Die a Stranger Read Online Free PDF

station. The whole point was deserted. One single light burned at the base of the lighthouse but otherwise there was nothing but darkness. He opened his door and got out, taking the bottle with him. The glasses he left behind him on the seat.
    I followed him out onto the wooden walkway. He took the stairs down to the beach. The night was still warm. Freakishly warm, here at the edge of the world, the one night all year when it might be warm enough to do this without wearing a jacket. Before I could say another word, he ran down to the water. There were light waves. He went in to his waist, still holding the bottle. He looked up at the stars. Then he took another drink and fell backward into the water.
    “For God’s sake,” I said to nobody.
    By the time I got to the water’s edge, he was already sitting up, the waves hitting him neck-high. He was doing all he could to keep the bottle dry.
    “Vinnie, come back, okay? I’m serious.”
    “It feels so warm,” he said. “I can’t believe it.”
    I was about to take off my work boots, but then he went down again. I didn’t see him come up this time, so I went in after him. I just about tripped over him, grabbing him by the back of the neck and pulling his head above the water.
    He was right, though. You wouldn’t mistake it for bathwater, but it wasn’t even close to being deadly cold. For this lake, that’s saying something.
    “Don’t worry,” he said, holding up the bottle. Somehow he had replaced the cap.
    “Can we get out of here, please? Before one of us drowns?”
    “We used to come up here. My whole family. In fact, I think I even remember my father coming up here. Like one time.”
    “Okay. Good. Can we remember on dry land?”
    He shook me away and stayed where he was, sitting there on the rocks and sand and letting the waves hit his chest and spray his face. He uncapped the bottle and took another drink. I took the bottle from him and drank from it. He took it back. That’s how we spent the next few minutes, draining the bottle and watching the waves come at us, one after the other.
    “Okay,” I said when the bottle was empty, “it’s time to get out of the lake.”
    “I want to go see her.”
    “See who?”
    “My mother. I can’t go back home without seeing her. Just one more time.”
    He started to cry, each wave washing the tears from his cheeks. I let him sit there for a while, then I reached down and picked him up by the armpits. I felt the strain in my back and we were both soaking wet now, but it was the warmest night of the year and we had one more place to go.
    We walked up the beach to the wooden walkway, then back out to the parking lot. To my truck, and then we were both sitting in the cab, getting the seats wet. I turned the truck around and headed south. Back toward Paradise.
    When we hit town, I saw the lights still on inside the Glasgow Inn. We passed by, going through the blinking yellow light at the center of town. Down to Lakeshore Drive and around the rim of Whitefish Bay. Past the abandoned railroad car that sat at the fork of the road, like an eternal marker for something long forgotten.
    We drove through the reservation, the quiet houses and the cars and trucks all parked outside. Everything supported by the casinos. Every last thing.
    I took the right turn and started climbing Mission Hill. This thin road hugging the side of the hill, with no guard rails and nothing but trees to stop us if we went over. It had been such a busy place just a few days ago, all of the mourners gathered up here. The whole reservation and people from all over North America, all here to celebrate the life of this one remarkable woman. Now the road was dark and empty and as we came to the top we were the only living souls.
    I parked the truck and turned the lights off. Vinnie got out, and I left him alone to walk through the graveyard, to find the stone next to the freshly turned earth. I went over to the edge and looked down at the two