More Than Sorrow

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More Than Sorrow Page 13

by Vicki Delany


  Joanne let out a long sigh. “I don’t know,” she said. “I wasn’t at all disappointed when Rachel called to say she couldn’t take the girls. I’d prefer it if Lily stay out of the woods for a while.”

  “Why?” I asked, although I could guess.

  Joanne lowered her voice. “Hila went for a walk. She never came back.”

  “If, and it’s still an if, something happened to Hila, and someone was…responsible, he’ll be long gone. The police searched the woods thoroughly yesterday. Anyway, we’re not one lone woman. We’ll be three people on horses.”

  “I know that. Doesn’t mean I like it.”

  “It might even do Lily some good. I’ll tell her we’ll keep an eye out for Hila. She’s excited now about going riding, but she’ll remember Hila soon enough and start worrying again. This way she can think she’s doing something positive.”

  “I still don’t know.”

  “I’ll look after your daughter, Joanne.”

  She studied my face. “I know you will, but who’s going to look after you?” She did not smile.

  “Lily.”

  “Okay, I give in. Get her down here, and tell her to call Ashley with the good news. I absolutely have to get some work done on the farm accounts today. I promised myself last year I wouldn’t let it all pile up. And there it is, piling up.” Jake, I knew, had left before the sun was up for market day in Kingston. Liz and Allison had gone with him and Connor had the day off. Charlie was in his room, head bent over his computer.

  I sniffed the air. “The oatmeal’s burning.”

  Joanne swore heartily.

  It was a beautiful day for a ride, and I found my spirits lifting as we got the horses ready. It was nice to be in the barn, the scent of feed and hay and saddles and horses, light streaming in through the open door and the windows in the loft, small cats watching from the shadows, the clatter of equipment, the stomping of hooves. Reminded me of my childhood when I’d gone riding every chance I could get. Black Beauty and Tigger were waiting for us when we arrived, tossing their heads, and blowing in their eagerness, as if they knew what was ahead.

  Lily gave Tigger an affectionate pat, but it was Beauty who clearly had the girl’s heart. She stroked the long soft nose and the horse pushed against her hand asking for more. A barn cat jumped down from the loft, and Tigger snorted. “You’ll ride Tigger, is that okay, Aunt Hannah?”

  “Fine with me. He looks like a lively thing.” Tigger watched me through enormous black eyes. He swished his tail and didn’t look all that impressed. I opened the stall door and led him out.

  I went through the familiar motions of getting the horses saddled and ready. Lily’s equipment was old and well-used but she kept it clean and in good shape.

  We were ready when Ashley’s father arrived with his daughter and her horse. He unloaded the small white mare from the horse trailer while the two girls danced in circles in their excitement.

  “Rachel says thanks for doing this,” he said to me, throwing the saddle blanket over the mare’s back. “Ashley was, to put it mildly, disappointed when her mom said the ride was cancelled.” Short, tubby, and balding, he wore crisply ironed beige shorts and a blue golf shirt. Clearly not a farmer.

  “I’m looking forward to it.” I reached out a hand and touched the horse’s neck. “What’s this lady’s name?”

  “Snowflake,” Ashley said, slipping the bit into the horse’s mouth. Her dad held Snowflake steady while she mounted.

  Effortlessly, Lily swung up onto Beauty, and I gathered Tigger’s reins in one hand and grabbed the saddle. I lifted my leg and stepped into the stirrup. There I balanced, one foot in the stirrup, toes on the ground, and I felt a jolt of fear. Omar might react very badly indeed to this unaccustomed position. Did I want to take on the responsibility of leading these two sweet girls into the woods?

  “Did you hear that Madeleine got grounded for a whole month for telling her mom she was going to a movie with the church group and instead going with Raquel?”

  “No!” Lily said, “A whole month in the summer!”

  “Madeleine’s mom says Raquel’s white trash.” Beauty and Snowflake began to move. The girls’ high-pitched voices faded. Tigger took a couple of steps. I had to hop after him.

  “Something wrong?”

