“Smoke?” Daniel took out the pack of Newports he’d put in the pocket of his uniform blouse to replace the pack he’d given the kid at the house. That got a smile from Blue, who took it, opened it, tapped out a cigarette, pulled a lighter from the pocket of his shorts, and lit up.

“Do you remember Fawn Blacksmith?” Daniel asked.

“Yeah,” Blue said blowing smoke toward the sky. “I remember Fawn. Pretty kid. Good heart. What’s this about?”

“She’s dead.”

Blue’s face barely changed, but Daniel thought he saw a flicker of the man’s eyelids. “How?” Blue asked.

“Someone killed her.”

“That’s tough.”

“When did you last see Fawn?”

Now the man’s face changed, grew wary. “You think I killed her?”

“No. But we’re trying to find out who did.”

Blue lifted the bill of his cap, wiped at his brow, set the cap back on his head. “She was at the house when I first got there. Then they busted the place and we all split. Couple of weeks later, I went back. New people kept showing up. Maybe six months after that, Fawn shows up again. This time she’s got a boyfriend.”

“Name?”

“She called him Billy Bones. Don’t think that was his real name. Older guy. He didn’t live at the house. He just picked up Fawn. Whenever he dropped by, he didn’t pay much attention to me or the guys. He was interested in the girls. My guess, he was pimping her and looking for more. Then Fawn’s gone. Heard she got busted for selling it. I never saw her again.”

“This Billy Bones, what did he look like?”

“Claimed to be Indian. Could have Indian blood in him, I guess. My age, maybe a little older. Flashy. Good dresser. Smooth talker, at least to the girls.”

“Did he manage to sweet-talk any of them into selling it?”

“After Fawn was gone, he didn’t come around anymore.”

“What’s your dog’s name?” Daniel asked.

“I call him Mizheekay.”

“Turtle,” Daniel said.

Blue smiled. “Yeah, he don’t move so fast anymore. But let me show you something.” He reached into the dirty pack at his feet and pulled out a folded sheet of what looked like drawing paper. He unfolded it and held it up for them to see.

“That’s you,” Agent Shirley said. “With your dog. It’s quite good.”

“Fawn drew it. That girl had talent, potential. Just, well, never had the chance to go anywhere with it. Same as so many of us.”

As they turned to leave, Daniel pulled a twenty-dollar bill from his wallet. “For Mizheekay.”

Blue ran his hand gently over the dog’s fur and said to Daniel, “Miigwech.”

CHAPTER 29

The address for Adrian Lewis the Hibbing chief of police had given Dross was at the end of a road called Orchard Lane a couple of miles outside town. It was easy to see where the name came from. Although pines grew on the east side of the road, the west side was lined with apple trees. As she and Cork drove toward the address, they passed a man in a straw hat standing at the edge of the orchard, a twelve-foot pruner pole in his hand. He gave them a cordial wave as they went by.

The house was a brick rambler in a sea of weeds. They parked in the driveway, got no answer to their knock. The doors were locked, the windows curtained.

“Looks like nobody’s lived here in forever,” Dross said.

“He’s been seen around, so he’s got to be living somewhere,” Cork said. “What say we talk to his neighbor?”

They drove back to where the man with the pruner pole was at work. When they stopped and got out, he leaned the pole against the branch of an apple tree and turned to them, smiling. “What can I do for you folks?”

Under the shade of the broad brim of his straw hat was the face of a man Cork guessed to be in his early fifties. Deep crow’s-feet fanned out from the corners of both eyes, and laugh lines arced at the edges of his mouth.

“I’m Sheriff Marsha Dross. This is my associate Cork O’Connor. We’re trying to locate Adrian Lewis.”

“Well, good luck with that.”

“What do you mean?”

“I haven’t seen that boy in over a year.”

“We heard he’s in the area.”

“I heard that, too. Just haven’t seen him.”

“What can you tell us about him?”

“What’s your interest, don’t mind me asking? He in some kind of trouble?”

“Maybe,” Dross said. “That’s really what we’re trying to figure out. The more we know about him, the better sense we might have.”

The man looked down the road in the direction of the derelict house. “I’ve been a neighbor of the Lewis family all my life. Now there was a bunch of hard-luckers.”

“How so?” Cork asked.

“I went to school with Adrian’s old man, Davey Lewis. Good football player, running back. Went to the U of M down in the Twin Cities on a scholarship. Got blindsided his first game. Ruined his knee. Never played again. That’s probably what set him to drinking. Came home, worked in the lumber mill, married a girl from Coleraine, Lizzie, real odd one. Lots of fireworks in that house, and I don’t mean the kind you shoot off come Fourth of July. Alcohol usually involved. Then Davey got killed in a mill accident. Things kinda went from bad to worse. Adrian never really stood a chance. You seen that ear of his?”

“We’ve never seen him,” Dross said.

“He’s got this funny-looking right ear. Word was his ma put a hot iron to it. Melted the skin. Don’t know if it’s true, but Lewis always wore his hair long to cover it. Joined the army right after high school. Didn’t see him in forever. Then his ma died couple of years ago. He got the house and came back, driving a truck and hauling a fifth wheel. You know, one of those big trailers. Heard he’d been living in it for a while, don’t know where or doing what. A loner though. Kept pretty much to himself. Got a job as a cop in town. Now if that boy was difficult before, he became a real son of a bitch behind that badge. Maybe because he had to cut his hair and couldn’t hide that ear of his, I don’t know. Anyway, lots of complaints about him. Got let go, as I understand it, about a year ago. Then him and that fifth wheel disappeared. Like you, I heard that he’s been back, working on that pipeline, I guess. But I haven’t seen him at the house. Must still be living out of that big trailer of his. So, this trouble he might be in, is it bad?”

“Yes,” Dross said.

The man gave a nod, as if it didn’t surprise him. “Like I said, good luck finding him.”

Dross handed the man a business card. “If you happen to see him return home, Mr. —?”

“Gavins. Luke Gavins.”