“I don’t know what’s happening here, but I’ve never seen you like this before. Besides, Audra treats phobias. You promised you’d do whatever it took to overcome this aquaphobia of yours. That meltdown you had when you got splashed in July terrified me. I thought you were having a seizure. You need to know why you’re so scared. How are you going to stay on the beach when we go south? People do splash, you know.” Tasha took a mouthful of her coffee and made a face. She added more sugar to the cup.
“You’re exaggerating. He surprised me and the water was cold.”
“Right. Keep telling yourself that. How can we go on our dream vacation to the Dominican Republic next spring if you can’t go anywhere near the water? I don’t get it. Is it your job? Is that why you’re so afraid? I wouldn’t be a number one fan of water either if I made my living around those who died that way, but you’re beyond afraid. You’re terrified.”
“Calm down, will you? Lower your voice. People are staring at us.”
“Fine,” Tasha whispered. “I’ll lower my voice, but you promised to do something about it, and you haven’t. If Sanders has his way, you’ll probably leave tomorrow. Work is work even if those two gorgeous hunks will be there. You’re my best friend. I miss you when you aren’t around, and an email, phone call, or online chat aren’t the same thing.”
“I know why you’re really annoyed, and it has nothing to do with my fear of water.”
“What do you mean? I’m not annoyed. I’m worried about you.”
“You’re mad because if I do get sent on this case, I won’t be able to go on that double date tomorrow night with the guy who works with Simon. You’ve been trying to set me up with him for weeks now. Every time I emailed, all you wanted to know was when I’d be home.”
“I asked because I missed you. I do think you and David would be great together. You’re alone too much. For the record, I’m worried about the water thing. Consider learning about the eye candy a bonus—my treat. Audra’s big on chakras and chi, and she’ll tell you how to balance things so you can get over your fear and move on. You can find your calm again. Don’t you want to?”
“More than you’ll ever know.” Michelle sighed, defeated. “Fine. We’ll go see Audra, but after I do this, you have to let it go. No more witches, no more psychics, no more magic crystals, no more anything! I can still go to the Dominican with you. I’ll just sit and bake on the beach while you turn yourself into shark bait.”
Tasha laughed. “You have such a way with words, but I agree. I won’t mention it again—well, at least not until your next meltdown.”
* * * *
Tony sat in his SUV outside Picton’s town hall. His head pounded, and his hair hurt. The throbbing headache he’d nursed all morning had grown into a migraine, and as much as he’d like to crawl into a room and hide from the light and all sounds, he couldn’t. He undid the leather thong holding his hair back in the classic ponytail he wore and massaged his scalp hoping to ease the tension on his skull. Reluctantly, he finger combed his tangled hair and pulled it into a low, loose ponytail.
He’d taken two migraine relief tablets mid-morning and had put his head down on the table. A sound had alerted him, and he’d sat up. Remembering the brief encounter convinced him it hadn’t been a hallucination, but what else could it have been?
She’d stood in the kitchen dressed in buckskin, with that blanket of hers wrapped around her shoulders, her hair plaited into two braids, one of each side of her beautiful face. On her feet she’d worn a pair of intricately beaded buckskin moccasins. She’d crossed the floor, and he’d stood and opened his arms to her. She’d raised her hand to his face, traced the scratch on his cheek, and smiled up at him, the unspoken request clear in her eyes. He’d kissed her as he had so many times before. As his tongue invaded her mouth, plundering her sweetness, he’d hardened with desire. She’d pulled away slightly, giggled softly, and pointed to the obvious bulge in his jeans. Her eyes shone with happiness.
“Who are you? How did you get here?” He’d tried to capture her mouth again, but she shook her head.
“Tohsa sata:ti.” She’d pressed her finger against his lips for silence. “Satahon'satat.” She’d touched his ears. “Senehia:rak. Eniorhen'ne iotohetston nen:tie. Senehia:rak.”
He hadn’t understood the words and had asked her name.
“Tayouroughay.”
“Tayouroughay” He’d repeated the strange word. He’d reached for her, but she’d faded away right before his eyes.
