The Cold Nowhere

9

‘Well, well, if it isn’t Jonathan Stride,’ Steve Garske announced, glancing up from the computer monitor in his examining room. He stripped his half-glasses off his face and eased his lanky frame backward on the rolling chair. ‘Usually, I need a crowbar to get you into my office. As long as you’re here, how about you turn your head and cough?’

Stride chuckled. ‘You put on those gloves and I’m heading for the door.’

‘Uh huh. You’re overdue for your physical, buddy. Again. One of these times, you could save me the trouble of calling your assistant and scheduling an appointment for you.’

‘I can hardly wait.’

‘No, you can’t, and you won’t. We’re both turning fifty soon. You know what that means. The big poke. Or as the joke goes in the medical biz, “I told my doctor I didn’t need a colonoscopy, and he told me to shove it up my ass.”’

‘Funny.’

Steve crossed his arms over his chest and gave Stride his best I’m-the-doctor frown. ‘I will see you here before summer, end of discussion. Got it?’

‘Okay, boss.’

Stride knew better than to argue with his friend.

Steve got up and stretched his arms over his head. He was able to lay his palms flat on the ceiling. At six-feet-five, Steve was one of the few men who towered over Stride. He was lean and casual, wearing a T-shirt and ratty jeans under his white coat. He walked with a slight stoop from a bad back. He had blond hair that needed a trim, and his pale skin was burnt red from a week in the sun. His nose had started to peel. Steve was a workaholic like Stride, but he allowed himself a seven-night cruise to the Caribbean twice a year.

‘So how was Nassau?’ Stride asked, pointing to Steve’s T-shirt, which showed the sky bridge at the Atlantis Casino.

‘Paradise. A week down there feels like a month. Time stands still. I really need to do a Kenny Chesney and move down there permanently. Play steel guitar in my swimsuit and get drunk on mai-tais with the island girls. That’s the life.’

‘You say that after every trip.’

‘I know, but this time it’s different. This time I’m really going.’

‘You say that every year, too.’

‘All right, fine. I will live in cold, gray Duluth for ever. I will be shoveling snow when I’m ninety-two. Happy? Anyway, you should come with me in the fall. A getaway would do you good.’

‘Maybe.’

‘When was your last vacation?’

‘Every day in Duluth is a vacation,’ Stride replied.

‘Uh huh. Sure. This fall, buddy, clear your calendar.’

Stride smiled and held up his hands in surrender. ‘Okay, okay.’

He knew that Steve was right. He was overdue for a vacation, and Steve was probably his oldest friend. They were life-long Duluth boys who’d met as teenagers in the mid-1970s while they were jumping off rocks into the deeps of the Lester River during a hot August afternoon. They’d bonded on late-night runs to the House of Donuts and down-and-back trips to the State Fair on Labor Day before school started. That was a time when Stride still imagined he’d spend his life on the ore boats and Steve had a dream of making it big in Nashville. Their dreams didn’t survive the end of high school, but their friendship did. They’d stayed in touch while Steve was in medical school, and by the time he’d opened a practice at a clinic in Duluth, Stride had signed on as his first patient.

Steve had been his doctor through difficult times. He’d seen Stride and his wife through Cindy’s infertility treatments and then her cancer diagnosis and her swift, terrible death – a time in which Maggie and Steve were about the only people on the planet who kept Stride from sinking into a well of depression from which there was no escape. They still saw each other every few weeks to hang out, fish, hike, play Sara Evans albums, and get drunk on Miller Lite and bad memories. They both lived on the Point. They both loved country music, and Steve still played in a country band that did weekend concerts in dives all over the Iron Range. As men, they were completely different. Stride was closed-off and intense. Steve was as open to the whole world as an unbuttoned shirt and utterly unflappable. Even so, they shared the same passion for the place where they were born.

‘Maggie says hi,’ Stride said.

‘Uh huh. Seems to me I haven’t seen her big yellow tank parked outside your cottage lately. Am I right?’

‘You’re right.’

‘Her choice or yours?’ he asked.

‘Mutual.’

‘Yeah, well, that’s no surprise. I love her, but I never did see the two of you together. Now Serena? That’s another story. You should get that woman back in your life.’

‘When’s the last time you had a date, Steve? You’re like a priest doling out marital advice.’

His friend crossed himself and sprinkled imaginary holy water. ‘It mattereth not, my child. Do as I say, not as I do. Remember, I may not have sprouted the Garske seed, but I come from a family of nine siblings and God knows how many cousins, so I’ve seen more affairs, fights, break-ups, reunions, marriages, divorces, births and deaths than you will ever see in your shrinking lifetime.’

