I was almost to Duluth when I got the text message from Brian's phone. I pulled over to look at it. "Come pick him up, 1887 Pioneer Road, Grand Marais. I'm sorry, he was a fighter to the end." The photo showed a cooler, covered with branches, off the side of a road. My stomach lurched, and I barely got the door open and stepped outside before I was throwing up on the asphalt.

I put the address in my phone, setting it as my destination. I got there well after sundown in the shortening fall days and dragged the cooler back up to my car with some difficulty. I...