by David Gane
I appreciate what he’s saying, but before I can respond, Mike jogs up.
“Where you guys headed?”
Aw, shit. I don’t need him tagging along, for a thousand different reasons.
“Charlie’s picking up a couple of hours at the bake shop,” I lie. “I was going to drive him over and then do some homework.”
Charlie shoots me a look of disapproval, and I feel like an ass, but I don’t know what else I could’ve done.
“That’s a bummer. I thought maybe we could hang,” Mike says.
“Actually,” Charlie cuts in, shaking his head, “they cancelled my shift.”
“Oh,” I mumble. What the hell is he doing?
Mike brightens. “Ah, cool. So what’s up?”
With Charlie basically inviting him along, I see no other option but to tell him the truth. “Well, we’re heading to the park—”
Charlie interrupts me. “Shepherd and I are heading to park, but you’ve got a date.”
“I do?” Mike blinks. “With who?” He’s barely finished the sentence when his phone rings. “Hello?” he says, answering it. “Sorry. Who? Carrie? Carrie who?”
I glance at Charlie and he winks.
“Oh yeah … Carrie.” Mike looks at Charlie and me, raising an eyebrow before turning away from us to talk to her.
I put my hands in my pocket, resigned to what I know will happen next.
Mike turns back toward us, still on the line with the girl. “No, that’s totally cool. Hang on.” He drops the phone and whispers, “Sorry, guys. It’s Carrie from social studies. Looks like she may want to hang out.” He gives us a thumbs up and walks away.
“Aaaaand there he goes,” I say out loud.
Charlie shrugs. “I felt bad for the guy after lunch and it turned out that Carrie’s had her eye on him for a while now.”
“Aww, aren’t you the nice guy.”
“Hey, no harm, Shepherd. Who knows? Maybe the stars will align for those two lovebirds.”
“Just needed a Cupid like you to help it along,” I say.
“Ooh, Cupid …,” he says, rolling the idea around in his head.
“Are you going to start using your superpowers to matchmake now instead of fighting crime?”
“Well, it’s better than lying to your best friend,” he scolds, and I shake my head at the slight.
“Relax,” he says. “I’m not that honorable. It’s simply a diversion. Carrie and I worked together at The Sugar Dough Stop, and she owes me a favour.”
“Do I even dare ask what sort of favour?”
“Ask only questions you want answers to, Shepherd.”
I shake my head as we get into Dad’s car, and he gives me the finger-guns ahead. “Let’s roll.”
chapter 41
We have a lot of ground to cover, so I drive to the furthest discovery site first.
Charlie’s got his phone out and is researching news articles.
“Haven’t you already read everything about these murders?” I ask.
“Not really, Shepherd.” Off my look, he adds, “Seriously, I really have been trying to avoid all the nefarious goings-on.”
“Did last summer mess you up that bad?” I ask, trying to be as blunt as possible.
“Well, waking up in a hospital bed with a zipper in my gut and you crying over my bed certainly was traumatizing.”
“Hey, I didn’t show up until later—”
“Oh yeah, what was it you were up to while I was suffering? Swimming?”
“Gotta get my exercise in,” I counter. “But you still haven’t answered my question.”
“Listen, I made a promise to your folks, and I’m going to try my best.”
That still doesn’t explain the months where he was under no obligation to behave but still stayed out of trouble. I don’t push it—yet; he’s got to be avoiding it for a reason.
Charlie directs me to the west side of the city, taking us past the RCMP barracks. “Kind of ballsy to dump a body right under the cops’ noses,” Charlie says. “Turn right here.”
We pull past a cul-de-sac with an old community centre at the end. It looks like it’s been closed for several years, its windows and doors shuttered with plywood, colourful graffiti sprayed over the orange brick. There’s an empty playground behind it, weeds stretching up through the cracks in the cement.
“Keep going,” Charlie says, studying his phone.
We roll past house after house. Butting up against their backyards is a bike path that runs along the edge of a park.
“It’s all residential,” I say. But I keep going until we come to another street that leads into the parking lot for a baseball field.
“Pull in here,” he says.
I stop the car in an empty space and we climb out, surveying the area. We can see into every kitchen and living room window of the neighbouring homes. There’s no easy way for anyone to do anything secretive—especially something like dumping a dead body.
“Whoever this guy is, he’s not scared,” I say.
“That’s what worries me,” Charlie says, wandering up the embankment of the bike path and into the park. “This place would have been pretty busy back in October.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask, racing to catch up.
He doesn’t answer me directly, looking up and down the long, winding pavement instead.
There are still enough puddles and piles of snow to keep most people from enjoying a bike ride or a run. Beyond the park is the creek and the small island in its centre, connected to the bike path by a couple of bridges.
We start walking toward one of them.
“Think back to when you first asked for my help with Sheri.”
I had almost begged Charlie for his help to find her. “Yeah, what about it?”
