Lori took a deep breath. “The police were at my place today. At yours too?”
“No. What would they want with me? I don’t have anything to do with it.”
Lori thought Patience seemed nervous. Yes, what would the police want with her?
“I think it’s just routine. They’re asking around. I think that . . . that this time they want to solve the murder quickly, not have it drag out the way it did with Jacinta.”
Patience said nothing. Lori took a risk and startled her with a question.
“They found an arrowhead on the body, like the one I found in my house. It looks like a bird carved out of bone, or like a fish. Did you ever happen to see Una with something like that? Or was anything like that lying around her house when you were there?”
Patience pressed her fingers against her temples.
“I was almost never in her house.”
“Wait, weren’t you friends?”
Patience hesitated a minute and replied, “Una was definitely not my kind of friend. She was deceitful as a snake.”
Lori looked at Patience in astonishment. She’d never heard her gentle neighbor talk like that. And there was more to come.
“Una was after Ches. She’d come to see him when I was out at births. She left him suggestive notes. And she always wanted to dance with him in the Hardy Sailor.”
“What? How did Ches take it?”
“He said he didn’t have any interest in Una. He said to me she flirted with everyone.”
“Did you confront her?”
“No. I told Archie.”
“Archie? Why?”
“Because everybody respects him. Archie has a lot of influence. She wouldn’t have dared to . . .”
“Yes?”
“There’s no messing with Archie. He’d have torn such a strip off her back that she’d never have tried anything with Ches ever again.”
“And what happened?”
“I don’t know.”
“But did Archie go after her?”
“I suppose.”
“Did Una . . . Did she ever say anything to you?”
“Yes, she was furious with me. Said I was crazy to think her and Ches had something going. She said Ches was of no interest to her whatsoever. And that Archie had no say in this and should mind his own damn business and be thankful that some people don’t tell what they know about him.”
“What did she mean?”
“Dunno.”
Lori thought this was very odd.
“So how did it all turn out?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, what happened after that?”
“Una ran off three days later.”
No sound in the car except the biting wind. The two of them stared at the houses of Stormy Cove, the clear light bathing them in a vulnerable innocence.
This is what people will see in my picture, Lori thought. A cluster of small, modest houses on the shore of a mighty ocean—the simple dwellings of people living a hard life. People would see the truth of it and come to the wrong conclusion at the same time.
She turned to Patience. “Ginette said that Una would never have run away by herself, only with a man, but with somebody who could pay the bills.”
“Fair enough, but certainly not with my husband. You can see that now.”
“Patience, I have to ask: What do you think happened to Una?”
Patience still wouldn’t look at her.
“I think Archie told her his opinion and she couldn’t take it and skipped town.”
“But nobody used her credit card after she disappeared. And she left her cell phone behind.”
“She wasn’t stupid. They could have used those to track her down.”
Lori saw the point. But she had an odd feeling.
“Have you ever talked to Archie about this?”
“No.”
“So you don’t know what he said to Una?”
“No. Can you take your picture so we can go back? My head is pounding.”
“Yes, of course, I’ll take you home right now and come back for my shot after.”
A few minutes later, as Patience was opening her front door, she stopped for a moment.
“I don’t wish anything bad on Una, but my life has improved an awful lot since she left. She made problems for everybody.”
She attempted a tiny smile.
“Thanks for the ride. I’ll feel better tomorrow. And Noah will definitely be back by then.”
Patience was dead-on. That evening, Lori saw his pickup in front of his house. Patience called a little later. Somebody had seen Noah on the wharf. But he didn’t come to Lori’s and didn’t call.
She dialed his number. No answer.
Maybe he needed some time. Maybe he was busy with his boat. After all, he had to catch up on the work he’d missed the past three days.
But not even a phone call.
Had she misjudged? Maybe she wasn’t as important to him as she thought.
We should be able to talk about everything. He did say that.
She barely slept that night.
She was struck by the stillness of the next morning. No wind. Exhausted, she lurched over to the large living room window. The water was so smooth that it reflected the houses and cliffs.
Though she didn’t feel like it, she walked down to the boats with her camera. The sight of Noah’s pickup was like a stab to the heart. His boat was gone, of course. Nobody had asked her if she wanted to go out fishing on such a glorious day.
Lloyd Weston didn’t call either. Patience didn’t drop in. The telephone didn’t make a peep. It was as if they all had abandoned her.
But her in-box was abuzz. Her mother, Danielle, Mona Blackwood, and some Vancouver friends bombarded her with questions about Reanna Sholler’s murder. They’d all heard about it on the news. No requests from reporters, though—almost a miracle. It paid off that she’d told none of her professional colleagues about her project. And Danielle had kept mum.
Lori put the e-mails off until later; she couldn’t bring herself to answer them. When the phone rang in the afternoon, she had to hold back from answering it on the first ring.
It took several seconds before she recognized Aurelia, the librarian. She sounded like a messenger from another world.
