Broken Through

by J C Paulson

  Needing some companionship, she eventually found Bruno and started to regain a little joy in life. But she had repelled every advance from every man. She wasn’t sure she could ever be with anyone other than Leo.

  “Well,” Grace said, vaguely, “thank goodness the tow truck turned up. How long will you be at the farm, do you think?”

  “I don’t know yet. I might stay a week. Papa will bring me in to deal with the car when I have to on Thursday or Friday.”

  “Be sure to text me, Suzé. Tell me what’s happening, and when you go in to pick up the car.”

  “Of course. When do you leave for California?”

  “Thursday, early in the morning. It’d be great if you’d stay at the farm until we get back, Suzanne.”

  “Don’t worry about me. Have a wonderful time with your Adam.”

  *****

  Adam called James and Charlotte at four-thirty sharp, and the video conferencing equipment was actually working. James was getting the hang of dealing with its fits and hiccups.

  “James. Char. What’s up? Sounds like you’ve got something,” said Adam.

  “A couple of things,” said Charlotte. “One could be huge. It turns out Sherry Hilliard had an affair with one of the clinic dentists, Don Dunlop. Guess what kind of a sporty car he drives.”

  “A Porsche. Or a Mercedes.”

  “Right on the first one,” said Charlotte. “How do you do that? And what else?”

  “Two cars? Don’t tell me the other one is a black SUV.”

  She nodded vigorously. “Hot little sporty car in the summer, big black SUV in winter or for fun, like golf, apparently. He appears to know how to match the vehicle to the season and the reason, if nothing else.”

  “Who did you get this from?” Adam asked.

  “A co-worker of the victim, Carol Hall, also a dental hygienist. She saw Sherry get into Dunlop’s car when she was late leaving the office one night, a few months ago. She braced Sherry on it, and Sherry admitted she was having sex with Dunlop. Carol told her to cut it out, and apparently Sherry did break it off some time ago. And, she had a drinking problem. Carol Hall says she quit drinking maybe three or four months ago, and was doing pretty well.”

  “We had the same information out of an early interview with the family,” James put in. “Winnipeg police chatted with her mother, although briefly so far. She was upset, of course, but managed to answer some usual questions about boyfriends, lifestyle and so on. She said she didn’t know much about her recent romantic life; and she also thought she quit drinking a while ago.”

  “What do you want to do, Adam?” asked Charlotte. “Do you want us to pick him up right away?”

  “Does he know you talked to Carol?”

  “He knows I have her phone numbers, yes. I don’t think he knows I’ve talked to her yet, but he might assume so.”

  “You met him, Char. Do you think he could be Sherry’s killer?”

  Charlotte thought for a moment.

  “Honestly, no gut feeling. Looks bad, but it’s certainly circumstantial. Saskatoon is rotten with big black vehicles. He’s arrogant, but that doesn’t make him the killer. We have to find out what kind of an SUV he drives, if it has the premium paint we picked off the Smart Car, or if it’s domestic. I doubt it, though, considering his bank account and his other car. There’s enough to ask him about, for sure.”

  “Do you think Carol Hall is in any kind of danger, or trouble?” Adam asked.

  “She knows she would get fired for what she told me. She’s going to quit first. So yes, she’s in trouble. In danger, though, I don’t know.”

  Christ, Adam thought; how many women were the police going to have to try to protect? In the spring, it was Grace and Lacey. Now it might be Suzanne and Carol Hall. But in the final analysis, they had to protect all women, and how was that done?

  “The affair with the victim and the black vehicle give us more than enough to talk to him. Did he tell you anything at all this afternoon, Char?”

  “He did say her patients liked her and often asked for her. She was gentle with the cleanings. But he didn’t seem overly pleased I was there, and encouraged me to keep it short.”

  “I love him already. Pick him up. Let’s see what he says about the affair, and let’s get a look at his car. Anything else I should know?”