“And right after asking, I tested you by getting you to cut through someone’s backyard to get to your car.”
“Wait? That was a test ?”
“Of course it was. I had to see what you were capable of.”
“What’s that got to do with this guy?” I growl, getting frustrated. I hate when he’s not straight with me.
“Well, eventually, we broke into enough houses that you quit being a pussy—”
“Charlie!”
He sighs, happy he’s finally got a reaction out of me.
I swear, I think he lives for this stuff.
“Gekas’s guy isn’t a pussy,” Charlie says. “He’s been doing this for a while.”
I feel a chill run down my spine. “Which means he’s capable of almost anything,”
Charlie nods, grim-faced. “This guy is comfortable with killing.”
chapter 42
The island where the second body was found has been left undeveloped as an ecoregion of mixed-grass prairie. Dirt paths weave between tufts of grass, flowers and small, low bushes. Ducks and geese have returned from the south and waddle around on the remaining ice along the edges of the creek. I don’t know which species they are, but I’m sure if I asked Charlie, he’d be able to name them all. His understanding of flora and fauna and the natural landscape is impressive.
His mind, however, is elsewhere.
“The body was found by a woman out walking her dog—hey, kind of like Ollie helped us—”
“Let’s not even talk about it,” I interrupt. That whole incident last summer was disgusting.
“Fine.” He goes back to his notes. “The woman came out here in the early morning—about 6:20 a.m., to be exact—and found the body.
“Stop saying ‘the body.’ Who’s the victim?”
“A guy called Rudy Hopper.”
“The name sounds familiar. Do you know anything else about him?”
“Just that he was a student at the university,” Charlie says, checking his
phone. “You know, it’d be great if Gekas could just give us her case files—”
“She’s not even supposed to be asking for our help!”
“If she really did,” he says skeptically.
I try to ignore Charlie’s uncertainty, but it stings a little. “We’ll be done soon enough. No harm, no foul, right?” I say, trying to sound like I believe this line of BS myself.
“We really need to talk about your morals, young man,” he says, grinning.
I need us to move off the subject of me and focus on the murders. “So, Rudy was a university student?”
Charlie flips through web pages. “Says here he went to the gym but didn’t come home. Parents report him missing. Three days later, the woman finds his body.”
No matter how many times I hear these stories, the thought of families torn apart by murder is horrible, and I have to shake off the memories of my own experience in order to keep to the task at hand. I can see Charlie’s turning the details over in his mind. “What’s up?”
“He lived at home, which means he’s from here.”
“Yeah, so?”
He shrugs. “Nothing, I guess. Just trying to make connections between the bodies.” He sighs and looks around.
“So Rudy goes missing for three days, which means the killer held him captive for a couple of days before killing him. Or he could have been murdered the night of his workout, and the killer held onto his body for awhile before dumping him here.”
I shudder at the cold nature of Charlie’s words—but I’m betting he’s accurate about the murderer’s mindset.
“Which makes him patient and methodical,” I say.
Charlie looks toward the grove of trees at the north end of the island. “Once he gets out here, though, he’s got enough cover to take his time,” he says.
“But he’s got to get out here first,” I counter.
“Which makes him fearless and comfortable in killing and clean-up.”
This back and forth is natural. It’s less about answering each other’s questions and more like talking out a problem.
We fall silent and stare at the view until Charlie looks over at me. “You good?”
I feel like we haven’t accomplished much, but I know Charlie wants to continue the process at the next location.
“Yup.”
“Then let’s twenty-three skidoo!”
Honestly, I don’t know where he comes up with this stuff.
chapter 43
The first time I drove with Charlie anywhere, he was a bundle of nervous energy. He rummaged through every single slot and console, and pushed every button in my dad’s car before choosing the music. Now, as we travel to the next location, he’s much more relaxed. Sunglasses on, leaning back in his seat, window open to let in the cool spring air. He even lets me choose the music.
“Beverage?” he asks.
I nod in agreement and take a quick detour to a chain res-
taurant with coffee and doughnuts. I pull up to the drive-
thru speaker and order a couple of coffees, then move ahead to the window and take out my wallet.
“You’re buying?” he asks.
“Sure.”
“You know, I have a job,” he states.
“Yeah. And so do I!” Why’s he bothered by this?
“Point is, you’re not treating me like some charity case, are you? First you take me in, then you pay for all my stuff.”
“Nope. Not at all.” I pause. “You’ll return the favour at some point.”
“Good,” he says, nodding.
When the woman comes to the window, he calls out to her, “Can you add a half-dozen assorted doughnuts, please?”
I glare at him, but he’s grinning. “Hey, if you’re going to be my part-time sugar daddy, then I’ll decide the kind of sugar I’m trading.”
chapter 44
Charlie’s halfway through his third doughnut by the time we get to the city centre.
“Let’s get the location of the most recent discovery out of the way first,” he says. “Pull down this side street.”
