Blue Star

by Valerie Van Clieaf

“There’s a lot of room to move, especially where kids are concerned,” said Bart.

  “There sure is. Parking lot patrons can’t enter the club unless they’re members because it’s a card key entrance. But club patrons can access the parking lot directly from the basement. And that’s very important. You don’t have to leave the club via the back entrance,” Lucas said. “Once you’re in the underground parking area, there’s a short ramp about 30 metres to the left of the back entrance to the club. Michael saw Carey near the top of that ramp. We checked it out the night we were there. If somebody wanted to come and go without being seen, they could do so very easily.”

  “But if someone was to bring children into the club, or leave with them via the ground floor, wouldn’t anyone taking a break in the staff lounge see them?” asked Kate.

  “They would, if someone was there and they were paying attention to who was coming and going. But staff are encouraged not to question what goes on, and plenty goes on,” said Lucas, looking over at me. “Someone at Michael’s firm was a guest at a party in one of the private dining rooms. One of the guests belongs to a local bikers’ gang and he brought a few bags of cocaine with him and literally dumped it in piles, right on the tablecloth.”

  “That’s a bit excessive, to say nothing of wasteful,” said Kate. “Wouldn’t they have a hard time finding it on white linen?”

  “The staff working the party stood at the back of the room like they always do and ignored the piles of coke,” I said.

  “And the sexual activity on the back stairs,” Lucas added.

  “The club website does claim the staff are famous for their discretion,” said Bart.

  “And they mean it,” I said. I got up to get more coffee for myself and offered it around.

  “Michael left the club via the pedestrian entrance on Cordova Street,” said Lucas. “He’d reached the street when he noticed a silver Suburban idling, off to his left, about 10 metres away. He told us he was just about to head in the opposite direction, going east. Carey must have just reached the top of the parking lot ramp, where it opens onto Cordova Street.”

  “Isn’t Cordova Street one way?” asked Bart.

  “Yes, one way going east,” I said. “The parking lot ramp is in shadow. The suburban was between Michael and the entrance to the ramp. When Carey and the man she was with reached the street, they turned and walked towards Michael. She was a bit behind and to the left of the man, so she was partially hidden. But something about the girl got his attention. The man opened the passenger door and stepped back so that Carey could get into the car. She walked the last few steps and got in and the man followed her in and shut the door. Michael turned to head east when he realized that it was Carey who’d just gotten into the car. The Suburban drove right by him and he ran after it, yelling for the driver to stop, but it sped up, quickly turned right and disappeared.”

  “I feel so bad for Michael,” said Kate. They knew the story. It didn’t get easier to listen to.

  “Detective Gilbrauson did the follow-up interview. He told Michael that the Terrace RCMP were notified about the sighting. But he also said that when a person goes missing, the police get a lot of reported sightings, most of which prove to be false.”

  “Gilbrauson didn’t buy that Michael saw Carey at the back of the club,” said Kate.

  “He said he was concerned that Michael was getting his hopes up over what might turn out to be a false lead.” Lucas sighed with exasperation.

  “A false lead that happens to wind its way to the back door of the oldest private members club in Western Canada!” Kate was indignant.

  “Exactly Kate.”

  “Michael told the VPD that he saw more than one child in the car,” said Bart.

  “He saw three children,” said Lucas. “That should be in Gilbrauson’s report. I’ll include that here, just in case.

  “Have you spoken with Michael lately?”

  “I called him on Friday to let him know you were home safe. We talked on Sunday too.”

  I said nothing. Home. Safe. Those two words were hard to put together. I didn’t feel safe. Not even here.

  “I want Fernice to understand that Michael is certain he saw three children, and one of them was Carey, no matter what slant Gilbrauson put on the sighting. The girl had a limp and Carey has a limp. Her walk is particular to her.”

  “Amelia said she’s slated for another operation next spring to help correct her gait, which is uneven. It puts extra pressure on her knee, and she has to rest after a lot of exertion.”

