Miles Lindgren's Arc

Chapter 6 of 13

Tundra Hearth Hall sat exactly the way Miles remembered it, warm brick against grey snow, smoke curling steady from the chimney, a wreath still hung crooked on the door from some holiday months past that nobody had bothered to take down. Chase parked out front, and for the first time all day, Miles felt something in his chest ease slightly instead of tighten. "This place any good?" Chase asked, gathering the camera bag. "Best place in town." Miles was already out of the car, moving faster than he had all morning. "Practically raised half of us in there. Free tutoring, camping trips, some kind of holiday drive every December. Lenny ran it all himself for as long as I can remember. You're going to love him." They found him inside stacking folding chairs against the far wall, a radio playing low behind the counter, the whole place smelling like woodsmoke and old coffee. He looked up at the sound of the door, and his whole face opened into something warm and delighted, the kind of expression that made Miles feel, absurdly, like he was seventeen again, still small enough to get swept into a hug that smelled like pine and flannel. "Well, I'll be." Lenny set the chair down and crossed the room, both arms out. "Miles Lindgren. Look at you." "Lenny." Miles let himself be pulled in, and for a second, just a second, he wasn't thinking about the case, or the fight last night, or any of it at all. He was just glad to see him. "It's good to see you." "Good to see you too, son." Lenny held him at arm's length, studying him the way an old teacher studies a former student, proud and appraising all at once. "Heard you were back. Heard why, too. I'm sorry it had to be like this." "Yeah." Miles cleared his throat, then gestured toward Chase, who'd hung back a step, letting the reunion have its moment. "This is Chase." "The famous partner, finally in the flesh." Lenny's handshake was firm, warm, his eyes crinkling with genuine welcome. "Miles used to tell his mother all about you, back before any of this took off. Good to finally put a face to the name." "Good to meet you too," Chase said, easy and warm, setting the camera bag down on a nearby table. "Miles talks about this place like it's sacred ground." "It might as well be, the number of hours he spent in here as a boy." Lenny laughed, waving them toward a pair of chairs near the old wood stove, still radiating heat from a fire that had clearly been going most of the morning. "Sit, sit. I've got coffee going. You'll want some, this place holds a chill even with the stove running." He busied himself pouring three mugs, and Miles found himself glancing around the room, at the same scarred wooden tables from his childhood, the same corkboard thick with layers of old flyers, and something in his chest loosened in a way it hadn't since they'd driven into town. "He used to let me and Dani stay late," Miles said, mostly to Chase, though Lenny answered before Miles could finish the thought. "Because you two never wanted to go home on program nights." Lenny handed them each a mug, settling into his own chair with the ease of a man completely at home. "I'd have to practically chase you both out the door some evenings. Your mother used to call here looking for you, Miles, and I'd tell her you'd be along shortly, and she'd say, 'Lenny, it's already dark,' like that ever stopped either of you." Miles laughed, actually laughed, the sound surprising him a little. "She still brings that up sometimes." "As she should." Lenny's eyes crinkled. "You two used to build the most elaborate blanket fort back there every winter, remember that? Took over half the reading corner for a solid month one year. I finally had to tell you it was a fire hazard just to get my corner back." "I forgot about that." "I haven't. I've got a photo of it somewhere, actually, if I can dig it out." Lenny shook his head, fond, and for a moment the whole room felt warm in a way that had nothing to do with the stove. Chase, beside him, had gone quiet in the particular way he did when he was genuinely enjoying something rather than performing it, a small smile tugging at his mouth as he listened. "You'll have to find that photo," Chase said. "I need to see teenage Miles in a blanket fort." "I'll look. I keep everything from those years, if I'm honest. Never could bring myself to throw much away." Lenny took a slow sip of his coffee. "This town's given me a lot of good years in this building. Feels wrong to toss any of it." They talked a while longer before the case came up at all, program alumni Miles hadn't thought about in a decade, a fundraiser Lenny was still running every spring, the new furnace he'd finally gotten installed after the old one gave out two winters back. It was easy, unhurried, and Miles felt himself settle into it the way he used to as a kid, safe in a way this whole trip hadn't let him feel anywhere else yet. Eventually Chase gently steered them back, setting up the camera with a quiet nod toward Miles first, checking he was ready. "We wanted to ask a few things, if that's alright. On camera, if you're comfortable." "For you two? Of course." Lenny settled back, folding his hands in his lap, entirely at ease. "We're trying to piece together anything from the week Dani disappeared," Miles said, and felt the warmth in the room shift slightly, not gone, just quieter. "You knew her. You knew both of us." "Course I did." Something genuine passed over Lenny's face, old grief still close to the surface even after twelve years. "Sweet girl. Sharper than most kids that age. Used to catch her reading in the corner during program hours instead of joining group activities, and I never had the heart to make her stop." "Do you remember anything unusual that week? Anything she said, anyone hanging around who normally wasn't?" Lenny was quiet a moment, his gaze drifting toward the window. "It was a long time ago, Miles. I wish I could tell you something concrete." He shook his head slowly. "I remember the whole town turning inside out looking for her. I remember thinking, foolishly, that she'd turn up in a day or two, embarrassed and grounded, the way kids sometimes do." "Did she come by here that week at all?" Chase asked. "She came by most weeks. Can't say that particular one stands out any more than the others." Lenny's tone stayed even, unbothered, already turning slightly. "You know, it's strange the things memory holds onto and the things it lets go. I couldn't tell you what happened that specific week, but I could tell you exactly what kind of secret Santa gift she gave me the December before. A hand-drawn card. Kept it in a drawer here for years." "That's sweet," Miles said, something in his chest aching. "She was a sweet kid." Lenny's smile was warm, easy, entirely convincing. "I keep old sign-in sheets from back then, if it would help. Program records, attendance, that sort of thing. I could dig through, see if anything useful turns up." "That would be a huge help," Miles said. "Anything for you two. This town's carried this a long time." Lenny reached over and squeezed Miles's shoulder, warm, grandfatherly. "If there's anything I can do to help finally put it to rest, I will." They wrapped the interview a few minutes later, Chase thanking him warmly, Lenny insisting they take a container of something homemade on their way out, refusing to let them leave without it. The whole visit had the easy, unremarkable warmth of catching up with someone who'd known Miles his entire life, and it wasn't until they were both back in the car that Miles realized he was smiling, actually smiling, for the first time since they'd landed in Cutter's Bend. "That was nice," Chase said, starting the engine, glancing over at him. "You seem lighter." "He does that." Miles looked back at the hall shrinking in the side mirror, warm light still glowing in its windows. "He always has. Best guy in this town, probably." Chase smiled, easy, genuine, nothing guarded in it at all. "I can see why you love him." Miles didn't answer, just let the warmth of the visit sit in his chest a while longer as they pulled out onto the road, the container of Lenny's cooking still warm on his lap.