The Winter Road

by Caron Todd

  “Have you heard from Daniel yet?” Her voice was back to normal. Just friendly. “He must be coming home soon.”

  “He’s going to be longer than he expected.”

  “I’m sorry.” It meant his aunt wasn’t getting better yet. “You must have things of your own to do. Will you continue taking care of the house?”

  “For a while yet. Unless he asks me to join him.”

  Emily wondered how long “a while” would be. Not long enough.

  “HEAR THAT? That’s a whip-poor-will.”

  They were walking down the middle of Robbs’ Road after dark, going home from the barbecue, Julia on one tire-hardened track, Emily on the other, and Matthew in the gravel on the side. The bird call was between a whistle and a hoot, clearly whip-poor-will, with the last syllable most strongly accented. It started slowly, lilting, and gathered speed until it lurched from note to note.

  “That drunken-sounding racket?”

  Emily laughed. She heard a puff of air escape from her mother—it was as close as Julia ever came to laughing. The bird’s song had sped up to the point that the poors were almost tripping over the wills.

  Matthew said, “It sounds pretty at first, but after a while you kind of want to shoot it, don’t you?”

  “No!”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Well…”

  “Truthfully.”

  “Well, maybe throw something at it.”

  The singing ended as abruptly as it had begun. “It does that,” she said, “and then it starts the cycle over. It must wear itself out. Or get a sore throat.”

  Partway up the driveway Matthew stopped. “Did you leave a lamp on?” Soft light glowed through the drawn curtains.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “The door’s open a crack.”

  “Sometimes it opens after we shut it.”

  “You didn’t lock it?”

  “I did. It sticks, though. You think it’s closed all the way and it isn’t. Oh—” Then the lock wouldn’t have turned.

  “You two should head back to Will and Edith’s place.”

  Neither of them moved. Matthew headed up the driveway. “At least get in the garage, out of sight.” He opened the side door. Moonlight filtered in, showing vague shapes of tools and boxes. He felt around in the shadows. “It’s clear. I’ll call you after I check the house.” He disappeared behind the hedge.

  Emily had lived without a man in the house for too long to accept anyone trying to protect her. She told her mother to stay in the garage and went after him.

  It was darker on the other side of the caraganas, the high sharp branches shading the moon’s faint light. She heard something rustle, then saw a moving shape. He was in the elms. When she reached his side, his hand closed on her arm and he drew closer, lips to her ear. “Emily, listen. I want you to stay safe.”

  Something cool and damp touched her hand. Hamish’s nose, sniffing. “There he is,” she whispered. “Bad old dog. What have you been doing? Letting people in?” His tail waved against her leg. “Hamish isn’t worried. The door’s just popped open.”

  “If you’re coming, stay behind me.”

  Matthew went up the steps and pushed the door open wider. He seemed to know which boards he could walk on without squeaking. Emily put her feet where his had been and didn’t look up until they reached the living room.

  A young man stood at the shelves, his back to them, a book in one hand. He looked as if he belonged there, as if he was choosing something to read. Then he turned, his eyes widening when he saw them in the doorway. He was younger than she’d thought, no more than fifteen. He looked from them to the front door, and his muscles bunched.

  Matthew said, “Stay where you are.”

  He threw the book at them and ran. Before he was halfway across the room, Matthew got to him and pulled him to the floor. It was done so quickly, with so little resistance that it seemed almost gentle, but Emily heard the boy gasp in sudden pain. He didn’t move. He didn’t even twitch. She was relieved to see his eyelids blink, then lift.

  Matthew looked at her, too calmly for the circumstances. “Got a rope?”

  A rope. All she could think of was the string she used to tie parcels. Then she remembered the leash from Hamish’s puppy days, when his herding instincts sent him onto the road every time Tom moved his cattle from one pasture to another. She found it at the back of the glory hole under the stairs.

  “This all right?”

  “Perfect.” He tied the boy’s hands behind his back, then ran the leash to his feet, and tied them. “Call the police, then keep an eye on the kid. Stay out of his way. Just watch.”

  Emily hurried to the phone in the kitchen and looked up the number of the RCMP detachment in Pine Point. While she waited for them to answer and then explained what had happened, she heard Matthew going from room to room.

  “Emily?” Julia was outside the door, with Hamish and the cat. All three heads peered into the kitchen.

  “It’s okay, Mom. There’s a burglar—at least I suppose he’s a burglar—but it’s okay.”

  Julia didn’t move. Emily stood where she could see her mother and the boy. He didn’t look any more dangerous than her nephews. No piercings, no tattoos, no odd hair dye or style designed to scare grown-ups.

  “You’re not hurt, are you? The rope isn’t too tight?”

  The side of his face pressed to the floor, he stared at her ankles.

  “We need the police.” Julia took a couple of steps into the kitchen. “For burglars, you need the police.”

  “I called them, Mom.”

  “Are they coming?”

  “Right away, they said.”

  Matthew was back. “There’s no one else in the house. Nothing disturbed. It looks like he started with the books.”

  Emily thought her mother was going to run into the living room. Instead, she sat in the chair by the window and stared outside.