  Ashley’s dad was looking at me, his head cocked in question.

  “Nothing. Just getting steady.” I gave him a smile, trying to look confident, shoved myself off the ground, swung my leg over Tigger’s wide rump and settled into the saddle. I shifted to find the right position and adjusted the reins. The leather saddle squeaked.

  “Have Ashley call the house when she’s ready to come home.”

  “Will do.” Without being prompted Tigger set off after the other horses.

  I had been highly optimistic when convincing Joanne that I was up to the trip and then in the barn with the horses, but now that I was actually mounted, I was having my reservations. I didn’t know what the rhythmic up and down of my body matching the horse’s gait would do to my head. I kept my eyes firmly on the two girls in front of me, hoping the sight of their young bodies and boundless enthusiasm for life would keep Omar from bothering me.

  Whether it was that Omar couldn’t bear being near the girls’ joy, or that my head was healing itself in a proper scientific manner, I felt good. I was almost surprised to find myself relaxing and enjoying the outing.

  The girls went ahead while we rounded the fields, and then fell into single file to enter the woods. Lily first, Ashley in the middle, and me bringing up the rear. The woods in Prince Edward County are not the great boreal forest, nor do they bear much similarity to the Canadian wilderness to the north. The trees are mostly hardwood—maple and oak, poplar and birch—with a scattering of pine and cedar. They were logged extensively, and little, if any, old growth remains. Thick patches of undergrowth and twigs and broken branches littered the forest floor. Birds, sparrows and chickadees and the occasional finch, darted between the trees, filling the air with cries of warning. In the open, the rising sun was hot on our heads and backs, but as soon as we passed under the green canopy the temperature dropped. The scent of the forest was all around us, the pungent decay of dead and dying vegetation, the fresh growth of new life. The girls stopped chattering, and other than the trill of birdsong and the steady tread of horses’ hooves, all was quiet. I took a deep breath and felt good air pass through my lungs and was pleased I’d come.

  We followed a winding snowmobile trail for about an hour. It would be hard to get lost out here—the snowmobilers had erected signs pointing out the directions. We travelled through deep woods and skirted fields planted in long straight rows. Being a farmer’s daughter, Lily didn’t have to be told to keep away from the burgeoning vegetation. My mind wandered and I thought about Hila. I’d overheard Jake telling Joanne, in a voice pitched low so the children wouldn’t hear, that a description of Hila was going up on signposts all over town. No one had a photograph of her they could use. Traffic had been exceptionally busy up and down our road yesterday and again this morning, and we’d seen lights moving in the woods both behind the farm and on the lake side of the road last night. Divers and boats, Jake said, were being brought in.

  I had little doubt she was dead. A woman like Hila wouldn’t just up and leave the only home she had. She was so skittish she didn’t like to be seen so much as walking down the open road. The police weren’t saying so, but I’d been a reporter long enough to know they were looking for a body. I glanced up ahead at the girls, saw their proud straight backs, their ponytails bouncing behind them, their pant legs thick with mud and horsehair. I heard their peals of laughter and spurts of excited gossip and murmurs of affectionate enthusiasm to their mounts.

  I realized my hands were clenched so tightly around the reins they were hurting. Where was he now, the monster who’
d taken one as innocent as Hila? Long gone, I hoped. Off to torment some other town, some other sweet young woman, goddamn him. Then I remembered Rick Brecken and who he was. CSIS. Intelligence. If a local woman had gone missing, the police probably wouldn’t have come out in force until forty-eight hours had passed. If it had been a child, they’d be searching sooner, but not with the involvement of the security services, for sure. That Brecken was here, watching the police searching, meant they didn’t suspect any random serial killer or sexual sadist was responsible for Hila’s disappearance.

  It had to be political.

  Who was she? More than just an Afghan refugee plucked from the camps and given a rare opportunity to come to Canada?

  I hadn’t asked her about herself. Not that she was likely to have answered if I had. Somewhere, deep within my gut something moved, and I cursed myself for not showing more interest. The remnants of my journalistic self, which I’d thought long dead, perhaps. It’s not as if I’d ever allowed an interviewee’s reticence to stop me from probing before.