  “Not much else,” said James. “We’re piecing together the bio on the victim. We’ve set up an interview with one of the cold case women who survived her attack. And Suzanne Genereux is at her parents’ farm.”

  “Great progress. Text me later with an update and we can decide if we need another conference or phone call.”

  “You bet, Adam. Later.”

  James pulled the plug on the conferencing equipment. Then he and Charlotte prepared to go find Dunlop. And his car.

  *****

  James and Charlotte hopped into a cruiser and drove south, to an elegant, expensive neighbourhood not too far outside the city, where huge homes spread their square footage over multi-acre lots.

  At their knock, an equally elegant and expensively-dressed woman answered the door.

  “Can I help you?” she asked.

  “Police. Are you Mrs. Dunlop?” asked Charlotte, producing her badge. The woman nodded.

  “Is Dr. Dunlop at home, please?”

  “No, he is not. What is this regarding?”

  “We have a few questions for him about his former employee, who was killed four days ago. When do you expect him?”

  “I’m not sure,” she answered. “Perhaps if you leave your card?”

  Charlotte produced it. “Does he have a cellphone with him?”

  “Yes. He doesn’t like me to share the number, however.”

  “He’ll have to make an exception in this case,” said James.

  The woman hesitated. Was there a tiny snap of fear in her eyes? Or just annoyance?

  “All right. I’ll give you the number,” she said, and did so. “But he often doesn’t answer if he’s busy.”

  “Do you know where he is, Mrs. Dunlop?”

  “I believe he is golfing. I’m not sure which course he’s on today. He often golfs the Willows and Riverside, but he also has friends at the Saskatoon East course. He didn’t say.”

  “Does your husband drive a black SUV, Mrs. Dunlop?” asked Charlotte.

  “Yes. Along with other vehicles.”

  “What make and model?”

  “Why is that relevant?”

  “Please answer the question, Mrs. Dunlop.”

  “It’s a Porsche Cayenne, if you must know. Don has a particular liking for Porsches.”

  “A newer model?”

  “Yes. About two years old. Anything else I can do for you?”

  “Is the vehicle here?”

  “No. He takes it when he goes golfing.”

  “Please give Dr. Dunlop my card when he returns,” said Charlotte. James also handed his over. “He can call either of us. As soon as possible. Thank you, Mrs. Dunlop.”

  The dentist’s icy, beautiful wife said nothing. She slammed the door and went inside.

  As they returned to the police car, James texted Adam while Charlotte tried Dunlop’s phone, getting no answer.

  They got on their phones and called every golf course in town, starting with the three most exclusive ones. Don Dunlop was not on course at any of them, nor was there an upcoming tee time with his name on it.

  “Where is he, do you think?” asked Charlotte.

  “In bed with another woman,” said James. “Guaranteed.”

  “He’s going to be a little hard to find, then.”

  “Yup.”

  *****

  “I’m thinking of getting a dog,” Grace told Adam in the evening, during their daily phone call.

  “What kind of a dog?”

  “A big dog. Extremely big. The kind that looks silly galumphing after butterflies in farm gardens.”

  “What made you think of that?”

  “Bruno. H
e stole my heart today. He looked so alarmed, so miserable and so funny crammed into Suzanne’s car. Then, when he got to the farm, he lost his mind with joy, being outside and free, chasing bugs in the garden. Suzanne described it to me. I’m so grateful she has him.”

  Adam’s voice changed.

  “Grace. Having a dog, especially when you’re a woman living alone, is a great idea. But as the Sherry Hilliard case shows, it’s not foolproof, either.”

  “I wasn’t thinking safety,” said Grace. “I was thinking companionship, hilarity and possibly adoration. Adam, what’s bothering you?”

  He made a restless noise.

  “Did you know there are eight missing, possibly murdered, women in Saskatoon, and a bundle of cold files? You’d hope having a dog helps, or an alarm system. And I suppose they do help, but it’s not the whole answer, as the death of the victim’s dog shows.”

