“We’re looking into the recent murder of a woman whose family was investigated as part of your daughter Zoe’s murder.” She’d tried to word her reason for bringing up Zoe’s killing as generally as she could, but her explanation sounded convoluted even to her own ears. Mr. Delgado was looking at her with a puzzled expression so she tried again. She asked, “Had you heard that the police have been searching for Vivian McKenna for the past two days? She went out for a walk and never returned.”
“Tristan’s wife?”
“Yes.”
“Can’t say that we knew.”
“Unfortunately, her body was located yesterday afternoon on the Rideau Trail not far from where Zoe was found fourteen years ago.”
“Christ.” His face drained of colour. He ran the oil rag across his forehead leaving a smear of black grease. “I need to sit down.”
They took the two chairs near the plate-glass window after she pulled one of them out to turn and face him. He rested his hands on his knees and bent forward. His face was turned from her in profile. He was looking out the window, appearing to compose himself. The wind rattled the glass and puffs of snow blew across their sightline. The noise of an air gun punctured the silence at regular intervals. Kala waited.
“Was it Tristan this time too?” His voice was harsh. A silent struggle was going on behind his eyes but anger was winning out over his pain.
“There’s no evidence that he was involved with either death. I’ve spent the morning going through Zoe’s case.”
“Then you’ll know he got away with killing my daughter.”
“We have no evidence that he did.”
“I know that the police had nothing conclusive, but for the life of me, I know of nobody else who would have killed her.”
“I’ve found that it’s unwise to convict someone without proof, although I completely understand the need to bring Zoe’s killer to justice and your reasons for believing the killer was Tristan. I am going back through the case to see if the investigation missed anything, but we need to keep an open mind. We can’t decide the killer and then only look for evidence to convict them. That would not be justice.”
Franco rubbed a hand across his eyes. “Her death killed my wife too. Not right away. It took some time, like a slow-moving disease, but she never recovered. Fit that into your system of justice.”
“I’m very sorry. You’ve been through some terrible tragedy.”
He looked at her. “Vivian McKenna. How did she die?”
“Dad? What’s going on?”
They both looked toward the door to the bays. A good-looking man in his midthirties stood with one hand holding the door open. Kala judged him to be six feet tall and in good shape, likely into working out. His black hair was cut short and he had the same black eyes as his father.
Franco stood up. “Matt, this is Officer Stonechild. Officer, my son Matt. Looks like Tristan McKenna’s wife Vivian turned up dead on the Rideau Trail, not far from where they found Zoe.” He looked back at Kala. “The officer wants to find out if her murder is linked to your sister’s.”
Matt remained standing in place, his eyes going from his dad to Kala and back again. His jaw tightened. “Tristan?”
“As the officer here told me, we can’t rush into judgment. She’s going to go through Zoe’s case again. Maybe the truth will come out after all.”
Kala stood as well. “What has your contact been with the McKenna family since Zoe died?”
The two men exchanged glances and Kala felt the mood in the room change. Their eyes became guarded.
“Let’s say we’ve kept ourselves informed about the McKenna family,” said Franco.
Matt stayed silent but nodded agreement.
Kala asked, “Did you know the McKenna kids were back in town?”
“We knew,” said Franco. “David McKenna is on his deathbed and I heard they’d come back for his last few days. I liked David and I’m sorry that he’s dying, but I can’t forgive him for sheltering his son.”
“How are you staying informed?”
“Their next-door neighbour Boris Orlov brings in his car for service twice a year and brings me up to speed. I used to see David walking his dog on occasion. He made a point of stopping and asking how we were doing but we didn’t get beyond that. Last week, Matt met Boris in Tim Hortons and he mentioned about David being sick.”
“What kind of dog do you have?”
“A mutt. Part poodle and part something else. You?”
“Black lab.”
“Can always tell dog people.” He gave a smile that she took as meaning nothing personal about his anger.
“Have either of you met Vivian?”
