by Gail Bowen
“I’m okay. Michael’s devastated. Despite the torture they put each other through, it seems Michael was still in love with Slater.”
“How can that be?” I said.
“We don’t choose the ones we love,” Brock said.
That morning, Brock, the dogs, and I ran hard, but when we got back to the condo, I was still on edge. Zack was already at City Hall. He, Debbie, and Inspector Carl Lovitz had decided to make a joint statement about Slater Doyle’s death. I filled the dogs’ water bowls, poured myself a glass of water, and at eight I turned on the TV.
Zack’s statement was going to be short. He would express sorrow at Slater Doyle’s violent and untimely death. He would reassure the public that the RCMP and the Regina Police Service were bringing every resource to their investigations. He would ask for calm but alert involvement from the community, and he would refuse to answer questions on the grounds that the investigation into Slater Doyle’s murder was ongoing.
Debbie’s and Inspector Carl Lovitz’s statements would be in lock-step with Zack’s. Debbie had just begun to speak when my cell rang. It was Mieka. “I’m watching the news conference,” I said. “Can I call you back?”
“No,” Mieka said. “I’m at UpSlideDown. Mum, Bridie Doyle’s with me. She was standing at the back door when I pulled into our parking space.”
My heart was pounding. “Is she all right?”
“She seems to be okay physically, but she’s terrified. The minute she saw me she threw herself into my arms and she’s still clinging to me.”
“I’ll be there in ten minutes,” I said.
I knew Zack would have his phone turned off, so I called Milo. He listened, said, “I’ll tell the big man,” and hung up.
I called Michael Goetz, but there was no answer. I didn’t leave a message. After that, I watched the action unfold on the TV screen. Milo darted into the picture, leaned down, and whispered something to Zack. Zack waited until Debbie was finished, then he wheeled over and spoke to her and Inspector Carl Lovitz. Debbie went to the microphones and announced that Bridie had been found, and she appeared to be unharmed physically. At that point, as Zack had predicted, all hell broke loose. I turned off the TV, picked up my car keys, and set out for UpSlideDown.
By the time I had parked behind the building, I’d cobbled together a plan that wasn’t perfect but was the best I could come up with, then I called Zack.
He was clearly harried. “Jesus, finally,” he said. “I’ve got about fifty people here with their tongues hanging out waiting for this call. What’s going on?”
“I’m just about to see Bridie. She was on the back steps of UpSlideDown when Mieka got to work this morning. Zack, we need time to get Bridie someplace where the media can’t get at her. I think Mieka should take her to our condo. Bridie had a happy time on the roof garden and she likes the dogs.
“I know Debbie and Inspector Lovitz will want to talk to her and I know the RCMP and the city police will want to get doctors and psychologists to examine her, but this child has been through hell. And she’s facing a terrible blow when she learns that her father’s dead. Can you get Debbie and Inspector Lovitz to hold off for a few hours, so Bridie can at least get her bearings?”
“I’ll give it my best shot. Jo, I am so relieved that Bridie is all right. When Slater was killed, I pretty much gave up hope.”
“So did I,” I said. “It appears our killer has a conscience after all.”
The kitchen space at UpSlide Down was large, and Mieka had put a homework table and chairs and a couch in the back corner for the girls. She and Bridie were on the couch. Bridie was curled up on Mieka’s lap and her arms were around Mieka’s neck. On the floor beside them was a small Dora the Explorer suitcase.
I kept my voice low. “Hi, Bridie. Remember me? I’m Joanne. I was at the birthday party where you fed the koi.”
Her blue eyes seemed huge in her small face. She seemed to recognize me, but she didn’t speak.
I pulled a chair up close to the couch. “You’re safe now, Bridie. No one’s going to hurt you, but you need to be in a place where you can be quiet.” She clung even more desperately to Mieka. “Would you like Mieka to take you to the roof garden at my house? You had a lot of fun there when you came to the birthday party, and the koi haven’t been fed yet. You and Mieka could feed them.”
Bridie’s only response was to burrow in closer to Mieka.
