The Invisible Hand - A crime novel

Chapter 15

The waitress didn't lie. We check every hotel in town. No vacancy anywhere. There won't be for weeks, the night desk clerks tell us. The oil workers rented it all.

Some stay in company houses. Others squat in skeletons of houses still wrecked from the floods. We spot a few storage containers with trucks parked outside them, too. Hell of a way to live.

The city government never knows what to do with them. I remember hearing a "good, hard frost" being proposed a bit back. The boys from the Minot Air Force base have their own plan, too. Crank the shit out of anyone with an out-state license plate.

We drive in circles. Even in the midnight streetlights, I see evidence of the Souris River on everything. A reminder that the flood never really receded. Water is history's paintbrush.

"You know where you're going?" Sam says.

"No," I say.

"Maybe try the NoDak fairgrounds. I see some people on benches. No one will care," Sam says.

She's right. Even in the autumn chill, out-staters sleep on sidewalk benches. Or try to sleep. Pile up their gear to use as pillows.

I cruise toward the North Dakota State Fairgrounds. Lots of picnic shelters. Well-lit. We could sleep with our backs to the river. Looks as good as any place so long as the gate is unlocked. For her, anyway. I'm staying in the truck.

One bit of business to address first.

"I saw you grab that knife," I say.

"I saw you, too," she says.

We leave it at that.

I park the truck on a side street next to the fairgrounds. The gate is locked. There's a gap in the fence wide enough for a person to slip through.

"You coming?" Sam says.

"Nope," I say. "How about my toll? Wouldn't mind collecting that now."

"Nope," Sam says as she gets out. Mimics how I said the word. "In the morning."

Hard to argue with the out-stater logic there. And I don't feel like wrestling with that knife. Doesn't matter anyway. I'll sleep, then leave. Head back to Betrug. Figure shit out.

"Fine," I say. Lock the doors.

"You better be here in the morning," she says. It's muffled through the window.

I nod to Sam, then work on nodding off. Close my eyes for what feels like a second. When I half-open them again, I have a hard time believing what I'm seeing.

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