Pulling up where he waited, she left her backpack behind and locked up. There was no sense hauling gear until she knew where she’d be sleeping. If she’d even be staying over. Orrin and his son might come stumbling out onto a logging road any minute now. She crossed her fingers for that happy outcome and strolled beside Ben back to the door he’d appeared from. He held it open for her to enter a dim mud room and tugged a wedge out of the hinge, letting the panel close behind him.
“To your left,” he said and led her along a varnished wood corridor lined with oil portraits. She recognized, in passing, Orrin, Sloane, Earl, a twin, and Tyrone. A cluster of framed photos showed Earl with his blond wife and daughters, Bart and Andrea, and Tyrone with Orrin and Sloane. Ushered into a huge, hexagonal room, she counted heads. All the family members she had met at supper were spread around the space: Sloane sobbing in an armchair near one fireplace, with an unfamiliar woman hovering over her; Andy and Bart side by side on a leather sofa, their knees touching; Earl pacing and yelling into his phone. He hurried over. His fist, the one not clutching his phone, tightened like he wanted to punch someone. Her?
“Who let you in? Why wasn’t I informed?”
Ben said, “I saw her truck from a window. It might have been someone bringing news, so I went out to meet her.”
Earl gave his brother a glare that sent a chill up Lacey’s spine. As he transferred the look to her, she saw the resemblance to his father. And to Dan. Holding her ground with an effort she hoped was invisible to him, she held out her hand.
“Lacey McCrae. We met at Jake Wyman’s the other evening. Wayne sent me to brief your outdoor staff.”
He unclenched his fingers and forced a smile. “Welcome, Lacey. Wayne said someone was coming. I’ve set you up with a security fob that will allow you access to the buildings, and I assume you have passwords for the cameras and related equipment.” He handed her a black plastic fob on a stretchy band.
She slipped it over her wrist. “Thank you.”
Andy waved. “Lacey, hi.”
Lacey crouched in front of the sofa. “I’m so sorry about Tyrone and Orrin. You must all be very worried.”
“Not as much as you might expect. Or not yet. Orrin’s always taken his boys out hunting or hiking or riding on the land. This is far from the first time he’s been gone overnight. Just — not without telling anyone when to expect him back. And Ty’s mom, well …” Andy raised her voice. “Sloane, here’s Lacey. She’s going to coordinate security so you aren’t bothered by reporters on top of everything else.”
Sloane looked up with a wan smile. Her cheeks were streaked, her eyes puffy, and her nose red. She might not be upset at the absence of her arrogant old husband, but her only son was out there with him. No wonder she was freaking out.
Lacey said, “I just came from the SAR base down at the airstrip. They’re very well organized, and every small plane available is flying grid searches. There’s sure to be some news soon.”
Sloane nodded and dabbed at her eyes. The woman with her, a bit older and sporting dark, short hair, put a hand on her shoulder.
Bart leaned toward Lacey. “That’s Sloane’s assistant, Cheryl. They were friends before Sloane married, and she came up here soon after to keep Sloane company while Orrin was away on business. Cheryl manages the houses, and she’s almost a second mother to Ty. Although you wouldn’t know it to look at her, she’s about as worried as Sloane is.”
“No idea where Orrin was taking Ty?”
Andy shook her head. “We thought they were going to Water Valley for ice cream to make up for cutting short Michael’s visit. It’s a hellacious road but only a half-hour drive the way Orrin tackles it. They weren’t at supper, but everyone figured they’d decided to grab a burger, as well, maybe come home by a different route.” She smiled. “Michael’s a great kid. He fitted in like he was born here. We were teaching him to climb on the wall when his father came and said they had to leave immediately. Have you heard how Michael’s holding up? I was so worried about his mother — she looked so fragile — but I had no idea she’d already damaged her heart to that extent. It can happen with eating disorders.”
“You think she had a heart attack in the pool?” Maybe it really was that simple: Kitrin’s heart, weakened by self-imposed starvation, had spasmed or whatever, causing her to tip her chair, hit her head, and drown.
“It could have happened to me.” Andy looked at her hands.
Bart gave them a squeeze. “Is someone looking out for Michael?” he asked.
