The small group had agreed to maintain silence until the end of Jacob's presentation, but they could all feel the questions welling up inside.
"You were born in a farmhouse just outside the village of Brinston. It's about an hour's drive from here, I understand. From the records that Renae Ogemah was able to unearth, the CAS made the decision to rename and relocate you."
Jacob gently held up his hand to May and she left her blurted "Why?" in the air.
"I'll explain everything eventually, I promise."
He gave Alain and May a copy of the birth certificate to keep them preoccupied with something to look at while they listened.
"You can see on this next application from the CAS that they made you a ward of the court in 1980. Next, they renamed you and sent you to the first of a series of foster homes, all in the Toronto area. They made the case that you had special needs that might not be serviced in small-town foster situations, but also that you might be harassed and harmed if you were brought up anywhere near Brinston."
Jacob lifted a series of photocopies from his desk.
"When Doc was able to get you to remember the fire, I was able to corroborate your memories with information about the Janot family. The story is told in a series of newspaper articles that I have copied for you. It's not an easy story, Alain. I want to tell it to you verbally and then invite you to read the articles."
"A bit of background, too. Both your parents were French Canadian, though Robert's family did not have as long a history in Canada as your mother's did. Both of them were only children. I haven't tried to trace any other relatives yet, but we will, as it might help find your sister."
"Robert Janot was a renowned preacher for a good number of years. He had a church attached to his property and actually had a rather large following. Known as the Church of Leviticus, it was legally a rogue church. There is a branch in Williamsburg, which still runs to this day. That one was given charitable status and recognized by the government as an official church."
"Janot's branch was given tacit approval by the one in Williamsburg, but for some reason, never got charitable status on its own. I wasn't able to find any other official branches in Canada, but there are a few in the United States, especially in California. There are also reports of other branches that were begun by various self-appointed ministers, but are connected to the Church of Leviticus in name only."
"The original was started by a kind of hippie cult and did not get good reviews. Quite a number of testimonials from former members report that people who attended the church were either brainwashed or bought into the old-time fire and brimstone. Some branches even turned to violence against anyone who vocally disagreed with the church principles or decided to leave. There are lots of reports from former constituents about family members who joined Leviticus and have not been seen since. There are also reports of beatings, houses burned down and other acts of revenge, although the Leviticans have been able to dispute each charge. They are either innocent or very clever at hiding their misdeeds."
"All this is to let you know that Pastor Janot was involved in a rather shady operation. In 1970, he was charged with fraud. Although he beat the rap, he was pretty much harassed for years afterward. The Williamsburg branch, under a Pastor Rondeau, supported Janot, but nevertheless, his branch of the church began to fail."
"For several years, he and his family became recluses and outcasts. The papers report some kind of Deacon who stayed with him, but other than that, the congregation pretty much dissipated. After the trial, someone repeatedly vandalized the church and the house and once even beat up the Pastor. Janot claimed he couldn't remember anything, so no one was ever charged. Then in 1980, somebody burned down the house."
The last sentence was said slowly and gently.
"Worse, they killed your mother and father first."
Jacob sat down, handing over the newspaper clippings to Alain and May. As they looked through them, Jacob continued.
"Both you and your sister, Dorothée, were rescued. However, you suffered a terrible cranial injury. Doctors thought that a beam from the house had fallen on you. In a coma for nearly six months, you had no memory whatsoever when you regained consciousness. Neither your brother Elias nor your sister Faith survived. In fact, Faith's body was never found."
"I was able to speak to Moe Fournier. Coincidentally, it was his father who headed the fire investigation. He told me that Faith's bones could have been so small that they completely disintegrated, because the propane tanks in the house exploded. However, in light of your nightmare about the well, we have another theory. Doc will handle that issue," he added, when May and Alain looked up from the articles. "Let's deal with one thing at a time. Who wants another drink?"
Alain answered quickly. "I sure could use one, as long as my doctor thinks it's okay."
Doc Murphy nodded. "A little bit of wine won't hurt," he said. "You've been on the medication long enough to be able to take a small amount of alcohol. Right now, I think you need it. I know I do."
Doc poured wine, while Jacob went into the house and returned with a platter of delicious-smelling appetizers.
May noticed that everyone ate but Alain. He remained mesmerized by the newspaper copies. While the others gathered around the appetizer tray, she used the moment to speak quietly in his ear.
"How are you holding up?"
He turned his expressive eyes toward her. She could see flickers of pain, mixed with wonder and excitement.
"I'm okay. I'm sad, but I feel as though I'm reading a story about someone I used to know."
She nodded in agreement, understanding how he felt. "Want me to get you something to eat?"
He lifted his glass. "I think so. This wine tastes way too good. Might help if I had some food too."
Once the group resettled, this time with plates and glasses balanced on their laps, Jacob continued the presentation.
"As I was saying, the baby may or may not have died in the fire. Moe Fournier gave me a detailed lesson in forensic inquiries, most of which I'll spare you. His dad was heavily involved in this case and passed the interest on to his son. You should have heard him! He was impassioned."
