“You wouldn’t be the first man she bewitched.”
But I refused to bite on any of the baited hooks he was throwing me. “She appealed to my sense of chivalry.”
“So what’s your theory?” he asked. I could hear the alcohol in his voice now.
“My theory?”
“What do you think happened to Langstrom? Don’t tell me you don’t have any ideas.”
“I’d say that Adam was afraid of someone—someone specific. Amber said he had nothing but enemies, and I met a bunch of them today. Maybe it was someone who held a grudge against him from the rape.”
“Davidson?”
I pictured the delicate doe-eyed skier. “I doubt it, but who knows?”
“It seems more likely another sex offender from Pariahville,” Pulsifer said.
“What?”
“That’s just my nickname for the place.”
“It’s possible. It didn’t sound like Adam and Foss got along particularly well. But I keep thinking it was someone from outside. For instance, those guys who call themselves the Night Watchmen. At first, I thought they were just a bunch of old boozehounds. But there was something definitely creepy about them—how closely they were paying attention to me. It was as if they didn’t want me asking around about Adam.”
Pulsifer seemed to find the idea hilarious. “You think the popcorn posse is a group of vigilantes?”
“Torgerson seems like a tough old bastard. And the fact that he showed up at the scene—”
“Torgerson was there because he’s a retired SEAL. A bloody truck is found outside the school. Of course someone is going to call him. Don’t tell me you’re one of those conspiracy theorists who think SERE is some sort of black-ops base.”
The bourbon had brought out Pulsifer’s mocking side, and I wasn’t thrilled by its reemergence.
“I’m not a conspiracy theorist,” I said. “What about the guy who lives down the road from Foss’s?”
“Logan Dyer?”
“He’s having trouble selling his house because no one wants to live near Pariahville. And I got a weird vibe off him when he looked at Mink.”
“Mink!” The name made Pulsifer smile wide enough that I could see his canine teeth. “I should have realized you would’ve found a way to hook up with Nathan Minkowski in your travels.”
“So what’s his story?”
“No, no, no. We’re not done with you and Adam. What were you saying about Logan Dyer?”
“Just that he seemed like bad news.”
“I wouldn’t bark up that tree if I were you. The poor guy has had a rough life. First his mom and sister died in a car crash. Then his dad causes a fatal chairlift accident.”
I couldn’t believe I was only now making the connection. “Logan is Scott Dyer’s son?”
“How did you know Scott?”
“Elderoy told me about him. He said Scott Dyer warned the Widowmaker owners that the lift was unsafe. And then, after it happened, they used him as a scapegoat to shift the blame off their business.”
“That’s Elderoy’s version,” said Pulsifer. “Most of the people I know blamed Scott for negligence. The mountain had been doing fine before the crash. Then the accident happened and the whole economy went to crap.”
I could easily imagine what life had been like for Logan Dyer; I also had a father who was widely considered a villain.
Pulsifer seemed to be reading my thoughts. “I never told you this, but I hated your old man. The way he used to rub my nose in shit around here. And then, after he shot Shipman and Brodeur, and everyone was hunting for him, I remember praying, ‘Please, let me be the one who finds that son of a bitch.’ And I didn’t even believe in God back then.”
My mouth had gone dry listening to him. I took a swig of cider but was repulsed by the taste of alcohol.
While Pulsifer had been talking, a film had formed on his eyes, as if we were drifting backward into the past. Now that the room had fallen silent (but for the crackling fire in the stove), he seemed to return to the present. He blinked several times to clear his vision.
“All I’m saying is that your father was a bad guy, too, and you turned out OK,” he said.
“That seems to be a matter in dispute.”
“Logan’s not the brightest bulb,” Pulsifer said defensively. “Look, the poor guy works as a snow shoveler. That’s the lowest man on the totem pole over at Widowmaker. And sure, he’s a little rough around the edges. He’s the kind of person Lauren calls a ‘sheep in wolf’s clothing.’” He seemed suddenly disgusted with me. “I would think you, of all people, would understand his situation.”
“Which is what?”
“You’ve both spent your lives trying to prove you’re not like your fathers.”
And with that he tossed another birch log into the stove and said good night. I remained seated at the table a while longer. Pulsifer had drunk nearly all of the bourbon. I poured the rest out and took the empty bottle back to my room so his wife wouldn’t find it in the morning.