CHAPTER FIVE
Gundersund looked across at Stonechild as he pulled on his seat belt. “Thanks for the lift. My car will be ready tomorrow afternoon.”
“I can pick you up again in the morning. What time?”
“Seven thirty works. We can head directly to the school to start interviews and I’ll grab a cab to get my car at some point before the shop closes.”
“Okay.”
She drove along the waterfront heading out of town, past the spot where Devon Eton’s body had been found. Shafts of sunlight blinded them as the sun had descended to a point just above the treetops. The morning wind had stilled and the waves rolled gently onto the beach.
Gundersund wondered whether to tell Stonechild that he’d seen her niece the day before when he’d driven past Frontenac Secondary School. Kala hadn’t wanted to talk about Dawn after Child Services had taken her away, but he knew she was hurting. He decided to give it a shot. “I drove by Dawn’s school yesterday and saw her in the yard. She seemed well.” He looked out his side window so Stonechild wouldn’t think he was watching for her reaction.
“Was she alone?”
“She was with a couple of girls, probably from her class.”
“That’s good.”
They were silent for a moment. Gundersund asked as casually as he could, “Are you planning to see her?” This time, he turned his head to look at her. He could see the muscle working in her cheek. She lifted one hand from the steering wheel to push her sunglasses further up her nose.
“I think she’s better off if I don’t interfere in her life. A clean break always works best.”
“Do you honestly believe that?”
“Yeah, I do. As a kid who moved homes at least every year, I know it’s easier if you don’t look back.”
She’d never spoken about her childhood before. Gundersund knew it had been bad. He’d read the Marci Stokes article in the Whig about her years homeless and drunk on the Sudbury streets. “Perhaps it would have helped if someone had made an effort to keep in touch with you.”
“But they didn’t.”
“And that was a shame.”
“Maybe … and maybe they did me a favour.”
They passed the Kingston Penitentiary, closed for some time, the inmates moved to other locations where they were crammed in like sardines, if media could be believed. The road wound northwest past large older homes with glimpses of the river down the hill. Shadows filled the spaces as the sun continued its descent. Ten minutes later, they reached the turnoff to their side road.
“I’ve got more experience with this kind of separation thing,” she said as if fifteen minutes hadn’t elapsed since his last comment. “And I turned out just fine.”
“You did.” He hesitated. “But you are not without issues.”
She laughed. “No, I’ve got my share, but then again, so do you and you had a normal two-parent upbringing.” She glanced over at him.
He could see her point and smiled back. “Touché.”
They reached his driveway and she pulled in, stopping halfway. He opened his door and set one foot on the ground, his elbow resting on his knee. “Thanks for the lift, Stonechild. See you tomorrow.”
“Yeah. Bright and early.”
Gundersund walked slowly toward his front door, turning before the steps to watch her truck’s tail lights disappear from view. He would have liked to suggest they take their dogs for a walk down by the water, but Fiona had taken to dropping by unannounced. Until he finished the sessions with the marriage counsellor and continued with the divorce, he had to be careful not to give Fiona reason to get worked up. He was biding his time until she came around to accepting that the divorce was the only way to get on with their lives, as he had. A clean break would be better than this dragged-out ending that Fiona had insisted upon. No regret and no looking back. Stonechild’s cynical view of severing relationships would have been a fitting end to his marriage, even if he found the childhood that had led to her world view overwhelmingly sad. The difference was that he was an adult trying to get on with his life, while she’d been a kid with no life experience to know that not everyone let you down. Her words spoke of an absence of hope; he was only beginning to get some of his back.
Kala still missed coming home and finding Dawn sitting at the kitchen table waiting for her. She’d only had custody of her niece part of a year but it had been enough time to get used to having her around. Now it was only Taiku who met her at the back door.
“Hey, boy.” She bent and gave the dog’s back and head a good rub before opening the door wide to let him outside. “I’ll be out to join you in a minute.” She flicked on the wall switch and the kitchen sprang into light. She took a quick look around before crossing to the fridge and taking out a pot of stew she’d had the night before. Leftovers always tasted better the day after. She tucked the pot into the oven, turned on the heat, and grabbed her warmer jacket from the hook behind the back door.
Taiku was sniffing around the back steps when she stepped outside. He waited for her to walk down the steps and bounded in front of her across the lawn toward the lake. Kala knew the way even in the darkness, but tonight the sky was clear and the moon and stars gave the night air a silvery sheen. They walked along the shoreline, the damp breeze blowing back Kala’s hair and cooling her face. The beach was filled with rounded stones of different sizes and she stepped carefully until she reached a flat rock that made a comfortable seat. She sat cross-legged and let herself relax into the rhythm of the waves striking the shore. The night was scented with autumn richness and she breathed deeply, letting the calm of the night air fill her soul. Taiku lay next to her, his warm body pressing against her thigh as if sensing that she needed him nearby.
