by Ken Ogilvie
“Yes, Rebecca. I’m just weighing up the consequences of telling you. If I’m right, you’ll be devastated. And if I’m wrong, you may never speak to me again.”
Rebecca’s stomach lurched. It suddenly came to her that there were only three people who might have killed her mother, and if it were any one of them, Sykes was right, the knowledge might indeed destroy her. The three were George Bradley, Archie MacDougall and Maggie Delaney. And the possibility that any one of them had murdered her mother was too awful to contemplate, especially in Maggie’s case. Rebecca had known this all along, but had refused to face up to it.
She suddenly felt woozy, and the car swerved, almost skidding off the tarmac.
Heart pounding, she said, “No, you’re right. It’s better I don’t hear it.”
“Rebecca, are you okay?” Sykes asked. “Maybe you should take a break from driving.”
“I can’t stop now, Sykes. My father may be dying. I have to get to Prospect as soon as I can.”
“I understand. But please drive carefully. It won’t do your father any good if you have an accident. Okay?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. We’ll meet at the hotel later on.”
“Alright, Rebecca. I’ll lay low until I hear from you.” Sykes cut the call.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Thursday, October 4, 2007
Matthew and Hound went to the place where Matthew had stopped tracking Jackie, parked the Bentley just off a nearby side road and set off on foot. Matthew took the lead as he was the better tracker. There didn’t appear to be any police around.
They trekked on for three hours until Matthew called a halt. Feeling the strain, Hound sat on a granite outcrop for a few minutes, but he was soon impatient to proceed. “Time to push on?” he said.
“Sit down again,” Matthew said, as though they had all the time in the world. “Ten minute breaks, no argument. Eat something. You’ll be glad of it later. Then we’ll make camp, have dinner and sleep. If we can maintain our current pace, we’ll be within reach of Jackie in two days. We need to hold some strength in reserve for when we catch up with her.”
Hound went over to a fallen log and sat down again. He swallowed a slug of water from a plastic bottle, then took a bite of a ham sandwich. Suddenly, he was famished. He demolished the sandwich in three large bites while Matthew watched, chuckling. Chewing on a strip of dried meat, Matthew said, “I’ll make a real tracker out of you yet.”
When the ten minutes were up, Hound put the water bottle back and got to his feet. “I can out-track you any day, Matthew Simon, you just watch me.” He headed off, with Matthew following close behind.
A few miles further on, Hound stopped cold. Matthew said, “This is not the best time to start tracking a moose.”
“I was thinking that myself,” Hound mused. He surveyed the surrounding forest. “I was also thinking it was your turn to take over the tracking — if you feel up to it, that is.”
Matthew nodded and turned round, backtracking for a couple of hundred yards. Then he veered off away from the direction in which Hound had been heading. “She’s one crafty woman, that’s for sure,” he said over his shoulder
Hound hung his head and trudged along behind his friend. What had told Matthew to change direction?
Two hours later, Matthew called a second halt. Hound flopped to the ground, pulled out his water bottle, and drank greedily. He extracted a second sandwich from his backpack. When they set off this time, Hound didn’t even try to take the lead. All he could think of was crashing for the night. Even the prospect of dinner couldn’t compete with his need to sleep.
At dawn, Matthew roused him from a deep sleep. He had already made a fire and was frying bacon and eggs for breakfast. Hound sat up, feeling stiff all over. He rubbed his eyes and stretched out his arms before getting to his feet.
“One more day — or is it two? I forget,” he said. Matthew grunted and handed him a metal plate piled with bacon and eggs. They ate in silence, cleaned up and got back on the trail. Hound’s stiffness eased as they tramped along, and soon he was enjoying the forest again. They forded several streams and crossed over two roads and by late afternoon, Hound was exhausted. His previous tracking expeditions with Matthew had been short and leisurely compared to this one.
At the end of the day, Hound dropped to the ground and fell asleep. Matthew woke him when dinner was ready. He wolfed it down, and crawled into his sleeping bag.
