“Hey, Stonechild. I was thinking of you not even a minute ago. How’s the case going?”
“Slowly. It’s … complicated. The lead investigator had a family emergency so I’m alone at the moment. Have you heard from Gundersund recently?”
“He checked in a few hours ago. He and Dawn are spending one more night in Joliette at the Motel Bonsoir and plan to visit Rose again tomorrow. She’s doing much better, apparently. Spirits are higher.”
“That’s a relief.” He didn’t try to reach me. Kala spotted Jordan in the entrance and raised an arm. “Tell him all is fine here. Say, could you do me a favour, sir?”
“Name it.”
“I need to learn more about Father Alec Vila, a priest who works out of the only Catholic church in Goulais.”
“I’ll get someone right on it. Can you tell me what you’re looking for?”
“I don’t want to put ideas in your head. I’m after his life and work history and any complaints against him.”
“Fair enough.”
“So how are things with you?” Jordan was settling into the seat across from her. He’d changed into a black sweater and jean jacket since she last saw him.
“All is well here. Quiet for a change. How can I reach you tomorrow?”
“I’ll call you. Would early afternoon give you enough time to track down the information?” She kept her eyes on Jordan.
“It should.”
“I’ll talk to you then.”
Rouleau sat staring at the phone after he hung up. Stonechild’s voice sounded odd even if she hadn’t said anything unsettling.
He rolled his chair over in front of his computer and brought up the email screen. The team needed a case to bring them together again under a common purpose. Too bad they weren’t up north with Stonechild. He thought for a second before assigning the background check on Father Vila to Tanya Morrison. She was adept at searches and had a way of ferreting out information from reluctant sources — and Lord knows, the Catholic Church liked burying secrets as deep as it could.
He hit send and then shut down his computer. His cellphone signalled a new message. Marci was on her way home and would meet him if he was free. He texted her back that he’d be at her place within the half hour. She was leaving for France on the weekend, and tonight he planned to give her his decision about moving with her or staying. He was still waffling.
On the way to retrieve his car from the parking lot, he replayed his earlier conversation with Gundersund and all that he’d said about his relationship with Stonechild.
Life has made her a loner, and she needs space to make up her mind about where she wants to be. Rose is coming up for early parole in a couple of months and word is that she should get it. Dawn will go back with her and Kala will be unburdened. She can slip out of our lives as easily as she appeared. She has to decide what she wants, what will make her happy in the long run.
Rouleau knew Gundersund was right. His words rang true for Stonechild and for himself. Time marched on relentlessly; there were no do-overs. They’d both come to crossroads in their lives and once decisions were made, there’d be no turning back.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The supper crowd was hardly worth cooking for tonight. Shane had roasted up a prime rib with potatoes and sautéed peppers, carrots, and mushrooms. Martha dropped by at five thirty to tell him that he’d have to handle the dinner guests on his own. Rachel’s funeral had taken a lot out of her and she needed to lie down. He’d had no reason to argue and told her no worries. The Hydro workers showed up right afterward, and he served them heaping plates. They ate quickly and left while he was working in the kitchen. Thomas Faraday came in alone soon after, looking like hell. He’d blathered on about the crooked cops and their attempts to railroad him into a false confession before Shane made an excuse and left him alone to eat his supper. He was relieved to find Faraday gone when he checked back twenty minutes later but was surprised at finding his meal only half-eaten.
Petra had not made it for supper as she’d told him she would when she dropped by after lunch. He wasn’t surprised anymore by her erratic comings and goings, although she’d been as stable as she’d ever been the last few weeks — since Rachel’s death, actually, but he hesitated to make a connection. She could simply be settling down because they were leaving soon. This should be the last week that Pine Hollow Lodge was open for the season, but he suspected the police would keep them staying here until they knew who killed Rachel. All the planned departures would be delayed. Hopefully this wouldn’t set Petra off. He’d have to speak with Martha to find out if she wanted to keep the restaurant open for the duration. If so, he’d need to get supplies.
He locked up almost an hour early and cut himself a big slab of roast, added a couple of potatoes, a scoop of vegetables, and poured brown gravy over the works. He brought his meal into the main restaurant and locked the front door before sitting down to eat. If Rachel were alive, she’d be eating with him before setting out for home. She’d been talkative and funny when they were alone, and he missed her the most this time of day. Missed her flirting. They’d had an easy banter that carried into the restaurant until Petra noticed and said something to Rachel to warn her off.
Your wife thinks I’m a threat, Rachel had said when they were eating one of their last meals together. If she only knew. She’d laughed before popping a French fry into her mouth and batting her eyes at him until he joined in her laughter.
Did you decide to end the threat, Petra?
He ate quickly, not letting his mind linger on Petra and what she might or might not have done. If he went down that dark path, he’d have to make decisions, and Martha wasn’t the only one worn out today. Better to keep his blinders in place, move on from this difficult summer, and begin anew with Petra in a city where she’d be happier. Where he might be able to talk her into starting a family.
And maybe I should grow a pair and face up to all the nastiness I’ve been ignoring.
