Spence’s condo was up in French Creek on the water, a one-bedroom unit at the end of the row bordered by heavy forest. The row of townhouses sat at the base of the harbour, the two spits of forest land circling out from the houses like huge protective arms. Hers was a quiet hideaway with a deck that looked out past the headlands across the Salish Sea. At night, you could see the twinkling lights of the towns on the Sunshine Coast. It was quiet there, and peaceful, and you could sit for hours with a beer or two and watch the sea. They’d done that a couple of times after hard cases.
As he drove, Alan thought of his own place, a dismal one-bed apartment in a building along the channel. He’d never done anything to it, never cared. Once his wife had left for the greener, more moneyed pastures her lawyer friend offered, he’d shoved what was left into the first place he could find. He didn’t care much then and he didn’t now.
But sometimes, like tonight, he felt the isolation. Times like this, he thought of his partner’s place and wondered what it would be like to live with someone like that. She’d drive him crazy, he knew, so he tried to ignore how he felt about her. Still, she was something. She was beautiful and almost too hot to handle. Alan shook his head and smiled to himself.
He pulled into his spot under the building and took the stairs to the first floor. His place, like hers, overlooked the water, but unlike hers, it faced docks filled mostly with fishing boats. And although his side of the channel was a weed-filled no man’s land right to the water and the docks, the far side at least had trees. Barely twenty meters wide in front of his apartment, the channel led across to Newcastle Island, a provincial park hardly anyone ever went to. Unlike Spence’s, his didn’t have a balcony, so in the summer he just opened the window as wide as it would go, dragged up a chair, and sat with a beer looking at that wall of green.
◆◆◆
After her reverie up on College Heights, Mary drove the car home and parked it in the underground garage. It was time to find a place to eat and then, if she took her time at the restaurant, Victoria Road. She could hardly wait.
Mary didn’t go inside; she simply left by the garage driveway, walked over to Commercial, and stepped inside the Modern Café. She was soon approached by a waitress, a rather beautiful girl with long black hair and skin like hers, only different. She followed the waitress to a high table at the back. The girl took her order, brought her a glass of white wine, and left to deal with other tables.
Mary watched her. She enjoyed the way the young woman moved, her grace almost liquid. She thought she must be Native and would have liked to talk to her.
The girl returned with Mary’s order, and as she ate, she watched the waitress some more. Then she thought about Sally, her big, glorious blonde with the soft, insistent hands and lips. Mary hardly tasted what she had on her plate. Everything in her was focussed on the evening. She finished, put a generous tip under her plate for the beautiful girl, and left for Victoria Road.
Mary took her time, looking in the windows of the shops along the crescent again. She ignored the raucous club, crossed at the crosswalk, walked up past the pool hall, and entered the parking lot with the high cliff on one side across from the restaurant. The upstairs had lights on tonight, and she could see a tall blonde girl moving about in the rooms. She’s like Sally, Mary thought, but not as well built.
Mary walked behind one of the white vans that always parked there, opened her bag, stripped down to her lacy dark-blue lingerie, and put on a short pink mini and a tight pink sweater. She added black thigh-high sheer nylons and knee-high black boots. She left the top buttons of the sweater undone to reveal her cleavage, enhanced by the push-up bra. Now she was Cat.
She slung her big black bag over her shoulder and sauntered up the hill, watching for other girls and checking out the cars that slowed. She felt sexy and desirable, high on just being there. She took to the edge of the road once she was past the parked cars and exaggerated her walk, hips swinging voluptuously. She’d stop occasionally and stand hipshot as she’d seen the girls do, then saunter on. She was having more fun than she could remember, more even than she’d had clubbing and partying in Vancouver. This was life. She could smell it, taste it. She loved it.
Cat crested the hill and saw three girls talking on the corner and a couple working the street. As she watched, a pickup pulled into the curb, and one of the girls working the street got in. Then a car pulled in beside Cat and the window rolled down. She shook her head and the car moved slowly up toward the three girls.
