Chapter Seven #2
“Hmm.” That didn’t sound good. They weren’t really dressed appropriately for a hike into the wilderness.
Jiro’s shoes didn’t even look to be waterproof, which could be a big problem.
But at least the roads were fairly clear, even if they were icy, which meant there hadn’t been too much snow overnight, and so perhaps they might not have to slog their way through waist-deep snowdrifts. One small miracle.
Even though Jiro’s knee kept jiggling up and down, she had to hand it to him; he didn’t ask her to drive any faster; at least he appreciated how treacherous the roads were after a night of subzero temperatures.
Perhaps now might be a good time to learn more about his backstory.
Every little detail counted in cases like these, and conversation would help to distract him from whatever was coming.
“Are going to tell me what your brother has to do with this?” she asked into the ensuing silence.
“I know as much as you do,” he snapped back, then drew a deep breath.
“Sorry,” he apologized. “Taro’s involvement came as much of a shock to me as it probably did to you.
” He glanced over at her, and she risked taking her eyes off the road to shoot him a quick look.
From the expression on his face, he was telling the truth.
Or was he? Was there something else he was keeping back?
Was this what M?rten had been trying to warn her about?
“But then again, perhaps it didn’t come as much of a shock to you as it did to me,” he qualified. “I bet you see all kinds of corrupt dealings when family members betray each other. I’m sure it happens all the time. Just not in our family. Or so I thought,” he added, his mouth twisting with scorn.
“You’re not wrong,” she replied at last. It happened way more often than people liked to imagine.
Whenever a crime occurred, the first suspects were always close family or friends.
Greed, lust, and power were strong driving forces.
She wanted to know more about the family dynamics; maybe there was a clue she might gain from something he revealed.
Jiro hadn’t spoken much about his family last night, probably because he didn’t want to bring up anything to do with his father in front of Karl. So now seemed the opportune time.
“Tell me more about your brother. Is he your only sibling? Older or younger? Do you get along with him? That kind of thing,” she prompted.
“I’m not sure how—”
“Just humor me,” she broke in.
“Okay.” Jiro settled back into the seat.
“Taro is two years older. We look quite similar; people often comment that we could even be twins,” he said, raising an ironic eyebrow.
“But believe me, that is where the similarity stops.” His leg had ceased jiggling, but now she noticed his hand was clenched so tightly around his phone that his knuckles were turning white.
“Even though we were brought up with the same morals and standards, we are as different as chalk and cheese in personality. Taro is…let’s just say he’s more ambitious than I am.
He runs a successful business in LA, which my father helped him to start.
He’s married with two young kids, and lives a lavish lifestyle.
Whereas, I live in San Diego and get by on the relatively small wage from my wildlife job.
” He stopped talking and turned to stare at her. “Is any of this helping?” he asked.
“I don’t know. But keep talking anyway. Tell me about your parents.” She was starting to sketch an outline of the family order, and one thing was clear: Jiro didn’t approve of everything his brother did.
“My father immigrated to Grand Rapids, Minnesota, from Kobe in Japan, with his family when he was only fifteen. He married my mother, Deborah, who is American, when he was twenty-five.” Was it her imagination, or did his voice just hitch on the mention of his mother?
“So, both my brother and I were born in America. But my father still had the Japanese culture in his heart, and we adhered to many of the strict traditions. He moved our family from Minnesota to LA when I was fourteen and Taro was sixteen to set up his second-hand furniture business. He must’ve hit the market at just the right time and filled a niche where cashed-up celebrities were looking for authentic Japanese furniture to kit out their houses, because business boomed. ”
“Okay,” Aurora mused. All of that sounded fairly normal, no red flags so far. Then, a sudden thought occurred to her. “And your mother, where is she from?”
“She was born in Grand Rapids. But she passed away eight years ago, nearly to the day. So now it’s only me, Taro and Papa.”
A sudden chill ran down Aurora’s spine. Her own mother had died exactly eight years ago as well.
She wasn’t sure if that was an omen or not, but it was definitely something they had in common.
She decided to ignore it for now. At least it explained the hitch in his voice earlier.
He was obviously very close to his mother.
“I’m sorry,” she said, softening her tone.
“That must’ve been hard to lose your mother.
” If he were the same age as her, then he would’ve been eighteen when she died, just like her.
An impressionable age, where a girl needed her mother.
But in someways it’d been serendipitous, because Aurora had officially become an adult and so she’d taken the opportunity to flee the only home she’d known up till then.
“Yeah, I guess.” He kept his voice devoid of any emotion, which only helped her to understand how much genuine feeling he was holding back. “She was ten years younger than Papa. Sometimes I don’t know why she married him.” The last part was said almost to himself, and so she didn't pry.
Aurora slowed the car as they came to turn off, taking the right-hand turn slowly so as not to send the car into a skid. This was the way toward the reindeer farm, and Jiro sat straighter in his seat, eyes focused intently on the road ahead.
“You’ll need to tell me when to turn next,” she said.
This was as far as her recollection of where the pin was dropped went.
It was up to Jiro now to find his father.
They drove past the entrance to Lule? Adventures, and both of them stared at the closed gate as they sailed past. Everything was dark and locked up tight; no one was stirring yet.
It was almost as if the gathering of all the locals and the search effort last night had never happened.
As if everyone had forgotten a man was missing in the snow.
Jiro went back to focusing on his phone.
“Slow down,” he said after five minutes.
“The turn will be coming up soon, but it doesn’t seem to be signposted.
” They would be well past the boundaries of Dávvet’s property by now.
As soon as she had the thought, row upon row of tall, straight pine trees appeared on each side of the road.
Sweden had millions of hectares planted with pine trees for the forestry industry.
The problem was, some of it was state-owned land, some of it was privately owned, and some of it was owned by large industrial forestry companies.
It was impossible to know which category this land fell into unless they saw a sign, or she rang HQ and asked them to research it for her. And she wasn’t about to do the latter.
“It should be here somewhere.” Jiro indicated the roadside to the right, and she slowed the car to a crawl, flicking her headlights up to high beam.
“There. Is that it?” He pointed to a small gap between the rows of trees.
It looked to be some kind of access road for whatever forestry company owned this land.
It was dirt and completely ungraded. She wasn’t sure how far her old Subaru would take them.
It was a good solid vehicle, but it wasn’t a four-wheel-drive, and if the road got any worse, they’d definitely have to get out and walk.
Just as she turned onto the road, she noticed tire tracks in the snow disappearing up the dark track.
They’d been made after most of the snow had fallen early last night, as they were only covered by a light dusting of snow.
Which meant the car had probably driven up here sometime after midnight.
“Someone has been here before us.” Jiro said the exact thing she was thinking.
But now she was in a quandary, because if she drove over the top of the tracks, she might ruin any evidence that might help them find out who and what this was all about.
Making a quick decision, she stopped the car on the road verge and hopped out.
The cold hit her with an icy slap to the face, and she zipped up her jacket.
“What are you doing?” Jiro said, opening his door and standing on the empty road.
“I just need a few photographs,” she replied, waving him back into the car.
Using the flash, she took some close-up photos of the tire tracks, hoping that it would be enough to help them find the vehicle that’d made them if need be.
Then she hopped back into the car and drove slowly up the incline, following the trail as it led them deeper into the slate-dark woods.
Thankfully, the access road remained remarkably drivable.
Which meant this plantation was probably owned by private industry, as they tended to keep everything well-maintained.