“Rise and shine.” There was no breakfast fire this time. Hound raised an eyebrow. “We’re too close to where Jackie might be to make a fire. It’ll be a cold breakfast today. Eat well, because we’ll have to be ready to hit the ground and roll away at the first sign of danger. You might not have noticed yesterday, but the vegetation was changing. We’re moving through the transition zone between the Great Lakes and the St. Lawrence forest and the boreal. As I said, I don’t believe Jackie will hide out in the boreal. She’ll stay somewhere in this area, build a shelter and see how things go. From here on we’ll be in danger of her spotting us, so go stealthily and keep an eye out for hidden traps. She’s cunning. And don’t forget, she’s armed.”
Chapter Fifty-Three
Thursday, October 4, 2007
Rebecca reached Prospect by mid-afternoon and immediately headed to the local medical centre. Her father was being tended to in a well-guarded private room. A surgeon and nurse had arrived from Toronto a short while ago and were examining her father. She waited until they were finished, then cornered the surgeon.
“I’m his daughter. I just got here. Will he be okay?” She was shaking.
The surgeon beckoned. “Come with me. I’m Dr. Hicks. And you?”
“Rebecca Bradley. I’m his only child.”
“What about his wife?”
“She died many years ago.”
Dr. Hicks nodded and led her to a deserted office. “Sit down, please. Do you know what happened?”
“Yes, I’m with the OPP,” Rebecca said. “One of my colleagues told me and I drove straight here. Please tell me how he’s doing.” She held her breath.
Dr. Hicks pursed her lips. “Not well, I’m afraid. There’s a bullet lodged right next to his heart. It’s a tricky operation, but it has to come out soon. The local medical staff made the right decision in keeping him here, although he really should be taken to a properly equipped operating theater. When the other doctors arrive, we’ll decide on whether to move him or to extract the bullet here. In the meantime, he’ll remain in critical condition. To be honest with you, his chances of survival aren’t great, but he’s strong for his age, so hopefully he’ll pull through.”
“Is he conscious? Can he talk?”
“Yes to both of your questions, but I advise against getting him to talk. Any additional stress might be enough put him under. It would help if he saw you and heard you say some soothing words — that is, if you’re on good terms.” Dr. Hicks looked at Rebecca.
Rebecca swallowed hard and hesitated. Dr. Hicks said, “I see. Not a smooth relationship. But let me ask you this — do you love your father, or at least feel great affection for him, and he for you?”
Rebecca hesitated. “Well . . . we have had issues, but I believe we love each other, even if we’ve drifted apart in the last few years.” She looked down.
“Okay. I think it would be a good thing for you to go to him. Tell him how you feel about him. Hug him gently, but don’t let him try to sit up. He’s sedated, so he’ll be drowsy, but he’ll understand what you say.”
Rebecca got to her feet with a grateful look at the doctor. Dr. Hicks accompanied her to the door of her father’s room, and Rebecca went in alone. He lay with his eyes closed.
“Dad, it’s me, Rebecca.” His eyelids fluttered and half-opened.
“Rebecca?” He spoke in a weak voice that she barely recognized. She leaned over and hugged him. When she finally straightened up, she saw something in his eyes that she hadn’t seen for a very long time — love. She took his hands in hers.
Standing in the doorway, Dr. Hicks nodded, smiling. “Stay with him for a while. He’ll go to sleep soon, and then you should leave. Let me have your phone number before you go.”
After giving the doctor her number, Rebecca remained with her father, talking softly until his eyes closed and his breathing slowed. She left the room and with a heavy heart, headed out of the clinic to meet with Sykes. She realized she wouldn’t be able to question the townsfolk about her mother while her father was at death’s door. Nor could Sykes do any public sleuthing, although she might have trouble convincing him of that. She would have to be careful about looking for whoever shot her father while Prospect was full of OPP officers and support staff. In any case, she couldn’t move far from the clinic until she was sure her father would be okay. To make matters worse, Cartwright had told her that as soon as he could, he would be coming to Prospect to oversee the investigation.
