“Nothing,” said Terry.
“Tell you later,” said Jan.
Jake yelled and everyone quieted down. “So, if the Order of Canada selection committee phones, you all say nice things about him, okay? Lie if you have to.”
As the next wave of laughter died down, the giant screens and speakers came to life. People refilled plates and glasses or, in the case of non-fans, snuck into the house to wait out the first period by playing billiards. With the usual amount of pomp amid the screams of the crowd, the teams skated out and stood for the American anthem. The puck dropped.
Half an hour later, the first-period horn startled Jan out of a TV-induced trance. She’d had her eyes closed the whole time, except when the noise level rose to signal a breakaway or brawl. Now she’d have to interact with people again. Why had she thought this was a good idea again? Oh yeah, Rob and the job. Was there anything else she could do tonight to help it along? A word with Jake, maybe? But he wasn’t in sight. All over the wide terrace, people jumped to their feet, streaming toward the bar or the bathrooms. The meats and salads had disappeared, and now a tempting array of desserts graced the buffet. Terry went off to make a sampler for her. Rob followed to replace everyone’s drinks.
A hockey player approached, holding a cellphone to his ear. “He’s right here; I’ll ask. Mick, seen Jarrad today? He missed the plane.”
Mick shook his head.
Jan leaned forward. “His car was still at the museum two hours ago.”
Hockey grinned. “Must have got a better offer.” He wandered away, telling his caller that Jarrad was off getting his stick polished. Jan, admiring the easy muscles in his departing thighs, wondered if Camille knew her sex toy was shacked up with someone else for the weekend.
Terry approached with small plates containing a selection of bite-sized desserts. He handed her one and said, “You okay, Mick?”
Mick was absentmindedly massaging the left side of his chest. “Huh? Yeah, I’m all right. Say, those chocolate things look good. Give me a hand up, would you, Terry?”
“I’ll fetch some for you,” said Terry. “You stay here.” He went back to the scrum around the dessert table. Jan saw him lean close to Camille and speak into her ear.
She came over, storm clouds on her perfect face, and sank gracefully onto the lounger at her husband’s side. With her back to the terrace, she probably looked like the caring wife, but face-on and low-voiced, she dropped any pretence of concern. “Christ, Mick, quit milking this. I’m not leaving early again over your imaginary pains. Go home!” She walked away, smiling at acquaintances.
As the second period began, Terry came back with another plate, but Mick only picked at the mix of desserts on it. Rob went to get a plate for himself. Five minutes later he was still at the buffet, chatting to a handsome hockey player in every break of the onscreen action.
The second period was half over when, during a long delay while video of a suspect goal was being reviewed, Dee’s voice sounded angrily from inside the house. Jan looked up to see a window cracked open over Mick’s head, and caught the phrases “bloody unethical” and “first thing Monday.” The exchange rumbled on a bit longer, and then a few phrases burst out.
“Don’t you dare bug me again. Or speak to me, either!”
The puck dropped, the game started up, and Dee strode out of the house, her face set in a rigid half smile. She stopped near the loungers as if she couldn’t decide whether to stomp off or go back indoors to let loose another blast. She finally looked around, saw Jan, and came over.
“I’m going home.”
“Take me, too, please.” It was Mick, almost inaudible under the renewed roar from the TVs. His face had sagged, as if all the life left in him was oozing down his cheeks.
Dee crouched beside his chair. “Is it your heart? Do you need an ambulance?”
Mick moved his head slightly. “No. Just tired. Need to get home to my own bed.” He struggled to sit up.
“Are you sure?” Jan started wriggling out of her squishy cushions. “I’ll help you.”
“I’ve got him,” said Rob, coming over to slip an arm behind Mick’s shoulders. “Take it easy there.”
Mick found a smile. “Thanks, young fella. Mind giving me a hand to Dee’s car? Through the house, please. I don’t want to cause another scene like last night.”
“No problem.” Rob smiled back. “I’ll ride down the hill with you and make sure you get inside okay.” He hoisted the older man upright and eased him through the French doors. Nobody turned from the game.
