“Martha is trying to talk me out of it.”
She glanced over at the passenger seat. “Talk you out of what?”
“Identifying the bodies myself.”
“Do you want me to identify them instead?”
He shook his head decidedly. “I want to see the wounds myself. I want to see what they did to them, and I can’t have someone else do that.”
Her father’s condition frightened her; she had never seen him so broken up. As a doctor, he never lost control. She wanted to tell him that she was happy about an expert forensic doctor coming in from outside. She saw that as a sign that the whole thing was being taken seriously. Whatou Lake didn’t have the right personnel for such a crime.
She would have liked to ask her father many questions: What happened? Who could have done such a thing? What had happened over the last couple of weeks? Why Hank? Why the children? And where could Fran be? But she was afraid that if she asked, she would no longer be able to concentrate on the driving.
They left the last houses of Whatou Lake behind them. The valley where the town lay was nothing more than a broad cut through a sea of trees, which climbed far up the sides of the mountains. Hundreds of kilometers of virgin forest in every direction. The border of this green sea crept slowly up to the cleared fields of the plateau, as if it wanted to swallow them right back up again.
Whatou Lake was known for having the third-highest waterfall in Canada and for the many grizzly bears in the area. The people in this valley often wondered whether the forest protected them or if it was a tremendous enemy against which they had to defend the small cleared piece of earth on which they lived. The Sitklat’l, on the other hand, saw the coastal forest as a universe whose inner life was unknown to the white settlers. Spirits with life-giving powers lived there.
After three kilometers Tessa turned off the highway onto an unpaved road that led to her parents’ house. Patches of snow were still lying around on the grassy fields, although it was already June. In Vancouver people were already swimming in the Pacific. Three weeks earlier, Tessa had also dived into the ocean. She was a strong swimmer who, as a teenager, had already qualified for the provincials. Her mother had lovingly named her “My wild one,” but with a nervous undertone. She had always complained about not knowing what her lively daughter might do next.
An imposing log house appeared not far from the edge of the forest. Kenneth Griffins had bought it three decades earlier from a local businessman whose wife no longer liked the rustic style of the house.
“Welcome home,” he said.
Tessa tensed up inside. She hadn’t been here for two years, and nothing had changed. Mother’s painted wooden sculptures still decorated the terrace on the south side near the massive stone chimney, which dominated the facade. There were covered stairs on the right-hand side of the house, which led to the main door. Stuck in the grass was a carved lacquered sign with the image of a moose and the name of the owners: The Griffins Family.
Tessa turned off the car and got out. A small wiry woman hurried out of the house, and a surge of affection swept over Tessa. Without saying a word, she embraced her mother and didn’t want to let her go. The lump in her throat got bigger.
Somebody called out: “Can I help you with the luggage?“ Tessa recognized the voice immediately. Her mother freed herself from the embrace. Her face was wet with tears. “Savannah is here.”
Tessa didn’t say anything, but her mother knew that she was less than delighted. “She’s cooking and also doing the shopping for us,” she whispered.
“That’s good,” Tessa answered.
Like Fran, Savannah was a foster child who had been taken in by the family. Of all the dozen foster children for whom her mother had served as a substitute parent, Tessa liked her the least. Savannah had been a possessive child, clinging to Martha Griffins and constantly telling on the others. This was especially true of Tessa, who had never forgiven her. She held grudges and didn’t try to conceal them.
Savannah came up to her. “Hi, Tessa,” she said.
“Hi, Savannah,” Tessa answered as politely as she could.
“You look so . . . different.” Savannah made a face.
Tessa knew right away what she meant. Her slightly asymmetrical new hairdo with the reddish tint. Daring and modern. She also now had pierced ears and wore tiny diamond studs. She outlined her hazelnut-brown eyes with black eyeliner.
Savannah, two years younger than Tessa and one year younger than Fran, had started wearing tons of makeup as a young teenager, as well as scandalous tank tops and miniskirts. As far as Tessa could remember, her mother had always turned a blind eye when it came to Savannah.
“Let’s go in.” Kenneth Griffins interrupted before Savannah could make any potentially damaging remarks. He carried Tessa’s suitcase upstairs to the main entrance and left it in the hall.
Tessa went into the bright kitchen with the long wooden table that could seat sixteen. A glass door separated the kitchen from the rustic living room with its enormous vaulted ceiling. Though there were oversize windows that opened onto a spectacular view of the forest and the coastal mountains, the Griffins seldom sat in the comfortable sofas and armchairs in front of the large stone fireplace. They almost always gathered in the kitchen at the long table. When Tessa compared this to her small apartment in Vancouver, it all seemed gigantic. The house was built for a large family and many guests.
A smell of goulash came from a pot on the stove and swept through the kitchen. She had to admit that Savannah had always been a good cook. But how could anyone think about cooking on a day like this? Savannah leaned on the kitchen buffet. Tessa sat down at the table.
Her mother gave her a cup of coffee. “You couldn’t have slept much last night,” she said and sat down next to her. “I didn’t sleep a wink.”