"Identification depends on careful collection of fragments and splinters and reconstruction of the specimens. Moe says that this process requires a forensic anthropologist who is well experienced in the field of burned bones. At the time of this fire, there was no such person available. Jean Fournier was a rural fire chief. He had little or no experience with finding bones. Plus the explosions that destroyed the house made finding the remains extremely difficult. These days, they have lots of different methods, but the evidence of course is long gone."
"Your brother, Elias, was discovered in the front hall. There were theories about him, naturally, but nothing substantial. Either he was a hero, who had saved the two of you and attempted to save the baby after someone else killed your parents, or he killed them and set the house on fire. We may never know, since even your hypnosis-retrieved memories don't shed much light on these events. At least, not so far."
"Your sister Dorothée was legally adopted afterward, Alain. The records were sealed, so unless she wants to get in touch, there will be no way to find her. However, I have prepared the papers and we can send a request to her through the CAS. Basically, you put yourself on a registry and the CAS forwards the request to exchange information. She can, however, turn down the invitation."
"It's interesting that you think she lives here in Burchill. It wouldn't be out of the question, since Brinston is not that far away. I've read stories where siblings, especially twins, find each other against all odds. There was even a set of twins who were separated at birth, then met and actually married each other before they found out."
Alain looked at May, who said, "Hey bro," and burst out laughing. Soon they were all joining in, feeling a cathartic release after the grim tragedy of Alain's family history.
"I want you all to know," Alain said when silence followe
d their laughter, "how much I appreciate your support. I am sure you know I am having some trouble with this. But I have May and I have your friendships. Now that I know what happened to my family, I understand why I was such an angry little boy. As Doc said, I am going to be able to deal with it once I know all the facts. Before, it was an unknown fear but now…this is a horrible tragedy and it's sad what happened to my family and me. At least I am not the monster I thought I might be."
He paused and the group physically moved closer to him. May leaned toward him, putting her hand on his arm. They reinforced by their proximity that they would support his discovery and his journey toward healing.
"I believe I know who Dorothée became and where she is," Alain said slowly, almost thinking out loud. "But I don't want to say it. It is something from my dream, something from the hypnosis…the way her eyes and face were when she turned to look at me…the way she moved. I will feel ridiculous if I say it out loud and it's not true. I hope you will be patient with me."
Doc spoke first. "You have come a long way in a very short period of time, Alain. We won't rush you. And try not to rush yourself. You have such an enormous amount of information to handle already, not to mention the emotional toll."
"Let's leave all of this for tonight," Jacob suggested. "Let's celebrate the discoveries with wine and good food and maybe even some song later."
Everyone smiled. They were pensive and gentle. The celebrating would be delicious.
"Just one more thing before we leave this," Doc said.
When Jacob apologized for having forgotten, the physician continued.
"Going back to Alain's revelation about the baby. The description of the pond-like setting and little Faith's disappearance got me to thinking…"
"The bones from Bahswaway!" May exclaimed and then clapped her hand over her mouth, the gesture making clear the spontaneity of her outburst.
However, Doc pointed to her like a child who'd given the right answer at last.
"Exactly. It seems to me that the description of the well in your dream is very similar to Bahswaway. Also, the dreams started about four years ago and if you recall, that's precisely when the bones were discovered. It's too much of a coincidence."
The group nodded their agreement.
"I happen to know the forensic anthropologist in Ottawa who has the bones in her lab. I don't believe she would have spent a lot of time on them, mostly because of a lack of budget, since no case has really been pursued with regard to them. However, I think I can get Edgar to talk the OPP into investigating now. One last question, Alain."
"This woman whom you think may be your sister. Would her age make her Dorothée? Or do you think it's possible that she is Faith? That the baby survived somehow? As Jacob said, her body was never found."
"Don't forget that was pretty common though, Doc," Jacob reminded him. "In those days, finding the tiny bones of a baby in a fire that devastating would have been nearly impossible."
Alain considered for a moment. "I'm not sure, of course. I'm not really certain of anything right now. In my nightmares, the ancient well becomes real and the baby dies in it. In hypnosis, I saw her body go into the pond. The other little girl, the one I see in the fire, I believe she is Dorothée."
Doc continued. "My theory is that your sister's remains were among the bones found in Bahswaway during the search for the missing women years ago. It fits with everything we've heard."
There was a shocked silence as they attempted to deal with another possible twist to the ugly, heartbreaking story.
At that moment, Kristen George knocked at the office door. When Jacob opened it, she said, "Sorry to disturb you!"
They all chimed in at once that they were almost done.
"Just wanted to let you know that Emily and Langford have arrived. But Edgar phoned a while ago and cancelled out. He's been called away on business and Frances couldn't make it back from the conference."
"What a shame! They're even working on a Saturday," Jacob lamented, planting a kiss on his fiancée's cheek.
"Look who's talking," May interjected and the laughter carried them into the main part of the house.