He’d stood there, shivering, staring at the empty space where she’d stood seconds before. What had she said? What did it mean? If he’d imagined it all, the words would be gibberish, but if it had been real somehow—and he couldn’t imagine it had been—the words would be Mohawk. He’d stop and see his friend Joseph Smoke, an elder on the Tyendinaga reserve, before returning to the inn. He’d find out the truth once and for all. Why the hell was a Mohawk ghost haunting him? He didn’t know why, but he had a sense of anticipation he couldn’t suppress. Something was going to happen, and it was going to happen soon.
He ran his hand down his cheeks. The scratch was red and swollen. Damn! With the morning he’d had, he’d forgotten to shave, and it looked as if he’d slept in his clothes. Could he look any less professional? No wonder the mayor and his toadies didn’t take him seriously.
Why in hell had Aaron and Lindsay been out in that storm? If they’d been in that canoe, like the police suspected, then where were their damn lifejackets? No one was to go out on the lake without a personal floatation device. How many times had he repeated that litany? Guilt ate at him, and he popped another antacid tablet into his mouth. Only a crazy person would have gone out on the water last night, and those two hadn’t been crazy.
He’d argued with Aaron and Lindsay at lunch yesterday. They’d asked to go to the police, but he’d cautioned them to wait. The last thing anyone needed was misinterpreted findings like those. Could one of the locals have overheard them? He’d wanted to check the results himself. He’d never doubted their work before, why yesterday? Last night he’d run those water samples himself a dozen times, and the results were the same. Aaron and Lindsay were right. Someone was cooking methamphetamine and dumping the waste products directly into the lake.
Nothing else could account for the high levels of ammonia hydroxide, one of the by-products in the production of the synthetic drug. If one of the locals was involved…They’d gone to the drug store in Picton. Had they inadvertently discovered something that had gotten them killed? Cold medication was key in synthesizing the drug. There was no way he’d believe this had been an accident.
He should have contacted the police, but with what? Unsubstantiated data wasn’t necessarily proof, and the meth lab could be anywhere on the island. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. His hydrology project had morphed into a potential ecological and environmental disaster. Water from the Lake of the Mountain fed directly into the Bay of Quinte and Lake Ontario. Hell, the entire Saint Lawrence River could be poisoned. How many towns and cities between here and the ocean drew their drinking water from the river? How could anybody be so irresponsible? Every pound of meth created meant five pounds of poison dumped into the water. Assuming the lab was new, the level of toxins in the water had no way to go but up.
He planned to share their findings with the mayor as soon as the cocky son of a bitch granted him an audience. He couldn’t stand the man, and for some reason Mayor Ron didn’t like him either, but maybe the guy would lighten up and cut him some slack since poisoned water wasn’t something he’d want either. The mayor could alert the police to be on the look-out for increased meth sales in the area, and maybe they’d consider whatever had happened to Lindsay and Aaron hadn’t been an accident.
Cooking meth was extremely dangerous, but there were big bucks at stake in the sale of illegal drugs. The last he heard, it cost about a hundred dollars to make an ounce of meth, which sold on the streets for about eight hundred bucks. That was some return on your i
nvestment, and the sellers didn’t care about the collateral damage they caused.
Tony’s head pulsed, and he searched his backpack for his migraine medication. It was probably a little early for a third dose, but he was dying here. The last thing he needed was a crippling headache. He massaged his temples and tried to focus his attention on Aaron and Lindsay again. He shivered.
He hated the “someone’s walking over my grave feeling” he’d had ever since he’d arrived on the island. Between the heebie-jeebies and the X-rated dreams…It was like a visit to the Twilight Zone. All he needed was the eerie music and a Rod Serling look-alike to make the strangeness complete.
He checked his watch. The lord almighty, Mayor Ron Davies, had agreed to see him at two. It was ten to two. He hoped the man wouldn’t leave him sitting there cooling his heels like he had the last time. It was like being put on hold on the phone. If you died on hold, would anyone notice? He shivered. Bad choice of words.
