Turning Secrets

by Brenda Chapman

  Kala’s phone signalled a message and she jammed the keys into the ignition while she pulled the cell out of her jacket. The text was from Gundersund. The team was meeting at the Merchant for a beer and update in half an hour. She checked the time on her phone. It was late enough in the afternoon that she was happy not to have to drive all the way out to HQ. The Merchant was downtown, near the waterfront, and she could easily head home from there. Maybe a recap of the day and a brainstorming session with the others would jumpstart an idea for where to begin in the morning.

  Fisher woke the second time that morning to rain dripping on his face through the branches of the pine tree that sheltered him from the worst of it. Still inside the sleeping bag, he rolled himself to a dry spot with a denser layer of branches overhead. He’d woken after sunrise and had a bite to eat and a drink of water before falling back to sleep. He stretched gingerly, pleasantly relieved when the pain didn’t jolt through him like a sharp punch to the gut. The long sleep seemed to have been the ticket to recovery. His phone was long dead and he had no idea what time it was with the sun shrouded in dense cloud. By the hunger in his belly, he guessed mid to late afternoon. He eased himself out of the sleeping bag and pulled on his rain jacket, which had been tightly folded at the bottom of his pack. The ground smelled rich and dark and alive in the woods. Fisher breathed in deeply and held the fresh, moist air in his lungs. The feeling was good enough that he didn’t even crave a smoke, which was great since he was out despite having carefully rationed them.

  He’d hung the bag of food high up in a tree away from his bed and he hauled it down now, taking out the last of the sandwiches and chocolate bars that Dawn had brought on her last visit. He’d saved an apple and ate it last. If Dawn didn’t come down to the beach after school, this meal would have to hold him until morning. He thought it might be time to pack up and move on. The itch to be back on the road was growing stronger as his body healed. It also wouldn’t hurt to put more distance between him and Loot. He could catch a bus into town before Dawn got home and get on the Greyhound heading east. He liked travelling at night when most people were in bed asleep, the lights and miles zipping past while he sat up front talking to the driver; it made him feel as if he were going toward someplace good. Kept the black hole from eating him up. He had enough money to make it to the coast … but he owed the kid a goodbye.

  He moved close to the edge of the woods and looked up the beach toward the path leading to the house. The two men in the black car the day before had unsettled him. They didn’t feel like the kind of friends either Kala or Dawn would tangle up with and he couldn’t come up with a good reason why they’d be trying to get into the house with the occupants away. He pictured the money hidden in Kala’s bedroom. The stash would buy him time to get set up in a new town. It would pay for a room and give him an address to use while he worked on landing a job. Employers liked a fixed address. Yet he disregarded the idea as quickly as it came. Stealing from family would be a bad start to cleaning up his life. He couldn’t do that to Dawn.

  He stared out at the flat grey lake and the dark underbelly of cloud hovering not too far above. The rain made circular divots on the water and played a continuous scale of notes on the surface. The fish would be biting in the bays. He’d have given anything to be out in a boat with his rod in the water. He wondered what kind of fish he’d catch trawling the shore of the Atlantic. The last he’d hooked had been a couple of rainbows near the Sault. He’d fried them over a campfire with onions in a slab of butter; he imagined the taste on his tongue.

  The rain started to let up. He’d give it a bit more time before making a trek up to the house to see who was around. Dawn might be home from school and alone. He wanted to talk to her and let her know that he’d likely be gone the next day. She was better off here than with him, but he’d leave the door open if she ever changed her mind.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Kala was the last to arrive at the Merchant and found the others gathered around a long table in an alcove where they had complete privacy. Rain streaked down the plate-glass window in rivulets and the bar room was snug and warm after the wet dash from her truck. She took the empty seat next to Gundersund and felt his thigh momentarily press against hers before he shifted away. Woodhouse and Bennett were at opposite ends of the table with Bedouin and Morrison directly across. Jugs of beer and plates of nachos and chicken wings filled the table. The server set a cranberry juice and soda in front of her shortly after she sat down.

