“She was too busy trying to keep her own shit together. I guess now she’s dying too, we should talk about what she has to let go of. Another death discussion for our final holiday together. So, that’s what you’re here trying to do? Talk to Eric?”
“Yes. I thought he might come into focus better out here.”
“And did he?”
“He shows up in unpredictable flashes. Like just now when I saw the woodshed and suddenly it was like he was standing right behind me. He was really upset that that door was shut. The other night when I dreamed about him, he was trapped in the woodshed, beating on that door, trying to get out. And feeling so cold.”
“You think he knew he was trapped in there? How horrible.”
“Uh-huh. Except he can’t tell me why he was there at all.” That, too, was the truth. She sketched a bare outline of the things she’d felt were coming from Eric, and she was grateful Dee didn’t gape or press for details. She heard the front door open, and a draught crept around her ankles. Boots stamped in the foyer. “Can we change the subject? Lacey doesn’t seem like a woo-woo kind of person.”
“No. She’s definitely not,” Dee said. “In the kitchen, Lacey!”
“You want to see these photos before I take my boots off? In case I have to reshoot?”
“You stay here,” Zoe told Dee. “I’ll bring the camera to you.” As she walked out of the room, she felt Eric standing at the kitchen window, staring at the woodshed.
Dee pronounced herself satisfied with the exteriors, and they got to work photographing the interior spaces. After a couple of hours, Dee and Lacey finally packed up their gear and left.
Zoe let out a sigh and prepared to commune with Eric.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Lacey and Dee were driving past Waiparous Village when Dee looked up from the camera and said, “Chatting to Zoe today was quite interesting.”
“Did she let anything slip about who might want Eric dead?”
“The exact opposite, actually. She’s still shocked that anyone would kill him. And something else. Remember, years ago, I told you about talking to my dad while he was dying?”
“Vaguely, yeah.”
“Well, Zoe thinks she’s talking to Eric. She says he’s upset about that shed door being barred.”
“More like her subconscious sending her a message. That door being barred was all that kept the death from being ruled accidental.”
“Zoe got the impression that Eric was very sleepy at the time, but also that he was panicking. Could she know about the sleeping pills in his pocket?”
“The police haven’t released that information to the public, and they don’t know yet if he actually took any.” Lacey slowed for a farm truck to squeeze past. “She really thinks she’s getting information from his ghost? Come to think of it, last week she asked Bull if they ever took tips from psychics. He figured she planned to call in an anonymous tip or something. She might not want to rat out JP, for example, but indirectly nudging the investigation might be a way around it. I should ask Bull if they got any so-called psychic tips.”
“I don’t think Zoe’s that sneaky. And I get the feeling she’s in over her head emotionally. Remember what a basket case I was last spring? Like that. She hardly sleeps, and she’s been having horrible nightmares. Working for JP must be über-stressful for her right now, too.”
“No doubt. I’m not too sure about JP either, by the way. I mean, he did leave the country abruptly. But my priority right now is finding Sandy. If she’s not back with my car when we get home, I’m going to report it as stolen. I can always withdraw the charge if she’s found with it, but reporting it will at least get the police looking for it. And it covers my ass with my insurance if it turns out she’s totalled it.”
“She must be back by now. She’s too conscientious to just disappear without a word.” Dee angled her phone toward the fading blue-green light of the western sky. “Hey, I have a signal again. Should I call home and find out?”
“We’ll be there in twenty minutes. No sense getting your mom in a panic if the news isn’t good.”
But there was no Civic in the driveway, only Marie’s van. All the main-floor windows were lit up, and when they came inside, they found Marie and Loreena sitting at the kitchen island clutching mugs. Loreena looked exhausted.
Lacey hurried over. “Bad news?”
Loreena shook her head. “No word at all. The only thing I can think of is that she’s visiting that woman we met the day we went to the post office. I wish I could remember her name.”
Lacey pulled up a stool. “She knew somebody in Bragg Creek?”
“We were at that little coffee shop by the grocery store, and there were three women sitting at the next table. One of them looked over a few times, and eventually Sandy said, ‘I think I know her.’ A few moments later, the woman came over and said hello.”
“And you can’t recall her name?” Dee asked.
“I’m sorry, I don’t remember. It was something like Darla, or Alma, or Marlice?”
Lacey suppressed her impatience. With all the medications Loreena was on, she couldn’t be expected to have perfect recall. “Did they act like old friends?”
Loreena sighed. “I think they mentioned Ontario. The woman had kind of a squarish face. She was quite stocky, with brown hair. They only chatted for a few minutes, and I was getting tired by then, so not really paying attention.”
Dee patted her hand. “And you’re tired now, I can tell. Maybe this description will jog Dennis’s memory about people his mother used to know. I’ll call him.”
Lacey slipped her boots back on and walked Marie out to her car. “How’s Loreena doing, really?”
“Well enough physically, but this worry isn’t helping. You keep her calm and resting, keep an eye on her medications, and call me if you need anything.” Marie hugged her. “If this nurse isn’t back and you have to go out again tomorrow, I can come by again. My parents are dying for an excuse to have the boys to themselves.”