Cat wanted Sally first, then with Sally, the street.
She walked past the girls, one of whom had detached herself and walked over to the slowly moving car, leaning in the window as it stopped. By the time Cat reached the lights at Milton, the car with the girl had passed.
So far, no Sally. Maybe she’d walk to the house, see if she’s there. She had just begun walking up Milton when she heard a voice yell “Cat!” and turned to see her blonde friend waving from the other side of the street. She waited as Sally hurried across, and they walked arm in arm up Milton toward the house.
Two hours later, Sally and Cat sauntered back down Milton to Victoria Road. Cat was excited and, she admitted to herself, a bit nervous. Lying on the bed, Sally had explained how she should work the street; what she should watch out for, how she should handle the other girls if necessary, and what she should check for before getting into anyone’s car.
It was a lot to remember, but Cat was intent on making her night memorable. She knew Sally would look out for her and that gave her the confidence she needed. Together, she thought, they made a hell of a team—a tall stacked blonde and a tiny Asian. The contrast made them special, and Sally said the guys would go for that.
They took their time on Victoria, walking slowly and talking about fees and services. Cat was surprised at what the girls did for so little.
Sally warned her again to watch the johns carefully before agreeing to anything. She pointed out what to look for inside the car and what to do if one got too forceful. She’d thrown a can of mace into Cat’s black bag and had shown her how to use it. She also checked to make sure Cat’s cell was charged and added her own number on speed dial.
They stopped to talk to other girls as they walked, and Sally introduced Cat to some of them. The traffic was heavy now, the time between ten and midnight being the best part of the night. The two of them stayed close, and when the first pickup pulled in to the curb, Sally walked over and checked out the driver. She motioned Cat over, introduced her to the guy, and gently pushed her around the hood to the passenger door. She whispered, “I know this guy, and he’s cool. You have fun and make him bring you back here. If I’m not around, you wait. Don’t go with anybody else, okay?”
Cat smiled at her, stood on tiptoe, kissed her cheek, then opened the door and climbed in. The guy was young and good looking enough, and once he’d shifted, she felt his hand on her thigh.
A half hour later, she was back, dropped off right where the guy had picked her up. It had been fast and impersonal, but it had been fun, sort of, and she smiled as she thought of the sixty bucks she had in her bag. She thought about how much a night’s work would give her as she sauntered down the road looking for Sally. If she had even five tricks a night, she’d have three hundred tax-free dollars. No wonder girls do this kind of stuff.
She spotted Sally in front of the free clinic talking to another girl and smoking a cigarette. They all seemed to do that, she thought, smoke cigarettes. But then most of the johns did too, so it made sense to do the same, if only for business.
Sally saw her, left the girl she was talking to, and grinned. “So, how’d it go? You like it? Don’t bother telling me, I can see you got a kick out of it. Not all the guys are as nice as that one, but they’re mostly okay.”
She put her hand around Cat’s small waist.
◆◆◆
Cat watched Sally amble across the street, those great legs doing their thing, her hips swaying seductively. She’d b
arely made the other side when a small pickup pulled in. Cat watched her lean in the open window, straighten up, and get in. She waved to Cat, indicating for her to wait where she was.
Just as the truck pulled away, another pickup, this one blue but bigger and dirtier, slid in to the curb on her side, and a young guy leaned out. “You’re a real pretty thing. Get in and let’s go for a ride.”
Cat didn’t hesitate. It wouldn’t take long, and she’d make another sixty or better. Sally’d be impressed. She walked around the truck, avoided the mud-covered side panels, opened the door, and climbed up. As she sat, she let her short skirt ride up, and leaned over to discuss the business end of things. The boy, younger than she’d thought, nodded, started up, and pulled onto the road. He drove fast and didn’t seem to want to settle things up front. Cat tried again, and he leaned over her, grabbed her safety belt, and clicked it in place.
