by J. S. Marlo
“You said I was the one who suggested I go for a ride while you look at Percy Foley’s file. Did I look like I had a destination in mind, or do you think I just bumped into my attackers in the forest?”
The blow had scrambled her reality, but it hadn’t damaged her ability to absorb or process all the information he’d dumped on her. Anyone else might have felt frightened or overwhelmed. Not Hannah.
While his admiration grew another notch, he had to remind himself to keep speaking slowly and clearly. “I have no idea. Reading that pretty head of yours isn’t always easy, you know.”
When a lovely shade of red colored her cheeks, Avery cursed his choice of words. Telling her she was pretty wasn’t exactly how he’d intended to win her trust.
“Somehow, that doesn’t sound like a compliment.”
The teasing in her voice was unmistakable, and he was relieved by her reaction.
“I’ll try to do better next time. Hannah, I know you don’t remember Fred, but would you like to meet him? He could examine your head.”
The offer presented some challenges, like preventing the doctor from mentioning her son, securing a meeting place, and trusting a man who couldn’t keep a straight face, but Avery was willing to risk it for Hannah’s health.
“I appreciate what you’re trying to do, Avery, but to see my brother is a bad idea. The less he knows, the safer for everyone, including him. Besides, what would he do? Prescribe a memory pill?”
As much as he would like an instant remedy to her condition, he agreed with her assessment. “In your place, I’d be frustrated. How do you handle it, Hannah?”
Amidst vigorous chewing, she shrugged. “I tie unsuspecting men to their beds.”
The response issued in a deadpan voice dissolved the tension of the last few days. He burst out laughing. When she joined him, the bond between them strengthened.
“Why do I have the feeling your version of the cabin encounter will differ from Alistair’s?”
“He told you about me?” Her surprise turned into disbelief after he recounted the man’s morning visit. “He wanted to charge me? I had barely removed my coat that he was already trying to get the rest off. My knee just happened to connect with his lower brain. Not my fault he collapsed on the bed. I didn’t want him to fall off, so I tied him up. You know…for his own protection.”
For a moment, Avery felt almost sorry for the man. Almost. “I wish I’d seen it. That’s a much better version.”
Her renewed laughter echoed inside his chest. Twilight had descended upon the forest. A few more minutes, and she wouldn’t be able to see his words.
“We’ll leave soon. Put my helmet on.”
***
Snuggled in his arms, Finger stopped suckling on the bottle and closed her eyes. Rory took the empty container away and gave it to Bill.
“Good job, Rory.” Bill patted his shoulder at the same time he said good job, and he said it a lot…like Mama. With his white beard, he looked like Santa Claus. He was just missing hair on his shiny red noggin.
“Ready to go to bed?”
Shaking his head, Rory cuddled Finger closer. She was soft and warm, just like Snowflake.
Loud laughter came out of Bill’s mouth. He was a grandpa, and he laughed a lot. Rory didn’t have a grandpa, but he liked Bill. Maybe Mama could get him a grandpa.
“You’re right. It’s too early for bed. Besides, I need you to help me with something.”
He was a big boy—Mama always told him that—he could help. Before Bill changed his mind, he gave him a big nod.
“That’s my boy.” He patted his shoulder again. “I have to go up the ladder to fix a draft in the ceiling. Finger can’t come near the ladder. It’s too dangerous for a baby coyote. Can I count on you to keep her in your arms and stay in the corner?”
Sure. This time, Rory gave an even bigger nod.
“Good boy.”
Bill removed his coat and put it on a barrel before rummaging through the canisters and tools on the workbench. In the shed back home, Mama had a hammer like the one Bill looped in the belt of his pants. He took a handful of something from a can. When he dumped the things in his chest pocket, they jingled.
A ladder with a shelf at the top stood on four legs in the middle of the room. Unlike Mama, Bill didn’t place a can of paint on the shelf, he put two bricks. Two red bricks. Then he climbed high up to the top. From there, he looked down and winked.