  “I ordered for you,” said Gundersund. “I hope that was okay.”

  She smiled and tilted the glass in his direction. “Thanks.” She looked around. “No Rouleau?”

  “He’s stuck in a meeting with Ellington,” said Bennett.

  “And I’ll be going back to HQ to update him,” added Gundersund. “Apologies for mixing work with pleasure but I’ll need to know what everyone’s uncovered today so I have something to tell him.”

  “I’ve come from a visit with Nadia’s babysitter, Holly Tremaine,” said Kala. “Nadia would drop Hugo off on the spur of the moment, often overnight. She could have been meeting men for sex.”

  “I don’t know,” said Morrison. “Her friend Faz said she only did that when she was pressed for money. She didn’t like the lifestyle.”

  “She owed Holly about three hundred bucks.”

  Bennett interrupted. “We got a readout on her bank account. She’d saved close to six thousand dollars.”

  Kala considered the implications. “She couldn’t be making that much from part-time waitressing alone. Not with the bills she had to pay, reduced rent aside.”

  “I believe she was back hooking,” said Gundersund. “Does everyone agree?”

  “I’d like to say no but you’re likely right.” Morrison frowned. “I was rooting for her, you know? To try making something good of herself now that she was a mother.”

  “People aren’t always what we want them to be,” said Gundersund. He gave a slight nod toward Woodhouse who had his head down over his phone, typing busily with his thumbs and oblivious to the conversation. Everyone smiled, united in a moment of shared understanding.

  “What?” asked Woodhouse as he set his phone on the table and saw them watching him. “Why’re you all gawking at me?”

  “Just wondering who’s the lucky lady you’re texting,” said Bedouin.

  Woodhouse reached for his beer. “It’s nobody.” He stopped talking and drank.

  Kala studied him, assessing his discomfort. She pulled herself back to the conversation. “I don’t think we can assume she was soliciting — not without proof. Someone she knew, like a family member, might have loaned the money to her.”

  “You’re right,” agreed Gundersund. “First rule of policing is to never assume. Do you have time to check with her family?”

  “Of course. I’ll call them tomorrow morning. She could have had a friend who loaned her money, though. The bank might have record of a money transfer. I’ll check that too.”

  “Great.” His gaze shifted. “How did your interview go today, Woodhouse?”

  Woodhouse leaned back in the chair and rested the beer glass on his belly. “Murray Simmons lawyered up and refused to say anything incriminating. Bennett is going to dig around in the lives of the Simmons brothers tomorrow. We need more ammunition.”

  Bedouin looked at Morrison. “We received a few calls from people who think they saw Nadia in various bars around town. Should keep us busy tomorrow.”

  Morrison nodded. “I met with a family about their runaway teen before I came here. Unrelated to this case but it might take up part of my day tomorrow. I can help otherwise.”

  “Need any assistance with that?”

  “I’ll let you know, but I’m hoping the girl comes to her senses, ditches the loser boyfriend, and shows up at home tonight.”

  “You make it sound personal,” Bedouin said.

  “Let’s say I’m getting tired of men and the power they hold over those of
us stupid enough to fall for their charms.” The noise coming from her throat sounded like a growl.

  Everyone lifted their glass to drink, eyes carefully averted. Kala didn’t blame the men for wisely staying silent on the issue. Even Woodhouse thought better of giving his opinion.

  The meeting broke up soon afterward when Gundersund received a text that Rouleau was in the office waiting for the update. Kala walked with him to the door ahead of the others.

  “I could come by with Minnie after I’m done at HQ,” he said as he pulled the hood of his jacket over his head.

  “I’ll save you some supper.”

