork found Hugh Parmer standing in the shade of his porch.
    “This isn’t a good time,” Cork said curtly.
    “I’m sorry to intrude, O’Connor, but I have something to say to you that I thought you’d want to hear. It’s important or I wouldn’t bother you at a time like this.”
    Cork stepped outside. The morning was sunny and the temperature had climbed to forty degrees. Even in the shade of the porch, Parmer squinted, and Cork realized it was the natural state of the man’s face. The face of a cowboy masking the mind of a real estate tyrant.
    “Look, O’Connor, I know about your trouble, and I’m here to tell you that I’m putting the Iron Lake development on hold indefinitely. I’m not going to kick a man while he’s down.”
    “You’re dropping your plans for the lakeshore?”
    “Let’s take it one step at a time. Right now, I’m pulling back. I don’t want you to have to worry about anything except your family. Later on, you and me can sit down, and I’m willing to bet we can hammer out something that works for both of us. But don’t you even think about that right now. This is no bullshit.”
    He put out his hand, and after a moment’s consideration, Cork accepted it. Parmer’s palm was callused. Cork realized this wasn’t a man who spent his time sitting in a plush office.
    “There’s nothing more important than family, O’Connor. You see to yours.”
    “The name’s Cork.”
    “Call me Hugh. And listen, you need anything in all this, just let me know. Here.” He pulled a card from an inside pocket of the jacket he wore and handed it to Cork. “That’s my cell phone number. My Lear’s parked down at the Duluth airport and I’m flying back to Texas tomorrow morning, but I can be reached anytime.”
    Cork said, “I misjudged you, Hugh.”
    “Not the first time that’s happened. I’m a good businessman, Cork, but I’m a whole hell of a lot more.”
    “Look, we’re about to have some lunch inside. You’re welcome to join us.”
    “Thanks, but I didn’t come here to intrude.”
    “You came with a good heart, Hugh. That’s never an intrusion.”
    “I appreciate the offer, but all the same I’ll be leaving now.” He nodded toward the card. “I mean it. Call me anytime.”
    He walked down the steps and went to his car, a rented Navigator that was parked at the curb. He gave a wave as he drove off.
    Cork’s situation was so confusing that he understood he couldn’t necessarily trust his judgment of Parmer. The man could have been setting him up in order to call in the note later, when they dealt with Sam’s Place. That didn’t matter. At the moment, Cork would have sold his soul to have Jo home safely. He eyed the card in his hand. A small white rectangle. He rotated it so that the long sides were vertical. It looked like a door.
    “Dad,” Annie called from inside. “Lunch is ready.”
    The phone call came a few minutes past noon, while Stephen was sharing with the others what he’d found on the Internet. Cork leaped up to answer.
    “O’Connor,” he said.
    “It’s Deputy Quinn.”
    “What’s the word, Dewey?”
    “Still uncertain. We got a report from Jon Rude.” Quinn pronounced the name in a way that rhymed with today. “He’s piloting the helicopter. A very good guy. The wind’s a problem up there. It’s kicking his chopper all over the place. But he thinks he’s found a site where he might be able to attempt a landing. It’s about a quarter mile from the ledge where the plane door was spotted, and after he lands there’ll be some