Chapter Fifty-Four
Thursday, October 4, 2007
Archie MacDougall arrived in Prospect in the early evening. He hadn’t heard that George Bradley had been shot until the middle of the afternoon, and had immediately driven north at breakneck speed.
As soon as he got into town, he found an OPP officer and asked them where he could find George. After checking his I.D., the officer escorted him to the medical centre. Archie talked to Dr. Hicks, who refused to let him see his boss, but she did brief Archie on his condition. Reluctantly, he left the centre, determined to go after whoever had shot George Bradley.
* * *
Rebecca checked into the Big Rock Hotel in the late afternoon. Sykes answered her call immediately, and asked how her father was. She told him, and said they had to lie low for the time being.
Sykes replied, “I do understand the risk, but we’ll be discreet. We can’t just sit here twiddling our thumbs.”
“I won’t do anything that might upset my father,” Rebecca said, “and I don’t want you to, either.”
“I won’t have to leave the hotel,” Sykes said. “I can do some checking from my room. I know someone in town that I can trust. I’ll call him and get him to look around for me. Your father will never hear about it.”
“Who is it? And in any case, I really can’t take any chances of being discovered prying into my father’s affairs. Not until the bullet has been safely removed.”
“Trust me, Rebecca, I can guarantee that he’ll be discreet.”
After a few more minutes spent arguing, Rebecca sighed heavily. “Alright, I’ll go along with it, but only if you tell me the rest of what you know about my father and his secret activities. I’m tired of finding things out piecemeal.”
Sykes grunted. “You’re right. It’s time I told you all I know. I’d hoped to spare you from hearing things that might upset you and put you in danger, but after what’s happened to your father, I believe you’re already in peril. So, yes, I’ll tell you, and then we should get on with our investigations. The situation is critical and we can’t lose any time.”
“What’s your room number?” Rebecca asked. “We should meet there. You can’t risk being seen, even around the hotel.”
Sykes gave her the number and she soon joined him there. He checked the hallway before shutting the door. He had positioned two chairs near a window, so that they could monitor the street.
“I suppose you don’t even want me to call down for coffee or tea,” Sykes said, wistfully.
Rebecca shook her head. “I can bring you whatever you want. You should avoid even the mention of your name around here. I know this town. People talk about strangers, and you may already have been noticed.” She parted the drapes and glanced out the window.
Sykes smiled. “Now I have my own personal room service when I need it.” His smile vanished. “But I have two things to tell you. One concerns your father, and the second is about Hound.”
Rebecca leaned forward in her chair. “I’ve been wondering what you’d discovered about him. Why are you so interested? But tell me about my father first.”
“Their lives are somehow connected,” Sykes said, “although they’ve never met, as far as I know.”
Rebecca was reminded of how she’d felt during the McBride investigation — that she and Hound were linked in some way.
Sykes watched her with a curious expression on his face. He drew in a deep breath, and said, “Concerning your father. Actually, it’s about your father and Archie. For many years, they’ve been assembling a large collection of gold artifacts, especially those related to the Catholic Church. Your father, as you know, is obsessed with gold, but not just any gold. He seems to crave ancient gold. I noticed this when I worked for him, and I tried to question Archie about it, but he froze me out. Archie was clearly a collaborator in the venture, not just a company employee.”
Sykes stared into Rebecca’s eyes. “I believe your mother’s death was connected to their venture, which is most likely illegal.”
Rebecca realized her mouth had fallen open. “Why don’t I know about the artifacts? I lived with my father for close to twenty years and I never saw any sign of such a thing. Are you sure?”
“Absolutely, Rebecca. I’ve seen some of the artifacts myself. I’ve tried to find out where they are being stored, but Archie and your father have hidden them well. And then your father got wise to my investigation. That’s one of the reasons behind our falling out. The other you already know about — your mother, of course. Sarah discovered what your father was up to. She was a devout Catholic, and she was threatening to tell the local priest.”
“Go on,” Rebecca urged. “Tell me what you suspect.” Her hands were shaking.