“It won’t be long. I just need to hammer a few nails.” He took the hammer and raised his hand.
A leg snapped, and the ladder wobbled. Frozen in place, Rory watched the pieces of wood break apart. Bill spread his arms. The hammer plunked to the floor as the ladder collapsed. Bill landed in the middle the debris. All crooked.
“Rory?”
Bill spoke like he’d just run a long race. When he moved his head sideways, an invisible hand twisted Rory’s tummy. Blood spilled from his forehead. Lots of blood…like Brent after the people hit him…again and again.
“Rory…go tell Rowan…”
Brent had told him to stay in the tree house…not to move…not to talk…that he’d be up with his mitt right away. Tears wet Rory’s cheeks. Brent never climbed up. He’d stopped moving, and the bad people had taken him.
“Rory…”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Seated on the floor with her back to an ugly taupe wall, Hannah cuddled the little terrier that had jumped on her as soon as she stepped inside Avery’s house. In a strange way, learning the dog belonged to her had given her a sense of identity.
“Snowflake was in the shed when I dropped you off. I was thinking her owners must not be too far, they will rescue you.” She shook her head at the irony. “Do you know how long I’ve had her?”
“You found her in the forest in October, not sure which October. It was on a snowy day, hence her name.”
Bent over the oven, he scrambled an omelet in a frying pan, but each time he spoke, he looked at her. The coincidence was baffling her.
“Are you sure I’ll be safe hiding in your house?” To keep her within footsteps of the detachment and under the nose of his colleagues seemed too daring. “What if someone comes for a visit?”
“If anyone knocks, hide in the bathroom. Snowflake doesn’t like strangers, she’ll chase them away. Just keep the blinds down, and try not to switch too many lights on and off if I’m not here. We don’t want any bystanders thinking I lodge a ghost.” He transferred the omelet onto a single plate and placed it on the table. “Have a seat. I’m not what you’d call a chef, but I haven’t poisoned anyone in a long time.”
The aroma wafting across the kitchen tantalized her taste buds. “There’s enough for two, Avery. Aren’t you joining me?”
“I need to go see Fred before he leaves the clinic. I’ll eat later.”
He took Snowflake from her arms and set her in front of two plastic bowls. While he filled the bowls, one with water, the other with brown pellets, she approached the table and took a bite.
Her stomach gurgled in delight. “This is delicious.”
The man underestimated his culinary ability.
“Glad you like it.” He put his jacket back on. “While I’m gone, make yourself at home. There’s more food where that came from and there are towels in the hallway closet. I apologize but the bathtub isn’t too clean. Just use the shower. If you need clothes, feel free to rummage through my drawers and borrow whatever fits you.”
“Thanks.” A comforting familiarity existed between them, and she relished the warm feeling spreading inside her chest. “Now go. You don’t want to miss Fred.”
Once her stomach was contentedly full, she tidied the kitchen, and then opted for a long, cleansing shower. This is heaven.
As she dried herself, light flashed through the bathroom blinds.
The road and the driveway were on the other side of the house. There shouldn’t be any light reflecting in that window.
Unsure what to make of it, Han
nah fingered a slat down and peeked out. A hooded silhouette, flashlight in hand, scurried toward the RCMP garage. The light briefly reflected on every window the individual peeped through. He’s looking for something—or someone.
The thought he might have intentionally pointed his light at the bathroom window unnerved Hannah. The individual had no business snooping around Avery’s house.
Without touching any electrical switches, she entered Avery’s bedroom. Dim light from the kitchen illuminated her search through his dresser and closet. The clothes she’d worn for days on end lay on the bathroom floor, smelly and filthy. Until they went for a spin in the washer on the heavy-duty cycle, there would be no wearing them.
She donned a heavy flannel shirt and tucked it into dark sweatpants before yanking on the waist cord until the pants stayed above her hips. I look like a scrawny version of Avery.
With Snowflake on her heels, she continued her search in the entrance closet. The parka Greta had given her hung beside a black bomber jacket. She slipped on her boots and picked up Avery’s jacket.