  “Erroneous sightings are probably not uncommon when a person goes missing,” said Bart.

  “They aren’t, but Michael thinks it was the location Gilbrauson had trouble with,” said Lucas.

  “Of course,” said Kate. “Protect the bastion of male privilege at all costs.”

  “Point taken,” said Bart. “And especially chilling if it turns out that protection extends to a paedophile ring.”

  “For all we know, there may be people who are aware of what’s going on, and for their own reasons, are allowing it to continue.”

  “Jesus Kate! You really think that might be the case?”

  “I do. It’s certainly possible.”

  We were silent for a minute, then I remembered something else.

  “Unless Kate told you Lucas, Amelia and I went to visit a friend of Geoff, Amelia’s dad. The guy’s name is Ange Batlan. That was the day you went to Victoria, to attend the Restorative Justice Symposium.”

  “I’d forgotten all about that,” said Kate.

  “You caught the early ferry. I was in my office and Amelia dropped by. Her dad really wanted her to connect with Batlan and he’d been after her to do that. She called him from my office, and he was home, so she asked me to go with her. His condo’s just around the corner on Cambie Street. Batlan’s an executive with Northfor Tech, a mining company. They have an office in Terrace. I think that’s how Geoff knows him. He told Batlan about Carey’s abduction when he was in Terrace a few weeks back and he’s worried about Amelia being here, in Vancouver, with no family close by.”

  “I’ll bet he is,” said Bart.

  “Batlan told us he has a friend who works at the VPD, He’s been in contact with him and he wants to be kept in the loop about Carey’s case.”

  “The more people asking questions, the better,” said Kate.

  Lucas looked at the list beside him. “I think I have everything now. I’ve included the visits to 168 Franklin, first, by MPU, then by the three of you, then Kate and Morgan and then Morgan, alone.”

  “Kate didn’t tell me they’d gone to the house till after, Luke,” said Bart. “I’d have gone with them.”

  “Lovey,” said Kate, patting his arm. “You were already at the clinic. I didn’t know when you’d be home. Amelia got the call from her aunt and we wanted to visit while there was daylight. It gets dark so early now.”

  “Your presence wouldn’t have made any difference, Bart,” I said.

  “The young woman who answered the door was nervous, wasn’t she Morgan?”

  “She sure was. Then the two of us, a couple of hours later, banging on the doors again.”

  “The police know about the phone call to Rosaline,” said Kate. “They have a record of the detective’s visit. And they may know the three of us went, because after we left, Amelia left a message for the same detective.”

  “But they don’t know that you and I went back that night Kate, and that I went back alone the next morning. And left my name and number. And three days later ... Well, if it weren’t for Gwen and Alex, I wouldn’t be here now.” I could feel the tears, hot behind my eyelids. I started to shake.

  “Too friggin’ scary for words,” said Kate.

  “Don’t hold them back Morgan. Tears are a good thing,” said Bart.

  “I know they are.” But tears I can’t control mean feelings I can’t control. I have never doubted my ability to pro
tect myself. Until now. By the time I was 16, I had a black belt in Karate. In the world of tournaments, I’d often won, but in the real world, I lost a battle I still don’t remember having. Admitting this is hard. The tears started in earnest and I hate this because it makes me feel so vulnerable and I don’t know how to fix that. I’m afraid that I’ll never be able to. I looked across the table at Lucas, looking for comfort—but was taken aback. Everyone’s eyes followed mine.

  “Luke. You okay buddy?”

  Bart’s question startled him and the look vanished. “I’m fine.”

  You are not fine. Not fine at all. “Where were you Luke?” asked Bart.

  “It’s been a difficult week,” said Lucas, trying to downplay it.

  “And you, the tough guy,” said Kate.

  “Not a tough guy at all, it seems.”

  “We’re here for you, for both of you,” said Bart. “You know that.”

  “I know that,” I said. “I love you both and thank you.”

