Coeur d’Alene — Chapter 2

Chapter 2   Disappearances, apparitions… a thing will happen that remains so unresolved, so strange, that someone will think of it years later… in the dusk and silence, staring out the window at another world. – John Haines, The Stars, the Snow, the Fire On the west side of the Bitterroot Range, there was no sudden sinking of evening into mountain and valley. Across the mountains, the twilight faded slowly into the great waters of the lake, the sun settling softly across a hundred thousand flat and fertile acres of wheat. Although he did not know it, Kev Macht was driving his stolen car across the land where the French and English first settled. They came to the great lake, to fish the depths, harvest the fields, cut down the trees, trade liquor for land,...

Read More

Coeur d’Alene — Chapter 1

Chapter 1   For none of us liveth to himself alone, and no man dieth to himself. – Book of Common Prayer, The Burial of the Dead The tuneless noise of an old truck echoed across the Bitterroot Range. It was a rasping music, composed of the scratch of old windshield wipers, the cough of corroded valves, the whine of a rusted exhaust pipe, the thin buzz of a wire against the road. As the brown truck moved across the Idaho Panhandle, the gears shifted heavily, sliding down a scale made of metal and grease, skipping notes as gravel rattled against the undercarriage. In late summer, the mining towns strung along the highway glimmer in the dusk, blighted jewels on a vast stripped neck of mine tailings and blackened earth. The lights that blink on top of the mine...

Read More

Coeur d’Alene — Prologue

Prologue AUGUST 1988   The girl felt hope leave her as the road went dark. Night lapped across the valley and seeped over the mountains, an approaching tide. She turned her head and saw a light far away on the hill. Even as she looked, it faded into the depths. The darkness would swallow her. Ahead of the car were only acres of water, an emptiness that roiled slowly against the forest and the mountains. She rolled the syllables around in her mouth, a name her father had taught her: Lake Coeur d’Alene. Her father was gone. And when she peeked into the front seat, all she could see were the strange pair of muscled shoulders soiled with dirty ink, a blue-black smear. She closed her eyes, willing this strange man to go away. She tried to go to sleep, tried to...

Read More

Enjoy what you read? Share!