“Snowflake, you stay here. I’ll be right back.”
***
The dark bags under Fred’s eyes and the increased slouching of his shoulders, as he examined the body of the old woman, added ten years to his age. At the sight of his downcast appearance, a pang of guilt crept inside Avery’s chest.
“Hello, Doc.”
“Stone?” He repositioned the white sheet over the woman’s feet. “I was waiting for you. Any sign of Hannah or Rory?”
The question hung between them, a lifeline barely keeping the coroner afloat.
“No yet, but if the woman managed to live in a cave, it’s not impossible Hannah and Rory also found a shelter.” With mother and son safe, Avery didn’t have to work hard to feign optimism. “So? What can you tell me?”
“Plenty.” Fred exposed her face. “Meet Margaret Watt.”
The mysterious Greta is Margaret Watt, the owner of the cabin where I found her dead? The coincidence confounded him. “Are you sure?”
“I found this concealed in her bra. I take it you hadn’t searched her?” A rare smile accompanied the empty prescription bottle the coroner gave him. “It’s Potassium Chloride.”
The prescription had been issued to Henry Watt nine years ago. The day and the month had faded, but the year was still visible. “That doesn’t prove her identity, Doc.”
“No, but after I found the bottle, I asked my receptionist to look at the deceased. Kim is in her fifties, and she’s lived here all her life. She recognized Margaret, also known as Greta, right away. Margaret and Henry were patients of the doctor who used to run this clinic. I looked at their medical files. Henry was diagnosed with low level of potassium in his blood, was prescribed the medication, only to die in a bar fight two days later. That bottle shouldn’t have been missing more than a few pills.”
Fred could have insisted on a warrant before divulging some of the information, and Avery appreciated his cooperation. “Are you saying Greta ingested expired pills and died of an overdose?”
“Heart failure is the cause of death, but yes, it could be the result of an overdose. Old pills or not, swallowing an entire bottle would give a bear a heart attack. In any case, I’ll know more when I get the toxicology report back. Now look at this.” Moving from the head of the steel table to the side, he lowered the sheet, exposing the woman’s chest. “In her medical record, there was a picture of her breasts following the removal of a small lump twelve years ago. The photo showed no scar. There was no indication she’d sustained any other upper body injuries prior to her last visit which took place a week after her husband’s death.”
Two scars, looking nothing like claw marks, crisscrossed over her right collarbone, one downward toward her breast, the other sideways along her upper arm. The handiwork of a sharp knife.
“How long ago did she sustain these injuries? Could they have been self-inflicted?”
Fred shook his head. “The angle down her arm makes it unlikely she did it to herself. As far as telling you when it happened…it wasn’t recently. I’d say many years ago.”
The scars proved Greta had indeed been assaulted with a knife. The timeline was consistent with Hannah’s story.
“Did you uncover any physical reasons that might explain why she’d want to end her life? Painful or terminal disease?”
“She was a healthy woman, Stone.” He replaced the sheet. “It’s a shame she had to die on her sixtieth birthday.”
That she’d died at the same age as her husband was a coincidence Avery didn’t like.
“Fred, this is irrelevant, but I have a buddy back home who was smacked over the head. He was up and running a few days later, but he can’t seem to remember anything, not even his children. His wife doesn’t know what to do with him. Any suggestions?”
“Head trauma is tricky, Stone. Unfortunately, there’s not much doctors can do. Time will tell if your friend recovers his memory. All I can suggest is patience, and a good psychologist to help him and his family cope with his condition.”
***
A cold wind whipped Hannah’s face, giving her hope it also muffled her steps in the snow. She hid behind one of the few evergreens planted between the detachment and Avery’s house. The lone intruder had moved away from the garage and toward the RCMP building, his flashlight illuminating his steady progression.
Hannah plowed through the snow to the next tree, taking cover as the light swept in her direction. The hooded figure had turned around, and Hannah feared she might have been seen.
This is so not a good idea. Each second she stayed immobile accelerated the beating of her heart. I’m not here. Move on.
