“I guess I’ll go in and heat up that leftover stew,” she said. She walked past the two of them and turned with her hand on the door handle. “You’re welcome to stay, Gundersund.”
Dawn lifted her head.
“I’d enjoy that,” Gundersund said. “All that’s waiting for me at home is a frozen dinner and two weeks’ worth of dirty laundry.”
Dawn finished eating and disappeared into her bedroom to do homework. Kala watched her leave, regretting her earlier harsh words. Dawn had become even more withdrawn during the meal and she knew that it was her fault.
“Well I better be pushing off,” Gundersund said. “Busy day tomorrow.”
They both stood at the same time and Kala followed him toward the back door. “Any theories on what happened to Violet Delaney?” he asked as they stepped outside onto the deck. Stars glittered above in an ink black sky. The spring wind was still up, but the cold edge was gone.
“I’m leaning toward murder-suicide, but not yet convinced of anything,” Kala said. “Ivo Delaney seemed genuinely in shock when he identified her raincoat and mitten.”
“Maybe. Hell of a shame when a mother takes that way out. Better to just end her own life and leave the kid.”
“She must have been in awful pain.”
“It’s hard to understand.” Gundersund hesitated. “Say, I wonder if I could take Dawn to an art show a friend of mine is having on Wednesday night. I know it’s a school night, but I’d get her back early. You could come too, if you like.”
“I don’t know. Let me think about it.”
“Sure, but it would be a chance for her to maybe get inspired again.”
“I’ll think about it. I promise.”
“Great. Well, see you tomorrow.”
“Yeah. Bright and early.”
He climbed down the steps and whistled for Minny and then disappeared into the darkness. She waited a few moments before calling for Taiku. She’d just decided that she’d have to go in search of him when he appeared at the bottom of the steps, tail wagging.
“Time to call it a night, boy,” she said. “Get in the house and let’s get to bed.” She waited while Taiku had one last sniff around the lawn below the deck before he climbed the steps and padded past her into the house.
A half hour later, lying in bed staring out the open window, Gundersund’s words replayed in her head. Losing a brother so young would leave a pain that time would ease, but never completely erase. Sharing his story with Dawn had been an act of empathy. This challenged the opinion she’d built up of him over the past few months. Some of distancing herself from Gundersund had been an act of self-preservation. The rest had been to keep her life simple. Even if he said that he and his wife were separated, Fiona was still very much involved with him at work and not going anywhere. Gundersund’s life was a mess and she didn’t want to be pulled any further into his world.
Kala rolled onto her back. On the other hand, what harm could it do to go with him to the art exhibit? Maybe Gundersund was right about reaching Dawn through art. God knows, nothing else had worked. She and Dawn were as far apart as the day she’d picked her up at the station. Hobnobbing with artists for an evening might be worth the pain, especially since she couldn’t get past the feeling that she and Dawn were running out of time. She’d raise the idea of an outing with Gundersund to Dawn in the morning.
Chapter Eight
Walter Knight reached for the can of Red Bull and took a long swallow. He glanced over at Jed, his head bobbing up and down to whatever new wave, crazy rap music it was the kid listened to through ear buds hooked up to his iPad. Jed. His oldest and only son: skater boy with frizzy blond hair and skinny as a whip — seventeen with nothing deeper on his mind than what he wanted to eat for supper.
When he’d agreed to take Jed along for the Maritime run, he’d hoped they’d get a father-son bond going. He’d imagined forging one often enough, especially those times when the loneliness of his job got to him. He spent many nights a thousand miles from Windsor, and his family became the star he pinned his dreams on. Never mind that after a few weeks at home he couldn’t wait to get back out on the road. So far on this trip, the longest conversation he’d managed to have with Jed had been about whether to order the apple or the lemon meringue pie. Not exactly the deep connection he’d envisioned.
He checked his watch before looking back at the road. Kingston was another twenty minutes on the 401. They’d made decent time and should hit Montreal just after five a.m., usually the best time of day to cut through that city. After making it to the other side, he’d keep going and pull into Rivière-du-Loup to catch a few hours sleep. Not that Jed would care. The kid was pretty much sleeping his way across Ontario as it was.
Walter checked his side mirror. Some asshole in a dark-coloured truck had been riding his ass since Trenton. The number of idiot drivers was on the rise. Time was, he might have had some fun with the driver on his tail, but now he just wanted to get through his run without a hassle. He slowed down to let the guy pass. The Ford pickup pulled alongside when the driver put his foot into it and sped off. Walter had just had time to glimpse a good old boy wearing a ball cap behind the wheel. No accounting for the games drivers played to ease the boredom. He’d seen the gambit from annoying to downright dangerous.
The rain started the other side of Napanee; a hard slanting rain that drummed down on the roof of the cab like going through a car wash. The noise was loud enough to wake Jed from a sound sleep. He pulled the ear buds out and yawned.
“When did the rain start, Dad?”
“A few minutes ago.”
“Sounds like bullets on the roof.”
“It’s one nasty storm. Looks to be coming off the lake.”