Back inside, Dee had Dennis on speakerphone. The mention of the coffee-shop woman rang no bells for him. Lacey leaned over the phone. “Dennis, it’s time you call the police to report your mother missing.”
“It’s only been twenty-four hours. I thought for adults you had to wait forty-eight.”
“That’s not set in stone. She’s out of contact and that’s unusual for her. Does she have voice mail that you could check from where you are?”
“Old-style answering machine. If her neighbour gets back to me, I’ll ask her to check for messages. She has a key to Mom’s place, to water the plants and stuff.”
“This is the friend you mentioned earlier?”
“Yeah, her name’s Pat. I’ll give you her number, but she might have gone to bed already. She’s older.”
“I’ll try her in the morning.” Lacey jotted down the name and number. “Meanwhile, please, call the police.”
“Which ones? Airdrie or Bragg Creek? Will they be open this late?”
“Cochrane detachment covers most of her route back. I can ask the duty sergeant if you can file tonight by phone. Have you called all the hospitals?”
“I’ve driven around to them all.” His voice dropped. “Um, did my mom happen to leave any money there? I can’t squeeze any more gas money from the grocery budget, and I have to keep looking for her.”
Dee leaned over the phone. “We haven’t felt right about snooping through your mother’s stuff yet, but I guess we’d better. We’ll call you back if we find anything.”
While Lacey heated up soup and made grilled cheese sandwiches, Dee distracted her mother by relating Zoe’s story of being haunted. She added a few details Lacey hadn’t heard the first time through, such as Zoe having older relatives who’d also talked to ghosts.
This got Loreena’s full attention. “I talked to your dad off and on for months after he died, forgetting he wasn’t there to answer, you know. But then again, he didn’t answer half the time when
he was alive, either. Would this Zoe come and talk to me? If I can communicate after I’m dead, I’ll be able to quit worrying about remembering everything I mean to say before I’m gone.” She fidgeted with her empty mug. “Oh, before I forget, I think I should give Dennis some money to help him look for his mother.”
Dee’s voice was sharp. “You don’t owe him that.”
“I want Sandy found,” said Loreena with equal bite. “I brought her here. That makes me partly responsible. Maybe that ghost woman could find her if she’s dead in a snowdrift somewhere.”
Lacey shook a finger at her. “Don’t go there, missus. There’s no reason yet to think Sandy’s hurt, much less dead.”
That evening, Lacey called Bull at home and brought him up to speed on Sandy, the missing Civic, and the tenuous lead of the coffee-shop woman. He recommended she give Sandy the night to reappear before officially reporting the Civic stolen. “She’s an adult. For all you know she could be with a lover she didn’t tell her son about. People in their fifties still have sex, you know.”
After she hung up, Dee said quietly, “I wish I’d never brought up the ghost thing.”
“As a distraction, it was definitely a success.”
“Yeah, too much of one, maybe. Bad enough Mom thinks she can find Sandy that way. If she thinks she can talk to me after she’s dead, why try while she’s alive?”
Lacey had no answer for that. She headed into the office to check her email. She deleted a handful of spam, forwarded a phishing attempt to PayPal, and stared at a new email that had popped up from Dan. The subject line was “Merry Christmas,” but beyond that opening, it could be anything from a forwarded holiday meme to another sneak attack on her shaky confidence. Or maybe he finally had an offer on the house.
Open, or delete? Her cursor hovered. To anyone else, his exact words might appear innocuous, but each subtle sneer would stick under her skin, worm its way in like foxtail grass to drain whatever strength she’d built up. When would she be free of him?
She’d read it tomorrow when she was rested and more resilient. She clicked instead on one from Jan Brenner:
The motion sickness is getting better. I stayed on our stateroom veranda for the whole passage between islands this morning, since we were on the shady side. Glorious to watch the smaller boats whiz by, and the turquoise sea! It looks just like in the brochures. We’re in another beach bar with Wi-Fi, but off on a plantation tour soon. Rum this time, not that I can drink any, but Terry will enjoy it more than the banana one.
He wants me to pass along that TFB Energy, JP Thompson’s company, has a good environmental record. They’ve even cleaned up poisoned assets they bought accidentally, although they could have dumped them on the province through a subsidiary like so many companies do. Won some kind of industry award for stewardship a couple of years ago, and created a bursary for grad students working on well-site remediation. So whatever made Eric decide to go into Environmental Studies, it wasn’t suspicions of TFB hiding a toxic time bomb.
I half wish I was there to help with the sleuthing, but this sunshine and warmth is heaven. I’ve seen eight Santa Clauses so far today — more than the past five years combined — and they’re really hot! Literally. Half-naked sweaty guys in red pants, suspenders, and hats. It takes forever to upload photos, so I’ll show you when I’m back. Hugs to you and Dee and the dogs.
Lacey hit Reply and started typing, filling Jan in on the missing nurse, the cross-country skiing, and Calvin’s claim that his whereabouts were an official secret. She ended by reporting Zoe’s story of being haunted by Eric.