Again, a look passed between them. Matt answered. “I saw her and Tristan a few times last summer when they were home. Once at the dog park and once at the grocery store. That’s it. We didn’t talk though.”
Franco added, “I saw the two of them pass by in his mother’s car. Can’t say I spoke to Tristan since the police wrapped up their investigation into Zoe’s murder. Wait, that’s not true. He came by one day a month or so after the police stopped their investigation to give his condolences but I didn’t want to hear them. Maybe we should have warned Vivian about what she was in for.”
“Dad,” Matt said with an edge of warning in his voice.
“Yeah, I know, son. I can’t keep going there.”
“I hate to ask you to relive any of this, but what can you tell me about the day Zoe went missing?” Kala asked.
Franco said, “I was at work all day but left early when I got a call from my wife that Zoe hadn’t made it home from school. Matt and I drove all over the neighbourhood looking for her while my wife stayed home and made phone calls. We got the police involved the next morning. I’m sure it’s all in the police file.”
“It is, but I wanted to hear it from you. Matt?”
“I was at school. I saw Zoe at her locker after last period and she said that she was going home. I had basketball practice or I would have gone with her. I never saw her again.”
“She didn’t mention being worried about Tristan and their breakup?”
“She said that he was taking it hard and she felt bad, especially since she was still friends with Lauren and kept running into him.”
“That would make it tough.”
Matt nodded. “I wouldn’t say that she was overly concerned for her safety, though. None of us was. We’d known the McKennas forever. Dad, Mr. McKenna, and Boris Orlov used to go fishing together. I hung out with Adam and had even taken Lauren on some dates. All of our friendships died that day along with my sister.”
Franco stared at Matt and said, “I didn’t know you dated Lauren, son.”
“It was nothing. Teenage stuff.” Matt’s voice was dismissive but his cheeks reddened.
“Just surprised I didn’t know.”
“It wasn’t a big deal, Dad.”
Kala left the garage without learning anything more and cleaned a coating of snow off her truck before climbing in. While the heater warmed up, she took out her phone and called Dawn. She’d be done class for the day and on her way home. Dawn’s phone went to voicemail and Kala left a message saying that she was still at work and would be late getting home.
She threw her phone onto the seat and paused before putting the truck into gear. Snow had already filled in the back windshield as she pulled away. Should she call again to find out why Dawn didn’t answer or was she being paranoid knowing that Dawn’s father was out of prison? The likelihood that he was even looking for a daughter he’d never known seemed a remote possibility, and Kala decided not to worry about it for now. She’d finish up her work quickly and be home by seven, an early enough night for the first days of a murder investigation. Maybe not being the lead investigator would prove a godsend this time around. She’d spend more time with Dawn and continue developing the trusting relationship that Dr. Lyman kept telling her was the key to mental health.
chapter thi
rteen
Dawn’s phone was in her knapsack and she didn’t hear it ringing until it was too late to answer. She fished it out and listened to Kala’s message, feeling relieved to hear that she was working late so there was a chance to beat her home again tonight. Otherwise, she’d have to explain why she was coming home so late herself. Every time Dawn thought about sharing how she was feeling or what she was doing with Kala, she felt a knot in her chest that kept her from talking. Reaching out meant risk; sharing led to loss. Better to keep quiet and not open herself up to pity or pain.
“Anyone important?” Emily asked. She’d stopped working on the math equation and was stretching her arms over her head. Her long blond hair shone in the light as she moved. She was wearing large silver hoop earrings and a tight jade-coloured sweater. She smelled like pink bubbles or something sugary and sweet. Dawn knew that every guy in the library was keeping an eye on Emily, hoping she’d turn her head and notice him.
“My aunt letting me know she’ll be late getting home.”
“You live with your aunt?”
“I do.”
