Page 23 of God’s Country

“No choice.”

“Dad,” the young woman said, looking up into his face, as if imploring him to make some kind of decision.

He returned her look, then said to me, “Name’s Tucker Jackson. This is my daughter, Leticia.”

“Like I said, my name’s O’Connor. Cork O’Connor.”

His eyes lit up as if a bulb had just gone on behind each of them. “Son of a gun. I know about you. You own that burger stand in Aurora.”

“Sam’s Place.”

“Hell, I’ve eaten lots of your burgers. Look, I’m a cop with the St. Paul Police Department.”

“I was sheriff of Tamarack County a while back.”

Tucker Jackson stepped across the campsite and stretched out a hand that could have comfortably accommodated both of mine.

“You know the Boundary Waters?” I asked.

“Come every year. First time for Leticia. Although she does like a good adventure. Knows her way around a canoe. World-class swimmer. Even fond of rock climbing. I figured she and the Boundary Waters would be a perfect fit.”

“Listen, I’d love to stick around,” I said, “but my friend is in trouble.”

“Dad, we can’t let him go alone.”

“These men are killers,” I said. “You need to stay clear of them.”

“We weren’t planning on going anywhere today,” Tucker Jackson said.

“Did you happen to bring a satphone?”

“Nope.”

“A firearm?”

“To the Boundary Waters? What for? To shoot some bear trying to get at my food? I’m not carrying.”

“Look, Tucker, I don’t know what these guys are up to, but they may decide to go out the way they came in, which will take them back to Shrike Lake. I think that when you break camp, it would be best if you didn’t go that way. I’m pretty sure these guys are armed. I hate to think what might happen if you meet up with them.”

He considered this, then shook his head. “I don’t like the idea of you going after them. But you’re right. I don’t want to put my daughter in harm’s way.”

“Dad—” she began in protest.

“End of discussion,” her father said in a voice that would brook no dissent. Then he looked at me. “But tell you what. We’ll break camp after you leave, head off Little Sister the other way. As soon as I’m somewhere with cell phone service, I’ll call the Tamarack County Sheriff’s Department and inform them of your situation.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“Jesus, Dad. You don’t have to worry about me.” Leticia tried again. “I’m not a kid.”

Which was exactly the kind of thing I’d expect a fifteen-year-old to say.

“We’re not discussing this,” her father said. “Good luck, Cork.” He shook my hand again.

“I left my canoe up that way,” I said. “You two take care.”

I admit, it was hard turning away, going back alone to my Wenonah. But I’d seen what the men I was after were capable of, and I’d have felt a whole lot worse putting a girl in that kind of jeopardy. As a father, I’d have made the same choice that Tucker Jackson had just made.

CHAPTER 15