“So when did they find her?” I asked.
“They found her the next day. A jogger found her under the bridge.” His voice was shaking.
“Somewhere you didn’t look?” I asked.
“No. Exactly where I looked the day before. Also where the police looked. I had been standing in the exact spot she was found,” he told me, his voice bitter.
“But how is that possible? What did the police say?” I demanded.
“They said they must have missed her the day before.”
“But you’re sure you didn’t,” I said.
“I know I didn’t. There was a graffiti heart right above where they found her. I saw it when I was looking for her.”
“Wow. I can’t believe this,” I said.
He sighed.
“I don’t know, Feather. Apparently, I wasn’t a reliable witness in my ‘drunken stupor.’ The medical examiner said she died of blunt force trauma consistent with a fall. They ignored the fact that I heard someone attack her. They ignored the fact that her body wasn’t there the night before. It’s like they didn’t want to bother investigating. They just closed the case. Just another dead Indian girl.”
“I’m sorry, Paul. How can the police not see the obvious? Someone is taking these girls! Sara, my friend Carli and now my best friend, Mia. All of them were down by the water near that overpass. They called Carli a suicide. Your girlfriend fell accidentally. And Mia is still missing.”
“I’m not helping much, but I wanted you to know your friends aren’t the only girls who went missing down there. Someone is targeting Indigenous women,” he said. “And the police don’t care about finding whoever is doing this.”
“You’re right. They’re completely ignoring the connection between what’s happening to these girls.”
“I’m sorry about that. If there’s anything I can do or if you decide to search or need something from me, just ask. I couldn’t help Sara but maybe I can help you.”
I thanked him and hung up. Why didn’t more people care about these women? There was something going on down by the riverfront, and if no one else was willing to investigate, I was going to take matters into my own hands. But before I tried to find out who was really responsible, I had to clear my brother’s name. And to do that, I had to go see him.
Chapter 32
The WRC
The drive up to the Winnipeg Remand Centre was quiet. Jake hummed along to the radio, glancing over at me occasionally.
“Are you okay?” he asked me for the hundredth time.
“Yep. Still okay,” I told him, trying to smile as the WRC came into view.
The sight of the futuristic, imposing glass building made my skin crawl. I hated the idea of my smart, sensitive, smiling brother trapped in there.
Jake parked in the lot and turned to me, his hand resting on my thigh. I shifted in my seat, causing his hand to slide off my leg. Jake sighed.
“Do you want me to come in with you?” he asked.
I did. I hated the idea of going in there alone. But I wasn’t sure how Kiowa was going to react, so I thought I should probably do this myself. This time anyway.
“No.” I sighed. “But thanks. I appreciate the offer.” He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek.
“If you’re not back in an hour, I’ll come in, guns blazing,” he promised.
“You’re a dork,” I told him, softening slightly towards him. I leaned in and kissed the smirk off his soft mouth. I sighed again. This constant back and forth between being the perfect boyfriend and angry homophobe was exhausting. There was something scary about his extreme mood swings. I didn’t know what to do. “Okay. I better go in.”
He nodded and I took my time unbuckling my seatbelt and easing open the door. I slung my purse over my shoulder and set off towards the entrance of the WRC.
A security guard buzzed me in and had me sign in and show my ID. He rummaged around in my purse and then walked me into a small room where a woman was sitting at a table, crying, while a guy in an orange jumpsuit looked blankly at the wall behind her. At another table, an inmate was laughing with an older man who looked so much like him; it could only be his father. They looked like they frequented the same tattoo parlour. Well, however you choose to bond, I thought.
I sat down at an empty table and stared at my hands clenched in my lap. I willed myself to calm down but my heart was galloping wildly.
A door opened off to the side and my brother entered the room. He wasn’t wearing shackles or even handcuffs, so that was good. He was pale, but otherwise, he still looked like Kiowa. I stood up to hug him but he stopped and held up his hands in front of him.