  Oh no, thought Grace. He sounds so frustrated, so angry about this case. And he’s so far away.

  “There’s a lot more going on than I know about, than you can tell me, isn’t there?” she asked.

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “I hope I can distract you from this case for a few days.”

  “I know it.”

  “I hope you’re taking care of yourself. I . . . I worry about your dreams. I want to be there if it happens. Please do something relaxing, or fun or . . . or something.”

  “I’ll be fine. Grace, I want you. Two more days.”

  *****

  Adam was not fine.

  The heat was so oppressive, Adam decided to go for a swim in the hotel pool instead of his usual run, trying to exhaust himself. He felt a demon rising, and he wanted to kill it, or at least subdue it, before it attacked.

  He dove in, stroking to the end. Turn. Stroke. Turn. Stroke. Long arms and legs smoothly dividing the cool water. Adam tried to concentrate on his movements, instead of the fear in his brain.

  But Adam awakened at the usual time in the dark hours, sweating and crying out. The victim in his dream was not Sherry Hilliard, bled white in her rain-soaked basement. And, unlike so many dreams in his past, it wasn’t himself, either. It was, of course, Grace.

  Heart pounding, Adam got out of bed and went to the hotel room window. He stared at the churning, simmering city below, then suddenly slammed his open hand against the window.

  He was not just angry about the fucking nightmares but craving Grace, wanting hard, dying to feel her body in his arms and to reassure himself she was fine. What the hell was going on back home?

  He wasn’t going to let her out of his sight, or possibly out of bed, for four days.

  He pressed his aching, naked body against the air-chilled window and closed his eyes against the city.

  Chapter Eleven

  Saskatoon sweltered, day after day, in thirty degrees Celsius and north of that. The heat wasn’t doing Don Dunlop any favours. He appeared at the police station before seven in the morning with dark bags under his eyes, slightly rumpled shirt under his expensive suit and hair badly needing a wash. Sweat slipped stickily from his temples and down his cheeks.

  “I’m here to see Charlotte Warkentin and James Weatherall,” said Dunlop to the front desk sergeant, reading the names from the officers’ cards.

  “One moment, sir. I’ll call Constable Warkentin. Have a seat.”

  Charlotte peered through a one-way window at Dunlop, curious about the state he appeared to be in. He looked pretty awful. But he must have made it home, at some point: he had the cards they had given his wife in his hand.

  She allowed herself a grin. Things were likely not harmonious in elegant south Saskatoon last night. Make that early this morning. Charlotte went out to meet him.

  “Good morning, Dr. Dunlop,” she said, offering her hand. “Thank you for coming down.”

  “Good morning, Constable.”

  “Follow me, please, sir. We’ll go down to the interview room. Coffee?”

  “Yes. Black. Thanks.”

  If anyone had ever looked like he needed coffee, it was Dunlop. Had he been up all night? Charlotte asked another officer to get the coffee, then ushered Dunlop into the little room. The phone rang immediately; it was Adam, who was conferencing in on the interview.

  Charlotte turned on the recorder. “This is an interview with Dr. Donald Dunlop, dentist. In attendance are Adam Davis, detective sergeant, Charlotte Warkentin and James Weatherall, detective constables. Detective Sergeant Davis is on the call by telephone. Dr. Dunlop, thank you for coming in.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said, a bit faintly.

  “We have some further questions regarding the death of Sherry Hilliard, Dr. Dunlop,” Adam began. “I’d like to start with your relationship to the victim. Did you have a relationship outside the office with Ms. Hilliard?”

  Dunlop paused.

  “No,” he said.

  “We have evidence you indeed had a relationship with Ms. Hilliard and it was intimate in nature,” said Charlotte.

  Dunlop turned red and pushed himself out of his chair. “Who the fuck told you that?”

  “Sit down, Doctor,” said James, leaping up and confronting the doctor, nose to nose. “And calm down while you’re at it.”

