The High Divide by Lin Enger Read Free Book Online Page A

them?”
    â€œI haven’t.”
    â€œYou said you knew something.”
    â€œNo, I said I might be able to help you. Listen.” He lifted both hands, palms out. “We have to sit down and talk.”
    She led him to the kitchen, where they sat across from each other at the table. Fogarty planted his elbows and grasped his hands together in an oddly formal gesture. He tipped back his head and looked at her along the uneven line of his nose. “I’ve lost my ring of keys,” he announced. “The ones to all the rooms in my building. And I’m afraid it’s your fault.”
    God help me, Gretta thought. Fogarty’s red face was composed and serious, his plump lips neither smiling nor pursed. He coughed and swallowed, then reached into the pocket of his jacket for a tin flask, which he held aloft and squinted at.
    â€œIt’s been a trying day,” he said, and took a drink, eyes rolling back in his head. “I don’t often indulge myself—my wife would have vouched for me on that. But there are times a man requires help in what he needs to do.” He offered the flask to Gretta, who made a face.
    â€œYou were saying about your keys,” she said, aware of the clock ticking on the secretary and the growing number of miles separating her from her sons.
    â€œMrs. Pope, you so upset me the other night that I haven’t been thinking straight since. Owing me rent as you do, and then taking my generous offer so lightly. Last night, in fact, I was so distracted that I must have lost my keys while I was up at Lowman’s Bend, fishing.”
    Gretta could not respond. The man’s mind and motivations were unknowable, absurd.
    â€œI’m on my way to find them now, and I insist that you come along with me.”
    She almost laughed, out of confusion. “I don’t have time,” she said. “Can’t you see that? I have to figure out what to do.”
    Fogarty narrowed his eyes. His gaze fell on Gretta’s lips and then her neck, which Gretta moved to cover with her hand. “If you help me find my keys,” he said, “I will give you money for the trip you’re planning.”
    â€œWhat trip?”
    He took another swallow from his flask and offered it to her again. This time she accepted, wincing as the whiskey burned its way down her throat. Fogarty smiled, head cocked like a bird dog.
    Be careful, Gretta thought, there’s no one looking out for you.
    â€œWhen I heard your boys were gone, I knew right off I had to help out, it’s the honorable thing to do. On the other hand, one good deed deserves another, doesn’t it?” He smiled again, only for a moment. “I may be a homely man,” he said, “but I’m no fool. And I won’t be mocked like some rube. You’ve been telling me you know where your husband is, that he’s coming home soon. That is not the case, is it?”
    â€œNot exactly,” Gretta said.
    â€œSo you’ve been lying to me.”
    â€œI am trying to be optimistic.”
    â€œAn admirable trait.” Fogarty pressed his hands together palm to palm beneath his chin. “But if your husband has taken a permanent leave, which I believe he has, it’s to your benefit—and mine—to reach that conclusion sooner, not later.”
    â€œI don’t understand,” she said.
    â€œBecause,” Mead Fogarty said, “I mean to take his place.”
    Gretta stood up so fast the room went black, and she reached out to steady herself against the table. She wanted to run to her bedroom and shut and lock the door.
    â€œI don’t expect this comes as a welcome surprise, anxious as you are right now. But I am a decent man, offering help you happen to need. I urge you to give it serious thought.” He got up from the table and gestured toward the door. “In the meantime, I need to find my keys. My rig is out front.”
    â€œI can’t go