by J C Paulson
“For Delacroix, Dunlop and the pregnancy sent him over the edge. He killed the dog, left his body as a message. When he got to Sherry’s later, someone had already attacked her: Ashley Dunlop. Sherry was woozy, maybe semi-conscious; it may have been partly why he stabbed her again and again. He had to get her attention, so she knew this was him, killing her.
“That, and this betrayal was personal. It wasn’t just any woman who didn’t come up to his exacting standards. No woman could, of course.”
“He met Alexis Ironstand at the dental clinic?”
“Yes, he was still a patient at Dunlop Dentistry at the time. He stopped going when he discovered Sherry had been hired there. He probably knew, somewhere in his twisted mind, he was going to kill her, and didn’t need the connection with the clinic.”
“And Emily?”
“Stalked her at one those parties planned by Shawn Hartz. He stalked the first victim, too. Damn, I wish I could charge that Hartz asshole with something. If you come up with an idea, I’m listening.”
“I’ll think about it.”
*****
Adam and Chief McIvor held a news conference that went on for an hour and a half, providing details on the case. They asked the families of Alexis Ironstand and Emily Martin if they would like to make statements, to honour their memories. They invited Suzanne Genereux and Eileen Bear.
Alexis’s aunt, Carrie Ironstand, described her niece as a beautiful, intelligent, outgoing woman who was studying education at the University of Saskatchewan. Tears poured down her face as she told the media how dearly Alexis was loved.
“Alex came down from North Battleford to study at the U of S. She was smart, determined, wonderful with little children,” said Carrie. “Now she will never be a teacher, will never have her own little children, will never have this life she worked so hard for.”
Emily Martin’s mother, Doreen, clutched a stuffed animal that had belonged to her daughter — so young was Emily, she still had her childhood toys. Doreen could barely speak, but choked out how proud she was Emily was going to business school, how beautiful she was, how much she was missed.
Suzanne stood up and hugged both women, tears raining down her cheeks.
She cleared her throat, but didn’t wipe away the tears. And spoke.
“I survived,” she began. “I am very fortunate. I am part of this community, and have been for many years. I have wonderful friends who looked after me, who saved my life. I have a small business and make enough money. I have a wonderful dog, who also helped save me,” she added, pointing to Bruno, who was there because Suzanne was going nowhere without him, not even a news conference.
“I once had a fiancé who loved me enough to teach me how to protect myself. I am lucky, and privileged. I would not have survived if all of these things did not come together.
“Three of the women who were killed came from other backgrounds, they came from other communities. They were trying to live their lives here, to improve their lives here, but they were more vulnerable than I. They didn’t have the connections, the friends, the network. This man took advantage of them, in anger and fear and, I think, misery. He took their lives.
“I don’t know if he could have been helped. I don’t care, I hate him so much. But we all have to support each other. I should have helped my neighbour more. I tried, but it wasn’t enough. I have to live with that for the rest of my life.”
Completely devastated, Suzanne grabbed Bruno’s leash and stumbled away from the news conference table. Lorne, standing at the side, did not give a damn what people thought, including the chief. He grabbed Suzanne as she stepped away and held her hard, as she wept in his arms.
Elder Eileen Bear walked over to Suzanne, gently touched her shoulder for a long moment, and went to the microphone.
“It is a terrible day,” said Bear. “We mourn all our sisters. The broken bodies, the broken families, the broken lives. We ask the Creator to take care of them in the other world. We ask for peace and healing to come to their loved ones.
“In this world, however, we ask the government, the police services, and the educational agencies to change their policies. To follow the missing women, and the men. To create safe places and institutions of cultural understanding. It is time.
“I leave you with an ancient blessing: Let us walk safely on the Earth with all living beings, great and small.”
Adam feared he wouldn’t be able to speak. He thought of his mother, fighting an intruder in her kitchen so many years ago. He thought of Grace, battling an attacker in her home that spring, and in a park as a budding woman. He thought of the young, beautiful women whose lives were cut short.
When he did speak, his voice was raw and low.
“This killer is now in prison and he will never leave,” said Adam, knowing the public needed reassurance. “Our evidence is beyond question.
“We may have done our jobs, but it wasn’t good enough. We lost these women. I don’t know how we can stop the violence, but in my department, we are going to change things.
“We are going to look closely at every single missing person’s case the moment it comes in, and compare those cases to other crimes in the Saskatoon area. We will have a missing persons co-ordinator, who will cross-reference their files with other police services.
“We are going to find and train and hire more Indigenous police officers as detectives, who will bring cultural understanding to our investigations. We will meet with Elders, particularly women Elders, on a regular basis.”
Chief McIvor found himself nodding as Adam spoke. But Inspector Terry Pearson, standing nearby with his arms crossed, made an unpleasant snorting noise. Every head in the room turned. McIvor shot him a look that would wilt an iron bar; Adam ignored him.
“This was the worst case I have ever worked on,” continued Adam. “Elder Bear called it our River of Tears. And it was.”
Grace was at the back of the room, taking in the words and weeping for the families, for her dear friend, and for her ferocious lover.
*****
“Pearson,” said Chief McIvor after the news conference. “In my office.”