  Dunlop sat, his bloodshot eyes darting between the two officers. He drew his hand across his forehead, beaded with moisture.

  “Please answer the question again, Dr. Dunlop. Did you have an intimate relationship with Sherry Hilliard?”

  Dunlop looked down at his shaking hands and nodded his head, once.

  “I’m sorry, Doctor. We need you to say it out loud for the recording.”

  “Yes. Yes. I did.”

  “When did you have this relationship? Were you engaged in it when Ms. Hilliard died?”

  “No. It was several months ago.”

  “Can you be more exact?”

  “About three and a half months ago, I think.”

  The timeline coincided more or less with Sherry giving up drinking.

  “Did you break it off, or did she?”

  “She did,” said Dunlop.

  “Why? What reason did she give?”

  “She said she didn’t want to be involved with a married man any more, and she regretted the whole thing.”

  “Was she drinking when you were involved with her?”

  “Yes.”

  “Were you angry she broke it off, Dr. Dunlop?” asked Adam.

  “I don’t know. I guess I was. More of a blow to the ego than anything.”

  “Do you drive a black Porsche Cayenne, sir?”

  “Yes,” said Dunlop, drawing out the word. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “May we see the vehicle? Where is it now?”

  “It’s in the shop for servicing.”

  Charlotte and James exchanged looks. They could hear a slight indrawn breath from Adam over the conference line.

  “Your wife told us you had taken it with you yesterday, when you went golfing,” said Charlotte.

  “It’s a loaner.”

  “Did your wife know?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe I mentioned it to her. I don’t recall.”

  “You weren’t golfing yesterday evening, Dr. Dunlop,” Adam cut in, icily. It wasn’t a question.

  “Of course I was.”

  “Which course?”

  “The Willows.”

  “Unless you used an alias and wore a mask, sir, you were not.”

  “I was booked under a friend’s name.”

  “No, you weren’t. The pro shop staff knows you well. You were not at The Willows. Nor at any other course in the city. Did you think we wouldn’t check?”

  Dunlop did not reply. He sat rigidly, blood rising under his collar and suffusing his face. Finally, he said, “I had an appointment. A private appointment.”

  “With the successor to Sherry Hilliard?” asked Adam.

  Another long pause. Then a nod.

  “Sir, I must remind you to please answer the
questions out loud,” said Charlotte.

  “Yes.”

  “Who is she?”

  “I’m not answering that question.”

  “Where is your Cayenne, Dr. Dunlop?” Adam asked.

  “I told you, in the shop.”

  “Which shop?”

  “Why is this important?” asked Dunlop.

  “Answer the question, sir.”

  “No. I’m done here. I’m calling my lawyer.”

  Adam figured that was coming. Dunlop was, if nothing else, engaged in successive extra-marital affairs, and was undoubtedly freaking out about them coming to light. It was even more interesting that Dunlop decided to call his lawyer after questions about his SUV.

  “All right. Dr. Dunlop, please call your lawyer and ask him to set up a convenient time to continue this interview.”

  They couldn’t arrest the man, but he was suspect number one right now.

  The only one, right now.

  *****

  Suzanne’s cellphone rang while she was sitting at her parents’ kitchen table, sweating and drinking coffee with her mother. Her father was out on the land, checking the canola for pests.

  “It’s Suzanne,” she answered.

  “Ms. Genereux? It’s Dustin here from Luxury Motors.”

  “Hello, Dustin. Do you have a verdict on my poor car?”

  “I’m afraid so. It looks like there was some diesel fuel in your gas tank. It happens. Some people get distracted and don’t notice they’re putting in diesel instead of gasoline. Or I guess it could’ve been a gas jockey. Anyway, I’m afraid you’ll need some work done.”

  Suzanne sighed. How could she have done such a stupid thing? When was the last time she filled up? She couldn’t recall, off hand. Suzanne didn’t drive very much. She worked from home and often walked to Broadway Avenue to do her shopping, so she used the car maybe a few times a week.