  “Are you hearing me Luke?” said Bart.

  “Yes. I hear you.”

  Bart let it go but I knew him well enough to know he wouldn’t let it rest. Kate offered to make more coffee, but there were no takers. She got up and put the kettle on for another cup of tea.

  “I’m hoping the RCMP have ruled me out as a suspect.”

  “I’m sure Alex doesn’t think that!”

  “You’re talking about the guy that interviewed you at 100 Mile House, aren’t you?” said Bart.

  “Corporal James,” I said.

  “If he had any people skills at all, he would have tumbled to the fact you’re incapable of that level of nastiness.”

  “I appreciate the vote of confidence Kate. I’m just as concerned Alex might consider Morgan’s abduction a random act of violence.”

  “Statistically, the police wouldn’t be completely off-base to consider it random,” said Kate.

  “You think Desocarras may assume Morgan was in the wrong place at the wrong time?” said Bart.

  “He might,” said Lucas. “We need to convince him and Detective Fernice that’s not the case here!”

  “Before it’s too late!” I said.

  “We are touching evil itself,” said Bart, with a shudder.

  “We are,” Kate said.

  “I intend to be very careful from now on. We all need to be.”

  “Abducting Morgan was a message—to all of us.” Kate had sat back down.

  “Until this is over Morgan, you and I are tied at the hip,” said Lucas.

  “No argument from me,” I said, thinking how hard I was finding it to be alone right now, even if Lucas was in the next room. “It’s a good thing we’re the same height.” He didn’t crack a smile.

  “Us too, Irish,” said Bart. We’re tied at the hip till this is over.”

  “But we’re not the same height,” said Kate.

  “We’ll make it work. Somehow.”

  CHAPTER 10

  The sound of my voice woke me up. Lucas was propped up on an elbow, looking at me sleepily.

  “You just yelled.”

  “I was in the woods at Gustafsen Lake, running from the bastard who tried to kill me.” That certainly got his attention. He was wide awake now.

  “I was trying to find a place to hide. There were these orbs of light, like beacons, in a thicket right in front of me. I was so tired my legs gave out and I collapsed in front of it. I thought I was done for, but once I was on the ground, I could see the opening to an animal burrow and I shimmied in, feet first. It wasn’t quite big enough and I had to push hard to make room for my head and shoulders. Just after I pulled my head in, he was there. His boots were this close to my face,” and I showed Lucas with my hand, just how close. “He moved his flashlight back and forth, back and forth, trying to find me. And I remember that his boots had splatters of burgundy paint on them, and blue too, but fine, like a spray would leave. And another thing. I remember a chemical smell; really nauseating. It was like my clothes were soaked in it.”

  “Was that in your statement?”

  “No.”

  “Fernice will want to hear about this. I’m betting forensics will notice the smell.”

  “I’ll tell her about the paint on his boots, and the sickly smell, but I don’t think I’ll be telling her about the beacons of light.”

  “She doesn’t have to know about the friendly orbs.”

  “I will tell Kate though.”

  “She’ll be so pleased, knowing you had help—not of the worldly kind.”

  “Non-believer be warned. I’ve joined the club.”

  “There’s a club?”

  “Kate’s special club—for those of us that see and feel what others are blind to.”

  “I will be forever grateful to those beacons of light for leading you to safety,” he said, dead serious now. He was thinking of the attacker’s boots, inches from her face.

  “I’m worried about Kate. Bart said she hasn’t been sleeping well for weeks. She has to keep up with her work at the university and finish her thesis. It’s due in a few months.”

  She was exhausted. Within days of Carey’s abduction, she connected with her psychically. What connection she had was sporadic and rarely for long periods of time, but it happened day and night.

  “Are you sure you’re up to working tomorrow? I really wish you’d reconsider and wait another week.”