‘Probably true.’

Steve twisted the chair around and sat backwards with his long legs jutting toward Stride. ‘Look, you messed up with Maggie. You nearly died going off that bridge. Your head wasn’t screwed on straight. Serena will understand.’

‘I’m not so sure,’ Stride said.

‘Are you planning to wait for ever to talk to her? Are you that stubborn?’

‘Probably.’

‘Well, you still love her, don’t you?’

Stride frowned. ‘Is this inquisition going to last much longer? Because it feels like the colonoscopy has already started.’

‘Fair enough. I’m done meddling.’

‘Can we talk about Cat now?’

Steve waved a white paper on his desk. ‘Ask away. I had her sign a release for medical and psych records.’

‘Cat told me she’d seen you before. Is that true?’

Steve nodded. ‘I volunteer over at Brooke Hahne’s shelter. I’m over there twice a month helping with the homeless and the street girls. I do physicals, screen for STDs, drugs tests, AIDS tests, the basic stuff. I saw Cat a couple of times last year. Nice kid. She doesn’t have the streetwise attitude yet, not like some of them.’

‘So how is she?’ Stride asked.

‘Given what she’s been through, she’s actually not in bad shape. I’ve seen a lot worse. That won’t last, though, unless she gets into a stable living environment. She’s got a home, but she keeps running away. That has to stop.’

‘I’m talking to her legal guardians this afternoon. Did Cat give you any idea why she keeps bolting? Is something going on at home?’

‘She wouldn’t tell me. I asked, and she shut up. The good news is that she looks clean in terms of disease. No STDs despite her risky behavior. I’m running an AIDS test to be sure. Substance abuse doesn’t appear to be extreme. She admits she’s tried synthetics, but claims she hasn’t done it in months. As for the harder stuff, she says no crack, no coke, no heroin, and I didn’t see any track marks or scarring in her nasal tissues.’

‘She has nightmares,’ Stride told him. ‘Extremely severe ones. Possibly hallucinations, too. Could that be the synthetics playing with her head?’

‘Possibly. I don’t have the equipment here to test for it. If she’s under the influence, sure, you can get hallucinations, tremors, seizures, extreme agitation, spikes in blood pressure, any of which comport with the girl you found in your closet last night. As I look at her now, I’d say it’s not drug-related, but I can’t rule it out. Remember, I knew Michaela, too, so I know what Cat went through as a child. You’d have to figure nightmares come with the territory.’

‘Crazy as it sounds, I hope the stalking isn’t a delusion,’ Stride said. ‘If it’s real, then at least I can help this girl.’

Steve reached across and took Stride’s shoulder. ‘She’s not a girl, buddy. Don’t be naive. Cat’s very much a woman. She’s probably slept with more people in her young life than you have.’

‘That wouldn’t be hard,’ Stride replied with a small smile.

‘You know what I’m talking about.’

‘I do. What else can you tell me?’

‘You spotted the malnourishment. She hasn’t been eating well for weeks. Also, there are numerous old bruises on her legs and torso. She claims she was beaten up by another of the street girls several weeks ago, but it looks to me like there was more than one beating, and it goes back more than a few weeks.’

‘Like when she was home?’ Stride asked.

‘The injuries are consistent with abuse.’

‘That would explain her running away.’

‘Yes, it would,’ Steve said.

Stride frowned. He remembered the little girl in Michaela’s back yard, and she deserved better. She deserved a different life. No matter what he’d said to Maggie, he also knew that it was his own fault.

‘This one’s not an ordinary case for you,’ Steve said. ‘I get it.’

‘You’re right.’

‘So what are you going to do about her?’

‘Legally, she belongs with the Greens. They’re her guardians, but I want to find out what’s going on in that house before I drop her back there. Dory’s still not an option, and I’m not comfortable putting her in the hands of the child protection system until I know whether she’s genuinely in danger.’

‘You may be taking on more responsibility than you realize, Jon. We’ve both seen kids like this. No matter what you do, Cat may run away again. Teenagers like her do stupid things, and sometimes they pay the price.’

‘I hear you, Steve. Really.’

‘I hope you do, because I was waiting to tell you the most important thing. It’s urgent that she change her behavior immediately. No drugs, no drinking, no smoking, no fighting, and a better diet. I want her back in to see me this week. She and I have a lot to talk about.’

Stride closed his eyes in frustration. He knew what Steve was going to say, but he asked anyway. ‘Tell me.’

‘Cat’s pregnant,’ Steve said.