Pearson gave the chief a “who, me?” look and followed him down the hall with an annoyingly nonchalant swagger.
“Sit down,” said McIvor, shutting the door behind the inspector.
“What’s up, Chief?” asked Pearson.
“What was that about, at the newser?” asked McIvor.
“What?”
“The snort.”
“Fucking Davis. He’s such a cry baby. ‘We’re going to change things and everything is going to be okay.’ Right. Nothing’s going to change, and you know it, McIvor.”
“Actually, Pearson, everything is changing. We have a long way to go, but we’re making some progress. And you have to get with the program. I also found your name on a certain list, Pearson. Some parties you’ve been invited to. So cut the shit, do your sensitivity training, and get your act together.”
“Or what?”
“You’re gone. I have to give you this one last warning, Pearson. Figure it out, or you’re outta here.”
Pearson nodded, smirked, got up and left.
“Fucking Davis,” he muttered later to a colleague. “I’ll get him for this.”
*****
“Grace.”
“Yes, Adam.”
“I want to go home to the farm for a few days over the long weekend.”
It was the end of August. The hot summer had ripened the canola early, and James Davis was ready to take it off on the Labour Day weekend. Adam, God knew, needed a break, or at least a change of scene.
“Harvest time, Adam?”
“Yes. Will you come with me?”
Grace was stunned. That would mean meeting his family. She swallowed.
“If I can get the Friday off, I would love to come with you.”
Mark gave Grace the day off. Thursday night, she was packing and talking to Suzanne on speaker phone at the sa
me time.
“How are you feeling?” Grace asked her.
“I feel fine, chère amie. Physically, at least.”
“How is Bruno?” Grace felt the grip of her contracting heart. If Bruno had died, it would have been her fault. Still, Bruno, as part of Suzanne’s circle, had saved her life. Grace knew she would do the same thing again. And again.
“A little limpy. He’s fine, Grace. And, ma belle, I understand. You were trying to find me, and you saved my life,” said Suzanne, a catch in her voice. “I love you.”
“Oh, Suzé. I don’t know what I would have done without you, my dear friend.”
Grace had to stop talking for a moment. Her voice wouldn’t work, as she contemplated the worst. She cleared her throat.
“And with Lorne?” she croaked. “All is well?”
“All is more than well. And you? And Adam?”
Grace paused. He had been angry, torn to shreds over the murdered women’s case; distracted, dreaming, distant. He wouldn’t spend the night, worried that he would hurt Grace again in his agitated state. Adam was constantly wondering where to go, what to do next, to find the other women Delacroix had killed.
Grace missed him horribly. She had to find some way to break through those damned dreams, once and for all. She had made an appointment to confer with a psychologist, but it was still a week away.
“I’m fine,” she said eventually, then decided not to deflect anymore. “No, I’m not. Adam is having some trouble accepting what happened in this case, and is working hard on trying to get the new co-ordinator’s position established. I’m worried about him, Suzanne. I hope I can help him. But it might take some time.”
“You’re leaving tomorrow?”
“Yes, in the morning.”
“Perhaps being home will help him. I send you good luck for Adam, and for meeting the family, mon amie. But I feel it will be très bien.”
Please, God, let her be right, Grace begged.
Chapter Thirty-five
Adam and Grace pulled up to his parents’ home in his truck, a vehicle Grace did not know he owned. She was used to the old BMW, but here he was in a massive half ton. It was a small indication that there were still so many things to learn about Adam Davis.
Grace took a deep breath, and hopped down from the running board. Nervous didn’t begin to describe how she was feeling.
“Grace,” said Adam. “They will love you. Especially Mom.”
Even so, he was showing evidence of a few nerves himself. Several times during the trip, he had dragged a hand through his hair.
He tugged their bags out of the back seat, and they walked up to the house. Elizabeth Davis was standing on the porch, arms outstretched.
“My bonny boy,” she said, with a hint of rich Scottish accent, and took her big son into her arms. Grace was surprised again; she hadn’t realized Elizabeth was an immigrant.
Then she turned to Grace, standing quietly beside Adam, and gathered her in her arms.
“Grace,” Elizabeth said. Grace could hear the emotion in her voice, and hugged her back. “Ye’re the most welcome sight of my life, after my own two babes and grandbabes. Come in.”
Grace couldn’t see Adam, who stood behind her; but his mother could, and in her son’s face she read that this woman, the first he had brought to meet her, was without question the one. The only one.
They went together into the farmhouse kitchen, and a second later Adam’s sister flew at him with her arms wide. Behind her, two little boys hopped with excitement, waiting for their uncle to notice them.
“Jen,” he said to his sister. “God, it’s been too long.”
Then he turned to the boys, crouched down and opened his arms. “Matt. Alex. Come here.”
“Uncle Adam! Uncle Adam!” they squealed and threw themselves at him, in an effort to knock him onto the floor — which he allowed them to do. It was clearly a ritual.
The squirming mass of boys and man bonding was beautiful to Grace, who saw yet another side of Adam in the melee of mutual adoration.
Jen turned to Grace. “Hug?” she asked, opening her arms again.