That evening, the little group partied and celebrated, putting the serious issues behind them for a while, focusing on the positive, the energy, the possibilities and their friendships. Two long tables had been placed from the dining room clear through to the living room. Their faces lit by candlelight, the smiles reflected in the huge picture window.
Jordan, Adrienne, Helen, Jacob and Kristen filled one end of the dining area. Doc and Maire faced each other in the middle. At the end, Alain, May, Langford and Emily smiled, laughed, toasted, refilled glasses and enjoyed the food immensely.
Later, when the children had been put to bed, the adults continued to talk and laugh far into the night. There was, as Jacob had predicted, even singing, led by Helen's deep, melodious voice.
From the outside, their faces were smudged by the glow of the candles, their mouths opened and closed without sound. The person watching them was incensed by the flagrant display of decadence. The food was drenched in oily sauces, the meat red and dripping, their mouths twisted and churned as they masticated. Sometimes they even laughed, showing lumps of fetid ground-up fodder. Now red faced with a repulsive alcoholic glow, they lifted the glasses of iniquity. They were irreverent, self-indulgent and gluttonous.
The watcher's fists clenched, mouth grimaced in anger. They would pay for their godlessness. Very soon. When the spawn of Molech were reunited.
The intruder took the burned plucked body of the pigeon and rubbed its charred remains into the steps of the front porch. The conduits of Molech's return shall make atonement as well.
Satisfied, the observer disappeared into the night.
Chapter 41: Doro
Nicolas Denis arrived with dessert. Mounds of whipped cream and fruit blended with a fluffy angel cake. The coffee was hot and darkly delicious. The three of them sat close together in the small space of the den.
By now, the sun had disappeared over the neighbouring rooftops and bright lights reflected their faces back from the windows. For a moment, they ate in silence.
Cynthia abruptly put down her plate. "When did Sam tell you about Steven?" she asked.
It was clear she'd been holding in her question since his confession a couple of hours ago.
Nic paused with a spoonful of cake and cream halfway to his mouth. He gave her a tentative look. "Just last year. After Steven was killed in that car accident."
Doro thought back to Blue Shirt's menacing look. A father, grieving his son, yet obviously still uncertain as to his role in this infamous fire. No wonder he was enraged and alarmed that she had turned up in their midst. Guilt and anguish could create powerful reactions.
Cynthia nodded. "Okay, I think I can see why you didn't tell me. But why didn't he make Steven tell the authorities what he'd seen and heard? His account makes Elias look a lot more innocent."
"Why do you think this?"
"Because…well…" She hesitated. "It makes sense that Elias came home in the middle of the night, discovered the fire and his parents dead. So he went further inside the house and rescued his sister and brother. Then he made sure they were safe before trying to go after the baby. He's a hero."
"It could be," Nic conceded. "But Steven's account does not really clear up anything. Elias also could have shot the parents and then set the fire. Maybe he did not plan to save his brother and sister. Maybe he only does that because Steven shows up."
He munched the last mouthful of his dessert. "And maybe Steven has told nothing but lies. Maybe he has helped with the murders and the fire. He never changed after that. He became even worse a problem to his parents. He died driving drunk."
He added the last sentence as an aside to Doro.
"And maybe Sam knows it too," Cynthia said.
Nic nodded reluctantly. "That could be, ma chérie. I would not be surprised. This thing, it still eats Sam up. When Steven
died, he had to tell someone and he picks me."
They all relaxed in their chairs, empty dishes piled up, steaming hot, comforting coffee still in their hands.
"Doro, what do you think? Do you want to digest all of this information and talk in the morning? Or do you want to talk now?"
For an answer, the younger woman leaned forward, emphasizing the intimacy she felt toward this couple.
"I want you to know that my name is now Frances," she said.
Doro could hear Candace Petapiece's soft, pleasant voice singing in the background 'You Are My Special Angel.'
"I named you Frances," she said to Doro, "because it means free. You are a free person, my darling, and I will always love you."
She was larger than life, outgoing and fun. But she told Frances nothing about her past. In her own way, she was protecting Doro, trying to free her from the ghastly memories of her family and how they had died.
"My Aunt Candace, though I guess Cousin Candace is more accurate, told me she called me Frances because it meant free. But I wasn't free, not really."
It didn't work, Aunt Candace, Frances whispered to herself, but I love you for trying.
"Not until today," Frances continued. "Recently, I'd been hearing the name 'Doro' in my memories, in my dreams. When I arrived in Brinston, I suddenly told Nicolas and his friends that I was called Doro. I didn't want anyone to know who I was."
She laughed mirthlessly. "Instead, I inadvertently picked my birth name. It somehow felt right and now I know why."
Frances cleared her throat and continued. "I got married last year to a wonderful man. We didn't plan this pregnancy. He's quite a bit older than I am and I wasn't sure how he'd react."
Nic actually laughed, a sound Frances hadn't heard until now.
"Now you know after meeting us that age does not matter," he chuckled as his wife smiled at him indulgently.
The Emily Taylor Mystery Bundle Page 54