“Well, that’s great she’s going to be late. You can come with me for a coffee. I’ll buy since you agreed to meet me again today. I think I’m actually getting this problem so you deserve something to eat too.” Emily’s smile lit up but Dawn wasn’t fooled. Emily was using her to pass her course and wanted to humble her somehow, to restore the balance of power.
“That’s okay. I should be getting home to let the dog out.”
“That’s too bad.”
They packed up their books and again Dawn was surprised when Emily walked with her down the hall to her locker. She lingered while Dawn opened the lock. Dawn hesitated before pulling on the door. “Are you meeting your friends?” she asked, hoping Emily would take the hint and leave.
“Not today. Can’t your dog last another half hour without you?”
Dawn turned her head sideways to study her. Something sounded off in Emily’s voice. An uncertainty that made Dawn curious. “I guess I could spare half an hour if we go somewhere nearby.”
Emily’s face lit up. “I could drive you home after. I have my car.”
Of course you have your own car. “I don’t want to put you out.”
“Not like I haven’t put you out enough. I’ll go grab my coat and meet you back here.”
They were at the front entrance when Emily said, “We may as well take my car to the coffee shop. It’ll save time.”
They decided on Coffeeco on Princess. The coffee was fair trade, organic, and tasted divine, or so Emily said to convince Dawn to drive that far out of the neighbourhood. Emily chattered the entire way about different kids in their class and cheerleading. She was captain of the squad and spent a lot of hours practising. Dawn listened and inserted the odd word when needed but overall she was happy to let Emily carry the conversation.
A mixture of dark roast coffee and tea smells greeted them upon entering the small shop and they each ordered a cappuccino and carrot muffin. They were the only two customers and chose a table next to the window.
Emily shrugged out of her coat and looked around. “I love this cozy place. Where do you usually go for coffee?”
“Home.”
“Really? You don’t have a place you hang out?”
“No.”
She didn’t have any friends to sit around drinking coffee with, but she wouldn’t tell Emily. Already, she was wondering what Emily was after. To make fun of her later with her friends? Dawn took a bite of muffin.
“Did you get tickets to the Shawn Mendes concert next week at the K-Rock Centre?”
Dawn was beginning to feel as if Emily was working to prove how uncool she was, not that it was that difficult. “No, I’m not going to the concert,” she said. After a few seconds of silence, she asked, “Are you going?”
“Yes! Chelsea’s dad knows somebody and got us tickets near the stage and backstage passes. We’re going to meet him after the show.”
“That’s great.”
“Isn’t it?”
Dawn drank her coffee and ate the muffin quickly. She looked over at Emily. She’d barely eaten anything and her cup was still full. Dawn hadn’t taken off her coat and was starting to sweat. She knew she sounded ungracious but this whole outing had her on edge. “I have to go soon.”
Emily jumped a little and picked up her coffee. “Of course. Sorry. I’ll take this to go and can drive wherever you want.”
“Just to a bus stop would be fine if it’s on your way.”
Emily reached across to grab her muffin and Dawn stared at her arm where the cuff of her sweater had bunched halfway up. A series of cuts, some fading and others new and angry red, stretched up the inside of Emily’s forearm. She raised her eyes to Emily’s face and Emily glanced down. She yanked her sleeve to cover the welts and tucked the muffin into her purse while standing and picking up the coffee.
“Ready to go?” she said, her eyes challenging Dawn to say anything about what she’d seen.
Dawn hesitated but stood too and silently followed Emily outside. The snow had started falling and darkness was settling in when they were inside the coffee shop, and they stepped outside to find slightly warmer temperatures but a damp wind. Dawn listened to Emily chatter about the new clothing store she’d found online and agreed that she should forward Dawn the link. Emily was speaking at accelerated speed as if she was trying to keep Dawn from talking.
They cleared the snow off the car before starting back toward the school. Emily was a careful driver, stopping at all intersections for longer than necessary while her head swivelled back and forth, scanning both directions. The heater was blasting hot air and Dawn felt sweaty in her down-filled parka.