“I found another book about Marguerite,” Aurelia announced. “Marguerite de Roberval.”
Several seconds later, Lori caught up.
“The French princess who was marooned?”
“Princess is a bit much. She was nobility. You said you were interested in her. I had the book sent from St. John’s. Shall I hold it for you?”
It was an invitation to come to the library. Lori’s heart felt tight.
“I’ll be there right away.”
“We’re closed today, but how’s tomorrow after one?”
“Yes, that should work. Unless I’m off with the archaeologists.”
“Oh, they’ve stopped digging for the time being . . . because of the murder, you know.”
“Oh, really? I didn’t hear that. Thanks for telling me.”
“It’s about the safety of the female students, eh? They’ve got to catch the killer first.”
The students—strangers, just like Reanna. And herself. Surely they weren’t thinking the way they did last time, that the killer was an outsider? That it had nothing to do with themselves?
“But the women in the village, maybe they aren’t safe either,” she said. “Do you feel safe, Aurelia?”
A brief pause.
“It is scary, for sure, but what can you do? My husband says it might have been a wild animal.”
“But you can’t believe that! Reanna was strangled.”
“I don’t know what to think. But last night I locked the doors. My husband gave me hell, naturally.”
“I’ve locked my doors too, ever since—”
She intended to say, “since the arrowhead disappeared,” but she bit her tongue.
&n
bsp; “Hopefully the murder will be solved soon,” she heard Aurelia say. “Or else there’ll be bad blood again.”
Lori wanted to ask what she meant by that, but across the way, she saw Noah getting out of his pickup.
She quickly said good-bye and ran to her Toyota.
Now she didn’t care how many people saw her going to Noah’s house.
She didn’t find him in the kitchen. Just as she shouted his name, she heard water running. The shower.
What the hell. She could wait. Right there, in the kitchen. That was certainly against Stormy Cove rules, but she was upset enough to break the rules.
The noise stopped. She called his name again. A door opened.
“Hello?”
“It’s me, Lori.”
A few seconds of silence, then his voice.
“Be right there.”
He appeared a few minutes later, which seemed like an eternity to her. Her heart was in her throat when she saw him, his clean T-shirt stuck into his tight jeans, his damp black hair shiny. He fixed his dark inquiring eyes on her as they sat down across from each other at the table.
“You look tired,” he said.
She nodded.
“You too. Hard to sleep recently.”
He slowly curved his hand over his freshly shaved chin.
“Yeah.”
Nothing more than that.
“I was concerned because I didn’t hear from you.”
He looked at his hands.
“I’m sorry, but I was pretty much up to my ears in it, as you can imagine.”
Lori said slowly, “Yes, I can imagine, but—”
“Did you tell the police about that life jacket?”
“Yes. Why?”
“What exactly did you say?”
“That she didn’t give it back to you. Why?”
He frowned.
“They searched for it.”
“Well, sure, I’d do the same thing if I were the police.”
“They found it.”
“Where?”
“In Jack’s father’s garage. They searched the whole house.”
“I don’t get it . . . how did it—what does Jack’s father have to do with it?”
“Nothing, of course. But they took Jack in.”
The words hung in the room like a black cloud.
Jack. The seventeen-year-old hunter.
Noah raised his head.
“It’s a disaster.”
“Maybe he’s an important witness.”
“His father says Jack hasn’t got an alibi.”
“His father’s stupid. He shouldn’t go around talking crap like that. It really won’t help his son.”
Then something crossed her mind.
The photo. Reanna sitting on the ATV’s rear seat. Someone up front. Jack.
“Lori, Jack’s father is my cousin.”
She really wanted to take his hand but didn’t know how. Noah seemed so distant.
“Don’t worry, Noah, they must have found traces of DNA on the body—that’ll clear it up fast.”
Now she saw the horror in his face. She wanted for all the world to slap herself in the mouth.
He shoved his chair back and got up. She sat there, frozen.
Silence in the kitchen.
He leaned over the dish rack, head down, hands clutching the edge.
“Noah, oh my God, is it possible that . . .”
He shook his head vigorously.
“Jack’s family will never survive this. I know that. Never survive.”
Lori’s thoughts were racing. Was it possible that this seventeen-year-old . . . a kid who slept with women like Ginette. Who probably hoped to have sex with Reanna . . . He probably promised to take her to the burial mound so he could lure her to Frenchman’s Hill. He went in his own boat and entered the bay from the other side so he wouldn’t be seen with Reanna. Jack, the hunter, who was always mucking around on the tundra. A kid who was already killing animals at his age. And when he met any resistance, he resorted to force . . . Reanna didn’t stand a chance. And the arrowhead? Did Jack steal it from Lori’s house? Maybe he was looking for something else, money or valuables. Good that she’d locked her office.
She walked over to Noah. Her voice was a whisper.
“Only one person hasn’t survived this tragedy. Reanna is dead. She was killed, whoever did it. She didn’t survive.”
He straightened up, his face ashen.