Gundersund’s words had hit closer to home than she had admitted to him. She hadn’t told him how many times she’d driven to Dawn’s school to see her, only to drive past without stopping. Once, a month after Dawn had been taken from her, she’d phoned the number that the child care worker had given her. A woman named Colette finally had answered, but after Kala told her who she was, the woman’s voice had lost its welcome. “Dawn is just beginning to settle in,” she’d said. “This might not be a good time to re-enter her life. Perhaps in a few weeks I could get back in touch with you. We need to go carefully, as you know. She’s had so much upheaval.”
Colette had never called back. Kala had backed away except for her weekly trips past Dawn’s school that felt like a pathetic inability to let go.
Kala thought about Jane Thompson and the sad mess she’d made of her life. Had she been biding her time in prison to kill the boy who’d put her there? Was she a woman bent on revenge? Kala knew Jane Thompson was the logical choice for Devon’s murder given her recent release from prison. Had her release set somebody else into motion? Tomorrow, she and Gundersund would start to fill in the blank spaces. She was going to need to be rested and clear-headed to figure out relationships and motives. She’d keep Jane as a possible suspect but not the only suspect.
“Time to head back.” She reached down and ruffled Taiku’s silky head. “No answers for us out here tonight.” The stew would be warm and she was suddenly hungry. Supper and a hot shower would hit the spot, and hopefully a dreamless sleep would find her soon afterward.
CHAPTER SIX
Gundersund slid into the front seat and handed Kala a travel mug, keeping a second one for himself. “My way of saying thanks for picking me up,” he said. “Did you get Rouleau’s email?”
She inhaled the smell of roasted coffee and took a sip before saying, “He’s going to speak with the Etons while Woodhouse and Bennett go door to door. You and I start with Jane Thompson’s sister, Sandra Salvo, before we carry out interviews at the school.”
“I take that as a yes.”
“Sorry. I meant yes.” She smiled and set the mug in the cup holder and began backing out o
f the driveway. She stopped the truck before backing onto the main road and looked over at him. He appeared to have had a rough night, the scar on his cheek redder than usual against his pale skin. He’d tried to tame his blond curls but not quite succeeded. Gundersund would have been a Viking back in the day — a giant man with unruly locks and scarred face. She forced herself back from an image of him on the prow of a dragon boat. “Did you get Sandra’s address?”
“She’s in a new subdivision in the east end on Rose Abbey Drive.”
“I wonder why Jane didn’t move in with her sister when she was released.”
“Good question. We’ll have to ask her.”
Sandra’s house was a taupe and brown two-storey with double garage on a street tightly lined with similar homes. A plump woman with grey-blond hair to her waist opened the door before they had a chance to knock. She looked past them as if searching for somebody before hustling them into the hallway. A black cat with frostbitten ears nearly made it through their legs and outside to freedom, but Sandra slammed the door shut in time.
“Popcorn tries to get out every chance he gets. You’d think he hates living here.” She laughed and held out her hand. “I’m Sandra. Thanks for coming by. Going into the station would have been problematic for me.” She led them into the kitchen, which fed into a family room. Kala blinked. Two babies were crawling around a penned-in area and three more pint-size children were eating cereal at the kitchen table.
Sandra jumped when the doorbell rang and a relieved smile crossed her face. “My helper just arrived. We can meet in the den once I let her in.”
Gundersund looked at Kala and mouthed, “Why Jane chose to live elsewhere.”
The den was a cramped room with a desk and office chair taking up half of the space, and two leather chairs in front of a window that looked into the neighbour’s kitchen, where Kala saw a man in a housecoat pouring a cup of coffee. Two walls of Sandra’s den were lined with bookcases overflowing with paperbacks. Kala and Gundersund squeezed past the desk and sat in the leather chairs to wait for Sandra.
“Doesn’t look much like her sister,” Gundersund said. “She appears to be a lot more wholesome. Do you want to take the lead on this one?”
“If you like.”
A baby’s crying filled the house but didn’t last long. Sandra appeared a moment later and shut the door. She took the desk chair and rolled it a few feet toward them. “Sorry about that. Luckily, two of the kids are home sick today and I get three more four-year-olds at lunch hour, and even though my second helper shows up at eleven thirty, as I explained to your sergeant, this really is the best time for us to meet. Now, I believe you have questions about my sister, Jane?”
Kala glanced at Gundersund and back at Sandra. “Are you aware that Devon Eton was murdered two nights ago?”
“Of course. I read the paper but I haven’t spoken to Jane about it, as you requested. I can assure you though that she didn’t do it.”
“How can you be so certain?”
“Jane didn’t hate him, although I must say that I would have in her shoes. I mean he was responsible for ruining her life.”
“You don’t agree that Devon was the victim?”
“Jane is not a child rapist nor is she a killer.”
“Did you speak with Jane by phone on Monday night?”
“Yes. I called at seven as I usually do. We, or I should say I, talked for half an hour. Jane never says very much. She’s been depressed since she got out because that prick Adam has been keeping the kids from her. Olivia is eight and Ben is twelve so they need their mother now more than ever especially since that tramp he’s dating isn’t much older than Ben. I imagine Adam will be using this kid’s death as another reason to keep them apart. I’m angry as hell about all this. The so called friends who just turned their backs. After all that Jane did for …”
Kala was beginning to understand why Jane let her sister do all of the talking on the phone. Sandra was like a nonstop wind-up toy without an apparent need for air. Kala cut in. “What kind of childhood did the two of you have?”
