by Caron Todd
“Rob Jamieson?” Matthew asked.
The man got up, hand outstretched. He glanced at Emily, then ignored her. “What can I do for you?”
“My uncle was here sometime during the past week.” Matthew held out a small photo of Daniel. It was the first time he’d needed to show it.
Jamieson’s manner became more guarded. “Oh, yeah. Four, five days ago.”
“Have you seen him since?”
“What do you mean? Something happen?”
“He was in this area until yesterday morning. Did you talk to him or see him again?”
“I saw him in town once or twice. Picking up a pizza, getting some gas. That’s it, I think. Most of the time I’m here or in the air.” Jamieson shuffled some papers on his desk. “Why, what’s wrong?”
“He was supposed to meet me this morning and he didn’t.”
“Nobody should go into the bush alone, especially an older person like that. Get chest pain or something, who’s going to help?”
“What did the two of you talk about when he was here?”
“We talked about Frank Carruthers. He was the pilot who—well, I guess you’ve heard about that.”
“You knew Frank?”
“Sure. We worked for the same outfit in the ’70s, flying people and supplies in and out. The mine always asked for him, though.”
“Why was that?”
He hesitated before answering. “Retired cop, bonded. A guy like that would be their first choice. Most people thought he was a real straight arrow.”
“Most people? Not you?”
“He probably was as long as he wasn’t looking at more gold than he could carry. I always thought he did it.”
“Any reason?”
“Because he said he would. Right out.”
Matthew’s eyebrows went up. “He said he was going to steal a shipment of gold?”
“Not like that. Not like he meant it. But he’d say, ‘One of these days I’ll keep on going.’ You don’t take it seriously when people talk that way. But then he disappeared and I figured he did it after all.”
“You didn’t say that to the police at the time.”
“Of course not. But then they found the Beaver and I was sorry for thinking it.”
“You thought it was an accident after all? Even though there was no sign of him or the gold?”
“It had to be. The plane’s there, busted up. Maybe he tried to walk out—you have to carry snowshoes as part of your survival gear. It was miles from anywhere, though, all bush and muskeg. Even if he wasn’t injured—and I don’t see that happening—the cold would get him pretty fast.”
“And the gold?”
Jamieson shrugged. “People are only human. A trapper comes across the plane, or a bunch of CEOs out on a wilderness adventure—I mean, what would you do?”
MATTHEW FILLED THE TANK with gas, checked the oil and topped up the windshield washer fluid. They bought bottled water and a couple of frozen dinners to heat at the cabin. While he waited for change, Emily saw him reading the Grey Goose Bus schedule.
“You can forget that,” she said.
“Just checking. Always have a Plan B, Em.”
“As long as putting me on the bus isn’t still Plan A.”
“That’ll be your choice.”
Before heading back to the lodge he used a pay phone to call the Cranberry-Portage detachment. His face hardened while he listened. When he hung up he told her, “No one has seen Daniel or his Cutlass. The constable’s beginning to sound concerned.”
“Good. He’ll look harder.”
On the drive back to the lodge Matthew seemed deep in thought. They put the frozen dinners in the oven as soon as they got to the cabin, then he pulled a map out of his knapsack and spread it on the table. It wasn’t the usual highways map. It was like a painting, showing patterns rather than places. Lakes and rivers were delicate blue against the white of land, like light coming through a pin-pricked lampshade. No wonder there were hardly any roads in the north. How could you even walk on land like that?
Matthew used a pencil to darken some of the lines. “These are winter roads.” He circled a large area surrounding Flin Flon and Snow Lake. “These lakes and rivers are part of a system. They all flow northeast, to Hudson Bay.” His finger traced the water’s course. “But look, every body of water, big or small, has its own system.”
She could see what he meant. Small, irregularly shaped lakes were everywhere, with long fingers of water stretching to meet the fingers of other lakes, joined by thin rivers or creeks. They looked like illustrations of the nervous system in school textbooks. There were fingers of land, too, and hundreds of small islands. From what she’d seen so far, forest would cover most of it.
“Are you saying searching for Daniel is hopeless?”
“I’m saying there are transportation routes—road, railway, winter road, water—that indicate which areas matter most to us. Daniel was here for a week, going out by car or boat every day and always coming back by nightfall. That means none of his trips took longer than eighteen hours.”
“So we’ll pick a direction, do one route each day?”
“We’ll superimpose the winter road map on the highways map. We need to keep in mind where the plane went down, where the winter roads are and where Daniel’s been exploring. Abandoned mines, cabins, ghost towns, according to what Ross McNabb said. We’ll find him.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
THE FIRST DAY they found nothing but trees, muskeg and mosquitoes. The second day an underground stream that bubbled up through limestone. On the third day, they found Daniel’s Cutlass.
They had driven around a No Entry barrier and were following a bumpy road with grass long enough to brush the bottom of the car when Emily noticed a path snaking up the side of a hill through the trees. At first she thought it was a dry streambed—she had seen lots of those in the area—and then she thought it might be a trail used by animals. When they looked closer they realized it was an old logging or mining road, nearly grown in.