  “What did he do? What did he do to the books?”

  “He only looked at them, Mom.”

  Matthew bent to untie the leash. “Get up.”

  The command was given quietly, but this time the boy hurried to obey. He shook out his arms and legs, winced, and rubbed his right hand.

  “You’re crazy, man. I didn’t do nothin’.”

  In spite of the aggressive words, he didn’t sound tough. Just scared. Given that he was standing uninvited in the living room, his claim of innocence was almost funny.

  “Turn around. Hands on the wall.” Matthew felt the front and back of the boy’s shirt, under the waistband of his jeans, then down each leg.

  “I don’t got nothin’.”

  Nothing but a penknife, the blade folded shut, in one pocket and a wallet in the other.

  “Sit.”

  He didn’t move, so Matthew propelled him into a chair, then opened the wallet. “No driver’s license, no health insurance, no student ID.” There was only a red plastic card. “Rogers Video. You’re Peter Wallis?”

  He shook his head.

  “You borrowed someone’s wallet?”

  “Don’t I get a lawyer?”

  “No doubt the police will advise you to do that.”

  The boy’s expression flitted from puzzlement to fear to dawning bravado.

  “Personally, I don’t care if you talk to a lawyer. I don’t care if you go to jail or pay a fine or walk out of here free as a bird. I want to know who you are, who sent you and what you were told to find.” Matthew held up the red card. “Who is Peter Wallis?”

  “I don’t have to listen to you.” He’d figured out he wasn’t dealing with someone in authority.

  Matthew gripped the boy’s head and pushed it back so they looked eye to eye. “I asked you a question.”

  Emily had never heard Matthew sound so cold, or so threatening. The kid wet his lips and swallowed hard. “He’s my dad.”

  “Did he send you?”

  “No, no way. That’s just his card. He signed up and they g
ave him a bunch. Don’t tell him, okay? I won’t come back, I promise.”

  Matthew let go of him and stepped back. “And what’s your name, Mister Wallis?”

  There was a second’s hesitation. “Jason.”

  “Where’s your transportation?”

  Jason blinked, his lids fluttering quickly. “In the woods out back. I rode my bike.”

  “Motorcycle?”

  “My bike,” he repeated, emphasizing the word.

  “A bicycle?”

  He gave a curt nod. If Julia didn’t look so shaken, Emily might have smiled. What kind of getaway could you make on a bicycle? You couldn’t take much with you. Maybe he wasn’t a thief at all. Maybe he was disturbed in some way—mixed up, or really and truly ill. Maybe all he’d wanted was a book to read and if they’d got home later they would have found him curled up and content.

  “All right. You rode your bike from…”

  “Miller’s Crossing.”

  Matthew looked at Emily.

  “It’s about ten miles from here. Smaller than Three Creeks.”

  “A long ride. Who asked you to do that, Jason?”

  “Nobody.”

  “You decided to ride your bike ten miles, go into any random locked house and, what, steal a book, then ride ten miles home?”

  “I didn’t figure it out too good.”

  “That’s an understatement. How did you really get here?”

  Jason’s mouth opened, but before anything came out he closed it again.

  “Don’t you think the people who put you up to this deserve to take some blame?”

  “There’s no people.”

  Matthew’s voice was quiet. “Did they scare you, Jason? First they offered you something nice. What did they give you? Or are they still holding it out of reach?”

  Julia spoke up from her place by the window. “The police are here.”

  Matthew continued talking, almost soothingly. “But then they got demanding, didn’t they? And you wondered what you’d got yourself into. You’re right to be scared. You should be very careful.” He leaned closer and spoke too quietly for Emily to hear. Jason shook his head. He spoke again and the boy’s head moved more vehemently.

  Matthew straightened and turned to Emily, his expression so remote it chilled her. “Holding up okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “The police will want to look around and ask you some questions. I’ll be checking outside.” He grasped Jason’s arm and pulled him out of the house. As soon as they left, Julia hurried to the living room.

  The patrol car’s headlights lit the driveway. Emily watched Matthew hand the boy over to two RCMP officers, then go to his car and take something from the glove compartment. A flashlight clicked on and he strode away. At first she could see the bobbing light, then nothing.

  AN HOUR LATER Jason was still handcuffed in the back seat of the patrol car, and the officers had finished searching the house. They sat down with Emily and Julia and went point by point through the evening, concentrating on events from the moment Matthew had noticed the open door.

  “Looks like Wallis used his knife to force the lock,” one of them said. It was Corporal Reed, the same officer who had spoken to Aunt Edith.

  “Do you think he’s responsible for the other break-ins?” Emily asked.

  “Can’t say at this point.”

  “What happens to him now?”

  “He’s a minor. We’ll check for priors, call his parents and likely release him into their custody.”

  “Tonight?”

  “With a curfew and a Promise to Appear.”

  “A promise—”

  “That means he and his parents agree he’ll show up for fingerprinting when we tell them to, and for court next time it sits in Pine Point.”

  It was a lot of trust to put in the person who’d just broken into her home.

