Misery Bay Read Online Free PDF Page A

time together,” he said. “Most troopers lead pretty lonely lives, and if they do end up riding with somebody else, it’s usually not the same partner every time. But as soon as I got to Lansing, I think I must have pissed off the wrong lieutenant or something, because I kept ending up in the same car as Sergeant Maven. Don’t ever tell him I told you this, but they used to call him ‘Sergeant Cooler.’ Like we’re not sure if we want this guy around anymore, so let’s put him with Sergeant Cooler for a while, see how long he lasts.”
    I had to smile at that. Then he shifted gears.
    “Forgive me if I’m hitting too close to home here,” he said, “but I understand you’ve suffered some losses yourself. On the job and—”
    “My partner, in Detroit…”
    “And then someone you loved, not that long ago?”
    We sat right here, I thought. The two of us, once upon a time. On another winter’s day, right here in this observation booth.
    “Yes,” I said. “Not that long ago.”
    “So we have something in common.”
    “The circumstances were different, but…”
    “Look me in the eye,” he said, “and tell me we don’t have something in common.”
    “We do. I know we do.”
    “Were you with her when she died?”
    I looked at him for a long time. “No,” I finally said. “Not at that last moment, no.”
    “Okay, then. Neither was I.”
    Through the glass, I could see snowflakes starting to swirl all around us.
    “Start at the beginning,” I said, “and tell me everything.”
    *   *   *
     
    I set out early the next day, coming down from Paradise through Newberry to M-28, the main highway that cuts across the middle of the Upper Peninsula. It was twelve degrees, but the sky was clear and there was sunlight gleaming impossibly bright on the unbroken fields of snow.
    I hit the infamous “Seney Stretch” that runs right through the middle of the Great Manistique Swamp. It’s twenty-five miles of road as straight as a ruler’s edge, with absolutely nothing to see on either side but snow-covered trees and such a perfect line ahead of you it’s downright hypnotizing.
    I stopped for a quick breakfast in Munising, then continued along the shoreline. I didn’t see as much ice in the lake as you’d expect in a normal year. It was just a vast expanse of open blue water here in the widest section of Lake Superior, with Canada a good two hundred miles to the north. I hit some actual traffic in Marquette, the biggest city in the UP, then kept going west through Ishpeming, Champion, and Three Lakes. Small towns where you’d buy your gas and your groceries and your fishing tackle and you’d rent your movies for the weekend, all from the same corner store.
    In the heart of the day, I was finally getting close to my destination, and I could feel it in the way the road started to rise and fall. The Porcupine Mountains lay far ahead of me. I cut north through L’Anse and Baraga, heading up the eastern coast of the Keweenaw Peninsula. Copper Country. But I wanted to see where it happened first, though, before talking to anyone, so I cut back to the west and headed for Toivola. It’s the last real town on the map until you finally hit Misery Bay.
    If you ever do find yourself in Toivola, Michigan, I’d recommend stopping at a little place called Toivola Lunch. Of course, it’s not like you’d have much choice. There’s Toivola Lunch with a little convenience store attached to it on one side of the road, and on the other side there’s a small post office attached to a house. That’s it. That’s Toivola, as far as I could see, anyway. It made Paradise look like a metropolis.
    I went inside and had a quick glass of Coke. No beer for me while I was doing so much driving, and I’m sure they only had American beer, anyway. The old man who served it to me had a slight Finnish accent. I was his only customer, but then the lunch rush was probably already over.
    “Misery Bay,” I said. “That’s right