“What, me and Jane? Not great, but thanks for asking. Our mother was old school. She believed in beatings and God — not the usual combination, but we always got an earful of scripture after our punishment. Jane took the brunt of it being the oldest and the one who daydreamed when she should have been doing chores. Drove my mother half around the bend. You wouldn’t believe how wild my mother got when Jane discovered boys, or maybe it was the other way around. I mean, have you seen my sister? She had them lining up in grade school.” Sandra clamped a hand over her mouth. “I didn’t mean that like it sounded,” she said through her fingers.
“Did you visit your sister in prison?”
“I tried to get there once a month. It’s hard with this daycare business I’m running. I take in kids most weekends too and a few of the parents work shifts.” Her head snapped toward the door. A child was screeching and shortly afterward a second child started screaming uncontrollably.
Kala raised her voice. “Just a few more questions. Have you seen Jane since she got out of prison?”
“I invited her for dinner a few times but she never came. As I said, she was depressed, hanging around her apartment after work, waiting for Adam to let her see her kids. Tragic how far she fell in life. Everything my mother said about Jane came true.”
“What would that be?”
“That she was living in a dream world. Getting above herself and heading for a fall. I’m just glad my mother’s in a home now with Alzheimer’s so she can’t yell ‘I told you so’ at Jane anymore. It was bad enough when Jane was found guilty of having sex with that kid.”
The screaming had grown louder and moved just outside the door. Gundersund spoke for the first time, raising his voice above the child’s. “For the record, where were you Monday night, Sandra?”
She thought for a second. “Why, right here. I didn’t have any kids staying over so I had a bath after I spoke with Jane and called it an early night.”
“Can anyone vouch for you?”
“No. I live alone. I only have a helper come to work when I have more than four kids so neither was here that day because most of the kids were off with the flu.”
“How close are you to Jane?”
“Are you asking if I’m close enough to kill on her behalf?” Sandra smiled and suddenly Kala saw her resemblance to Jane in their identical expressions that could have been taken as mischievous but came across as secretive. “My sister and I had to learn to band together when we were kids to survive in my mother’s house of spare the rod. I’d take a bullet for Jane but that doesn’t mean I’d commit murder for her.”
Gundersund was writing down details of their visit in his notepad while Kala drove toward the school. The sky had brightened since their morning drive to Sandra’s house and Kala felt her spirit lift. At this time of year, a warm, sunny day was to be savoured. The warmth had to carry them into the winter months that were just around the corner.
Gundersund clicked the pen with his thumb a couple of times and set the notepad on his knees. “What’s your take on Jane and Sandra?”
“Their childhood would make an interesting study. They both chose to work with kids even with a lousy role model. I find that interesting.”
“I hadn’t made that connection. You’d have to wonder how much impact their mother’s discipline and preaching had on them and on the way they interact with kids. Did the mother’s parenting come up at the trial, do you know?”
“Not sure.”
“Yeah. I’ll make a note to check. From what I’ve been reading in the file, Cathy Bryden kept meticulous notes. Sandra doesn’t have an alibi but she doesn’t seem high on the suspect list. For one, she could have killed Devon at any point over the past three years if she’d wanted to and wouldn’t have implicated Jane since she was in prison.”
Kala pumped the breaks as she eased up to a stop sign. She looked over at Gundersund. “Unless she wanted Jane to be implicated. Who knows what’s really going on between the two of them? The fact Jane hasn’t been to see her a month after her release and appears to barely tolerate her phone calls makes me wonder how close they really are.”
“Layers inside of layers.” Gundersund picked up the notepad. “Never trust anyone.”
“That’s right. Jane Thompson may very well have killed this kid, but it’s also possible that somebody was waiting for her to get out of prison so they could pin this on her. That leaves the field wide open.”
“But why? The only ones I can see who would want revenge would be family and friends of Devon. They’d hardly kill him to get back at Jane Thompson. Makes no sense.”
“Well, there’s Jane’s sister Sandra as we just discussed and an ex-husband, for starters. Sounds like Adam Thompson is keeping Jane from their kids. Maybe he wants her back inside so he never has to deal with her again. He kills the boy she was having an affair with and vents some pent-up anger from their affair that must have made him look less than manly. What was the name of the street the school’s on?”
“Kingston Collegiate. Make a left here on Frontenac. It’s that three-storey red brick building at the end of the block.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
The Eton home was furnished with an eclectic mix of modern and antique — darkly stained oak and walnut tables with elaborately carved designs contrasted with the sleek lines of minimalist sofas and chairs upholstered in expensive silk fabrics. The art on the walls ran to hunting scenes and landscapes in the Turner tradition, a reflection of Hilary’s British heritage. She’d led Rouleau into the spacious living room when he arrived at 9:00 a.m. and invited him to sit on a plaid-covered couch in front of a bay window that looked out over the backyard. Oak trees lined the back of the property, their leaves a slash of scarlet against the blue backdrop of sky. The room smelled of smoke from a recent fire in the brick-lined hearth. Charred logs still rested in the grate.
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