They decided to walk up. Matthew parked the Accord as far off the track as he could without getting caught on rocks or protruding roots. They applied an extra dose of bug repellent to their ears, necks and ankles—areas blackflies particularly liked—then Matthew slipped his knapsack over his shoulders and began the climb.
If she hadn’t been worried about Daniel, it would have been a pleasant hike. The sun shone, the repellent worked, birds called and the smell of evergreens was in the air. Whenever the path got steep, Matthew took her hand in his with a strong, but gentle grasp that reassured and excited her at the same time. Everything about him felt so good to her. She wanted to trust him.
“Isn’t this a bit arduous for Daniel?”
“It depends whether he thought gold was at the other end.”
That sounded as if he knew Daniel better than he’d suggested. Emily still wasn’t sure if the two men really were related, or if that was part of their cover story. She hadn’t asked again because she didn’t know if Matthew would tell her the truth. How would she know the difference, anyway?
“You’ve been detecting all along, haven’t you? I mean, visibly detecting. I should have noticed. You were always asking and listening and watching. The insurance evaluator explanation almost made sense.”
“Almost?”
“There was that tackle.”
“Ah, the tackle.”
“The one all guys know how to do. Except they don’t.”
“I grew up on Daniel’s stories, too.”
“Did you? He wasn’t away from Three Creeks all that much.”
“He sent me a long letter every birthday. A novella. Complete with really bad sketches. The continuing adventures of Uncle Daniel.”
“So you followed in his footsteps?”
“To the RCMP training academy in Regina. Where I learned to tackle bad guys.”
“Not that Jason Willis is much of a bad guy.”
“Don’t underes
timate him. You worry me, Emily. One of these days you’ll offer your compassion to the wrong person.”
“He’s a kid. Kids make mistakes.” The conversation had moved into an uncomfortable area. There were plenty of mistakes to go around. “I’m not sure you should have talked to him on Tuesday.”
Matthew looked at her in surprise. “You knew about that?”
“It seems like a conflict of interest or something. His parents and the police should deal with him, not the man who caught him.”
“I don’t see any conflict. I was only encouraging him to be more forthcoming with the facts.”
She was about to ask if there were any particular facts he’d hoped to hear when she saw blue metal through the trees. Sky-blue, and glinting in the sun.
They both ran, calling Daniel’s name. The Cutlass had gone off the road, tilting where the ground dropped steeply. The driver’s door was open. Reddish-brown stains spattered the steering wheel.
She whipped around, looking into the dense bush. “Daniel!”
“He won’t be in the woods, Emily.” Matthew walked from the rear of the car to the open door. “Looks like it was struck from behind. The impact would have thrown him forward. Must have hit his head.” He touched the steering wheel. “Blood’s dry.”
“A collision, way out here? Where is he, then? The other driver wouldn’t have left him. He would have taken him to a doctor.”
“You’re right. They wouldn’t have left him.”
She felt sick. He meant on purpose.
Matthew started back the way they’d come. “My cell phone won’t work this far from town. We’ll have to use the lodge phone to call the police.” He gave her a quick, grim smile. “Don’t count Daniel out yet, Em. He knows a trick or two.”
MATTHEW PUSHED Emily into the woods and went in after her. A black SUV and a Toyota Tercel were parked near the Accord, blocking the road. He would have spent more time being surprised by the Tercel, but two men with rifles were standing near it, scanning the countryside.
He crouched, motioning for Emily to do the same, then pointed, showing her they needed to move further off the path. Northwest, away from both roads. The trees grew close together, the underbrush waist-high and even more dense. Tough going, but good cover.
When they’d gained some breathing room he paused. “Okay?”
She nodded. She looked frightened, but she was doing fine. “Did you see Daniel?”
“No.” They could keep six men Daniel’s size out of sight in the back of the SUV. “They were using two-way radios. That means there are more of them, most likely within a couple of miles. They’ll be watching the roads.” He didn’t want to take the time to get his map out. “North of here there’s a river and a railway track. We’ll head that way.”
“They had guns, Matthew.”
She was taking things in one observation at a time, and not quite putting them together. He kicked himself for agreeing to Daniel’s plan in the first place, then for letting Emily come north, above all for not taking these very dangerous people seriously enough.
Some distance away, he saw movement through the trees. They’d started searching.
There was a ridge ahead. “We’ll go over that hill.” He smiled, trying to encourage her. “As quick and as quiet as you can.”
They worked their way through underbrush and poison ivy, ducking under branches, stepping over dead-fall. Halfway up the incline Matthew stopped behind a screen of pine boughs and checked the way they’d come. He saw the same sort of movement as before, a flash of something solid between the trees.
Was the movement purposeful? He looked for signs of anyone coming up the side, moving to surround them. Nothing. The only sounds he heard were natural ones. Aspen leaves hissed in the breeze. Far away a crow made a racket. And he heard water.