He got out of the vehicle, locked the door, and crossed the street to the municipal building.
* * * *
Michelle glanced at her watch. Two o’clock. She felt disconnected, as if she wore someone else’s skin, and the fit wasn’t a good one. Pictures of men didn’t usually phase her, but she’d almost had an orgasm just looking at Dr. Tony Steele’s photograph. As if that wasn’t bad enough, she was attracted to the other man, Ron Davies, too. Maybe not as deeply, but she wouldn’t walk away if he showed any interest in her. Maybe she should ask Colin for time off, and let him assign the new case to someone else.
Who are you kidding? Her conscience prodded. You want to see this through. You have to know who drowned, and if it’s him, then you have to solve the puzzle. She sighed. Has everything that’s been happening led to this? It makes no sense.
“Sorry I’m late. Sheila said you wanted to see me?”
“Yes. Come in, and close the door.”
Michelle entered the Provincial Coroner’s Office. Colin sat behind his desk shuffling the inevitable piles of paper dwelling there. She frowned. He appeared more preoccupied than usual.
“What did you make of the photo I sent you?” Not a people person at the best of times, he was more abrupt than usual, and she furrowed her brow deeper.
“Which one?”
“Damn it. You know which one I mean—the drowning victims.”
His quick flash of temper surprised her. She’d never seen Colin flustered like this.
“It wasn’t very helpful. Is it the only one we have?”
He nodded. “The police officer who responded to the scene dropped his phone into the lake. The caretaker took the picture and a few others. We should get them shortly.”
“You’d think whoever fished the bodies from the water would have pulled the upper torsos out. Leaving them half-in, half-out like that is just wrong.”
“Nobody pulled them out. The current pushed them ashore. This is how they were found, and no one dared touch the bodies before the police arrived.”
Colin reached for a green sheet in the open folder on his desk.
“Local law enforcement and the mayor want to rule it an accidental drowning and release the bodies immediately. I’ve put the kibosh to that. I’m sure you agree, based on that picture alone, there are too many unanswered questions to rubber stamp this one.”
Michelle nodded, and slipped into the chair in front of Colin’s desk.
“The nine-one-one call came in at eight-twelve. The police got there within fifteen minutes, paramedics shortly after. The local medical examiner is on holiday, and the G.P. sitting in for him didn’t feel justified in handling this on his own. He called it in. Damn good thing he did. Paramedics loaded the bodies into the ambulance for transfer. On my orders, they were taken to the morgue in Belleville, not Picton.”
Michelle frowned. That wasn’t standard procedure. Bodies usually were sent to the nearest city or hospital morgue, and Colin was a stickler for following procedure. She opened the file on her phone and stared at the photograph again as if looking at it long enough would somehow change it into an image that made sense and could easily be explained. The bodies weren’t bloated as most floaters were.
“I can see why the police would think they’d drowned, but don’t local authorities read the information leaflets we send out? Drowning is no longer sufficient as the cause of death. People don’t just drown. There’s always another reason why they succumb to immersion. The local LEOs might want to close this case quickly, but if this photograph is anything to go by, it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen. Nobody willingly goes into the water this way, not even to commit suicide.”
She looked at the photograph again and shook her head.
“Something’s off. People bundle like that to stay warm. It’s something I’d have expected in a remake of the Titanic movie—lovers knowing they were doomed, or a parent and child, jumping into the ocean, snuggled together so they wouldn’t drift apart. It would have added poignancy to a tragic scene. Why are you showing me this?”
“I know you just got back, but I need you to lead the investigation on this one. You’re the best forensic pathologist I have, and cold-water immersion is your specialty. This is a high profile case, and I need my best person on the job—that’s you.”
She sighed. “How long have they been missing?” It would give her a time frame for the deaths.
“They haven’t. They were seen around six-thirty last night and were found on the beach this morning.”