Cat felt a second pair of hands from behind slide over her shoulders and down her front. She struggled against the boy who held her, but he was strong. Neither of them said a word. Cat tried the door handle, but it didn’t do anything. She tried her belt but it wouldn’t release. She fought hard until a hand covered her mouth and nose and she had trouble breathing. Then she remembered what Sally had told her, the cell in her bag, and the mace. She settled down and tried to be calm.
The hands loosened and a voice whispered in her ear. “We been watchin’ you and that big girl you like, and we just want to play with you, so you stay still, okay? An’ we’ll just go up the road a bit, we got a place you’ll like. We’ll pay you good when we’re done. Gonna be fun, lots of fun.”
The truck slowed, turned off the highway, and took a one-lane blacktop that led back into the bush. A turn led to a gravel road before degenerating into a track through dense bush. Branches scraped along the sides of the truck as it bounced along, and Cat realized she was in serious trouble.
She concentrated on moving her hand slowly toward the bag. She slowed her breathing and focused. She had to get her hand on the mace and then on the nozzle. Slowly.
The farther the truck bumped into the forest, the more frightened Cat got. She had to slow her breathing. She concentrated on that. Soon they would stop, and the mace was the only thing she had that would slow them down. She didn’t know where she was, so the phone wouldn’t help.
When they finally stopped, the two boys got out. One of them opened her door while the older loosened her seatbelt with a screwdriver. The smaller, younger one held her as she watched the other one grab her big bag and dump everything on the ground. He kicked the can of mace into the brush and threw her cell down hard and stomped on it. He picked up the pieces, leaving nothing behind.
Cat’s heart sank. Her thoughts tumbled as she tried to grasp what was happening. If only she could call Sally.
She could take the rape, she thought. And when they left, she’d find her way back. She could handle that. She just had to breathe and think. Maybe even get them to go easy on her if she could make them think she was okay with it. She’d do that.
When she saw the cabin at the end of the track, she calmed herself thinking that it wouldn’t be so bad. A house, a bed—maybe they were just a little kinky.
Then they pulled her past the cabin on a path she couldn’t see. They took her farther into the bush. Cat struggled, confused and terrified. Finally, they stopped moving and as Cat looked around, a hand came around from behind. There was a searing pain in her middle, and everything went black.
◆◆◆
Sally got back to the stroll a half hour later and looked for Cat. She looked for the rest of the night without finding a sign of her. She asked the other girls, but no one had seen her. Finally, Sally went home, but she worried about her friend. Maybe she’d gone home, but she didn’t think she’d leave without letting her know. It wasn’t like Cat to just disappear.
◆◆◆
The Trans Canada Trail ran along the top of the cliffs that edged the path of the Mist River, at least in its upper reaches. In the slower, calmer waters of the lower river, the rapids were less daunting and the long stretches of placid but fast- flowing water created large pools that swarmed with swimmers in the summer months.
Along the trail above the Mist River, just about where the great gorge began, two hikers paused for a rest break. Henry and Melissa Hill were old for the trail and rested often. Both were in their fifties and both had long held the dream of walking the Trans Canada down island. Every third day or so, they left the trail and were met by friends, who drove them to a motel for a night and a good breakfast.
The trail here skirted a large outcropping of rocks at the edge of the gorge and provided a clear flat area to rest in. Far below them, the river roared through its narrow channel, sending long fingers of mist high up the walls. While Henry rummaged around in his pack, finding what he needed to make a light lunch, Melissa took the toilet paper and worked her way up a deer path to the top of the ridge.
She found a depression in the rocks that was hidden from the trail by tall firs, shrubs, and the rock face itself. Salal grew in profusion under the great firs and partially filled the depression. Melissa headed for the clearest area. She finished what she had to do, buried the result, and looked for another way down so she could avoid the more abrupt drops of the deer trail that were treacherous to get down, especially this close to the gorge walls.