Not soon enough, the individual resumed his trek through the snow. He stopped under the spotlight affixed to the side of the backdoor, dug a hand into his pocket, and pulled out something too small for her to see. The door swung open. He entered the premises.
A RCMP officer wouldn’t furtively snoop around the detachment, and this is no cleaning lady. A light flickered through the middle window. A few seconds later Hannah caught a reflection in the one farther left. Determined to yield the identity of the intruder, she crouched low and approached the building from the opposite end. She skimmed her way along the exterior wall. Once she reached the last window, she cautiously peeked through the frosty corner. A lamp was on, illuminating a stove.
Unable to see the intruder, Hannah inched toward the center of the window. As a desk came within view, she gripped the ledge.
The figure hovered near an open drawer, holding some sort of package or envelope. With his hood on, Hannah could only see the lower part of his face. I’ve seen that smile before…Blurry images emerged in her mind. Snow…Lots of snow…Trees…A man…
His head snapped up, and the hood fell onto his shoulders. Hannah gasped in surprise. A woman, but…
The woman turned the lamp off and her image dissipated.
I know that woman. Hannah stared into the darkness, the intruder’s name floating at the edge of her subconscious. Come on memory. Frustrated over her amnesia, she bowed away from the window. If I sleep on—
Someone grabbed her by the shoulders, spun her around, and pushed her back to the wall. A scream traveled up her throat and died, muffled by a leather glove covering her mouth. Fuelled by desperation, she kicked and punched, knocking his hand off. He pressed his body into hers, and cupping her face with both hands, he forced her head up.
Their gaze met, and he kissed her.
Chapter Thirty
Hannah, bear with me.
Under the gentle pressure of his mouth, she stopped struggling.
Her lips were cold. Avery wrapped an arm behind her back and pulled her closer. The tension in her body lessening, she snaked her hands between them and gripped the front of his jacket. He brushed her cheek with his thumb, keeping this side of her face hidden from the threat coming around the building.
Stay with me, Hannah.
&
nbsp; Her lips quivered under his touch, igniting a fire under his skin. Caught off guard by his own reaction, he swallowed hard. Don’t lose your head, Stone. The tip of his tongue inadvertently brushed the tender skin. Her lips slowly parted, her timid response testing his willpower. Hannah…
A light shone in his eyes. “Stop right there.”
Interrupted by Reed, Avery quickly nudged Hannah’s head in the crook of his shoulder, concealing most of her facial features with his big glove. “Sergeant? I…I didn’t hear you.”
“I see that.” Reed shone his flashlight over Hannah’s body. No sign of recognition crossed his face. “Who’s the floozy?”
“Her name is Lucky. She had a little too much to drink. I was taking her home.” Avery had no idea how much of their conversation Hannah was reading, but he was grateful she seemed to play along.
“Do you take me for an idiot?” His sergeant’s outrage echoed in the night. “You’re in uniform, Stone, and your hands are all over the floozy. This is going in your personal record.”
The woman in his arms tightened her grip on his jacket, prompting Avery to stroke her back to appease her apprehension. “But my reputation will…”
“Your reputation precedes you, Stone. You’re lucky I don’t charge you or her for solicitation.” The threat held no merit, but Reed didn’t seem to care. “Now get out of my sight.”
***
Rowan lowered Savannah in her crib. “Good night, bumblebee.”
A door banged and small steps echoed in the house. Perfect timing.
As close as Bill and Rory had become, there was one task her grandfather left to her. Bathing the child. And Avery’s boy loved water. Thanks to him, the bathroom floor got washed every night. Rowan had no doubt her daughter would do the same in a few years.
She hurried down the stairs before Bill announced their return and woke Savannah. Rory stood at the bottom of the stairs. When he lifted his head, her heart missed a beat at the haunted look in his eyes. Fresh tears marred his round face and his lips were trembling.
“Rory?” She scooped the shaken boy in her arms. Hugging him close to her chest, she sat on the last step with him on her lap. “What’s wrong?”