Sykes gave a deep sigh. “I believe that your father killed Sarah. Or Archie may possibly have done it for him, which is difficult to fathom, because he and Sarah were old friends.” He gazed off into the distance. “I prefer to believe that your father did it. I know Archie well, and I just don’t see him killing Sarah. He’s a tough man, but he has his own moral code, and it doesn’t include killing innocent people. Your father, on the other hand, is capable of just about anything, in my view. I’m sorry to have to tell you that.”
Rebecca almost fell off her chair. She and her father had just reconciled. She had seen the love in his eyes. She couldn’t believe that her father had murdered her mother, or that he’d ordered Archie to do it. There must be another answer. But that left Maggie as the only suspect, which was just as unthinkable as her father and Archie being murderers.
She took hold of Sykes’s hands. “There’s something wrong with your thinking. There has to be.”
She and Sykes glanced out the window and caught sight of Archie MacDougall heading into the hotel.
Rebecca leapt to her feet and dashed from the room. It was time that Archie revealed all of his secrets. And with her father near death, it might just be possible to get him to tell her.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Saturday, October 6, 2007
Matthew called a halt well before their late-afternoon break. He whispered, “We must be close to Jackie by now. There’s plenty of black spruce, balsam fir and jack pine in the tree mix. She won’t have gone much further before settling in.”
Hound gazed around him. It was about mid-afternoon and the shadows were starting to lengthen. Before long, the forest would be dark, and the crescent moon wouldn’t provide much light.
“I guess we should camp here, then, and go after her in the morning,” Hound said.
Matthew shook his head. “No, Hound, what we do now is find some high ground and climb a tall tree from where we can spot a fire — that is, if Jackie makes one. It’s going to be chilly tonight and she just might chance it. We haven’t seen a soul all day. Jackie might feel safe here.”
“If we do catch sight of a fire, then what?” Hound said, suddenly nervous.
“We go after her,” Matthew stated.
“Bait,” Hound muttered to himself. This might be his last night on earth, and
he felt utterly unprepared. He’d faced death before, but that had been in the heat of the moment. What is more, no one but Jackie would know about it. He glanced at Matthew closely. He looked excited. But Matthew lived for the hunt.
* * *
Jackie Caldwell returned to her campsite in the late afternoon. She was pleased with the location, but was beginning to realize that living in the wilds wasn’t going to be as easy as she’d thought. Already, she was feeling lonely. She missed her mother and Cora, and the feeling of being loved.
She surveyed her new abode, which she intended to make permanent if things turned out as she hoped. But the more she thought about living here, the greater her distress grew over finding all the things she would need to survive the winter. She hadn’t given enough consideration to practicalities, such as a latrine and how to dispose of waste. Among other things, she would need to find ways to amuse herself. Living permanently in the wilderness was a whole lot different to spending a week or two in it.
Realizing that darkness would fall before long, Jackie turned her mind to gathering kindling and dry wood for a fire. She was famished and needed to keep strong if she were to survive the winter. And before long, she would need to make a trip to an inhabited area to steal some of the things she hadn’t thought about till now. That would be dangerous, but she didn’t really have a choice.
* * *
With Hound tramping somberly in his wake, Matthew climbed a steep rise which gave them a panoramic view of the surrounding forest. As he slogged along, Hound wondered about this word ‘Odaki.’ Did Jackie really possess some sort of mysterious force? If so, there was nothing he and Matthew could do. When they reached the apex, he couldn’t contain his angst anymore. “Matthew,” he panted. “Tell me more about what an Odaki is. What is this power that Jackie’s supposed to possess?”
Matthew stroked his chin reflectively.
“An Odaki’s greatest power is fear, which I can see is having a significant effect on you at this moment.” He smiled. “Ignore it, Hound. There are no supernatural powers at work here. Jackie doesn’t need them. She’s a formidable woman, but she has no magical powers that I’m aware of. She is deranged, however, and that makes her extremely dangerous. Do not hesitate to immobilize her, knock her unconscious if you have to.”