“That’s impossible. If they’d gone into the water this way, their combined body weight and the wet clothing would have dragged them down. In this temperature, it would take weeks for sufficient gases to form to allow the bodies to surface. So are we to believe they were standing on shore, snuggling, fell head-first into the water, and didn’t make any effort to get up? That’s ridiculous. It’s possible, given the recent storm activity, a rip tide sucked them into the water, but I can’t see it. The tide would have pulled them to the deepest part of the lake, not left them like this.”
She stared at the picture again, her heart in her throat. “Do we at least know who they are?”
“Unfortunately, we do. Meet Aaron Hart, age twenty-four, and Lindsay Miller, twenty-three.”
The breath whooshed out of her, and she was suddenly light-headed. It isn’t him! Incredible joy filled her.
Colin’s voice pulled her back, and she forced herself to pay attention.
“They were graduate students from the University of Toronto working on a research project at the Lake of the Mountain Resort. Lindsay is Liam Moorcroft’s niece, and he wants answers.”
Michelle’s head jerked up. “The Minister of Agriculture?”
Colin nodded.
“Damn!” She bit her lower lip, a nervous habit she’d acquired years ago. “I guess that explains why this case has you upset. Were they into drugs? Could this be a lovers’ quarrel gone bad? She’s missing a shoe. I don’t see it among the debris. Do we know for sure they were in the canoe?”
Colin scowled at her, and she wondered what she’d said to annoy him.
“This case is our top priority. As far as your questions go, your guess is as good as mine.”
He slammed his fist on the desk, and she jumped, startled by the uncharacteristic outburst.
“I know the family, Michelle. Liam Moorcroft and I went to school together. She wasn’t into drugs. What the hell were they doing out there in the middle of a storm in the first place? Everyone I’ve spoken to, other than the family, wants to get this sorted out as soon as possible. It’s as if the locals are trying to sweep this under the rug. It doesn’t feel right.”
He leaned back in his chair, frustration and grief evident on his face. He massaged his temples.
“I’ve told George Winters, the Belleville M.E., to keep his hands off the bodies until you arrive, and I don’t think that’ll be today. The crime scene is at the Lake of the Mountain in Prince Edward County. That’s three hours away in
good weather. The rain’s already started to fall, and the storm front’s moving in from the east. It isn’t going to get any better until tomorrow.”
Maybe I should forget about having an apartment and buy a mobile home instead or maybe one of those big rigs that open up into God knows how many rooms. Have autopsy kit, will travel.
Michelle shook her head at her own bad joke, and nodded resigned.
“Have Sheila send me the rest of the photographs as soon as we get them. I don’t see paddles or life jackets. I need to finish up the paperwork on my last case, and a little more sleep wouldn’t hurt either. Those two aren’t going anywhere. You can let them know I’ll be there by lunchtime tomorrow.” She rubbed her eyes and ran her hands down the side of her face.
“What were they doing there?”
“Aaron and Lindsay were assisting their professor, Dr. Anthony Steele, with a hydrology research project. Do you know what hydrology is?”
“Hydrologists study water—where to find it, how it moves from place to place, and its relationship with the environment. They study the water cycle. I think they also look at its chemical composition and water pollution.”
“They do. With all the talk about global warming and pending disasters, taking care of the environment has become a top priority. Lindsay wanted to save the planet.” He closed his eyes, sighed deeply, and continued.
“This Lake of the Mountain is a geographical conundrum. It defies explanation. The area immediately surrounding it, the strip of beach where the bodies were found, is part of the Lake of the Mountain Provincial Park, apparently a popular tourist destination for people with vivid imaginations.”
She frowned. Why do I think the lakeshore looks familiar? I’ve never been there. She focused on Colin’s words.
“Some claim they’ve seen sea monsters of the Loch Ness variety. Others have seen Indian ghosts along the shore and canoes on the water. No one knows where the lake’s water comes from, but apparently the water level never changes, even though it empties itself into the Bay of Quinte via a small waterfall on its eastern side. The local authorities claim the center of the lake’s bottomless. Ostensibly, they’ve done depth soundings at one hundred and twelve feet, and they didn’t find bottom. Lindsay was tremendously excited about this research project.”
Echoes of the Past Page 3