  If Hila had been taken because of who she was, not just a random act of violence, then Lily and Ashley were safe.

  As safe as young girls could ever be in this world.

  Up ahead, Lily came to a halt. I was so deep in thought, Tigger almost ran into the back of Rachel’s mount before I noticed and pulled him to a stop. He lowered his big head and immediately began pulling up weeds. As he munched happily, I peered around the girls and saw that we’d reached a road. Lily turned in the saddle and said, “Shall we cross?”

  “What’s the time?”

  We’d been riding for almost an hour. I suggested we have a break and enjoy the snacks Rachel and Joanne had packed and then head slowly home. My head was fine, but I knew my legs and butt would be feeling the unaccustomed exercise soon enough.

  We tied the horses loosely to a couple of birch trees, and let them graze. Lily and Rachel threw themselves on the ground, and I found a rotting stump on which to sit. We drank water from stainless steel bottles and ate crackers and local cheese and carrots picked last night and homemade brownies. The girls laughed and talked, the horses grazed, and I closed my eyes and felt content.

  “We’d better be heading back,” I said at last. “You girls might be up to riding for the rest of the day, but I’m not.”

  As expected they protested but without putting much effort into it, and soon we were mounted and retracing our steps. Lily seemed to know where she was going, and if it took a bit longer to get back to where we’d begun, I pretended not to notice.

  We came to a small but fast-moving stream not much more than a hundred yards from the edges of Joanne’s pea field. Lily allowed Beauty to stop for a drink, and Ashley and I came up beside her.

  “That was fun,” Lily said, while the animals silently drank their fill. Water gurgled and splashed as it sought its way around the obstructions of boulders and horse’s legs. “Can we do it again tomorrow, Aunt Hannah?”

  I laughed, pleasure mixed with a groan. “I doubt I’ll be capable of moving tomorrow. But it was fun, and yes I’d love to do it again.”

  Tigger lifted his head and let out a soft whinny. We heard a branch breaking and leaves rustling and then a single bark.

  “Hey!” Lily shouted. “Buddy, here we are. Over here.”

  Buddy, the Harrison’s old dog, broke out of the undergrowth and ran into the clearing, tail wagging furiously.

  “Is anyone there?” I called. Getting no answer I said, more to myself than to Lily, “If people want to have a dog they should look after it.”

  “Buddy looks after himself, don’t you?” Lily said.

  I said nothing in reply. Bad enough they left the old mutt to wander through the woods, but the Harrisons also didn’t seem to care if he walked down the road whenever he took a mind to.

  Buddy was caked in mud and burrs, from his filthy muzzle to the tip of his ragged tail. A clump of burrs were sticking his single complete ear to the top of his head. Served the Harrisons right, I thought. Let the dog wander where and when it pleased, and you have to clean up after it. Even from the added height provided by the horse I could smell rancid old dog and muck and stagnant water and who knows what else. It hadn’t rained much recently, and not for a few days, so the fields and woods were mostly dry. Stupid dog must have been cavorting in the stream or in the marshland further up behind the Harrisons’ property.

  “What’s he got stuck to his tail?” Ashley asked.

  It was a scrap of cloth. Black. As I looked, a shaft of sunlight broke through the gap in the canopy of trees and shone on streaks of dark blue thread. I sucked in a breath and swung myself off the horse.

  Lily started to dismount, but I snapped at her to stay where she was. I approached the dog slowly, murmuring sweet nothings. I dropped to my haunches beside him. He sniffed at my hand, and I took a firm grip on his collar.

  “What are you doing, Aunt Hannah?” Lily asked. I did not reply.

  I grabbed at the cloth with my free hand. It was stuck to a clump of burrs in the dog’s bushy tail. He whined and tried to pull his rear end away, but I was holding on and the cloth came free, along with a good bit of dog hair.

  “Go straight home, both of you,” I said to the watching girls. “Now. Tell your mother to call the police. I’ll wait here for them.” I tightened my grip on Buddy’s collar.