Tessa grasped her mother’s hand. Her face seemed to be worn out; maybe it was because of tears. She still dyed her curly hair brown like she used to and was wearing a checkered flannel shirt over her blue jeans. She looked at Tessa with red eyes. “I hope you don’t have any problems because you had to leave your office so suddenly.” She spoke slowly and seemed to be out of it. Dad must have given her a sleeping pill or tranquilizer.
“That’s the least of our problems,” Tessa reassured her. “I’m just here to help.”
She hardly touched the coffee. She had been avoiding caffeine for many years. In Vancouver she had just begun meditating. It helped her to get through the stressful times. But she didn’t tell her parents this, as they swore by strong coffee and garden work. And took pills when it was really bad.
Mom pressed her hand under the table. “I’m worried about your dad,” she whispered. “He’s acting like he’s on the verge of a nervous breakdown.” They could hear his voice on the upper floor. He seemed to be talking on the telephone with someone.
Tessa didn’t want to waste any time. “I asked Dad whether the police or anybody else was looking for Fran, but I didn’t get a clear answer.”
Her mother sighed. “Fran’s house and the area around it are off-limits because the police are there. Nobody can go in there.”
“But they have to go searching as quickly as possible . . .”
“Lionel wants to organize a search party with volunteers,” Savannah broke into the conversation, mentioning Hank’s brother. She had a smartphone in her hand. “But the police want him to wait before he does that.”
Tessa shook her head. “I don’t understand. The first twenty-four hours are crucial. You can’t waste time.”
“Where should they search?” asked Martha Griffins. “In the bush? You get lost in the bush. Nobody should go in there without a gun.“
“A photo of Fran on TV is not enough . . . you’ve got to also go to Facebook and Twitter and set up a website.” Tessa felt her blood pressure rising. She looked around impatiently; she wanted to do something.
Where was her father? His voice couldn’t be heard anymore.
T
essa got up and mumbled: “I’ll be right back.”
She hurried up the stairs to the upper floor. Her father was sitting at his desk with his head in his hands.
Tessa remained standing in the doorway. “Dad?”
He turned around. “Close the door, but quietly,” he whispered. Tessa did what he asked. He ran his hands through his thick white hair. “The police want to question us. All of us. I can’t allow that.”
“But Dad, you don’t have any choice. You can have a lawyer with you . . .”
“We can’t put Martha through that. She won’t be able to take it.”
Tessa leaned over to him and put a hand on his shoulder. She said as calmly as she could: “It has to do with Fran, Dad. The police have to do everything to find her. And the murderer.”
He paid no attention to what she said. “I’ll see that a doctor declares Martha not capable of being questioned.”
Tessa sat down on a chair next to the desk and leaned forward. “First ask Mom what she wants to do. Maybe she’d like to help the police.”
Her father turned his head. “You don’t understand, Tessa. You’ve been away too long.”
“What does that have to do with Fran?” She spoke intensely. “Dad, somebody has killed Clyde, Kayley, and Breena. And Hank is also dead. We have to do everything to find Fran. She is certainly still . . .”
“Everyone thinks that she was the one who did it. That Fran murdered her own family. And do you know why? Because they don’t want Hank to be a murder suspect.”
So that’s what was up. Tessa felt herself becoming annoyed. So it was not about the police. It was about Hank’s father. About Harrison Miller, the mayor of Whatou Lake. Kenneth Griffins’ enemy number one.
She tried to stay calm. “They’re sending police reinforcements here from Vancouver. You told me that yourself. The police aren’t in bed with Harrison Miller.”
Old fights were once again flaring up. Harrison Miller and his wife had tried to stop the marriage of their oldest son, Hank, to Fran. Fran wasn’t good enough for them. Hank’s mother was furious that this couple wanted to settle down on a farm out in the bush. How would they ever get to see their grandchildren, she had complained loudly. And the nastiness flared up again when Fran announced that she would homeschool her children.
“I think,” Tessa said, but then her cell phone began buzzing. She looked at the display. A Vancouver number. She answered.
“Sergeant Ron Halprin of the RCMP. Am I talking with Tessa Griffins?”
“Yes, it’s me.”
“Where are you right now?”
“At my parents’ house in Whatou Lake.”
“Very good. Can you come to the police station at Whatou Lake? I would like to talk to you.”
“Yes, of course. When?”
“Would one o’clock be all right?”
“Yes.”
“Good. So we’ll meet here.”
When she looked up, she saw her father staring at her. “That was the police, right?”
She nodded.
He played with bits of paper. “People from the RCMP already called earlier. I said to them that we don’t want to talk to them and that you would tell them why.”
She put her hand on his arm. “In principle, I think that it’s better if we work with the police. We don’t want them to think that we have anything to hide.”
Her father stood up so abruptly that it shocked her.
“Hide? There’s nothing to hide! We’re the victims of a crime. Fran was like a daughter to us.”
Was like a daughter to us? Why was her father speaking in the past tense? Tessa slipped her cell phone into her jacket pocket. She had been prepared for lots of things but not for a stubborn father. Maybe she was misjudging him. Her parents were in profound shock. As was she.
She hugged him. From below, she heard people calling.
She opened the door.
Savannah stood on the landing. “There’s a helicopter in the air. They must be looking for Fran.”
