“Sorry to drop by on you without warning,” Matt said. “We finally got the second new hire sorted out and I’m starting my two days off tomorrow. If this isn’t a good time, I can go, but I’m hoping you’ll let me take you to dinner.”
She looked down. He was holding on to his cap with sinewy hands; embedded into his skin were traces of oil and grease that he could never scrub away. They were strong hands but she remembered how they used to touch her. She raised her eyes to look into his face.
“It’s been almost two months and I didn’t hear from you.”
“I’m sorry. Dad had a heart attack the day after your sister-in-law was arrested. I guess holding in all that hate and grief finally got to him. Anyhow, I’ve been working double shifts and looking after him. I was trying to get myself into a position to come see you, but it took longer than I thought it would.”
She asked, “How’s your dad now?”
“The doc unblocked his artery and he was back at work as of Monday.”
“I’m glad.” She took her apartment key out of her pocket and opened the door. “I’ve got food for supper if you don’t mind eating in.”
She heard the relief in his voice. “I’ll help cook.”
She left him in the kitchen chopping tomatoes and went into her bedroom to change into jeans and a T-shirt. What does he want? She asked her face in the bathroom mirror. She was wary of the hope she saw in her eyes.
He’d poured her a glass of red wine from the bottle she’d left on the counter and they talked about life in Toronto while they worked side by side. She was surprised by how quickly the years slipped away, and they were back to the easy friendship of high school. They sat across from each other at the island that divided her galley kitchen from the living room and ate their meal with the rest of the bottle of wine.
“How are your brothers doing?” Matt asked.
“My mother is selling her home in Kingston and moving to Vancouver to look after Simon while Adam resumes his overseas flights. I imagine Simon will miss having Mona around more than Adam will. Adam always finds a way to land on his feet. Tristan has a bidding war going on for his latest book, which is expected to be a bestseller. If Vivian had bided her time, she’d have hit the jackpot.” Lauren laughed but the sound came out bitter rather than joyous.
Matt put down his glass, reached across the counter, and covered her hand with his own. He didn’t need to say anything. He knew all her family secrets.
“I’m sorry for your mother,” he said after a while.
“And why would that be?”
“She’s never given you the credit you deserve and she’s missed out. I feel sorry for her because she’s a fool.”
Lauren wanted to weep at the compassion she saw in his eyes. She pulled away her hand and picked up her wine glass. “Where is this going, Matt?” she asked, angry at the trembling in her hand. She set down her glass.
“I wanted to make an entrance like Richard Gere in that movie when he picks up the girl in the factory and carries her away to cheers and clapping.”
“An Officer and a Gentleman?”
“I guess, but we both know that kind of drama’s not in me. As an alternative plan, I thought we could take things slowly, at whatever pace you want, and get to know each other again.”
“Like date?”
“Yeah.”
This was the moment. The crossroads. Would she look back on her life and think I should have but I was too scared? Would she live in regret from this day forward? He would be disappointed for a day, maybe a month, and then he’d find someone better. A sudden memory of her father came out of nowhere. She was in the kitchen, looking out the window, swallowing the sobs that threatened to push up out of her throat. Zoe had been dead three months and she’d refused to cry. She’d kept herself together by freezing out the pain, but she couldn’t keep out the darkness. The idea of killing herself was a fire in the pit of her belly, pulling her into its heat. The thought was seductive, like Matt’s eyes when he used to meet her in the park before they’d find a warm, dark place to lie under the trees. Death would be warm like that. It would hold her and comfort her and take away the panic that wouldn’t let her sleep. That morning in January, she’d decided not to fight the darkness anymore, to take a straight razor into the bathtub and slit her wrists after her mother went downstairs to do the laundry, but her dad had come up behind her and clasped his hand on her shoulder. “I see you and I know you’re hurting,” he’d said. “Let me help you.” He’d spun her around and held on to her, his arms a vise around her as she struggled to push him away. But he’d held on until her arms had gone limp and she’d collapsed against him, his arms all that were keeping her from falling in a heap on the floor. He’d held her until the sobs erupted from deep inside her and she’d soaked his shirt with her tears. And she hadn’t killed herself that day. She’d chosen to keep going. And now, this moment, she could turn away from Matt. She could close him down and continue living in the darkness she’d learned to contain, but had never really shaken. She looked into his eyes. Dark, trusting eyes that stared into hers without wavering. And she knew then that they saw her: the girl who loved him and Zoe fourteen years ago and still did. The core of her being had not changed. A sense of peace filled her like it had that morning when her father told her that he’d never let her go. She took a deep breath.
“I’m willing to give it a shot —” she held up a hand before he finished his move toward her “— on one condition.”
“Name it.”
“We’ll always be honest with each other. About our feelings. About our warts. No matter what.”
“I can manage that.”
“And you’ll let me know if it’s not working.”
“I’m not planning for that to happen.”
“But if it does —”
“We’ll talk. I won’t disappear on you, Lauren.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.” He stood and collected their dishes, then returned to stand next to her. “If you’re done with your wine, I’d like to take you for a ride in my car so we can find a quiet place to watch the water, listen to the wind, and you can reclaim your title as best kisser this side of the Atlantic.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her up from the chair and wrapped his arms around her in a hug. “I think that somewhere up there, Zoe’s smiling down on us.”
