“Hey, is Vinnie around?”
The dealer was a woman. She looked too young to even be allowed in this place, let alone to deal cards. “Vinnie LeBlanc? No, he’s out for a while. On bereavement leave.”
“Today’s his first day back,” I said. “I just wanted to say hi to him.”
“I haven’t seen him. I didn’t even know he was working.”
When the pit boss came over to break it up, I motioned him aside.
“I’m just looking for Vinnie,” I said. “I know he’s working today.”
The pit boss shook his head. “Nope, haven’t seen him. I thought he was due back today, too, but I know he’s had a tough week. Don’t worry, we can manage without him.”
“You really haven’t seen him today at all?”
“No, sir.”
I thanked the man and left. When I was in the parking lot, I took my cell phone from the truck and turned it on. I had just enough juice left to try Vinnie’s number. He uses his cell phone about as often I do, but I figured it was worth a shot. It rang through and went to voice mail. I told him to call me if he got the message, but as I threw the phone back into the truck I knew that would work about as well as sending up a smoke signal.
As I worked my way back through the reservation, I kept an eye out for Vinnie’s truck. He could be here, I thought, doing more family stuff. That was entirely reasonable. But I didn’t see his truck anywhere.
I stopped in at both sisters’ houses. They were right up the street from each other, first Mary and then Regina. Their kids were running around between the front yards, trying to throw water balloons at each other. None of the kids had any kind of arm strength yet, not to mention accuracy, so only my shoes got wet.
I didn’t want to alarm either woman, so I simply told them I was passing by on the way home and was just wondering if Vinnie wanted to grab some lunch. I didn’t mention him not showing up for work and neither of them seemed even aware he was due back today. So I think I got away with it, not spreading any more anxiety than I had to. I did pick up that same vibe I always got from them, that I was somehow responsible for keeping Vinnie off the reservation. But that I would have gotten no matter what. I thanked them both and kept going.
When I got back to the Glasgow, I didn’t see his truck in the parking lot. Even so, I felt myself expecting to see him sitting there by the fireplace when I walked in. The truck is broken down, he’d say. Had to be towed to the shop, now I’m stuck here all day. That’s how I wanted it to go, but as soon as I opened the door I saw Jackie look up at me with expectation written all over his wrinkled face.
“Did you find him?”
“I didn’t realize it was a search party,” I said, and then I stopped myself. Jackie was no more anxious than I was. He was just more ready to show it.
“You’re telling me he wasn’t at work.”
“No, he wasn’t.”
“How often does he miss work?”
“You know the answer to that as well as I do. Once every thousand years.”
“So where the hell could he be? It doesn’t make any sense.”
“I know,” I said, “but I’m sure he’s out doing something important. Something to do with his family. That’s the only explanation.”
I sat down at the bar. Jackie kept up with the muttering to himself and the head shaking.
“Hey,” I said, “what was with all the police cars? They were all going west, full speed, lights, sirens…”
He looked at me and I could see his anxiety go into second gear.
“I’m sure it’s just a coincidence,” I said. “Vinnie hardly ever goes out that way. None of us do.”
“There’s something going on in Newberry,” Jackie said. “Guy came in for breakfast after you left, said there were police cars all over the place out there. I didn’t even think about it at the time.”
“Newberry? But I saw Chippewa cars going out there. Why would they go out to Luce County?”
“If it’s something big enough. You know how it goes up here.”
Neither of us said a word for a few seconds.
“Okay,” I finally said. “We’re gonna sit here and wonder if Vinnie’s out there, right? Until one of us actually goes out there to see what’s happening?”
“Go,” he said. “Call me as soon as you find out either way.”
Newberry’s a little town in the middle of absolutely nothing, about forty miles southwest of us, across the county line. The back road out from Paradise hits the main highway across the state, and as far as I can tell, that’s pretty much the only reason there’s a town there in the first place. It’s a little bigger than Paradise-it even has its own little airport-but the Soo is a lot bigger and just about as close. So bottom line, I never have any reason to go to Newberry, unless I happened to be driving through it on my way to Marquette.
The same goes for Vinnie, which is what I was telling myself as I drove. Then I remembered the other reservations to the west, including the little Sault outposts in Christmas and Manistique. Different tribe, but what the hell, I could easily imagine some reason for him going out that way.
I was driving eighty before I even realized what I was doing. I made myself take a breath and slow down. He’s not out there, I told myself. The chances of him being in Newberry right now are a million to one.
I drove through the desolate pine barrens west of Paradise, past the Lower Tahquemenon Falls, where the tannins from the cedar, spruce, and hemlock trees turned the water the color of root beer. There were three or four cars lined up at the gatehouse, waiting to get in. Then past the Upper Falls. I was in Luce County now. A long winding stretch through the trees and nothing else until I finally hit the straightaway going due south. About ten miles to go.
I saw the first state car as soon as I hit the main part of town. The trooper was pulled over on the opposite side of the road, silent but with his lights flashing. He was busy talking into his radio. He didn’t even look up at me as I drove past.
The traffic got heavier as I came to the highway, passing the little strip mall and the farm-equipment store with all the tractors lined up out front. Everybody seemed to be wanting to take a left onto the highway to see whatever there was to see. It was clearly the biggest event in Newberry in years, and probably the first actual traffic jam in just as long. I didn’t feel like waiting, so I parked the truck behind the gas station on the corner and got out.
I walked down the side of the road about a mile, past all the cars and trucks that were sitting there at a dead stop. As I got closer to the airport in Newberry, I saw the troopers out on the road, waving the traffic past and trying not to spend too much time answering the same questions over and over.
When I got close enough to the fence, I saw a good fifteen to twenty cars parked inside, some Michigan State cars, some Chippewa County, some Luce County. I saw two Newberry Police Department cars, which was a surprise because I didn’t even know they had their own department.
“What can we do for you, sir?” It was one of the troopers directing traffic.
“I’m just trying to find out what’s going on.”
“You’re gonna have to keep moving, sir. We’ve got a lot of vehicles coming in and out of here.”
I was about to go talk to him, even if that meant standing in the middle of the road, but then I saw a couple of other troopers standing by the gate. One of them I recognized, Sergeant Coleman, a man I’d had only one conversation with, but I was hoping he would remember me.
“I need a word with the sergeant,” I said to the guy on the road, and then I walked over to the gate before he could stop me.
Sergeant Coleman looked up from his conversation as I approached. He had his official trooper face on until the quarter dropped and he recognized me.
“Mr. McKnight,” he said. “What’s going on?”