Mieka stroked Bridie’s flaxen hair. “I’d really like to see those koi,” she said. “Let’s go to the roof garden. It’s a beautiful day to be outside, and if you’re sleepy we can curl up on a lazy lounge. Just the two of us.”
Mieka stood and Bridie took her hand. Mieka turned to me and said, “Mum, can you phone Angela and ask her to take care of things here for a few hours?”
“Of course,” I said. I walked Mieka and Bridie to the back door. After Mieka pulled out of the parking space, I called Michael Goetz again. He’d seen the announcement that Bridie had been returned safe, but no one he talked to knew where she was. I told him Bridie was with Mieka and me and asked him to meet us at our condo on Halifax Street. I gave him the security number and told him to make tracks before the media surrounded him. Then I called Angela to tell her that a situation had come up and Mieka needed her to take care of things at UpSlideDown. Angela said she’d be there in twenty minutes. As soon as I hung up, Zack called. Debbie and Inspector Lovitz had agreed to give us till noon before they had Bridie examined, and they assured Zack they would be very careful in their questioning. I started the coffee and muffins, so by the time Angela arrived, the morning routine was underway.
In a perfect world, the new Racette-Hunter Centre would have radically changed the lives of hundreds of North Central’s citizens, but ours is not a perfect world. The centre had been open nine months. Brock was proving to be a dedicated and effective director, and some of the programs were unqualified successes. The cooperative daycare was running smoothly; the life skills classes were filled; there were waiting lists for the martial arts classes for women; and the recreation programs were popular.
But the dropout rates from the trade and academic programs were high. The centre had been too quick in establishing a mentoring program. A successful mentoring program requires rigid screening and training of both students and mentors. R-H had jumped right in, hoping for the best, and the best hadn’t happened. The centre had a zero tolerance policy for drugs, alcohol, and weapons and it was strictly enforced. Some of the potentially best and brightest students quit because they were unable to stay clean.
There were many setbacks and disappointments, but Angela Greyeyes was not among them. Angela had been off the street for seven months and off drugs for eight, and the change in her physically and mentally was nothing short of miraculous. She had just turned twenty. She was the mother of three and she’d been a sex-trade worker since she was fourteen, but that morning, dressed in bright yellow overalls and a dazzlingly white T-shirt, her face innocent of makeup and her thick, glossy black hair in braids, she looked like a teenager. Her eyes were anxious and her voice, always husky, was low and urgent. “Joanne, I need to know that everything’s okay with Mieka and her kids.”
“Everything’s fine,” I said. “Something just came up that only Mieka could handle. I’ve got the coffee started and the muffin batter is ready. Audrey and Cassie will be in at ten. Do you want me to wait till then?”
Angela smiled. “Nope, I’m good to go. Tell Mieka whatever the problem is, I hope it works out.”
“I’ll tell her.” I started for the door and then turned. “Angela, I’m glad Mieka has you to count on.”
A shadow crossed her face. I was puzzled. “Did I say something wrong?”
Angela covered her mouth to hide a self-conscious giggle. “No. Just no one’s ever counted on me before,” she said. “It’s gonna take some getting used to.”
I was walking across the back lawn to our building when Michael Goetz called. He was outside the condo, and h
e was concerned that if he parked there, his rather conspicuous 2015 Range Rover might alert the media to his whereabouts. I met him at the front door and together we drove into the condo’s underground parkade.
Mieka and Bridie were already on the roof garden feeding the koi when Michael and I arrived. We were counting on the combination of sunshine, fresh air, familiar faces, and feeding the koi to combat Bridie’s terror, but her small face was still strained; her body was coiled-wire tense; she wouldn’t let Mieka out of her sight; and she still hadn’t said a word.
When she saw Michael, she ran to him, and he picked her up and held her close. With Bridie still in his arms, Michael came over and sat down with Mieka and me. “I don’t know how to thank you,” he said.
“We all love Bridie,” Mieka said. She leaned towards the little girl. “And we’re all so glad you’re here with us again.”
