“I would have come sooner but I’ve been busy in the basement building the houses. Trying a new model for chickadees. I have an order for ten and the store owner wants them by next week.”
Boris was then quiet for a bit and David felt himself drifting off. His eyes jolted open again when Boris said, “Do you ever think about her, that girl? That girl Zoe? She would have been in her early thirties by now.” His voice was low. “I think about her sometimes … and the other dead girls in Romania.”
David blinked and moved his lips. Fear pulsed through him, an emotion dredged up from another time. He wanted to say, We promised never to speak of these things. This is not the time to drag it up from the corner of hell where it belongs, but his mouth wasn’t working.
Boris scratched the white stubble on his cheeks. His breathing was laboured as if he’d been running. He wheezed softly as he spoke. “The police were by your house today. Not the same ones that came when the girl went missing. They’re probably retired by now. Antonia happened to be there having tea with your wife, which could mean something or nothing.” He cleared the phlegm from his throat. “Seems your daughter-in-law, the dark-haired one, went for a walk and didn’t come home.” He paused. “I hear she’s pregnant.”
He paused and David’s mind felt as if it were free-falling through time and space. His heart was beating like a frightened bird in his chest, trying its damnest to get out. “Nooooo.” He said it this time and was rewarded with a trickle of drool down his chin.
“What’s that you’re trying to say?” Boris asked. His face was inches from David’s mouth and David felt the heat from him. Smelled his gamy sweat. Boris pulled back enough that David could breathe again.
“I’m looking after it. I just wanted to let you know in case this doesn’t end well like the other time.” He patted David’s hand lying exposed on top of the bedspread. “I’ll do what I can to make sure the past stays that way. You can rest easy knowing that. I just thought you should know before you heard the worst from somebody else.”
chapter seven
Jacques Rouleau was in the office earlier than usual to meet with Gundersund and Stonechild after Gundersund texted at 6:00 a.m. to say that a pregnant woman named Vivian McKenna had not been heard from since the previous afternoon. He found the team already gathered in his office, which Gundersund was now occupying while he took over Heath’s. Bennett was pouring a round of coffee when he arrived and he gratefully accepted a cup.
“I only now heard the name of the missing woman,” said Woodhouse. “She’s married to a guy who killed his girlfriend fifteen or so years ago. Tristan McKenna.”
“He was never charged with her murder,” said Gundersund, looking at his computer screen. “In fact, he denied killing her and there was no evidence that he did. They were high school kids. Zoe was in grade eleven and Tristan was in grade ten. What age would that put them at? Fifteen and sixteen?”
“I was a few years ahead of Tristan’s older brother and at college when Zoe was killed. What was his name?” Woodhouse tapped his head. “Adam. That’s it — Adam McKenna. Anyhow, Tristan had been dating this girl Zoe Delgado and she’d broken up with him. She went missing soon after they split, maybe a week later, and her body was found a week after that in the marshland near the Rideau Trail. Her throat was cut open, but the knife was never found. Tristan McKenna might have gotten away with killing her, but everyone knew he did it.” Woodhouse paused dramatically. “And now, his pregnant wife is missing.”
“Well, why don’t we just go arrest him right now and get it over with?” said Bennett. “Screw the part about collecting evidence.”
“Sarcasm isn’t helpful,” said Woodhouse. “Even you have to admit that if another woman he’s involved with is missing, this could lean toward the suspicious side of the street. Another woman with long dark hair, I might add.”
Rouleau asked Gundersund. “How many hours has she been unaccounted for?”
“She left home around one thirty yesterday so that makes it eighteen hours since anybody heard from her. Her phone appears to be turned off. I’ve circulated her photo and description with the patrol officers. They haven’t spotted her yet.”
“I think it’s time to get the team on this. Interview the husband and the rest of the family. You said in your text that they’re here because the father is ill?”
“That’s right. He’s in Kingston General.”