“Where are we, anyway?” Jed leaned forward and squinted through the front windshield. The wipers were on high, snapping across the glass like they were on steroids.
“We’ll be in Kingston in about fifteen minutes. That would be Lake Ontario off to our right. If this keeps up, I’ll find a place to pull over so we can get a coffee and have a break.”
“I could eat something.”
Walter drained the last of the Red Bull and turned his full concentration on the road. The 401 was a four-lane highway — two lanes in each direction — and straight for the most part. He was glad that he wasn’t on one of the smaller highways with visibility down to almost nothing. The load of produce in the trailer was heavy enough to keep the wind from battering the truck around too much. The darkness combined with the rain was unnerving. Every so often, red brake lights flashed ahead of him, giving him an idea of curves in the road.
Even Jed appeared to sense that this was a dangerous situation. He put away his iPad and kept his eyes on the road. A bell sounded in his pocket and he reached for his phone.
“Mom just sent a text. She’s asking if we’re caught in the storm.” Jed grinned at his dad. “She watches the weather channel when she can’t sleep.”
“I know. It’s not the first time she’s called me in the middle of the night.”
“What should I tell her?”
“That we’re fine and pulling into the next rest stop to wait this out.”
Thunder rumbled overhead as Jed’s thumbs worked away on the screen. A jagged streak of lightning cracked the sky. A few seconds after Jed finished typing, the bell rang again. Jed looked down and then up. “She says to let her know when we get there.”
“Tell her ten-four.”
They passed the first of the off ramps into Kingston. Walter was reluctant to get off the highway. He wanted to be through Montreal before morning and any long delay would be a problem. He passed the second exit.
Walter chanced a quick glance at his son. Jed’s face was pale and worried in the glow from the dashboard.
“Dad, this is really bad. Where are we going to st
op?”
“Nothing’s open this time of night except the rest stops on the highway. I was thinking we could make the one at Mallorytown. I’ll even treat you to a hamburger and fries.”
“How far?”
“An hour, maybe.”
“You’re okay to drive that far in this storm?”
“It’s letting up.”
A crack of thunder made a liar of him. The last exit into Kingston slid past on their right. Now they were committed to keep going until at least Gananoque, another thirty minutes with the storm. He could pull off the road there if the rain was still coming down in torrents. The Mallorytown rest stop was going to be more than an hour the speed they were forced to travel.
“Mom’s not going to like this.”
“She’ll never know. I just don’t want to stop in the middle of nowhere. We have to make Montreal before daybreak.” He took Jed’s silence for agreement, knowing it wasn’t. “Send her a text and tell her we’re hunkering down.”
“But that’s a lie.”
“Not really. We will hunker down. Just not yet. No need to have her worry.”
Jed’s thumbs got busy again. After he sent the message, he crossed his arms and slumped deeper into the seat. He turned sideways and looked out the passenger window.
Walter didn’t have the energy or time to deal with his son’s disapproval. He’d smooth things over when they took the break in Mallorytown. The lights of two vehicles were ahead of him, both in the left lane. He could barely make out their tail lights through the darkness and rain. Still, it was comforting to know they weren’t the only fools on the road. Thunder split the sound barrier directly overhead and seconds later fork lightning lit up the sky like fireworks.
“Dad!” Jed’s voice came out a high pitched shriek, nearly making Walter swerve into the other lane. “Dad! Pull over! Somebody’s lying on the road.” Jared lifted an arm and punched his finger on the glass. “On the side of the road.” He turned horrified eyes toward his father. “They’re just laying there, Dad. They could be dead.”
“Are you sure?”
“I know what I saw. You have to pull over now, Dad.”
“Maybe it was just some garbage or road kill.”
“It was a person!” Jed’s voice had risen to frantic.
Walter had been doing forty so it didn’t take much to gear down, especially since they were on an incline. He eased the rig onto the shoulder as far over as he could get. He set the air brakes and turned to face his son.
“You’re sure about this, Jed?”
“I know what I saw.”
He put on the four ways. “Okay, but you stay here. There’s no use in two of us getting drenched.”
“I want to come with you.”
“Stay here. Have your phone ready to call 911.”
Walter reached around behind him until he found his raincoat. He put it on, pulling the hood over his head.
“Give me the flashlight in the dash.”
Jed opened the glove compartment and reached around inside. He handed over the flashlight, his face grim in the dashboard light.
Walter turned it on, keeping the beam pointed at the ground. He double checked for oncoming headlights before opening his door and jumping out of the cab. His face and jeans were soaked before he hit the ground.
He checked again that no traffic was coming before racing to the back of the trailer and moving as far onto the shoulder as he could. The rain and wind pummelled against him but he had a wrestler’s body and was a match for even these elements. He plowed forward, head bowed and chin tucked, keeping his balance as he ran down the incline toward the place where Jed had yelled for him to stop. Even at that, he nearly stumbled over the woman. The feel of his boot jamming into her made him curse and jump back. He stood for a second, breathing heavily, arcing the flashlight along the road and over the grassy slope as far as it would cut into the blackness of the woods. Anybody could be out there.