  “I’ve had four days of complete rest and physically, I feel pretty good. I could have gone out today, but I didn’t Lucas. The truth is, I’m afraid to leave the cottage. For every day I stay here, I know that it’ll be that much harder to go out. The only way I’m going to do this is to jump back in.” Big words. The idea of returning filled me with dread.

  “I’ll drive you in and wait in the concourse coffee shop until you finish your office hours. Then I’ll accompany you to the film lab.”

  “We should both try to get some sleep. We’ve got a busy day tomorrow.”

  For me, all roads lead to film, my first love. I can’t remember when I didn’t want to be a filmmaker, though it probably dates to when dad bought his first movie camera. I borrowed it so often, he finally gave it to me and bought another for himself. It had been fun to be back at SFU and work with the first-year students, already shooting their first shorts using 16 mm film stock and old style Bolex cameras, editing on flatbeds—getting to know, first hand, the beauty and the art of film—rows of tiny pictures, each one perfect, then carefully synching the sound track. These days that stark beauty and intimacy was everywhere overridden by the immediacy of digital images, instantly shared. I work in video too, but for me, it will never replace film.

  SFU still teaches the art of film in a world gone crazy with video. The bonus is you can walk through the door as a regular paying student, which was why I applied there. The film office is on the second floor of the SFU Contemporary Arts building—a modern temple of polished concrete and glass—which also houses dance, theatre, visual art and contemporary music departments and theatres, studios, and labs. The SFU building, part of the Foursquare Complex, called Woodward’s by most people, included apartments, shopping and restaurants. Woodward’s, the original department store, which now housed community offices, was the only building on the block that wasn’t demolished to make room for the complex.

  The thought of standing in front of the film students tomorrow afternoon and pretending everything was okay had my stomach in a knot. I reached for the Rescue Remedy Kate gave me and took some.

  CHAPTER 11

  The sun warmed Lucas’ face and an arm flung carelessly outside the blankets. He surrendered to the warmth and consciousness; took in the details of their bedroom, familiar and comforting.

  Another dream of Guatemala: the classroom in the jungle and his father beside him. Watched his father sharpen a pencil with his small knife. Watched the sun dance in the blade. It was strange that his father was in that dream
. They lived in the jungle for months, hiding from the army. But that was after his dad was killed.

  The drone of a float plane reached him from the Burrard Inlet. He closed his eyes and he was a boy, watching a small, noisy plane rise into the air, banking and turning above his head, flying, like a bird. Pure magic to a boy who walked everywhere. He hadn’t thought of that plane in years, but the memory was so clear, it could have been yesterday. It was donated to his parents’ cooperative by an American charity—a generous and important gift. There were few roads in the Guatemalan highlands, and it was the only way the cooperative could bring in supplies or get the coffee and cardamom they grew for export to buyers on the coast. Against the odds, after only a few years, the cooperative had enough to feed its members and a surplus to sell.

  He could hear Morgan in the kitchen, making coffee, the sound of running water, then the grinder, taking cups from the cupboard. Then silence. No singing from the woman who sang every morning. She isn’t singing, he thought, because the bastards took her song. He surrendered to the dark place where he killed the men that had taken her, taken Carey, squeezing hard on faceless throats until they gave up fighting for air and went limp in his hands. The enormity of his anger washed over him. It was an effort to get out of bed.

  CHAPTER 12

  When we arrived at the VPD on Main Street, Detective Fernice was waiting for us in the reception area. I shook hands.

  “And here you are Ms. O’Meara, safe and sound. How wonderful!”

  I warmed to her instinctively—the way you do some people and not others. She was a little taller than me, in her early thirties, sturdy build, ash-brown hair and startling blue eyes.

  Lucas watched her closely, his face guarded. When she turned to him, he introduced himself and handed her our timeline, the title large and bolded, our intention clear.

  “We think this will aid your understanding of what’s going on.”

  “It’s an event timeline,” I added, between Carey Bolton’s abduction and mine. Lucas didn’t smile and he didn’t shake her hand. It wasn’t like him to be aloof.