“It’s early to put out a missing-person bulletin, but we need to have a clearer assessment before we sound the alarm, anyway. She might have had a fight with her husband and caught a bus out of here. You never know.”
“Wouldn’t be the first knocked-up woman to do something crazy. Their hormones get worse than at their time of the month.” Woodhouse looked at Stonechild and she returned his stare without blinking.
“Sharp insight from the man whose girlfriend is a blow-up doll,” said Bennett.
A round of laughter erupted as a purplish-red suffused upward from Woodhouse’s shirt collar. He glared around the circle and let his angry stare rest on Bennett. “Talk shit now, Bennett, but remember you’ll be returning to my charge in a few weeks. We’ll see how funny you find things then.”
Rouleau held up a hand. “Enough, children. The people who should be offended are all women and the men who respect them. Knock off the sexist comments, Woodhouse, and no need to sink to it, Bennett. Gundersund, keep me in the loop about this search and let me know if you need my assistance. God knows I wouldn’t mind getting out of some of the meetings filling up my agenda.” He wondered if he looked as tired as he felt, and the day was only getting started.
He returned to his office and stopped at Vera’s desk on the way. “Any word from Heath?” he asked as he did every morning.
Vera’s smiling red lips turned downward into a frown. “No, and nothing from Laney. She usually posts photos on Facebook but hasn’t this trip.”
“She could be thinking about Heath’s divorce proceedings and not wanting to stoke fires with his wife.”
“I think you’re right.” She picked up a file and held it out to him. “You should know that the Whig reporter Marci Stokes called again about twenty minutes ago. She said she heard that we’re working on a missing-woman case.”
Rouleau shook his head, partly in frustration but an equal part admiration. “That woman has tentacles everywhere. She’ll already know that we have no comment.”
He accepted the file and continued into Heath’s corner office. The sun wasn’t at full strength but it was early yet. Two days in a row of sun was a reprieve from the snow and gloomy cloud cover. He patted his stomach before sitting down. He felt the beginnings of a pot-belly from too much sitting. That settled it. He’d get out for a walk at lunchtime and start getting his life back together. He’d been allowing time and circumstances to have their way with him, but it was time to take control again. He owed at least this to Frances and all that she had sacrificed over the course of their marriage. Her memory deserved more from him than fermenting in grief and self-pity.
He picked up the file and pulled out a briefing note for an upcoming meeting. He sat lost in thought for a moment, staring at the photo of Frances he’d put on his desk after she died. It was his favourite of her, taken soon after they were married. She wore a flowered summer dress, with her hair loose around her face, her eyes dancing with happiness as he clicked her picture. That morning she’d told him she was pregnant and they’d gone on a picnic in the country to celebrate. July. It had been a hot month and the air conditioner was barely keeping up in their Lower Town apartment. He found a nicer two-bedroom apartment in Sandy Hill after she lost the baby five months later. As if a move would help her to forget the loss of their child.
He dragged his eyes away and looked out the window. Where was Vivian McKenna and what was keeping her from contacting her family? Gundersund had checked the hospitals and her family had been searching everywhere else she might have gone in the neighbourhood. Gundersund had s
ent out an unofficial call to patrol officers to keep an eye out for her. Her disappearance was worrisome and he would have liked to get more involved, but he couldn’t spare the time until Heath came back … if Heath came back. Vera was covering for her boss as best she could, but Rouleau feared Heath was having a mid-life crisis that could end with him chucking his job as well as his wife. He knew what he’d do now if given the choice between his job and the love of his life.
His eyes found Frances’s face in the photo again. He picked up the frame. I can’t say that I blame Heath for finding his happiness. It’s too bad I didn’t come to my senses sooner too, eh love?
Kala looked around the dining room at the assembled members of the McKenna family and tried to memorize their names and relationships from the quick round of introductions when she and Bennett had entered the room moments before. Only the mother, Evelyn, was absent from the family circle, having gone to the hospital to sit with her husband. Bennett had taken up a position near the hutch and had his notebook out. She directed her gaze at the missing woman’s husband, Tristan. He looked as if he hadn’t slept for days, judging by his bloodshot eyes and the dark bruising underneath. Now, he was standing with his back toward her in front of the window, looking out at the street. She raised her voice to catch his attention. “Can you tell me how your wife was feeling leading up to her disappearance, Tristan?”