“Yes. Hello, Jen,” said Grace, embracing Adam’s sister.
Elizabeth broke in to say Adam’s father and brother-in-law would be back in from combining soon, and lunch would be in half an hour.
“Can I help?” asked Grace.
“No. Jen and I will manage. You two get settled in. Off you go, now,” said Elizabeth.
Adam disentangled himself from his nephews on the promise of future roughhousing. He picked up the bags again, and inclined his head toward the staircase.
“This way, Grace.”
Up they went to Adam’s childhood room, now furnished with a queen-size bed and decorated for guests rather than a boy. Grace didn’t know what to say to Adam, overwhelmed as she was by meeting his family.
“Grace. Are you all right? It’s a lot, I know.”
“I’m fine. I think. They’re all so . . . warm. I’m a little blown away.”
Adam hugged her. “I’m sorry, Babe. I’ve been far away. But the case is now in Sanj’s hands, and I hope I can move on, for now. I’m so glad you’re here.”
“I’m glad to be here.”
Grace put her arms around him. She craved him; they hadn’t slept together for too long. She hoped they could move on, too.
By the time they returned to the kitchen for lunch, Adam’s father, James, and Jen’s husband, Richard Ashton, had come in. There were more hugs, and much catching up over the big, protein-heavy farm meal. Grace watched and listened, answering the questions that came her way.
Yes, she was a reporter. Yes, she was from Saskatoon. Yes, she, too, was very glad Adam had found that serial killer.
But after lunch, Grace had to let Adam go, and her heart hurt. She felt they had started to pull back together, and now he was off to harvest.
“Later, Babe. Here we go,” he said, kissing her.
“Later, Adam.”
Grace insisted on helping with the dishes, and stood in front of the kitchen window watching the men walk across the yard, toward the farm machinery. Fascinated by seeing Adam in his first milieu, she continued to watch as he swung himself up with one arm into the cab of the combine, so easily. He was so strong. He was so sexy. Was he hers? He’d been so distracted. Was there room in his mind and heart for her? Could they find help with the nightmares, now that this case was over?
Jen was watching her own man. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” she said, noting the expression on Grace’s face.
Grace turned to Jen, recognizing a sister who understood, if ever there was one.
“Yes. Very.”
“We’ll miss them today. But we’ll be back together at dinner.”
After the dishes were done, Elizabeth suggested they go out to the porch and chat. Seconds later, Matt and Alex (“Matthew Richard James and Alexander Adam McAlister,” Jen had told Grace) came tearing outside, apparently to check out this new person in their uncle’s life.
Matt was seven and Alex five, and both were vibrating with curiosity. They stood before Grace, questions leaping from their lips. After a few minutes, Matthew asked, “Are you our Auntie Grace?”
Grace thought she would die, although Jen laughed.
“That will do, Matthew,” she admonished him. “Let poor Grace catch her breath, now. Off you go. Both of you. Go and play.”
After they scooted away into the yard, Jen turned to Grace.
“I’m sorry, Grace. They’re just wee boys. It means they like you, for what it’s worth.”
“I like them, too.”
“Do you have an answer for them?” Jen asked, hopefully.
“Not . . . really, no.”
Elizabeth leaned over and patted Grace’s hand. What could she say? If Adam hadn’t declared his intentions, she certainly couldn’t. She changed the subject, and the afternoon rolled along as the women talked and learned about each other.
*****
Finally, it was six o’clock. Normally, the men wouldn’t be coming in yet, but it was a special occasion: they were all together.
Dinner was in the oven, and Grace was doing a few more dishes, getting them out of the way before the meal. She saw Adam striding across the yard, and her heart lurched.
Before he could reach the porch, a white SUV sped into the yard. It stopped a few metres from Adam, and a curvy woman threw open the door and launched herself out of it. She was heavily made up, with big blonde hair, and she wore expensive city clothes.
She marched up to Adam, threw her arms around him and kissed him as if she wanted to devour him. Grace saw his hands go down to her waist, and her head instantly spun in a whirl of disbelief. With a little cry, she turned away from the sink, flung herself out of the kitchen and flew out the back door.
“What the . . . Grace? What’s wrong? Are you all right?” Jen called, then looked out the window herself.
“Hell. Jilly,” she said to her mother.
“Oh, no,” said Elizabeth. “Go after Grace. Hurry.”
Jen turned and ran. But Grace, fleet as a cheetah, had a minute on her; and by the time Jen hit the back porch, there was no sign of her.
“Grace!” she called. “Grace! Come back! It’s not what you think!”
No answer. Jen swore again, and went back into the house.
Adam was still in the yard, by now talking with Jilly. Jen leaned out and yelled at her brother, “Adam! I need you. Can you come inside? It’s important. Hi, Jilly,” she added.
“On my way. One minute,” said Adam.
“Adam. Now, please, if you can.”
Adam was nonplussed. He wondered what the hell was so important; or maybe his sister was trying to save him from this woman? Jen knew the trouble Adam had had with her over the years.
“Jilly. I have to go. This can never happen again, okay? I’m with someone. I’m . . .” he wanted to say, I’m in love with someone. But he hadn’t told that someone yet. It was only right she should hear it first.