He returned to the kitchen, which he’d cleaned during the slow supper hour. He rinsed his plate and cutlery and set them into the dishwasher; hung up his apron and turned off the lights before exiting through the back door.
An owl hooted in the spruce trees and he stopped for a moment to enjoy the night air. No wind and a clear sky overhead with stars punching through the black. He breathed in the richness of the undergrowth and the earth, carpeted in pine needles. A late-summer evening to savour before the colder temperatures changed the landscape. Unlike Petra, he could quite happily live the rest of his life here.
He cut through the woods to their cabin, noting Petra’s car in the driveway behind his truck, and relief filled him. She hadn’t taken flight and left him worried and wondering where she was or whom she was with. The flutter of hope in his chest made him sad for the pathetic man he’d become. This was one of those days when he wished he’d never met her.
The lights were off and he checked the bedroom, expecting to find her asleep, or better yet, waiting for him naked under the sheets. With no sign of her, he backtracked to the kitchen, surveying the counter and sink for traces of a meal. If she’d eaten or had her nightly quota of wine, she’d cleaned up. Unusual but not outside the realm of possibility. He opened the fridge and the half-bottle of sauvignon blanc was sitting in place. Puzzled, he poured himself a glass and walked through the cabin one more time, looking for signs of her recent presence. Followed the lingering scent of her perfume.
He took his wine outside, sat in one of the Adirondack lawn chairs, and leaned back against the headrest. His eyes closed and he drifted off. The minutes ticked by while he let the night noises lull him into a dream state, content to let the day’s stress and worries slip away. The crunching of tires on the gravel broke his reverie and startled him into wakefulness. He took a second to orient himself in the darkness before picking up the wineglass and ambling toward the road. He was in time to see the red taillights of a truck pull into a parking spot near the main lodge and h
e headed that way.
“Officer Stonechild,” he said as she stepped out of the cab and slammed her truck door. “You’re out late this evening.”
Her eyes glinted in the soft glow from the solar lights Martha had positioned in the ground around the parking area. “Not all that late,” she said. A pause. “Is everything okay?”
“Of course. Why do you ask?”
“There was something in your voice.”
“I’m just waking up. I dropped off to sleep for half an hour or so waiting for Petra to come home. I think I might check the public beach. It’s her favourite place to be these days. She might have fallen asleep lying on the sand. She’s been known to do that after … well, after imbibing something.”
“I wouldn’t mind the walk if you’d like company.”
He couldn’t think of a polite way to refuse and shrugged, “Sure, why not?”
“Let me get my dog. He’s been in the cabin a while.”
He met her near the road with two flashlights that he’d gotten from the restaurant. “It’s light enough once we get to the beach, but it can be hard to manoeuvre in the dark woods.”
“Do the townspeople use this beach much?”
“The high school kids have parties here. Some families come for picnics, but like all wilderness areas in the North, you don’t have to go far to find privacy.”
She was a comfortable person to walk beside on the wide road, the dog bounding ahead and returning every so often to make certain Kala was following. “How long you been a cop?” he asked.
“Going on eight years — about as long as I’ve had Taiku.” She whistled for the dog as they’d reached the path to the beach.
“He’s in good shape.”
She didn’t comment, but bent to rub his side before the dog bounded down the path ahead of them. “Has Petra been upset about anything?” she asked as she followed behind him.
“She hates being forced to stay here. The wilds of Ontario aren’t her thing.”
“I can’t say that I relate.” Her voice was wistful. “I miss the woods when I’m in the city.”
“I’m with you there.”
The path ended and the beach and night sky opened up in front of them. He heard the gentle waves rolling onto the sand. A nearly round orb of moon cast its light on the black water with a carpet of stars as its backup. “Nice night.” He turned off his flashlight and she did as well. The dog was off exploring along the shoreline, and they walked straight to the water’s edge and stopped to look out at the horizon. Shane turned his flashlight back on and scanned the beach for signs of Petra. He was relieved not to see her lying in the sand, and for this moment, with the cop beside him, he let himself relax. Petra would turn up as she always did with some excuse about losing track of time.
“I’m getting a clearer picture of Rachel.” He tuned in to Stonechild’s words and swivelled his head to look at her. Her eyes were fixed on his profile. “Tell me if I’ve got this right. Her mother is extremely religious, and she worked diligently to make Rachel follow in her footsteps, bringing her to church every Sunday. She kept Rachel on a tight leash until this summer. Rachel learned to play along and be the daughter her mother wanted, but this summer she took a job that gave her freedom to become the person she wanted to be. She rebelled out of sight of her parents, pushing the boundaries by carrying on a relationship with someone whom her mother would not approve of, turned away from her high-school friends, and put distance between herself and Darryl, a classmate who’d been more of a placeholder than a real boyfriend.”
He thought about his conversations with Rachel. This officer hadn’t known her, but she’d somehow figured her out. He nodded, taking a moment to swallow the sadness in his throat at the certainty that he’d never see Rachel again. “I’d say you’ve got her right. She was frustrated by her mother’s constant interference in her life and bored living in a small town. But you missed one thing about her.”