He took a few seconds to turn and focus on her. “She was feeling good. Happy. We both want this baby so badly and we were making plans. She wouldn’t simply have up and left, Officer. I’m going crazy with worry.”
The darker-haired brother, Adam, who was standing at the end of the table holding a cup of coffee, said, “We’re all incredibly concerned. Vivian isn’t a flighty woman and she loves Tristan. She wouldn’t run off like this because she knows how worried he’d be, not to mention the rest of us. We’re already torn up about my father.”
“You have to find her,” Tristan said, his voice loud and anguished in the silence of the room.
“We will do everything we can to find your wife,” said Kala, “but we need more information. Could each of you tell me about your last interaction with Vivian and where you were when she went missing?”
“The last time I saw her, she told me that she was getting a massage in the morning, coming home for lunch, and going for a short walk. She then planned to relax with a book and have a nap,” said Tristan. “She’d been having trouble sleeping and had started resting in the afternoon. I slept in that morning and soon after I ate a quick breakfast I left to visit my father in the hospital. Mona came with me. That was the last time I saw my wife.”
“I left after breakfast as well to go to the gym and meet up with a friend, who ended up cancelling last minute. I was already downtown so I grabbed some lunch from a coffee shop,” said Adam. “Before I left the house, I passed Vivian on the stairwell when I went up to our room to get my gym bag and said good morning. She seemed in good spirits and said she was on her way to get some breakfast in the kitchen. That was it. No sign of distress or upset.”
Kala looked from them to the two women sitting on the other side of the dining-room table. The sister with the short, peroxide-white hair looked up from typing on her cellphone. Her skin was ashen and her eyes bleary from lack of sleep.
“Vivian and Mona were having breakfast when I last saw her,” she said. “We sat at this table and talked about how happy Vivian was to be having a baby. She and Tristan had been trying for some time. She talked about going to the spa before taking a walk and a nap in the afternoon, but I teleworked in my room all morning and left before lunch so I have no idea what she actually did.”
“And where did you go when you finished working?” asked Kala.
“To the hospital and then shopping and a late lunch at the mall in the food court. I drove around for a while and got home around four after I got a text from Tristan asking if I’d seen Vivian. I called him right away and he sounded worried, so I came home to help track her down.”
Kala looked at the sister-in-law. “And you, Mona?”
Mona had been listening to everyone intently and turned her head from Lauren to Kala. “Yes, I had breakfast with Vivian and Lauren came in as we were finishing up. I went to the hospital with Tristan and walked back here late morning. I was probably the last one to see Vivian. She was in the kitchen making tea when I got here. We said hello and then I went upstairs to call our son Simon in Edmonton before having a bath. I didn’t hear Vivian leave for her walk. She seemed tired but fine otherwise.”
“Was Evelyn home at all during the day?”
“She was at the hospital. I’m not sure if she came home for a break or not.”
Adam walked around the table and stood behind his wife. He rubbed her shoulders as he said, “We’ve checked everywhere we can think of and driven the streets most of the night. What are you doing to find her?”
Kala tried to sound reassuring. “We’ve had officers watching for her since Evelyn called yesterday. We’ve checked the hospitals and clinics but she hasn’t been brought in so this a hopeful sign. We’ll be stepping up the search with a team on the way here to start a foot search of the neighbourhood. We could put out a public appeal if you give us permission. It’s early but given the situation, it could prove helpful.”
“I want you to do whatever it takes,” said Tristan. “I want her home before another cold night sets in.” He’d begun pacing and Lauren jumped up to intercept him. She put an arm around his shoulders. They were nearly the same height and standing so close to each other, Kala could see the strong family resemblance. Her touch seemed to calm him down.