Dee bent down to Jan. “Guess I’d better tell Camille. She’ll be spitting.”
“Don’t bother. She already said she wasn’t leaving early for his imaginary pains. Direct quote. You won’t leave him alone, will you? Until you’re sure he’s all right?”
“I won’t.”
Chapter Eighteen
After a winding drive back to Calgary on Highway 1A, Tom pulled into his driveway and pulled out his phone. “I’ll just check if they want me over there.” Lacey pulled out her phone, too. It was after seven; surely Dee would be finished eating. If not, she could let it go to voice mail. Dee answered on the third ring.
“Hi. How’s the party going?”
“I’m not there anymore.”
“I thought it would be going on for hours. You’re not home alone, are you?”
“No. I’m down at Mick Hardy’s place. He needed a ride home. After this I’m going home, too. No more party for me tonight.”
“I’ll get there as fast as I can.”
“Don’t worry about it. I am totally not worried about being alone now. Besides, Rob is coming back with me for a drink. Or several. We can sample everything in the liquor cabinet and think up snarky slanders about everyone we both know. Sound like fun, Rob?”
In the background, Rob yelled, “Absolutely!”
“Does this mean you confronted whoever planted the bug? Was it Neil?”
“I can’t talk about that now, Lacey. But don’t you worry about me tonight. In fact, don’t you have a picnic or something starting early tomorrow? If you want to stay overnight in Calgary, I’ll be fine.”
Lacey protested, but Dee insisted. Honestly, it sounded like Dee didn’t want her back. Would tomorrow bring Thanks for coming but now move out? She hung up and stared at Tom. “Far from being paranoid about being alone, she practically insisted I stay here tonight.”
“She got a hot date?”
“The guy she’s with is gay, so I don’t think so.”
“Maybe he’s bi. You’re welcome to the couch, if you come back with me to the in-laws’ first.”
Lacey drove up the hill after noon on Sunday and was relieved to see Dee’s SUV right where it should be. She went around to the kitchen door, mentally preparing for the outburst from the dog run. No barking. The dogs weren’t sprawled over their usual half acre of terrace, nor in their pen. In the kitchen, Dee’s purse hung from a stool back. A note on the counter said, Took the boys for a long run. Pick out something from the freezer to thaw for supper. Did I mention I hate arrogant assholes? Sister, have I got a story for you!
Lacey ignored the freezer for the time being. Instead, she made a tall glass of iced tea and wandered out to the terrace. When was the last time she had simply sat out on a shady terrace, smelling the flowers? Not that she could smell the ones in the pergola with the breeze at this angle, but the spruces and those low, scrambling bushes in front of them sent spicy green scents toward her. Sunlight smiled on every trunk, shrub, and blade of grass, from just beyond her toes to halfway up the little path. Everything was so fresh and sweet, warm and dry. The Lower Mainland had been shrouded in fog and rain when she’d left nearly a month ago. Not even the daily winds off the ocean could completely blow away the airborne residue of industry, manure-sprayed fields, and high-density traffic. Those had formed the backgrou
nd in her nostrils during her years in Surrey. This foothills air was like having her soul gently washed.
She woke with a start sometime later. Had a door snapped shut? The sun was still high, but her patch of shade had moved, and the top of her head was cooking. The dog pen remained empty. She picked up her iced tea, saw dead flies floating in it, and dumped it over the railing.
“Hello? Anyone here? Dee?” A man’s voice. Mick Hardy stepped slowly around the corner of the house, breathing hard.
“Oh, hi, Mr. Hardy. I don’t think Dee’s here. I’m a friend of hers, Lacey McCrae.”
The lined face smiled at her, a bit shakily. “Didn’t I meet you on Friday? You’re the young lady who got me an ambulance, for which I forgot to thank you. I didn’t realize you were with Dee.”
“We’re old friends. I’m glad to see you’re on your feet again. It wasn’t serious, then?”