  “What is it? What’d he find?” Lily asked.

  “I said go now. Don’t argue with me.”

  I heard water splash and horses move and the girls’ excited voices urging their mounts on. They broke into a trot and, after an initial burst of twigs snapping and hooves crashing on rocks, the forest fell silent once again. Buddy squirmed, trying to free himself from my grip. I held fast and murmured what I hoped were comforting words. Behind me, Tigger stamped his feet. He decided he’d rather follow his friends back to the comfortable barn and a fresh bag of oats than stay with this strange human, and he simply walked away. I paid him no further attention.

  My sweater was a baggy old thing, much too big for me. Fortunately it came with a belt that I’d looped up behind and tied the ends together. I pulled the belt off and used it to secure Buddy to a sapling. He threw me a filthy look, and then sat down and began vigorously washing his private parts.

  I studied the scrap of cloth I’d freed from his rat’s nest of a tail.

  I’d seen it before.

  As Hila pulled her scarf across her face in an attempt to conceal her scars.

  Chapter Seventeen

  I’d sent the girls away more because I didn’t want them asking questions than to go for help. As soon as I had Buddy secured, I pulled out the cellphone Joanne had reminded me to take. In case of an emergency, she’d said. I figured this counted as an emergency.

  I phoned the house and she answered before the first ring died away. “Everything okay?” she asked without even saying hello.

  For a moment, I considered being offended that she’d be so quick to assume everything was not okay. Instead I said, “We’re fine. The girls are almost home.” I heard the door slam and high-pitched voices calling out. “I guess they are home. Call the cops, Joanne. I’m in the woods behind the peas. Buddy’s found something. Something of Hila’s.”

  “What?”

  “Part of her scarf.”

  “Is she…”

  “All I have is a scarf. Call the cops. Tell them I’m waiting here with the dog. And don’t let Lily and Ashley come back out here.”

  I hung up before my sister could ask any more questions.

  I settled down beside Buddy and for lack of anything better to do began picking burrs out of his long fur. He whined and tried to snap at my fingers, but I growled back and reminded him I was doing him a favor. I thought of how exposed and vulnerable Hila would feel out in the open without her head covering
, and I shivered despite the warmth of the sun.

  We didn’t have long to wait. Buddy heard them first and sat to attention with a bark. Voices called out and I answered and then we were surrounded by men and women in uniform.

  My head swam as I struggled to my feet, and I knew Omar was on his way. “The dog found something,” I said to the approaching officers. I held the evidence out in front of me. “This belonged…belongs, to Hila Popalzai, I’m sure of it. It’s part of her headscarf.”

  By the time a hand held out a plastic bag and told me to drop the cloth in, my vision had narrowed to a small circle of light, surrounded by black curtains. Nerve endings screamed. Omar chuckled.

  “Do you know where the dog found this?” a man asked. I recognized Rick Brecken’s voice. CSIS had arrived mighty quickly.

  I didn’t dare shake my head. “No. We found him here. I was riding with my niece and a friend. The dog knows us. He came up to greet us. It was stuck onto his tail by a burr. “

  “This is the Harrisons’ dog, right?”

  “Buddy. He was friends with Hila. They went walking together sometimes. A lot of the time.”

  “Okay,” Brecken said. His voice hardened. “I thought you people searched the woods. Looks like you didn’t do much of a job.”

  “We did,” a woman replied, her tone defensive. “There’s a lot of ground out here and that’s nothing more than a scrap of cloth. The dog could have found it anywhere. He might have even brought it from the house.”

  “I don’t need excuses,” Brecken snapped. “I need results.”

  “Then get the hell out of the way and let us do our jobs.”

  “If you don’t need me any further,” I interrupted, not interested in listening to their jurisdictional squabbles. “I’d like to go home now.”

  I took a step and tripped over an exposed root. I would have fallen had not a strong hand shot out and grabbed me. “Watch where you’re going,” Brecken said. “We don’t need any broken bones out here.”

 

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