“We all want that,” said Adam, drawing Kala’s attention back. “This is a difficult enough time for our family with Dad nearing the end. You can imagine how raw we are to begin with, never mind our worry over Vivian’s whereabouts.”
“We will do all we can to find her.” Kala glanced at Tristan one last time before she motioned for Bennett to leave with her. It wasn’t time yet to raise the matter of his dead high school girlfriend, even if she sensed an unspoken tension in the room. She’d noticed the looks that passed between the family members and the way they studied Tristan when they thought she was looking elsewhere. This family was teetering on the edge of a deep suspicion that could go one way or the other. So far everyone was playing their role to perfection, but the longer Vivian remained missing, the harder they would find it to keep up a united facade, to pretend to believe that Tristan was not involved in the unsolved murder of his ex-girlfriend or the disappearance of his pregnant wife.
Kala and Bennett stopped for takeout coffee and breakfast sandwiches on their way back to the station after Gundersund phoned to say that Woodhouse would be leading the neighbourhood search. She and Bennett sat in the Tim Hortons parking lot and watched traffic go by on Princess Street while they ate. She kept the engine running and the interior was toasty warm while the north wind pummelled the outside of the truck. The brilliant sunshine wouldn’t make a dent into the frigid temperatures.
“I’m not sorry Woodhouse gets to be lead on the outdoor search,” said Bennett, warming his hands on the coffee cup. “Geez Louise, but that’s a cold day out there.”
Kala nodded. “If Vivian McKenna spent the night outdoors, she could be in real trouble.” She didn’t want to say the word dead out loud. Not yet.
“From what they said, she doesn’t appear to be a woman who’d just up and leave.”
“No. I’d be more hopeful if she’d been less definite about the walk and nap.”
Kala’s cellphone buzzed and she took it out of her pocket to read a text message from Gundersund. “Sorry, Bennett, but you’ve been recruited to help with the search. I’ll have to drop you off back at the McKennas before I go to the station. Rouleau wants a verbal update from me in advance of getting the media briefing set up, and this will give me a chance to read up on the case of the murdered high school girlfriend.” She’d also use the time to follow
up on the form she’d emailed to Millhaven tracking down Fisher Dumont. He was like a stone in her shoe. Not consuming her waking moments, but bothering her enough that she knew the only way to keep the problem from taking over was to find him and keep an eye on his whereabouts.
Bennett asked, “Do you really think Tristan McKenna is behind Zoe Delgado’s murder and his wife’s disappearance?”
“No idea yet, but I find it’s always good to stay a step ahead.” She crumpled up her sandwich wrapper and tossed it on the space between their seats, then put the truck into gear and turned her head sideways to smile at Bennett. “Time to get moving. I hope you put on your long johns this morning. You’re sure going to need them.”
“A day with Woodhouse searching the side streets, woods, and pathways. Perhaps I can bump him off in some secluded spot along the way.”
Kala grinned. “I doubt very much he’ll leave the warmth of his car except to issue orders, but it’s always good to dream big.”
chapter eight
Gundersund walked Kala back to her desk after her debrief with Rouleau in Heath’s office. He seemed less remote than he had lately, prompting her to ask, “Have you heard from Fiona? When does she finish teaching the university term?”
“She decided to stay on for the winter semester so she won’t be home until spring.”
“Sounds like she’s doing a great job, although must be tough to live away from home so long.”
“She’s managing.”
There was the same grim set to his jaw that he got every time he talked about his wife. Kala had no idea the state of his marriage but she knew that Fiona was determined to make it work. She’d made that crystal clear the last time they were alone together and in the two emails she’d sent from Calgary before Christmas.
They walked as far as Kala’s desk without speaking. She sat down and booted up her laptop. Gundersund stood watching her until she began to feel uncomfortable with the silence. He appeared to have something on his mind that he was having trouble broaching. She asked, “Would you like to come by for supper tonight? Dawn would love to see you.”
Bleeding Darkness Page 5