  He smiled and rubbed his hand up her arm before dashing out the door into the dusky night, the sidewalks and roads slick and shiny with rain. She turned to see if anyone had noticed the contact but the others were only just entering the hallway. She waved goodbye to Morrison and Bedouin and followed Gundersund through the cold rain to her truck. She climbed in, grateful that she’d found a parking spot within view of the Merchant’s front entrance. Bedouin and Morrison left together with Bennett less than a minute behind them. Kala peered through the gloom and the rain-streaked windshield and waited. She texted Dawn to say she’d be home within the hour, feeling a twinge of guilt at leaving her alone again.

  It was another five minutes before Woodhouse stepped outside the bar, pulling the collar of his jacket up around his ears. He stopped and looked up and down the street before turning toward the waterfront. Kala jumped out of her truck, locked it, and hurried down the street after him as he disappeared around the corner.

  He was a block ahead by the time she reached Ontario Street. She saw him jaywalking across the road. She checked for traffic and ran to the opposite sidewalk, keeping a block back. The rain and the noise of passing cars covered the slap of her footsteps on the wet pavement. Woodhouse checked behind him once but his eyes didn’t linger in her direction. He picked up speed and widened the distance between them. She cleared the rain from her face and panicked for a moment when he passed a group of university-aged kids clustered at a light and she lost sight of him. She jogged a block farther before realizing that he’d detoured into the Delta Hotel. There was nowhere else he could have gone. She backtracked and entered by the front door, shaking water out of her hair and hoping that he hadn’t taken the elevator to some room where she’d never find him.

  The reservation desk was directly ahead and the hotel lounge was to the left of the lobby. A long bar underlit by blue lights extended the length of the entrance to the lounge, dividing the tables with a view of the harbour from the hallway. She paused at the end of the bar and surveyed the room. Woodhouse had his back to her. Kala felt a stab of disappointment when he shifted sideways and she saw Marci Stokes sitting across from him. She’d half hoped that she’d misjudged him. He wasn’t her favourite person by any stretch but feeding information to the press would bring trouble on his head. He was breaking the code of ethics that they’d signed before joining the force. She had no idea how Rouleau would take Marci’s involvement, although Kala couldn’t blame Marci for finding sources wherever she could. No, Woodhouse was the one who’d put his job on the line.

  She took out her cellphone and snapped several photos of the two of them together, moving into the room but keeping out of their sightline. The lighting in the main room was dim and she wasn’t convinced the photos were clear enough, but they’d have to do. The two were deep in discussion and Marci had her laptop open. She pointed at something on the screen and Woodhouse twisted his body to see. He nodded and she typed on the keyboard while continuing to talk. Kala would have given anything to hear what the two of them were discussing but she couldn’t move close enough without exposing herself. She stepped back behind a large wooden pillar at the end of the bar and waved off the approaching bartender. “I’m just checking out the view of the lights on the water,” she said. “Sending photos to impress my boyfriend back home.”

  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Take your time.” He smiled and moved away.

  She glanced across the lounge. Woodhouse was getting up. He said something to Marci before looking around the room. Kala slipped behind the pillar again. He strode out of the bar and past her without glancing toward her hiding place. She watched him cross the lobby and exit through the main door. His entire meeting with Marci had taken less than ten minutes. Marci was still talking into her cellphone and looking out at the boats moored at the dock when Kala followed Woodhouse out into the darkness five minutes later.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  By the time Fisher reached the house, the rain had started up again. The back deck wasn’t roofed but he didn’t want to sit up there anyway. It felt too exposed if someone came around the corner unexpectedly. Dawn must have gone somewhere after school; he was going to have to wait. He’d packed up his few belongings and left them in the woods, but he’d retrieve them once she got home and he had a chance to say goodbye. His stuff would stay dry in the shelter of the trees and bushes where it wouldn’t encumber him if he had to make a dash to stay hidden. He was antsy to get moving and decided to catch the night bus east. Loot and Ronnie would be searching for him by now and they’d had an eerie ability to find him in Toronto. He prayed their tentacles didn’t reach as far as Kingston. He wouldn’t feel safe until he was living somewhere remote on Nova Scotia’s South Shore. He pictured a cottage in the woods near the sea. Nothing fancy, but a place with a woodstove and a view of the water. He’d find work on the boats or as a labourer and would hunt and fish to keep himself going. He didn’t need much as long as he could see the stars at night.