Michael had arrived with a rag doll that he handed to Bridie. “Raggedy Ann is especially glad you’re home,” he said. “And guess what? I called Zenaya and she’s going to come back to take care of us.”
Bridie nodded solemnly but she didn’t speak. Michael’s eyes were questioning.
“Bridie doesn’t feel like talking yet,” I said.
Michael smiled at his daughter. “Take your time,” he said. “Talk when you’re ready, munchkin. Right now, Joanne and I need to discuss a few things. It won’t take long. We’ll be over there by the pink flowers where you can see us.”
Michael had been calm and assured with Bridie, but the facade disappeared when he and I were alone. He was a broken man. His eyes were red-rimmed, and he was still fighting tears. “I don’t know where to start,” he said. “So much has happened, and there’s so much pain ahead for her.”
“She has you, and, in the end, that will make all the difference,” I said. “But there’s something that has to be decided now. The RCMP and the Regina police know Bridie’s here with us. They agreed to wait until noon to examine her. It’s your call. You may want to take her to your place, but I think it would be easier if they talk to her here.”
Michael’s eyes widened. “Bridie shouldn’t be anywhere near our house – not the way it is now. The police are still there, and they’re in the middle of an investigation. Being confronted with that chaos would be another blow for Bridie and it would raise questions in her mind about Slater. Jo, how can I explain to a five-year-old child why the father she loved put her in danger, and then died trying to set right the wrong he had done? Right now, this is the closest thing to a safe place Bridie has. She shouldn’t be moved.”
“If she’s staying here, Bridie needs to be fed. We have no idea when she ate last.” I stood. “I’ll go downstairs and make some sandwiches. Does she have a favourite?”
Michael smiled. “PB&J. We’re both partial to those.”
“In that case, I’ll make a plateful,” I said.
I called Zack from downstairs to tell him that the interviews with Bridie were going to take place on the roof garden. Zack had news too. The authorities had decided to talk with Bridie in pairs. The MD from the Regina police and the RCMP psychologist would visit first, and Debbie and Inspector Lovitz would follow up. The media were on the hunt, but they had no idea where Bridie was, and according to Zack, the RCMP and the Regina police agreed that, for the time being, Bridie’s location should be kept secret.
Michael asked Mieka to stay with Bridie and him while the doctors examined her. It was a wise decision. Bridie was terrified of being touched by a stranger, and she put up a fight. Finally Mieka calmed Bridie enough to allow the doctors to examine her. Except for the scratch on her arm, she was unharmed, and there were no signs of sexual abuse. Still, she refused to speak, and when the psychologist attempted to get her to choose plastic figures of children and adults and have them play in a dollhouse, Bridie became hysterical. The investigating officers fared no better. No matter how gentle or how leading the question, Bridie refused to answer.
When Debbie and Inspector Lovitz came down from the roof garden, I could feel their fatigue and discouragement. They turned down my offer of coffee but stayed to talk.
“I have some idea about what that child has been through,” Inspector Lovitz said. “There were locks on both doors, and I’m sure Bridie was kept a prisoner inside. She was provided for. She had a sleeping bag and a potty. There was a cooler in the kitchen. It was well stocked: juice, milk, fruit, a bag of cut-up vegetables, cold cuts, bread, cookies. That little girl must have been starving but she’d barely touched anything.” He compressed his lips. “I’ve never had children, but I imagine that it’s difficult for a child to swallow when she’s scared to death.”
“Bridie had a Dora the Explorer suitcase with her,” Debbie said. “It was filled with her own clothes and some colouring books and markers.” Her lips curled with contempt. “I imagine Slater Doyle gave himself points for being such a thoughtful father.”
“So what’s next?” I said.
“Dr. Goetz asked us if he could take Bridie somewhere for a few days so he can help her reach a point where she’s able to talk about what happened,” Debbie said. “I know he’s lost his medical licence, but he is an experienced psychiatrist and a medical doctor, and he is Bridie’s next of kin. Carl and I think it may be our only option. We’re not going to get anything from Bridie the way she is now.”
Debbie and Inspector Lovitz traded a look. “We’re both afraid of what might happen if the media pounces on that child,” the inspector said.
