Free Heaven's Keep by William Kent Krueger Page B

kitchen wall.
    Rose, who’d been sitting at the table with her rosary, said, “What about Mr. Parmer?”
    “What about him?”
    “He offered to help, didn’t he? And you told me, didn’t you, that he’s got his own plane?”
    It was a slim hope, but Cork was desperate. He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and plucked out the business card Hugh Parmer had given him. He noted the cell phone number, then turned the card lengthwise so that it again resembled a door. He made the call.
    “Fly you and the boy to Wyoming? No problem at all, Cork,” Parmer said without a moment’s hesitation. “Glad I can be of help. I’ve got a couple of details to tie up here. If we flew out first thing in the morning, would that do? I could have you in Wyoming in time for breakfast.”
    Cork would have preferred flying out that evening but knew that if they did they’d arrive in the dead of night and couldn’t do anything anyway.
    “That would be fine, Hugh,” he said. “Thanks.”
    “I’ll drop by around five A.M . to pick you up. That ought to get us to the Duluth airport for takeoff about sunrise.”
    Cork put the phone down. If he’d just sold his soul to Parmer, he was surprised how little he cared. The truth was that, in the midst of so much need, what he felt most was an abundance of gratitude.
    When darkness brought the search to an end in Wyoming that evening, Dewey Quinn called Cork to tell him that nothing had been found. Cork didn’t tell the deputy he was coming. He figured Quinn would do his best to argue him out of it and the conversation would end up awkward for them both.
    He called Sarah LeDuc, told her his plan, and promised to keep her informed. He also called Marsha Dross, who said she’d been expecting as much and wished him good luck. Finally he called Stephen’s teacher and cleared his absence from school for a few more days. He drove toSam’s Place and spent some time at the Quonset hut finishing a few details related to his PI business. He locked up and stood outside under a night sky that was slowly filling with stars. He walked to the end of the old dock. The water around the pilings was still and black. Far across the lake, the glimmer of lights from isolated cabins marked the distant shoreline. He remembered a night, years before, when he’d stood in this same spot with Jo. They’d been through hell. Their marriage had been chipped and broken and ready to fall apart. Yet under the sky that night, with the stars of heaven as their only witnesses, they’d made a vow to each other that had been sacred and true and binding. That night, far more powerfully than on the day they were wed, they pledged their lives to each other, their fortunes, their hearts, and their destinies.
    Now, as he stood alone under that same sky, he made another vow.
    “Wherever you are, I’ll find you, Jo. And I swear to God, I’ll bring you home.”

NINE
Day Four, Missing 65 Hours
    A t night the emptiness of his bed drove Cork to the sofa, where he slept with the television tuned to CNN. He drifted between sleep and fevered dreams that were often driven by the reports from the news channel. Each time he woke, he remembered almost nothing except that the landscapes were bleak.
    A little after 3:00 A.M ., he was awakened by the sense that he was not alone, and he opened his eyes to find Rose sitting in the rocker. She had a throw around her shoulders, one she’d knitted as a birthday present for Jo. The only light came from the television, and in the constant shift of that hard glow Rose rocked gently back and forth.
    Cork sat up.
    “A woman and her daughter tried to escape,” Rose said.
    “What woman?” Cork struggled to bring himself fully awake.
    “From the compound in Kansas. They shot them as they ran.”
    “The police?”
    “Someone from the compound.” She wiped her eye, dealing quietly with a tear. “The girl was only ten years old. What kind of religious community kills its mothers and its