  He started down the driveway toward the road, keeping close to the line of trees. The rain pelted his face and ran off the hood of his jacket. It was probably earlier in the day than the light would have him believe, the clouds low and heavy, blocking out the sun. He heard the rumble of a car approaching on the road and ducked into the brush while it passed. From what Dawn had told him, Kala Stonechild was a loner and didn’t interact much with her neighbours, but they might question a stranger walking up her laneway.

  Dawn would be getting off the bus at the end of the road and walking the rest of the way home. He wasn’t sure which direction she’d be coming from so he selected a spot directly across from the driveway under the shelter of a fir tree. He had a clear view up to the bends in the road in both directions. He crouched down, surrounded by the smell of wet moss and rich, damp earth. He inhaled as much as he could into his lungs and held it there, letting it out slowly, then taking in another big breath. All those years inside, he’d felt like he was suffocating. The institutional air wasn’t fit for the living even though it had kept them alive.

  When he’d first moved away from the bush and tried to make a go of it in the city, the pavement and concrete had felt like they were suffocating him too. He’d thought he’d get past the feeling during that first year with Rosie but he’d failed. Gotten into drugs and gambling when the panic set in. Started breaking into houses. He didn’t blame her anymore for kicking him out. He was a bad influence on the kid. The funny thing was that he’d figured out what he needed in prison. It wasn’t money or chemical oblivion. These had only masked what he was missing. He had to get back to the water and the land. Talk Rosie into coming with him once she got out of Joliette. She didn’t belong in the city either. They’d be there for Dawn but he wouldn’t force her to join them. She was on her own path.

  He looked up and down the road, looking for his daughter through the thickening dusk and rain. He shifted positions and leaned forward when he made out the slight figure of a girl rounding the bend on his right. His breath caught at the sight of her. Dawn moved like Rose, and it cut him to his heart. He straightened from his crouched position, prepared to meet her halfway. Even if someone saw them together, he’d be gone within hours. Still, he was relieved that the road was empty. The spreading darkness would also make them difficult to see.

  He was about to step out from his hiding spot when he heard a car
engine revving loudly. He paused and cocked his head to listen. The rain and murky light made it hard to tell which direction it was coming from, but Dawn must have heard the car too because she stopped, moved closer to the shoulder, and turned to look behind her. The car’s lights cut through the gloom and Dawn raised a hand to shield her eyes. Fisher squinted through the light and started walking toward her, keeping along the side of the road so he could jump for cover if it turned out to be Kala. The car stopped a few feet in front of Dawn and he watched the back door on the passenger side swing open. A young man got out and appeared to be talking to her. She started to back away and he grabbed her arm. It was the same car and the same men who had been casing the house.

  Fisher started running.

  Dawn was in the back seat when Fisher reached the Audi, her eyes enormous and scared. The man was pushing her back with one arm across her chest while slamming the door shut with his other hand. The car lurched forward. Fisher pounded on the front hood as it shot past, yelling at them to let her go. He thumped his fist on the window and kicked at the side panel before the car careered out of reach. He started to run after it but the ache in his side made him double over. He gulped air, trying to suck in enough oxygen to replenish his muscles and carry him forward.

  The Audi was revving away, the noise getting fainter. Fisher stumbled but righted himself and half ran, half limped down the middle of the road. He couldn’t hear the car’s engine any longer but he kept going. He was nearly at the bend, staring into the darkness when he was blinded by car headlights snapping on and realized his mistake too late. The car sped forward. He felt the crunch of his bones as it struck him full, tossing his broken body into the air like a rag doll. He felt his hip and shoulder smack onto the pavement, water and dirt flying, stars filling his vision — and then nothing.