“Oh, yeah, what was that?”
“Rachel was smart. Maybe not people-smart because she’d been so coddled, but she read a lot and had big ideas about where her life was going.”
“Who was she sleeping with?”
The question stopped him for a second. Her searching stare made him uncomfortable and he looked out over the water. “I don’t know. She flirted with everyone. It was as if she was trying to be one of those characters in the romance novels she was always reading on break. Heartbreaking in a way.”
“Heartbreaking?”
“Yeah. She was trying stuff out because she finally had some freedom, but she didn’t know boundaries. She was like … I don’t know, a babe in the woods. I worried what would happen to her when she left home for good.”
The dog rushed out of the darkness toward them, splashing through the shallow water. He barked and Stonechild called for him to heel, but the dog barked a second time and disappeared back the way he’d come. “He wants us to follow him. Do you mind a stroll along the shoreline?”
“Not at all.”
The sand was hard-packed and damp, easy to walk on, and they followed the water’s edge to a bend. “The beach goes on about another half kilometre,” he said, “before ending in another big glacial dump of rocks.”
“We should head back,” she said. She cupped her hands over her mouth and called, “Taiku!” She listened for a moment before putting her fingers into her mouth and letting out a piercing whistle. “That’s odd,” she said. “He always comes.”
“He can’t be far.”
Several yards on, they could see the dog’s dark outline standing in the shallow water. He was facing away from them, unmoving.
“For goodness’ sake,” Stonechild said. She strode ahead of Shane toward the dog. “Come here, Taiku!”
Shane almost bumped into her. She’d stopped suddenly and was staring into the water. “Stay here,” she said over her shoulder and began running. He froze for a few moments before ignoring her order and starting after her. His legs felt like rubber and he staggered the first few steps before gaining control. By the time he was a few metres from the dog, Stonechild had waded into the water and was dragging a body onto the sand. She got the person to higher ground and flipped them over while blocking his view. Shane stopped several feet away, choking on Petra’s name as he dropped into a crouch and held his face in his hands. He took several deep breaths trying not to black out.
“It’s not Petra.” Stonechild was crouching next to him. She rubbed his arm. “It’s not your wife.”
He raised his head. “Not Petra?”
“No, not Petra.”
“Who …?”
“Thomas Faraday. I need you to run back to the lodge and use the landline in the office to call the OPP detachment. Tell them to send Forensics and more police. Let them know we have another death at the beach. Can you do that?”
“My God.” He got to his feet and stumbled against her. Her grip on his arm was firm and her strength transferred to him through some magic osmosis. He righted himself and took a step back. “I’ll go as fast as I can. I’ll give them directions.”
He later couldn’t remember the run down the beach to the path or his panicked scramble through the woods. He fell twice and ran into a tree but barely felt the pain. The phone was in Neal and Martha’s house and he pounded on their door, barging inside without waiting for someone to answer. Neal was pushing himself up from the couch as he entered and Martha was nowhere to be seen.
“I need to use your phone,” said Shane, already on his way down the hall. The office was a small room off the kitchen. His subconscious registered an empty wine bottle and one glass on the counter next to a plate with the remains of a scrambled-eggs meal. The office door was closed but the room was empty, and he placed the call while Neal leaned against the door jamb listening and watching him.
“Is Faraday dead?” Neal asked when Shane hung up the receiver.
“Drowned. That cop Stonechild and I found him on the beach. I need to get back
to tell her a team will be here within the hour.”
“Christ.” Neal ran a hand through his hair. “What the hell is going on? Was it a suicide?”
“No idea. Where’s Martha?”
“Upstairs sleeping. I’ll get her.”
“Have you seen Petra?”
Neal’s eyes shifted from his own. “She was walking to your cabin about ten minutes ago.”
“Man, if you knew what I thought when I first saw somebody in the water.” He clapped a hand on Neal’s shoulder as he passed by. “This summer is not ending well.”
“That’s an understatement. It’s turned into a bloody nightmare. I’m not looking forward to telling Martha about this second death. She’s going to think we’re cursed.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
It was going on 2:00 a.m. before Kala finally made it to bed. Every part of her body ached: her head, her shoulders, her legs. She was so tired that she lay on top of the covers fully dressed and immediately fell into a deep sleep. She woke as suddenly as she’d fallen asleep, light pouring in through the window and Taiku’s head resting against her arm. She scratched his head and took a few moments to shake off the grogginess. She turned her had to look at the clock on the bedside table and Taiku licked the side of her face. She laughed. “It’s seven thirty. Time for a run, boy?”
The air was bracing, but a few minutes into the jog and Kala was undoing her jacket. The day would warm to eighteen Celsius if the weather report was right. She passed the path to the beach where they’d found Thomas Faraday. Two police cars were pulled over to the side of the road at the path entrance. She didn’t stop her run to speak with the officers. They’d share any findings with her, and she doubted they’d come up with anything more at the crime scene anyway. She had a lot to think about and spent the half-hour run going over the evening before. The coroner had pointed out a gash and bruising across the nape of Faraday’s neck. “He was struck by something solid before he drowned.”
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