“Not so much,” said Mick, leaning against the wall to catch his breath. “My pacemaker got its wires crossed, kinda. I’m taking it easier now, driving everywhere. Say, looks like I just missed Jake Wyman. Was that old hound down here trying to find out why the lovely Dee left with me last night?”
“I must not have heard him knock.” Had the whole neighbourhood stopped by to watch her sleep in the shade? “Have a seat. Can I get you some iced tea?”
“No, thanks. I only stopped to ask if Dee saw my billfold in her car. I can’t put my hand on it this morning. I can phone her later.”
“I’ll see if her keys are here, and we can take a look now.” She took the glass into the house and saw the clock over the stove. Five thirty already? She’d been asleep for two hours.
Dee’s purse lay on the counter by her note, but the spare keys were on their hook by the back door. Lacey took them outside and walked with Mick, very slowly, around to the drive. They checked the creases of each soft leather seat, but no billfold turned up.
“Another long shot misses the net. I don’t know if everyone with heart trouble loses their memory, but mine’s downright awful lately.”
Lacey watched his car crawl down to his own driveway before she went back indoors. Two hours. Dee was taking a really long walk. Maybe she had detoured over the bridge to that little wine bar. There were always dogs tied to that railing while their owners enjoyed the shady patio. The delay would give her a chance to be a good houseguest and cook supper for a change. She hung Dee’s purse on the stool back and stared at it for a moment. Hadn’t it been hanging there before? Had she moved it to the counter without remembering? She couldn’t be sure. She poked through the fridge and freezer, found some bacon ends and a handful of veggies, and whipped up the one dish she could manage without screwing up: a crustless quiche. It would take a while baking, and there were enough salad greens around to supply a rabbit farm.
Now she could check her email in hopes there’d be one from her realtor saying he had an offer on their house. And not another one from Dan, complaining about the awkward position he was in whenever people asked him where Lacey was, telling her that keeping her location secret was irrational, and trying some new and creative way to guilt her into believing she had overreacted to what he called a little argument that got out of hand. After his first flurry of emails, she could have pretty much written them herself and saved him the trouble. But they always left her feeling queasy, uneasy about whether she had been too quick to pull the plug. If she had stayed with the Force, or with him.… But speculation served no purpose. She had made the best decision possible at the time, and now she was here to help out Dee. When that ended, when the museum job ended, then she would re-evaluate.
In Dee’s office, she groped under the middle desk drawer for the key to the filing cabinet, retrieved Dee’s laptop, and waited for the erratic Wi-Fi to stabilize. Then she dredged up Dee’s complicated password, an amalgam of the dogs’ names, and was finally able to open a browser to view her inbox. Nothing from the realtor, which was bad, nor from Dan, which was a deep relief on a day she already felt slightly off-kilter. She stared at the screen, trying to think of some friend or relative she hadn’t already emailed in the first lonely weeks in Calgary. Then she searched real estate listings for affordable Calgary condos until the oven timer went off. She shut down the browser, debated putting the laptop away, and then decided she could have another session after supper, this time looking for apartments to rent. She must be prepared if Dee gave her a strong suggestion about moving on.
Six thirty and still no sign of Dee. This was their first weekend as housemates. Dee might have a regular Sunday routine that Lacey knew nothing about. She tried Dee’s cellphone and heard its gentle chime upstairs. So much for that idea.
At seven she ate half the rubbery quiche. Afterward she sat out back with her tea, listening for the dogs to come panting up the trail after a long day’s romp. Clouds piled up behind the hill. Would there be another downpour, like on Friday night?
At eight o’clock, driven indoors by mosquitoes, she paced from room to room, wondering if she had overlooked some sign of trouble. Nothing was obviously disturbed, but drawers didn’t seem as neatly closed as usual. Why would anyone search the napkin drawer in the dining room? It wasn’t an obvious hiding place for anything of value. She checked it, anyway, in case someone had planted another bug. Just napkins. The house’s emptiness was sending tentacles of fear into her paranoid brain.