“Sorry, Feather. I’m not allowed to touch you.” He smiled sadly at me.
“Oh, right. Right!” I replied, too brightly. Way too brightly. I swallowed and tried again. “You look good, Kiowa.”
“Thanks.” He smiled, less sadly now. “It’s good to see you!”
“You too,” I said. “I brought you some stuff to read.” Nothing like cutting to the chase — I plunged ahead. “Turns out there have been a bunch of girls who disappeared or died down by the riverfront under really suspicious circumstances.”
Kiowa raised his eyebrows as I slid printouts of news stories towards him. He glanced down, frowning and leafing through a couple. “Okay. I’ll take a look. But give me the short version.”
I filled him in on the details of Sara’s case and what Paul had told me. I had dug up information about a couple of other girls as well.
“Wow.” He took a deep breath. “Why isn’t anyone investigating?”
“I don’t know. The RCMP released a report recently. Aboriginal women are disappearing and being killed in record numbers. Remember Mom said that we’re four times more likely to be killed than non-Aboriginals?”
“I still can’t believe that.” Kiowa shook his head.
“I know. The government says the killings and disappearances are isolated events that should be left to the local police forces.”
“Of course,” he spit out bitterly. “No one cares about a missing Aboriginal girl like Mia.” He looked up at me. “No one but us. You know I didn’t hurt her, right?” he asked, grabbing my hands.
“No touching, Bedard,” the guard called out. Kiowa let go but he didn’t break eye contact with me.
“I know you didn’t,” I assured him.
“Then you have to help me!”
“How?” I asked.
“Is there a sign-in sheet or a video camera at the rec centre?”
I shook my head. “There isn’t. I already asked Michael.”
“Okay.” He looked away, a frown creasing his forehead. “What about a gas receipt? I filled up near the school. Maybe the gas station has a camera?”
“Maybe.” I couldn’t help sounding skeptical. “What about a credit card bill?”
“I used cash,” he said. “Maybe a camera at the dorm?”
“I can look into it,” I told him.
He slammed his hand down on the table, and then glanced over at the guard.
“There has to be something that’ll prove I wasn’t there! I didn’t do this, Feather!”
“I know, Ki. I believe you. I’ll find something, okay?”
“Promise me, Feather. I know what they’re saying about me out there. Get me out of here so we can find Mia and bring her home.”
“I will, Kiowa.” I met his eyes. “I promise.
* * *
Jake was leaning against the car waiting for me when I came out. I still had doubts, but I needed the perfect boyfriend at that moment. I walked up to him and threw my arms around his neck, holding him tightly. I closed my eyes and breathed in the scent of him. He kissed the top of my head and held me back, waiting for me to speak.
I drew a shaky breath and let him go.
“I’m okay,” I told him. “I have to figure out a way to get Kiowa out of there.”
He nodded, and then opened the door for me. He walked around to the other side and got behind the wheel. He ran a hand through his hair. It was getting even blonder from the time he spent outside playing lacrosse and working on his car.
“How did it go?” he asked. “Is Kiowa okay?”
“Yeah. He is. But he’s scared. He wants me to find something that will clear his name and get him out of there.”
“I’ll help,” he said.
“Thanks. I just need to figure out where to start.” I looked at him, so eager to help me clear Kiowa’s name. How could he be so nice and hide that ugly side of himself so easily? The more it happened, the more unease I felt around him, but I needed all the help I could get.
“What did he suggest?” he asked.
“He wrote down where he filled his tank with gas near his school. Maybe they have a security camera?”
Jake nodded. “Okay. What else?”
“Security at the school.”
“So we’ll drive down and take a look around, talk to some people and see what we can find out,” he suggested.
“Yeah. I’m in.”
“It’s a good start,” he said.
I nodded but I already knew where I had to start. If someone was taking Aboriginal girls from the riverfront, I needed to go down there myself. If the police weren’t willing to scout out the river, then I would.