  The corporal closed his notebook. “It seems clear Wallis was interrupted almost immediately after gaining entry, but I’d ask that you both take a good look at your belongings in the morning. Make a list of anything missing or damaged. We’ll come back for it and let you know what’s happening.”

  When the patrol car started down Robbs’ Road Matthew reappeared, turning off the flashlight as he neared the house. Uncle Will arrived at the same time, concerned about the back and forth of the police vehicle. The two men did another check of the grounds and the outbuildings and made sure the locks on both doors still worked.

  Emily turned down offers from both of them to stay the night. Will left first, promising to buy dead bolts as soon as the stores opened in the morning. He kissed Emily’s cheek, gave his sister an awkward pat on the shoulder and said good-night.

  Finally Emily walked with Matthew to his car. It felt much longer than hours since he’d arrived to pick berries. He had clowned around in a girlish hat and then he had threatened a teenage boy.

  “Quite a day,” she said.

  “Think you’ll sleep?”

  “Sure. We were lucky, right? He didn’t take anything or do any harm.”

  “Except to your feeling of security.”

  There was that. Locks didn’t mean as much as she had thought they did. “How did you know how to stop him? Tackle him, I mean.”

  “All guys know how to do things like that.”

  “No, they don’t.”

  “If they play football.”

  “Did Daniel teach you?”

  “Emily, it’s nothing. A male instinct.”

  They stood beside his car, neither making a move to go.

  “I know I’ve already thanked you—it would have been an awful thing to deal with alone. I’m so glad you were here.”

  “So am I. Emily, the other day you said you and your mother have nothing of value. Are you still sure about that?”

  “The silverware might be worth something. And we have a few pieces of jewelery that were passed down—a locket, a couple of brooches. But they’re just garnets, amethysts.”

  “What about your mother’s books? That’s what the kid was looking at.”

  “I don’t see how they could be valuable, if Mom could afford to buy them.” Emily hesitated. “There are the ones that belonged to her great-grandparents.”

  “Having them appraised might not be a bad idea.”

  That was all she needed, another bill to pay. “Maybe one of these days.”

  “I could help. It’s sort of what I do.”

  “You appraise books?”

  “Things of value.”

  “I thought old men with those little—” she held two fingers up to her eye “—microscope things did that.” She didn’t like his expression. Amused tolerance.

  “You need to get out more, Emily.”

  “Do you appraise things for museums?”

  “For insurance companies.”

  She tried to react the way a person who got out more would. No surprise. Just a thoughtful nod. “I see.”

  “They need to know what an item is worth and what risks are attached to providing coverage.”

  It fit with some of his behavior, all that adding and subtracting she saw in his eyes. Not that he’d stopped to assess risk before dealing with Jason.

  “I don’t know how Mom would feel about someone looking that closely at her books.”

  “If she decides she’s interested, let me know.”

  He leaned forward and for a second she thought he was going to kiss her. No such luck. He was only opening the car door.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  BY NOON THE NEXT DAY Uncle Will had dealt with the doors. He installed a new garage light as well, one that would come on automatically if anyone approached. Looking pointedly at Hamish he told Emily the light would startle and discourage intruders, since the dog appeared to have retired.

  After he put his tools away, he stayed for a glass of iced tea and a chat. He seemed to have something on his mind and not know how to get around to it. On his second glass of tea, he lowered his voice to a
normal volume and asked, “How does your mom seem to you these days?”

  Emily checked the living room. One by one, her mother was removing all the books that had been within Jason’s reach and rubbing the covers with a cloth as if they were stained. She had already done the same thing early that morning.

  “Let’s go outside, Uncle Will.”

  She waited until they stood in the shade of the elms, far from the windows, before answering. “Mom’s been unsettled lately, and the break-in hasn’t helped, but she’s all right, I think.”

  He nodded, not in agreement, but as if he was thinking. “She’s always been more or less like this, even when we were kids.”

  “Easily bothered, you mean?”

  “The whole business. Being persnickety about her things, testy if people got in her way or touched her stuff. But that was just Julia. Families call in doctors nowadays. We didn’t then. If people were a bit funny, they were a bit funny.”

  Emily had heard this before. “Are you worried about her, Uncle Will?”

  “No, no. Not worried. No more than usual.” He looked deep into his glass, nearly empty again after a few good gulps. “I’m worried about you, Emily.”

  “Me!”

  “It’s not much of a life for you.” His face colored. “I shouldn’t say anything. It’s none of my business. But then again, it is. You’re my niece. She’s my sister. You’ve grown up without a dad. So who’s going to say it?”

  Nobody, would be her preference. “I suppose it’s Liz and Susannah who’ve brought this on. Weddings and babies.”

  “And this nephew of Daniel’s.”

  “Uncle Will—”

  “I heard Martin giving you the gears about him the other day.”

  “Martin does that. It doesn’t mean anything.”

  “And I saw the way you looked at him at the barbecue.”

  She wasn’t going to discuss her feelings about a man, whatever they might be, with her uncle. “I’ve been showing him around Three Creeks, that’s all.”

  “And I saw the way he pitched in last night. Checking every door and window three times. Checking you more than once, I might add, fretting like a new mother.”