He signaled to Emily to stay low. At the highest point they stopped again, keeping trees between them and the searchers.
The river was below. Fast-moving, with islands dotted through it. A path ran beside it. Must be part of a hiking trail.
Emily whispered in his ear. “The path? We could run.”
Sideways, half sliding between trees, they made for the bottom of the hill. He pulled her into the underbrush, out of sight.
The two men appeared at the top. They saw the path and the river and started down.
“Em? In a minute their view of the water will be blocked.” Bits of debris moved with the current. “Can you swim?”
She nodded.
“See how the sticks go around to the side of that island? That’s what we’ll do, Emily. We go in, we go under and we let the current take us.”
She looked at the water doubtfully.
“Ease in, no splashing. Just sink and let it take you.”
She headed for the bank. White spruce grew at the water’s edge, giving them cover to the last moment.
Two steps and it was over their heads.
THE WATER WAS COLD. The first few inches were warm but deeper down, it was icy. She had to force herself not to fight the current. It bumped her against rocks, pushed her against a buildup of sticks and logs. She walked her hands along the submerged branches, pulling herself closer to the island.
A second current caught her. The cold, the force, nearly shocked her into breathing. She couldn’t hold her breath, she couldn’t, not for another second—
Matthew was in front of her, pointing up. They rose together, breaking the surface, trying not to make a sound as they filled their lungs with air. They swam for the edge of the island they’d rounded, and this time let the current deposit them against the bank. They were tucked beneath a rock outcropping, bobbing in the water. He pulled her close. She shivered against him, gradually warming.
His mouth next to her ear, he said, “Sound travels across water. We’ll talk later.”
They waited. His legs kept tangling with hers, his arms helped her stay afloat. She felt every breath he took. She didn’t know how she could be so aware of his body right now, how she could need him when Daniel was hurt and someone wanted to hurt them, too.
Ten or twenty minutes passed. Matthew let go of her and worked his way to the corner of the island. He examined the riverbank and the side of the hill, then came back to her.
“I don’t see them. We’ll go across to the other shore.” He gestured with his head. “There, where the rocks jut out.”
It was a short swim and the rocks gave them cover when they scrambled out of the water. She couldn’t wait to get into the woods. When they were deep in the bush, far from paths and people, where she was sure bears and lynx must live, they stopped and sank to the ground to rest.
“Okay,” she said. “What happened? These people have Daniel? That one car, wasn’t that—?”
He nodded. “The honeymoon couple. I checked them out. They’re not known to the police.”
“Why guns, why come after us? We’re only looking for Daniel.”
“We’re bothering them.”
“Bothering!”
“We’re in their way and they don’t need us.”
She was still frightened, but angry, too. “Okay, well, they’re kind of bothering me. So what do I do about that?”
He smiled. “You sit tight.”
“Great.” She started wringing water from her hems and sleeves. “Do you have a gun?”
“Sorry.”
“But you’re an investigator.”
He made an apologetic face. “It doesn’t usually involve so much running and plunging into icy rapids. Usually it’s more about checking into criminal records.”
She wasn’t sure she believed him. He was too comfortable with all this for it to be unfamiliar. She leaned to the side and twisted the ends of her hair, letting water drip on the ground. “You think these people have been looking for the gold too, and they attacked Daniel? To stop him finding it?”
“They may be hoping he can help them find it.”
“So they need him.”
“
I hope so.”
She could see he was afraid for his uncle, but more than that, he was focused and determined. She found comfort in that.
AS FAR AS HE COULD TELL no one had followed them across the river. The two men must have gone down the hiking path instead, or given up and returned to the SUV. If these were Easton’s people they had a reputation for being ruthless, but only if it paid them to be. There was no percentage in a long search through acres of bush. Stuck out here he and Emily would be seen as a minimal problem, easily managed by keeping guards on the transportation routes.
Uncomfortable in wet shoes and clothes that only dried where the sun touched, they walked until midafternoon, then stopped for lunch. Most of what he’d carried in the knapsack was soaked, either temporarily unusable or ruined. They sipped bottled juice, conserving it, and shared one of two sandwiches kept dry in a plastic container with a tight-fitting lid.
Close to dusk, they came across a worn-down cabin.
“What do you think about this as a home for the night?”
“Think there’s porridge waiting on the table?”
He smiled. If they tried to put in a few more miles before dark they risked not finding other shelter, and Emily looked ready to drop. Plenty of blackflies had ignored the repellent they kept reapplying and from her limp he guessed the wet shoes were giving her blisters.
He unhooked the latch and pushed the door open. There was one room, with a rusted potbellied stove, a table and chair and a wooden platform that must have been the base of a single bed.
“It’s not too bad,” Emily said.
“No dustier than my apartment.”
“More spidery, I’ll bet. No cupboard, bare or otherwise.”
Hours ago they’d eaten a chocolate bar that hadn’t fared too badly in the water. He poured all the juice they had left into one bottle and put it on the table for her, then returned the empty one to his pack.
“I’ll see what I can find.”