She began to work her way along the thickly forested ridge, pushing through the waist-high salal. She found a promising route, a sort of switchback that looked less daunting and that led her down the ridge at an angle. She was partway down, feeling her way along a narrow but reasonably clear and level area, when she stumbled on a pocket in the rock face, a narrow opening between the great boulders.
She glanced in, pushing her face into the opening, and suddenly jerked back. She lost her footing and tumbled down the remainder of the slope, a drop of about twenty feet. She lay still for a few moments, resting against the soft decaying remnants of an old fallen fir almost covered by salal and ferns that grew down its massive sides. Moaning in fear, she rose gingerly and stumbled through the difficult undergrowth.
Henry heard the keening sound long before he saw her and rushed toward her through the bush. He asked again and again what had happened, had she hurt herself, did she fall? He brushed the debris from her hair and the dirt from her face and lowered her gently to the floor of the clearing. He studied her scratches and could see possible bruises.
Melissa pointed behind her. “Back there, in the rocks, I fell, I saw it, her, a girl I think. The smell, flies, oh my god, oh my god, she’s dead, she’s, she’s, it’s, oh Henry it’s, she’s been torn apart somehow. We have to go! We have to get help!”
Henry stared at his wife in disbelief. “A body? You saw a body? Where? Where is it? Can you show me?” Without meaning to, he shook his wife, as if that would somehow fix things.
“Henry, you’re hurting me! Stop it!”
Henry stopped. “Mel, look at me. Tell me where. You stay here and I’ll go, just tell me where.”
He was about to shake her again, but he stopped himself. Frustration and fear made him angry, and the anger made him sharper than he’d intended. He took a deep breath and said gently, “Stay here, Mel. I’ll go see, and we’ll get help.”
◆◆◆
Henry walked back into the bush, trying to follow the path his wife had taken. The ubiquitous salal covered any sign of her route, but almost by accident, struggling through the undergrowth, he found the spot where she’d fallen and began to climb the rock face.
After climbing to the top and following his wife’s likely path, he stuck his head in the opening. As did his wife, Henry recoiled, but unlike her, he didn’t fall. The light breeze along the gorge pushed air into the opening so the odour of death was not overpowering from the narrow fissure in the rocks. Cautiously, he stuck his head back in, held his breath, and looked.
Flies were everywhere, so thick he could barely see what they
were covering. Henry looked around him, reached down, and picked up a small rock. He took a deep breath and stuck his head back in. They swarmed when he pitched the rock into the opening, and it became clear it was a body. And it was naked. Worse, it had been mutilated and was covered in bite marks and torn skin. Henry thought the damage was from scavengers and birds. They’d noticed the vultures circling as they’d walked the trail and had assumed that a deer carcass had attracted them.
The more Henry studied the body, the more he realized that the damage wasn’t the result of predators. Someone had mutilated the girl, cut her open and disembowelled her. This wasn’t any kind of accident. The girl was young and had obviously been placed there. She was naked and there were no signs of clothing, not even the torn shreds that should be there once the forest creatures had found her. Entrails were scattered about, and although the incision had been used by animals to get at the soft tissue, there were still signs of the cuts that had been made. Henry’s breath didn’t last very long and he withdrew. One long look was enough. He wouldn’t look again.
He climbed down the rocks and slowly retraced his steps to the little clearing. Melissa was still sitting where he’d left her, but she looked around quickly as he approached, “Did you… was she…?”
“Yeah, I saw what it was, and she’s definitely dead. We have to get help, and we’re a long way from the road we want, but there’s a road somewhere up there. I heard a truck when I climbed up. We need to find the road. We can’t get through the bush here, it’s too thick.”
Henry packed up quickly and they set off. The trail was easy and relatively flat along the gorge, so they made good time. At a point where the Trans Canada Trail turned down toward the river, they found a vague path going up and took it. It was a long, hard climb, the path at times obscure. With a couple of rests on fallen trunks, they made the crest. Here the path widened, curling around rock outcroppings and over fallen trees. They reached a road.
NIGHT MOVES: The Stroll Murders Page 12