“I agree,” I said. “Debbie, you know that Zack and I have a place at Lawyers’ Bay. To this point, the media have been responsible partners. They made Bridie’s face recognizable, and that was exactly what was necessary. But right now Bridie needs privacy. Our cottage at Lawyers’ Bay will give her that. It’s a gated community, so Bridie will be safe. And it’s close to Regina if Michael feels Bridie is ready to talk to you.”
Debbie and Carl Lovitz weighed the proposition. “Tell Dr. Goetz he can take his daughter there,” the inspector said. “Just give us the contact information.”
When I told Michael what Debbie and Inspector Lovitz and I had arranged, he slumped with relief. “Thank you.”
“This time of year we go up every weekend, so you’ll find everything you need,” I said. “Help yourself.” I gave Michael the security key and directions to the cottage and he, Mieka, and Bridie left. Then I poured myself a glass of milk, picked up the lone PB&J left on the plate, and called Zack to tell him he could start breathing again.
CHAPTER
16
Zack and I had just finished breakfast the next morning when Milo appeared. He was carrying the morning paper and he used it to beat out a rhythm on the furniture as he bopped in; then, opening the paper, he held it up so the front page faced us.
The headline read “DAD SLAIN. DAUGHTER SAFE.” There were pictures of Slater and of Bridie, and there were stories – many, many stories about the back-to-back tragedy of the murdered father and the poignant return of his child.
“The first reference to the referendum is on page eight and it’s a paragraph long,” Milo said. “Who cares about bylaws that affect development? Since May 18, there’ve been two homicides and a kidnapping in our little corner of the world. If the Twittersphere is any indication, all people care about is ending the shitstorm.”
“We can’t wait for the public to regain their interest in the referendum,” I said. “Whether they’re interested or not, the Yes side has to win.”
Milo ripped open a Crispy Crunch, balled the wrapper, and tossed it towards a wastebasket across the room. When the wrapper went in, Milo breathed, “Booyah.”
“Three points,” Zack said. “Milo, you and I should shoot hoops together sometime.”
“Whenever you’re feeling up to a challenge, big man,” Milo said.
Zack raised an eyebrow. “I’ll reserve some time at Racette-Hunter this week. Right now, I have to hit the road.” He wheeled over, held out his arms to me, and
we had a nice, if brief, moment. “Let me know how the meeting with the volunteers goes,” he said, and he sailed off, a man whose most pressing immediate concern was scoring court time at R-H.
The informal quarters for the Yes forces was our former campaign office, the Noodle House. Counting on a larger turnout than the Noodle House could comfortably handle, I had booked the hall at our church for a “get out the vote” meeting at nine-thirty that morning. The plan was for Milo to give a quick overview of how the Yes side was polling: indicate areas of strength, neighbourhoods that could be written off, and neighbourhoods with a large number of undecided voters who might be swayed by a face-to-face visit from a committed volunteer. After that, experienced volunteers would give last-minute instructions to the newbies, and people would hit the streets.
Given people’s work schedules and quotidian duties, I had counted on seventy-five of the one hundred and fifty volunteers who’d knocked on doors for us during the election campaign showing up – plenty to help handle the two hundred and fifty new volunteers who’d offered to work for the Yes vote in the referendum. By 9:45, only twenty experienced volunteers were sitting around drinking coffee and casting surreptitious glances at the door, but none of our new volunteers had appeared. At 9:50, Peggy Kreviazuk put a comradely arm around my shoulder and stated the obvious: “Well, Ms. Smarty, it looks like nobody else is coming to our party.”
“Time to change the agenda,” I said. The volunteers had seated themselves in the first row of chairs. Milo moved to one of the empty rows behind them, and I pulled over a chair so I faced them.
“Thanks for coming. Eight days to the referendum, and we obviously have a huge problem. We were ahead in the polls. We had enthusiastic volunteers, and our people were committed. We’re still ahead in the polls, but that doesn’t matter if we can’t get out our vote. What happened? Why didn’t the others show up this morning? Anybody have any ideas?”