The skeptic in me thinks she’s looking for a way to feed information to the police without directly betraying her boss. If he’s not hiding environmental disasters, the only angle left that I can see is the computer malware. I should have asked how much money got mailed out in those bogus cheques. Was it enough to cause problems with the sale, just like a polluted well site would? Unremediated well site = poisoned asset, right? See, I’m starting to pick up the oil-patch jargon.
It felt good to lay everything out where she could see it. She signed off and went up to bed with her book, but soon the worries crowded in again. Another night with no Sandy, another day with Eric’s death hanging over the chalet sale. Her uneasy stalemate with her own status as victim — or survivor. And now Dan’s unread email lurking like an unexploded bomb. The end of this year wasn’t shaping up to be any better than the rest had been. Turning off the light felt more like defeat than a reprieve.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Early the next morning, Lacey settled in the office with her coffee and her phone. She dialed the Ontario number for Sandy’s friend Pat. It rang eight times before clicking over to voice mail. She left a message, introducing herself and referencing Dennis. “I don’t want to alarm you, but Sandy hasn’t been heard from for a couple of days. If you know of anyone in Alberta she might have gone to see, please let us know.” She ended with the numbers for her cell and Dee’s landline.
She was on her third game of Solitaire when her phone buzzed.
“Lacey speaking.”
“Hello?”
She categorized the voice: female, wavering, high-pitched, probably older. “Is this Pat?”
“Yes. Are you the lady Sandy is staying with?”
“One of them, yes. You got my message?”
“Well, yes. I got Dennis’s message from yesterday, too, but he didn’t say she was missing. Oh, dear.”
“You haven’t heard from her since she came out to Alberta?”
“She hasn’t phoned, if that’s what you mean. I haven’t been home to check my email. I always stay at my daughter’s over the holidays.”
“Can you check your email from there?”
“Oh, no, dear. I have no idea how to do that. I barely remember how to pick up my phone messages.”
“Perhaps your daughter or someone there could help you?”
“They wouldn’t know what my password is.”
“You don’t know your email password?”
“No, dear. It’s on a piece of paper stuck to my computer desk. Right where my grandson put it when he set me up.” Pat seemed to realize this was an unhelpful response. “I’ll see if my daughter can drive me home tomorrow to check.”
“Would you know of anyone Sandy might have gone to visit out here? Maybe someone she used to work with?”
“I used to work there, too, if you mean at the nursing home. Ten years we carpooled. We live on the same block.”
“Then maybe you’d know the woman Sandy talked to out here. Brown hair, squarish face, about Sandy’s age. First name might be Darla or Alma or Marlice.”
“It doesn’t ring a bell, but I retired a few years before Sandy. She held on for three years more before she left. But the less said about that the better.”
Lacey’s ear twitched, like Boney’s when he heard a treat bag. “Did she not leave the nursing home on good terms?”
“Now that’s none of your business, young lady. She did nothing wrong, no matter what she was accused of.” Lacey asked again, but Pat was adamant. “I’ll check my email tomorrow, and if there’s one from her, I’ll call you. I hope you find her real soon. You tell her to call me when you do.”
She hung up, leaving Lacey to wonder what accusations had caused Sandy to leave the nursing home. Google told her the only significant Ontario nursing home scandal had involved a nurse who had killed off elderly residents. Sandy’s name didn’t appear in any news about the case, but if she were similarly suspected, might she have escorted Loreena west as a way to quietly flee Ontario? If so, Lacey’s car might be in Montana by now.
The only useful result of her searches was the profile photo — posted last summer — on Sandy’s otherwise inactive Facebook page. Lacey saved a copy and emailed it over to Bull. Then she phoned him.
“No hospitals or police reports on a subject matching that description,” he told her. “Send over a photo of your car and have this woman’
s son come in to file a missing person report. I want to size him up in case he whacked mom with a wrench and dumped her body.”
“And people think I’m cynical.”
She sent Dennis the Cochrane detachment information and sought out breakfast. In the kitchen she found Loreena struggling to lift the kettle off its base. “Go sit down. I’ll make breakfast.”
Loreena shuffled to a stool. “I don’t have much of an appetite. I’m worried about Sandy. And about her son. Can you show me how to email him money after breakfast? I’ll give you some gas money at the same time, to cover all the extra driving you’re doing. Maybe don’t tell Dee, though.”
“Tell Dee what?” Dee said from the doorway.
“No walking cast today, dear? That’s an improvement.”
“I’ll put it on later, when we go out. What can we do about you today? I don’t want to drag you around in Calgary. And somebody should be here if Sandy phones.”
“Where are we going?” Lacey pulled eggs out of the fridge.
“To photograph JP’s house in Mount Royal. Then to my physio appointment this afternoon. I thought I told you all that last night.”
“If you had, I’d have invited Marie back.”
“Maybe we should hire a home care service.”
Loreena snapped, “I don’t need a keeper.”
Dee squinted at her. “Didn’t you like Marie?”
“She was quite nice and certainly competent. But I’m fine on my own.”
Lacey intervened diplomatically. “She asked to come back. She’d like to leave her sons with her parents for a day and not be stuck hanging around there herself.”
Loreena’s thin lips relaxed. “So, I’d be her excuse for an escape? In that case, I’d be delighted with her company.”
Where the Ice Falls Page 18