Chapter 33
Going under Cover
There was not one thing in my closet that didn’t scream “I shop at the Gap!” Most of my wardrobe consisted of T-shirts with superheroes on them, jeans and yoga pants — nothing I could imagine wearing to the riverfront on a hunt for whoever took Mia.
My eyes pricked with tears. After this much time, I still refused to consider that I might never see my best friend again. If the police were going to throw my brother in jail when there was no way he had anything to do with Mia’s disappearance, then I’d have to look for the guy myself. I felt anger rising up in me again like a wave of nausea I couldn’t swallow. Why did at least three girls going missing from the same place not set off any alarms? I sighed, pushing clothes hangers across the rod, crashing them together and sending a pair of khaki capris to the floor. I bent down to retrieve them and stopped as my gaze fell on an unfamiliar backpack lying on the floor. I reached for it, and then paused, realizing who it belonged to. Mia.
I picked it up, trying to remember when Mia had put it there. I drew a blank. It was heavy in my hands, bulging at the seams. Mia had sketched and written all over it. I ran my hand over a realistic drawing of her dog, JayJay, and smiled. My fingers stopped at a tiny red heart by the clasp. I squinted at it, and then recognized a minuscule ‘K’ written in tiny script. How had I not known? I shook my head and pushed the ever-present guilt down as I opened Mia’s bag. Clothes spilled out onto the bedroom floor. Shirts, pants, a jacket, skirts . . . an entire wardrobe. It was as if she thought she might need to take off suddenly and stay away for a while. I sighed and started picking up the clothes.
I was folding a silver miniskirt with black skulls printed on it when it occurred to me that if I was going to the riverfront to attract a killer, I’d need a disguise. Mia’s clothes were exactly what I needed to go under cover and not look so much like I was about to bust out some choreography from an Old Navy commercial.
I laid her miniskirt on the bed and looked over the rest of Mia’s clothes. I picked up a black tank top and placed it on the bed with the skirt. I had a sudden flash of inspiration that led me first to my dresser, where I had a pair of fishnet stockings left over from Halloween, then towards the basement door.
I flicked the switch as I started down the stairs. My mom had spent a lot of money fixing up the basement so she and Kiowa could watch the Jets and he could play his video games. I rarely went down there unless I had to find something in the storage room. Piled floor to ceiling with cardboard boxes and plastic bins, the storage room was tidy but unorganized. Boxes labelled “kitchen” were nestled on top of a bin inexplicably marked “boxes” and another with a “tools” label. I stood in the centre of the room, hands on my hips, and looked around. “Kiowa’s lacrosse trophies” was on top of “Feather’s sculptures” — from my ill-fated foray into art classes with Mia — and “Feather’s shoes and junk” in my own handwriting. I pulled Kiowa’s box of trophies down and stood on my toes to lift the plastic lid off my shoe bin. I fished around, pulling out my junior high cheerleading sweater (a social experiment engineered by Mia), and a stuffed elephant I had creatively named Ellie. I reached in further, spotting a flash of cherry red, and pulled out my old Doc Martens. I hadn’t worn them in years but they’d go great with my outfit. Mia’s outfit, I amended. To find the guy who took my friend, I’d have to become Mia. At least for a little while.
I stood in front of the mirror and stared at my reflection critically. I pulled at the hem of Mia’s skirt, willing it to lengthen another couple of inches. I wasn’t entirely convinced that my ass wasn’t showing. The tank top showed off cleavage made impressive with the help of a push-up bra. The red Docs definitely made the outfit, though. I turned, twisting my head, trying in vain to tell if anyone really could see my ass. I didn’t think so . . . as long as I didn’t bend over.
I turned back around and leaned in towards the mirror, running my fingertips under my eyes and smudging the coal-black eyeliner I had found with the Halloween fishnets. That would have to do. This was as close to psycho bait as I was going to get.
