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Porcupine Mountains, Upper Peninsula, Michigan

December 1982

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The idle of the purple log truck didn’t quite drown out the sound of the wind as it whipped around, encouraging a thicker swirl of snowflakes to pour out of the thick clouds above. The snow already covered the gravel logging road in a cold, white winter blanket.

Debbie Maxwell Cowan shivered as she got out of the porta potty. She should have put on her gloves before getting out of the truck, but that was like admitting that the weather was too much for her bare hands. What kind of Yooper would she be if she gave in to a few snowflakes?

“Ya gon’ be all right, der, haulin’ dat load down tonight, Deb?” the boss asked.

“Yes sir!” she replied cheerfully to Jeff Larson, the short, chubby old man who ran Larson Logging. “It’s gonna take a bit more dan a few inches of white stuff ta keep me from my son tonight!”

“Take care, now, eh,” he bade.

“You too, Mr. Larson!”

Debbie opened the large door of her purple cab and swung into the driver’s seat, grateful to be in out of the cold again. Sure, her down jacket would keep her warm in almost anything an Upper Michigan winter had to throw at her, but she still preferred to be warm – and out of the snow.

She wondered how much she would have to clear away from her sidewalk in the morning. She looked at the large windshield in front of her and saw the piece of paper propped up behind the steering wheel.

Get out of my way or die!

She shook as she moved the piece of paper, putting it on the seat beside her. It reminded her of the conversation she’d had on the phone the previous evening.

“Have ya had a chance ta tink about my offer?” Andy had asked coolly.

“Talk ta my lawyer,” Debbie had replied, trying to sound just as cool.

“I will tell everyone ‘bout Matt,” he had threatened.

“What?! Ye don’ even know...”

“I know he’s not mine. I dunno why da court hasn’t asked for da paternity test, eh.”

“It’s because I’m not askin’ for child support, only my half of da house. No support, nuteen.”

“Why not? Is da baby daddy givin’ya sometin’ under da table?”

“No!” she had denied. She had never asked Steve Nygaard for anything! It would be best that no one knew their connection – ever. Steve would be a family friend – that was all. “It’s not yer business anyway. Matt isn’t yers, that should be enough! Leave me alone!”

“Give it up, Debbie. I’m warnin’ ya!”

“Why? Are ye goin’ ta do someteen ta me? Just like ya did someteen to dat girl? The one who suddenly left town?”

“Give it up or ya will pay wit yer life,” he had growled.

“Are ya threatenin’ me, Andy?!”

“No. I’m givin’ ya a promise. Git out of my way or I will do it for ya!”

That had been the extent of the conversation.

Debbie couldn’t stop trembling as she looked at the paper again. Was Andy up here somewhere? She hadn’t seen him, but at this busy logging site, someone might go unnoticed. If he was up here, he wasn’t up to anything good. Still, he wouldn’t go as far as murder, would he?

For reassurance, she ran her hand over her canister of bear spray that she kept next to her pistol. Just in case. She might hesitate to use deadly force, but she wouldn’t hesitate to blind him temporarily. Just enough to drive off – or run…

She took a large swig of her coffee and several deep breaths to calm herself. She took another swig, then turned her lights on, released the parking valves and put the truck into gear. Then she eased down the snow-covered road.

Snow was the rule of winter in the U.P. You dealt with it the same as someone else might deal with puddles or leaves. It was life. So, the fact that the snow fell harder now than it had when she was outside didn’t bother her too much. She would have to be extra careful driving down the unfamiliar road. She had only made a few runs to this site since taking up her new job.

Still, she’d rather be home with a mug of hot mint cocoa before the brunt of this storm hit. She would read Matt’s favorite book to him – again. Maybe three times before she could get away. She would look through the Christmas catalogs to figure out what to order for her five-year-old son. Then, she would watch some television – anything to not have to worry too much about Andy.

Except he had threatened to kill her! That was about ten times worse than anything he’d said before. She should take the letter to the police. She would do that first thing in the morning – after clearing her sidewalk and car…

The snow was thicker as she eased down the road. She looked for the markers on either side of the gravel, marking the edge. Some were missing here and there. She would mention that to someone too. This wouldn’t be the last storm of the season, for sure.

Several inches had fallen since the storm hit during loading. She applied the brake gently to counter the gentle decline of the road.

Surprisingly, she felt little response from the braking. She pushed a bit harder, being mindful not to lock them up with a sudden change. Still nothing.

Debbie felt panicky. She couldn’t imagine anything worse than a full load of logs on a snow-covered, mountain road with brakes that were not responding!

She tried again, knowing that if they overheated, her only choice would be to find one of the runaway ramps that were along the road in places. Or run into the hill on one side of the road or other.

She thought again of the piece of paper and the previous threat Andy had made. He had done something to the brakes! That was the only thing that made any sense. A bit of WD-40 could render them useless until they overheated and failed on their own.

“Please, let me get home to my son!” she cried out, her panic beginning to overtake her senses. Too late, she saw one of the edge-of-road markers right in front of her truck. She jerked back onto the road, but with the lack of braking, the trailer tugged her off the road again. “Let my son be okay!” she cried out one last time as the truck rolled down the steep embankment towards the darkened lake below.

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