“Thanks for coming with me,” Emily said as she pulled over to the curb near Dawn’s bus stop. “I didn’t want to go home.”
“Why not?”
“My mother likes to sleep in the afternoon.”
Dawn paused, one hand on the door. “Is she sick?”
Emily laughed. “No. She plays tennis in the morning at an indoor club in the winter and takes a break before making supper.”
Dawn didn’t know how to respond. She had no history with a mother who had time to play a game all morning and sleep all afternoon. Where did one even put that? “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said and stepped out into the cold and darkness.
Luck was with her for once. The bus’s headlights were coming toward her through the slanting snow and she wouldn’t have to wait alone wondering when the next one was coming and trying to keep warm. She’d be home in time to take Taiku for a walk and get supper started before Kala arrived and still have time to replay this strange outing with Emily to try to figure out what her sudden interest could mean … and why Emily was cutting herself when she seemed to have everything good in the world going for her.
“Knock, knock,” said Gundersund, hand raised but not striking Rouleau’s office door. “Got a few minutes?”
Rouleau looked up from his computer and waved him in. “I’m almost done here. Give me a sec.”
“Sure.” Gundersund took the visitor chair and stretched his legs, trying to work out a cramp in his calf muscle. The room was in darkness with the exception of the desk lamp and the glowing screen. Rouleau’s face looked ghostly in the white light. He finished typing and shut down the computer. He pushed back his chair and folded his hands on his chest.
“What’s up?”
“I did what you asked and put Woodhouse in charge of the McKenna case including interviews and door to door. Tell me why we’re doing this again?”
Rouleau reached inside his desk drawer and pulled out a bottle of single malt. “Pour you a shot of Heath’s special stock?”
“Sure, why not?”
Rouleau stood and retrieved a couple of plastic cups from the filing cabinet. He didn’t address Gundersund’s question until they’d both had a healthy sip. “HR is worried and this seemed the only way to head off t
rouble with Woodhouse and the union. He’s threatening to lodge a complaint. Says he’s being discriminated against and being held back while new officers waltz in and move up without earning it.”
“He’s talking about Stonechild.”
“Among others.”
Gundersund took another drink and thought about the possible repercussions. “There’s nothing to what he’s saying.”
Rouleau spoke after a pause. “I’d like to think not, but in the name of fairness, I’m trying to see this from his point of view. Giving him lead on the fieldwork will go a long way to diffusing the situation.”
“What if he screws it up?”
“I have every confidence that you won’t let that happen.”
“I hope that’s not misplaced.” Gundersund couldn’t get a read on Rouleau’s mood. Was he really backing up Woodhouse on this nonsense? “He’s not the most sensitive cop. We could have lawsuits on our hands when this is over.”
“A chance we’ll have to take.” Rouleau looked at his watch. “Sorry to cut this short but I promised Dad I’d bring home supper.”
“Yeah, I should push off too.” Gundersund swallowed the last of the Scotch and stood up. He was unsettled with how this conversation had gone but he couldn’t put his finger on why. “See you tomorrow?” he said as he walked toward the door.
“Bright and early.”
Rouleau turned off the lamp after Gundersund was gone and sat in the dark, thinking. He was walking a tightrope but couldn’t say much to Gundersund. Even the bit he’d told him tonight might have been too much. Woodhouse had done more than threaten to file a complaint. He’d started formal proceedings and aimed allegations at Rouleau and Stonechild, accusing Rouleau of hiring her without going through the proper competition and promoting her beyond her experience above other more experienced officers, such as himself. Woodhouse had a signed statement from his now-retired partner, Ed Chalmers, praising his work and supporting his allegations. He’d also managed to get letters of support from three other long-time cops. Human Resources had advised Rouleau to give Woodhouse a bigger role in the next investigation to try to get him to withdraw his complaint and he’d agreed to give it a shot. He’d be meeting with the HR and the union reps late in the morning to discuss the complaint.
Bleeding Darkness Page 9