“I know, I know. But Jack’s just a dumb kid, a hotshot. He’s not a killer.”
“Nobody said he was. We don’t know the facts; it’s all just speculation.”
He fell silent. He was breathing far too rapidly.
Her stomach was in knots.
“Noah, are you angry with me? Do you blame me for telling the police about the life jacket?”
He didn’t look back at her as he said, “Let the police do their own work. No need to interfere. Better that way.”
Not interfere. Say nothing. Sweep everything under the rug.
“Oh, sure, so the murder still won’t be solved even after twenty years? So that the murderer gets off scot-free? All because it might be one of your people?”
The tension, her pent-up rage, her exhaustion—all of it fueled her emotional outburst.
“What if it had been your daughter, Noah? What if Reanna had actually been your daughter? Should people keep their mouths shut then? She’s not your daughter, but she is somebody’s daughter, Noah!”
He stood there, a stone statue. She knew her words tormented him, but she couldn’t do it any other way.
“I’ve heard stories about Jack’s father. That he forced his daughter to sleep with him. I’m sure the whole village knows it—including you. It’s not a cozy, safe little world here, and Jack’s a product of it.”
He said nothing, which just egged her on.
“I wanted to help you, Noah, because I know you’re innocent. They were wrong to suspect you of being involved in what happened with Jacinta for the past twenty years. Enough! It’s an offense that smells rank to heaven. I know what my priorities are. I know where my loyalties lie. But I realize now that your loyalty will always be to something else. To people like you, no matter what they may have done or may do. At least some good’s come out of this conversation.”
He didn’t move a muscle. Not even when she said, “I’d better leave.”
She slipped on her shoes without tying them and shut the door behind her.
CHAPTER 35
“Sweetie, didn’t you shoot off your mouth just a tad?”
Danielle’s cell phone headset slightly distorted her voice. She was driving her babies all around Vancouver because the sound of the car’s motor transmuted an hours-long crying jag into peaceful slumber.
“Worth inventing the automobile just for this,” she joked.
It didn’t take long for Danielle to figure out that the humming motor wouldn’t lull her desperate friend in Stormy Cove to sleep. She tried objective analysis.
“I mean, what are your priorities anyway? What’s your loyalty to?” she asked, after Lori’s detailed replay of her quarrel with Noah.
“That’s easy: I don’t want Noah to be under suspicion,” Lori explained, intuiting where Danielle was taking this.
“Is that everything?”
“Yes . . . wait . . . what do you mean by everything?”
“Put yourself in Noah’s shoes. All he’s got is family. It’s his be-all and end-all. Everything he has is that village. If they turn against him, his world goes to pieces.”
“But that’s how they’re acting now, Danielle, they’re turning against him! Nobody’s coming to his defense!”
“Not even his family?”
“Not the way we would, not in so many words, and . . . and . . .”
“With libel suits and lawyers, you mean?”
Lori hunted for the words.
“They simply don’t talk about it; they behave as if nothing’s happened. But it
will never go away because the suspicion is always there, like a ghost.”
“And you’re the white knight who’s going to slay this dragon for him?”
Lori sighed. She could hear the skepticism in Danielle’s voice.
“What are you trying to tell me, dearest friend of mine?”
“That Noah doesn’t have to be loyal or anything else to you because—excuse me for being blunt—he gets nothing from you.”
“And what else?” Lori waited before answering. She knew her friend was holding something back.
“Maybe you should step away from the whole business for a while. Come to Vancouver for two, three weeks. The story about that reporter is all over the national news. You don’t want to see your face on the screen after the TV gangs show up.”
Lori heard the side door open. She was seized by a frantic hope that it was Noah.
“I’ll think about it,” she said without much conviction. “My nerves are shot.”
“It’s nothing compared to two tiny babies who don’t stop screaming, believe me. Hopefully we’ll see you soon.”
“You’re worth your weight in gold, Danielle. I’ll call soon. Bye.”
She still had the phone in her hand when she arrived at the kitchen stairway.
Where she stopped, rooted to the spot.
The woman on the landing held her shoes in her hands.
“Can we talk for a minute, if I’m not disturbing you?”
“No, no, I’m just a bit surprised, I—”
“I tried calling,” Beth Ontara said, “but the line was always busy. And since I was in the area . . .”
“Tea?” Lori asked, offering the archaeologist a seat.
Beth ran her fingers nervously through her short hair. Lori had never seen Beth so restless.
“I’d love it.”
Beth looked around, less out of curiosity, it seemed to Lori, than to choose her words before speaking.
“I’m taking a bit of a risk by coming here, and for that reason—can you treat our conversation with discretion?”
Lori sat down slowly.
“Basically, yes, but I have no idea what it’s about.”
“Nothing you have to worry about. It concerns stolen artifacts.”
Lori braced herself.
“I don’t understand.”
“I’ve learned that a so-called arrowhead was found around Reanna Sholler’s body. And somebody told me it was in this house before then. Is that true?”
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