She had been home for nearly six hours and there was still no word from Dee. The sunset was getting lost behind the clouds, taking with it the dregs of hope that nothing was wrong. She called Dee’s phone again and tracked it by the chimes to the upstairs hallway table. Fortunately it wasn’t locked, and she was able to retrieve Rob’s cell number. She hit dial.
“Not Dee,” she said when he answered. “It’s Lacey McCrae. You were with Dee last time I talked to her, last night. I’ve been home for hours now and she’s not here, although her phone is. Did she say anything to you about her plans for the day?”
“Far as I know she was taking the dogs for a run. Something about reclaiming her old route. Is that any help?”
“Maybe.” It would be a place to start looking. And did Rob know anything he didn’t realize he knew? The cop technique: get him talking and see what falls out. “So you had a good time last night? When did you finally leave?”
Rob laughed. “About ten this morning. We made a lovely night of it.”
“Just the two of you?”
“Yup. Believe me, the things we said about board members, we wouldn’t want anyone else to hear. Dee is some lady. Even when mega snarky, she could match a Hepburn for class. Is her bike back? I got it down for her.”
“I’ll go check. Thanks.” The bike was not in the garage, nor in the yard. Lacey looked up the hill, where the lights had just come on at Terry Brenner’s. Would they know if Dee had a regular Sunday port of call? Maybe not. Jan might be higher than a hawk or passed out cold after a weekend’s worth of uppers. The phone number would be in Dee’s phone, but walking up there felt more productive. She turned over Dee’s note and scribbled on the back, Gone up to Jan’s, back ASAP. Just in case.
The sound of the rushing river assailed her when she stepped outside. The path Dee would take along the river might have washed away under her feet, dropping her into the roaring waters. Please, not that. Lacey could face anything except her best friend’s body being tumbled along in the muddy, churning water.
Terry answered the door. “Lacey? What’s up?”
“Dee’s missing. At least, I wondered if you’d seen her today.”
“Dee’s missing? Come in. Tell us what happened.”
Lacey followed him into the living room, where his wife was flat on the sofa, covered with an afghan. Jan struggled to sit up. It looked like a major effort. He said, “Dee’s gone AWOL. Did you see her today, hon?”
“She went up the trail about, oh, one thirty. On her bike. The first time in a
while. Usually I hear the dogs when she gets home. I just assumed I’d missed her today because I was resting.”
Resting. Right. Speed crash.
“But she normally would go for an hour or so and then come home?” Lacey asked.
“She used to. Not this year, but with the bike she could get a lot farther. Did you try her cell?”
“At the house.”
“Oh, no, Terry. What could have happened?”
“Chill, honey. She might have bumped into Jake and been dragged home. The hockey squad is off at a camp for underprivileged children today, and you know how he hates to be alone up there.” He turned away, pulling out his phone.
Jan slumped back. “Yeah, that’s probably it. Jake won’t eat alone if he can help it. And I’m convinced he has designs on Dee. He drags her name into all our conversations, trying to casually find out what she’s up to.”
Terry came back, shaking his head. “He hasn’t seen her. If we don’t track her down in an hour, he wants to mount a search. You said she was on her bike; did it get a tune-up this spring, do you know?”
“I don’t think so. It was hanging in the garage until last night.”
“Could be tire trouble,” said Terry.
“Sure,” said Jan. “Or she lost the chain. She wouldn’t be able to walk all the way back. You have to go look for her. It’s supposed to rain.”
It wasn’t clear whom Jan had intended the order for, but Terry nodded first. “Lacey, do you know the road north of here, by the boarding stables?”
“Where the trail crosses? Uh-huh.”
“Good. You drive around that way. I’ll take my bike along the trail and meet you. She’s bound to be back there somewhere, hungry and furious at herself. She’ll yell when she sees my bike light. Or the dogs will knock me down. I’ll give you my cell number. Phone if you see her before I do. And take a flashlight, in case you have to go in from the road to help haul her out to the car.”
When the Flood Falls Page 15