Tessa felt a trace of relief. At least something was happening.
But as she went down the stairs and saw her mother sitting at the table, a thought came to her, apparently out of nowhere: Fran might easily be in a location where no helicopter could find her.
5
Twenty years earlier
Jenny would have been the undisputed queen of the high school class if Tessa hadn’t had a trump card to play. As the daughter of the respected town doctor, she had a status that nobody really dared to challenge. Nobody wanted to play games with the man who saved lives. Or with his daughter. Besides, Tessa always won the girls’ races on sport day at the school, which impressed the young guys.
But there was one thing that Jenny could take away from her rival: the son of the Sitklat’l chief.
Over my dead body, Tessa thought, and she felt sure of herself on this.
Especially on a day like this one.
She looked out across the water. “Why do the Sitklat’l live on an island rather than here on the coast?” she asked Tsaytis.
He dug the heels of his sneakers into the sand. “Maybe it was too dangerous. Earlier, long, long ago, the Sahintas would come down the coast in their canoes and war against the people who lived there. They took many of our men and women as prisoners and made them slaves.”
“Slaves?” In their history class, they had just started studying the slaves from Africa who had been forcibly taken to America.
“Yeah, exactly like that.” Tsaytis chewed his sandwich and explained, his mouth full, “My father says that all around Telt-shaa Island the fishing has always been fantastic. Probably they thought it’d be easier to settle down right there.”
“Cool. How do you know all that? Your people never wrote down anything about the past.”
“Our ancestors told the stories. We are very good at remembering stories, and we don’t forget anything.” Tsaytis’s voice sounded very proud.
Tessa got excited. “Maybe your ancestors lived on this bay before they settled on Telt-shaa Island, and maybe we’ll find something they left behind.”
For half an hour they looked for things on the beach and in the bushes on the edge of the forest but didn’t find anything.
Suddenly Tessa saw a dark shadow out of the corner of her eye. She turned quickly around.
A grizzly.
Tsaytis grabbed her arm.
The bear came closer.
“Quick, we’ll climb a tree!” Tsaytis exclaimed. He ran into the woods; she was right behind. Tessa climbed up on a cedar as high as she could. Tsaytis hesitated and stayed below. “Climb, keep climbing!”
Tessa couldn’t understand what he was waiting for.
She saw to her horror that the grizzly was heading in his direction. Now Tsaytis climbed nimbly up a neighboring tree.
This position gave them a deceptive feeling of security. Grizzlies are great climbers, as Tessa well knew.
The bear hung around only briefly, maybe a few minutes, but to her it seemed like an eternity. Then it wandered off.
Tessa hung on to her branch so powerfully that her grip hurt. Fear paralyzed her.
She heard nothing at all from Tsaytis. She couldn’t have said how much time went by until she heard his voice.
She peeked down. He was standing there. His face looked like that of a wild creature under attack.
“Come down,” he said. “We’ve got to get out of here as fast as possible.”
“Where is the bear?” she asked with a hoarse voice.
He pointed to the other side of the cove. “It disappeared over there. This is our chance.” She glided down from the cedar, and they searched for a path through the bush that led back to Whatou Lake.
Just as she entered the woods, she heard something that froze her blood.
Terrible, shrill howling. The sound of an animal in its death throes.
The noise of breaking bones—so clearly.
So close.
They didn�
��t need to say anything. No seal screamed like that. No deer, either.
They stopped for a few seconds, looking at each other. The screams seemed to go on forever. Only gradually they faded away into horrible, long gasps.
The silence that followed was unbearable.
Panic drove them forward. They ran the whole way back to Whatou Lake.
It was only the next day that they heard who had been the victim of the grizzly attack.
Jenny Dole.
First they found the old ATV Jenny had driven to Whitesand Bay.
Several hours later, some men found her shredded, partly buried body.
6
“I want to see the children.” Martha Griffins threw this sentence out into the stillness of the kitchen. Tessa sat beside her eating a bowl of wheat flakes, into which she had grated some apple. She was determined to make it through the next couple of days. She put her spoon down.
“But Mom, that’s not how you’ll want to remember them.”
“No, Tessa and I are going.” Kenneth Griffins spoke from the doorway, where he had stopped. “Don’t do this to yourself . . .” He stood there blocking the exit as if stopping a flight attempt.
Her mother didn’t look over at him; she was only looking at Tessa. “I never wanted her to live alone in the wilderness. Hank was almost always away. I often said if something should happen, what are you going to do then? That’s not good for the children.” She breathed heavily, as if she had a cold. “We practically never saw her over the winter. They were here for the last time in April, and Fran left the children with me when she had to go to the dentist.” She sobbed as she spoke. “Breena was wearing her bright new rubber boots that I had given her as her birthday present. Kayley always wanted to hold my hand. She’s still so small and sweet. I would have liked for her to stay with me. Clyde is growing like a weed. He looks more and more like his grandfather.” Tears were falling down her cheeks. She spoke about the children as if they were still alive. Tessa also choked up, and before she could really react, Savannah embraced Martha Griffins.
MURDEROUS MORNING: A heart-stopping crime novel with a stunning end. Page 3