And my dad.
Lauren let herself relax against his chest. “And if I know Zoe, she’s probably wondering what in the hell took us so long.”
acknowledgements
Thank you first of all to the Ottawa Public Library for the loan of two books that helped me to anchor the storylines: The Dakota of the Canadian Northwest: Lessons for Survival by Peter Douglas Elias, and Kiss the Hand You Cannot Bite: The Rise and Fall of the Ceauşescus by Edward Behr. That said, the characters and storylines in Bleeding Darkness are complete works of fiction, originating somewhere in the crevices of my brain.
I have a terrific team at Dundurn who helped bring Bleeding Darkness to readers. Thank you to freelance editor Shannon Whibbs and assistant project editor Jenny McWha, who polished the manuscript until it shone. Thank you also to designer Laura Boyle for this dark, slightly menacing cover design, which perfectly depicts the mood of the book. My thanks to Michelle Melski and Margaret Bryant, publicist and director of marketing respectively, for all of your work bringing my books to readers and for all of your support. And of course, my gratitude to Dundurn president and publisher Kirk Howard and VP Beth Bruder for believing in Canadian authors and the stories we continue to create and share.
I’ve been blessed to have so many friends quietly and loudly supporting me and my books. A special thank you this time around to Nancy Reid; Barbara, Gary, and Darren McEwen; Joey Taylor; Derek Nighbor; Mary Jane Maffini; Denise Hoekstra; Della Faulkner; Beth Wood; Oleg Zadorozny; Maureen and Earl Morris; Art and Fran Olson; Art and Jeannie Miskew; Marlita Perrault; Sandra Brown; Janice and Doug Kreviazuk; Sue Schmidt; Joyce Garinther; Alex Br
ett; Jill Austin; Kendall Loughheed; Edith Harvey; Frank Kinahan; Brenda Phillips; Barbara Fradkin; Linda Wiken; Judith Kalil; Jolynn Sommervill; Graham Law; Eileen and Geoff Wilson; Marilyn Zerr; Robert Cook; and Holly and Craig Homan.
Finally, thank you to my entire family, including but not limited to Janet Chapman; Laura Chapman; Donna, Blake and Laura Russell; Steve and Lorraine Chapman; and Ian and Cynthia Black. Thanks and love to Lisa Weagle, Robin Guy, and Julia Weagle. With special thanks to my husband and field-trip companion Ted Weagle, who was more than happy to accompany me to all the Kingston pubs and bars named in the series, although he was starting to have second thoughts about visiting the murder sites. Happily, I can report that the drinking establishments are not works of fiction.☺︎
Copyright © Brenda Chapman, 2018
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise (except for brief passages for purpose of review) without the prior permission of Dundurn Press. Permission to photocopy should be requested from Access Copyright.
All characters in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Cover image: © Mark William Penny/shutterstock.com
Printer: Webcom
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Chapman, Brenda, 1955-, author
Bleeding darkness / Brenda Chapman.
(Stonechild and Rouleau mystery)
Issued in print and electronic formats.
ISBN 978-1-4597-4004-4 (softcover).--ISBN 978-1-4597-4005-1 (PDF).--
ISBN 978-1-4597-4006-8 (EPUB)
I. Title. II. Series: Chapman, Brenda, 1955- . Stonechild and
Rouleau mystery.
PS8605.H36B64 2017 C813'.6 C2017-906240-9
C2017-906241-7
We acknowledge the support of the Canada Council for the Arts, which last year invested $153 million to bring the arts to Canadians throughout the country, and the Ontario Arts Council for our publishing program. We also acknowledge the financial support of the Government of Canada through the Ontario Book Publishing Tax Credit and the Ontario Media Development Corporation, and the Government of Canada.
Nous remercions le Conseil des arts du Canada de son soutien. L’an dernier, le Conseil a investi 153 millions de dollars pour mettre de l’art dans la vie des Canadiennes et des Canadiens de tout le pays.
Care has been taken to trace the ownership of copyright material used in this book. The author and the publisher welcome any information enabling them to rectify any references or credits in subsequent editions.
J. Kirk Howard, President
The publisher is not responsible for websites or their content unless they are owned by the publisher.
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Table of Contents
chapter one
chapter two
chapter three
chapter four
chapter five
chapter six
chapter seven
chapter eight
chapter nine
chapter ten
chapter eleven
chapter twelve
chapter thirteen
chapter fourteen
chapter fifteen
chapter sixteen
chapter seventeen
chapter eighteen
chapter nineteen
chapter twenty
chapter twenty-one
chapter twenty-two
chapter twenty-three
chapter twenty-four
chapter twenty-five
chapter twenty-six
chapter twenty-seven
chapter twenty-eight
chapter twenty-nine
chapter thirty
chapter thirty-one
chapter thirty-two
chapter thirty-three
chapter thirty-four
chapter thirty-five
chapter thirty-six
chapter thirty-seven
chapter thirty-eight
chapter thirty-nine
chapter forty
chapter forty-one
Bleeding Darkness Page 29