He pointed the beam to his feet and crouched down beside her, careful to keep one eye watching down the road for approaching headlights, straining to hear over the wind. She was wearing a black shirt and blue jeans, rolled on her side, one arm straight out, the fingers spread wide. Her feet were bare, her legs twisted at unnatural angles. He pushed back her long tangled hair to find the back of her neck. Her hair was a soggy mass and cool to his touch. He couldn’t find a pulse. When he pulled his hand away the flashlight beam lit up crimson blood on his fingers.
He squatted on his haunches for a moment more, the rain pouring down his face, trying to make sense of it. Then he took out the oil rag that he kept in his pocket and wiped his hand before slowly pushing himself to his feet. He backed away, careful not to disturb the scene any more than he already had. Shock was setting in and made him feel outside his body. He’d like nothing more than to get back in his truck and tell Jed that it was just a deer on the road. Carry on to the Mallorytown rest stop and have burgers and maybe get Jed to talk about where he planned to go to school in the fall. The talk was long overdue. The woman was dead. She wouldn’t know the difference.
He started back up the road, the wind pushing him along this time toward the flashing lights of his transport. The door to the cab fought him as a strong gust of wind blew it wide open. He climbed into the cab and wrestled the door shut behind him. Then he sat for a moment, collecting himself, hands on the steering wheel.
“Dad?”
“Yeah.”
“Was it anything?”
He turned his head sideways and looked at his son’s face, so young and untested in all the things that could beat a man down. Now was the time to put the truck into gear and get back on the road. Walter inhaled a long draught of warm air from the truck cab into his lungs. He let it out slowly and nodded in Jed’s direction.
“Hit 911, Son, then hand me your phone.”
Jed’s eyes widened before he looked down at his phone. Walter swallowed the lump in his throat at the sight of his boy’s bowed head, blond hair sticking up like duck down above the nape of his neck. He’d missed the better part of his kids’ lives, telling himself that he was making a good living for his family by being on the road. Telling himself they were better off with him gone most of the time. Sometimes he’d even convinced himself. Jed and his sister had gotten used to his comings and goings, never questioning why he wouldn’t find a job in town. His wife had covered for him. She’d kept him tied to them with some invisible, endless string even during those long stretches when he’d taken extra runs, trying to ease something in himself that wouldn’t be eased. Lying to Jed now would cross some dangerous line that Walter knew he’d never be able to uncross. It would break the string that held him fast. The kid had seen what he’d seen. The body on the side of the road would haunt his dreams even if Walter made him believe for this moment that he’d been mistaken.
He took the phone from Jed and spoke to an officer on the desk. They’d have to wait around and talk to police when they arrived. He’d have to fight his way through the rain and wind again and light some flares.
So much for making Montreal before sunrise.
Walter reached over and rested his hand on the back of his son’s neck. “Text your mother and tell her we’ll be spending the night at a motel in Kingston. I got a feeling we’re going to be a while.”
Chapter Nine
Rouleau stood from his crouched position near the dead woman. They’d closed off the highway and erected a tent and hooked up lanterns with enough light for photos and a thorough first inspection. Rain pattered on the plastic material like a kind of hypnotizing background music. He signalled to Fiona Gundersund to take over and ducked outside the protective awning, stepping around a puddle and over to where Paul Gundersund stood talking on his cellphone. After a few seconds, Gundersund tucked the phone into his pocket and pulled his hood down ov
er his forehead.
Gundersund spoke first. “The driver who called it in doesn’t know anything. It’s definitely Adele Delaney on the side of the highway. The question is how she ended up here.”
“Fiona says that she was killed somewhere else. Are you okay breaking it to the husband?”
“I wouldn’t mind waiting for Stonechild. She seemed to get along with him better than the rest of us. I found him a bit odd, to tell you the truth.”
“You can’t wait for her to get here. As it is, she’s not going to be thrilled that I didn’t call her, but no point three of us standing in the rain.” Rouleau squinted through the slanting downpour at a woman walking toward them. The darkness had thinned somewhat as dawn neared. If only the rain would let up. Rouleau recognized the woman as she got closer. He’d seen her from a distance at a news conference in city hall the week before. He turned so she wouldn’t see what he was saying. “A reporter’s here already. You’ve got to tell Delaney before this gets out.”
Gundersund stared over Rouleau’s shoulder. “That’s Marci Stokes from the Whig. Word is she was a foreign correspondent in the Middle East for an American news outlet until a month ago.”
“Kingston isn’t exactly a hotbed of excitement. I wonder why she took a job at the paper.”
“To make our lives miserable?”
“She can join the line. Take one of the uniforms with you to Delaney’s. What time are they resuming the search for their daughter?”
“At first light, so in about an hour, I’d say.”
“Check in.”
Gundersund nodded at Marci Stokes before he headed over to the parked police cars lining the highway. She stopped just outside the crime scene in front of Rouleau and extended her hand. Her fingers were cool and damp from the rain. He noticed her grey eyes looking him over before she tilted her head to look past his shoulder toward the tent. Her view of the body was blocked for the most part. Again, he wondered what she was doing in Kingston.
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