The next step was less clear. I figured I’d hang out at the riverfront because that’s where Mia, Carli and Sara all went missing. I had no idea if they met the guy down there or not. They could have caught his attention anywhere. I wasn’t even sure what I’d do if I found him. I hadn’t thought that far ahead. But I had to start somewhere.
I sighed, wishing I could call Jake and get him to come with me for backup. But there was no way he would agree to putting me in danger. And truthfully, I wasn’t sure I really wanted him there. Standing in my bedroom, surrounded by all my pictures of me and Mia, I felt completely alone.
* * *
I hadn’t been down to the river at night before. It was completely different when it was dark. During the day, the Riverwalk was populated with young moms with jogging strollers and tourists with cameras slung around their necks. Couples strolled hand-in-hand along the riverbank on romantic dates. It was a safe place to walk and get some nice views of the city during the day.
But at night, the riverfront came alive with street kids, homeless people, people looking to score drugs and sex workers looking for dates. I felt completely out of place until I remembered that I was in disguise. I walked past a group of kids about my own age, passing a joint back and forth. They nodded at me as I walked by, maybe thinking they knew me from some other night below the overpass.
As I walked towards the bridge, I looked at each person I passed, hoping one would be Mia. It never was. But the sheer number of Aboriginal girls hanging out alone or just with one other girl was mind-boggling. Didn’t they know how dangerous it was for them? Hadn’t they read the statistics? I wanted to yell, “Get out of here! We’re four times more likely to be killed than that white girl over there!” But I didn’t.
I saw places where the street lights didn’t penetrate the darkness. I was afraid to look too closely after hearing some of the moaning sounds coming from the darkness. There were too many places where someone could hide. Could watch. Could reach out and grab. Far too many places where someone could drag a girl and make it sound like they were on a “date.”
I was so deep in thought I didn’t notice I had walked away from the groups of people. Aside from the odd pedestrian hurrying past in the other direction, I was alone. The gloomy spots on the Riverwalk seemed even darker where there were no people, no voices.
&nb
sp; I jumped at a shadow and started moving faster, the overpass looming ahead of me. It was even darker there. The lights didn’t reach very far. The space underneath was black velvet, cloaking everything. I could make out nothing but shadows. I stepped into the suffocating darkness.
I heard a scraping sound to my right. I jumped and tried to see what it was, but what little light was there played tricks with my eyes and cast murky shapes on the walls. I thought I heard footsteps but they could have come from anywhere. A sound like a sigh came from behind me. I held my breath and turned slowly. I thought I saw something move.
“Is someone there?” I asked, willing my voice to sound steady. “Hello?” I waited, holding my breath, but there was no response. I let out a breath and turned again, walking with my arms held out in front of me. Shadows danced around me, and what could have been a rat skittered around my foot. I squealed and kicked but missed it.
I stopped again and heard someone draw a deep breath right behind me. I ran a few steps forward and turned, fists swinging but touching only air.
“Who’s there?” I demanded, feeling considerably less brave then I had when I walked in. I stood still. Waiting. I tried to see around me but I could only make out vague shapes. I wasn’t even sure which way led out to the Riverwalk, I was so disoriented. I was about to try to trace my steps back out when someone blew softly into my ear.
I screamed and swung my arm with all my might, catching whoever it was . . . a man from his grunt of pain . . . in what I took to be his face. I ran, guessing wildly which way was out. He reached out and grabbed my arm but I shook him loose, still screaming. I was back out on the Riverwalk with a few more steps. I ran until I was standing under a street light, the voices of a group of kids talking about music filling my ears. Then I turned and looked behind me. A man was standing just at the edge of the darkness under the bridge, watching me. His features were hidden. I stared, breathing hard, backing away slowly towards the voices behind me. There was something vaguely familiar about him but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I turned and walked towards the sound, the light. I stopped a couple of feet away from the kids and turned back once more to see if he was still there.
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