I follow his directions and turn onto a quiet little street with large homes. We’re actually not far from my house, which is across the creek but only a five-minute walk away. We cross the busy street that bisects the city, and enter the park.
The victim’s body was found down by the water landing along a busy road, and not far from the provincial Legislative Building. Even though we’re still a good distance away, we can already see the buzz of activity. Yellow caution tape flaps in the wind, and even though a day has passed since the body was discovered, a police cruiser is parked on the path and a boat is anchored nearby. There are divers in the water beside the hull of the boat.
“They must still be processing the area for evidence,” Charlie says.
“Gekas is probably over there somewhere.”
“We should go over and ask for the case files,” he proposes, blinking at me innocently.
I chuckle. “Nope. Not doing that.”
To be honest, I’d be surprised if we could get any closer than we already are without drawing the attention of the officers on the scene. Charlie already has something of a reputation with the city’s cops, after all.
“Fine, ” he says, nodding at a television van parked along the treeline. “Maybe I can get us the next best thing.” He plops on a bench and taps away at his phone, then stretches out, turning his face to the sun and closing his eyes.
I could ask him what he’s up to, but I’m guessing he knows someone in the press. When you spend your time dealing in secrets, those kinds of connections are probably fairly reciprocal.
He doesn’t get to rest for long before his phone buzzes, and he sighs, leaning forward to check it.
“This latest victim’s name is Tyson Martz.”
He looks over at me to see if I recognize the name the way I did Rudy Hopper’s, but I shake my head.
He goes on, “Looks like he was maybe in his forties. The news says he worked construction. He’s been missing since November, and cops have just been waiting for him to show up.”
“November?”
“Yup. The early freeze must’ve trapped him under the ice.”
I shudder. “I can’t even imagine what he must look like.”
“You’d think he’d be bloated, right—?”
He’s probably researched exactly what the body looked like. “Charlie, I don’t want to know!”
“But the tissue breaks down and turns into something like soap—”
“Stop! Please, just stop!”
He grins at my discomfort before looking back at his phone. “Anyway, what was left of him was found by an early morning runner. Oh, this is interesting. The bag he was in was anchored to a weight.”
“Anchored?”
Charlie nods.
“What the hell is this guy up to?” I ask.
chapter 45
When we’re done, we walk to the last site, following the curve of the lakeshore along the Albert Street bridge.
“Remember when they deepened the lake when we were kids?” Charlie asks.
“Yup. Heather used to have nightmares about the scary stuff she thought they’d dredge up.”
“I guess she didn’t know how prophetic she was—if you believe in that stuff.” He tosses his coffee cup at a garbage can, swishing it in. He raises his arms in victory. “You know, it’s actually strange they didn’t find anything.”
“Maybe they weren’t looking hard enough,” I say, knowing full well I never knew half the crazy things going on in this town before hanging out with Charlie.
“I bet they did, and totally kept it all hush-hush!” he says devilishly, pulling out his phone again to research this victim.
As we cut through a wooded grove, I can’t help
but notice how much quieter it is here. “This place is a lot more private.”
“Maybe not as many prying eyes, but still lots of traffic,” he says. As if to make his point, a man and a boy appear along the road and bike past us. “Besides,” he adds, “park cops drive along here all the time, looking for shady folks doing shady things.”
Why do I think he knows this from personal experience?
Charlie checks his phone and points ahead. “The body was found over there, down by the lake.”
Seeing my expression, he pauses. His tone changes. “The victim, Paul Gulley, was found by a young couple.” He looks over at me. “How about this guy? You recognize his name?”
I shake my head.
“He’s about the same age as Mr. Martz, our construction worker,” Charlie says, “only Paul Gulley was a loan officer. He’d been missing for nearly two weeks.”
“Why’d the killer take so much longer on this one than Rudy Hopper, do you think?”
“Oh, he didn’t take longer. The victim just wasn’t found right away.”
I shake my head at the thought. I don’t even want to imagine stumbling across a corpse again.
We walk up a small path to a circular concrete platform that overlooks the north shore of the lake. There’s a small tree-covered island across a narrow channel of water, maybe half a football field away. He pauses, looking out across the lake at the Legislative Building on the south shore, then down to the base of the overlook we’re standing on.
“Based on the news photos, I think they found him somewhere down there.”
We descend stairs that lead to a small dock beneath the outlook. The back wall is covered with colourful graffiti, and Charlie pauses to admire it. “Beautiful, huh?”
I nod. I’ve always loved urban art and the idea that someone risks making it without permission, but I wish I understood it better. I’m guessing a guy like Charlie can probably interpret every swoop and swirl.
He turns back, looking out at the water again. “Also a nice place to cuddle and make out,” he says.
“It’s too damn cold.” Out of the warmth of the sun, a shiver runs through me. “Besides, you’re not really my type.”