“He’s at Jan’s today. She and Rob, who was Kitrin’s other university roommate, are keeping him away from the police investigation as much as possible. If someone could introduce me to Ike, the foreman, I’d better get to work.”
Ben said, “I’ll take you around. She’s sleeping at your place, right, Andy?”
Andy nodded. “I’ll find you later, Lacey, if you don’t find me first.”
Ben led Lacey to a set of French doors. As they stepped through, she got her first real view of the ranch. Behind the house was a vast, stone-paved terrace, beyond which the land dropped sharply away to a broad, grassy valley filled with dusty brown cattle. Another treed ridge rose in the middle distance, with a gravel road running diagonally up it. Was this the whole ranch? It wouldn’t have taken long to search, even in the middle of the night.
Ben crossed the terrace to a low stone parapet. “This valley and the next two going west are ours: all cattle and forest, no wells or cutlines. We run south almost to the airstrip and north halfway to the Red Deer River. We’ve got a block on the east side of Highway 40, too.” His voice hardened. “Orrin drilled it as soon as he bought it.”
“You disapprove of him drilling, even though the family money comes from oil?”
He waved a hand. “Do you see a single clear-cut over here, or a well site? None of that visual pollution in Orrin’s panorama. He did all that where other people had no choice but to see it. Across the highway he destroyed hundreds of hectares of irreplaceable watershed, and for what? A few trucks of logs and a few more barrels of oil.” His words came faster, his gestures sharper. “And he lied to get that land. It was supposed to go into a nature conservancy, to come to me and Bart eventually for ongoing protection. That’s what he promised the owner, and us. He had the seismic crews in there before his signature was dry.” His clenched jaw added to the picture of deep anger at his father.
One suspect for the mental notebook, assuming this whole mess was not Orrin simply being too arrogant to phone home. Then there was whatever confidential matter Wayne was looking into for him. Was it infidelity? Could Orrin have taken Tyrone away to punish Sloane, or to ensure he kept custody when he divorced her? She made a note to see if Wayne had someone checking in Calgary for the missing pair.
Ben took a deep breath and seemed to shake off his anger. “Bart and I rode all this area at first light, in case tire tracks were missed during the night. Wherever Orrin went, it’s not likely west of here. Now, the layout. If you look along this ridge to the south, you can sort of see the cabins. We each get one when we marry, for summers with our theoretically growing families. Earl’s is first, a hand-me-down from Orrin when he built the new place for Sloane. Earl has bedrooms and bathrooms enough to satisfy his wife and four daughters, plus assorted guests. Past it is Bart’s place, a shack in comparison: only four bedrooms and three baths.”
Lacey made out roof peaks through the forest. Gravelled paths led toward them, and a wooden staircase descended the bluff to the working ranch below. “You don’t have a cabin?”
“Not married. And if I was, Orrin wouldn’t give me a two-by-four to build it with. Not as things stand now.”
“What did you do to upset him?” She almost added, “Talk back?” but figured that was one personal question too far.
He gave her a wry grin. “I’m an environmentalist. Next to damned commies and faggots, there’s no lower form of life.”
She eyed him curiously. Sooner or lat
er, she must discover whether Orrin despised his son only in a general sense, or if they’d had a particular quarrel. There was no immediate benefit in alienating her guide with probing questions, though.
“What’s along this cliff in the other direction?”
“The garage, and where it slants down over the edge, that’s our climbing centre. When we were kids, it was all natural rock and open to the sky. We went up it like lizards, not bothering with ropes or gear. After Ty broke his arm following Earl up — he was five at the time — Orrin had it roofed over, and someone came out from Calgary to build proper climbing walls. Guy named Matt, used to own the Stronghold, where Bart and I had climbing lessons. The natural rock’s still in there, but now there’s gear on it, too.”
“Andrea said they’d been teaching Ty’s friend Michael to climb?”
“Yeah, there’s a good beginner wall. It was kind of overkill to connect the climbing gym up with both this upper garage and that big machine shed down below. But then overkill is Orrin’s signature style. And the elevator comes in handy sometimes.”
The aluminum-sided machine shed was the largest of several buildings along the valley floor. On its right stood a stable that could house a cavalry regiment, then an old wooden barn and a few open-sided sheds filled with hay. Beyond them all was a long, low building with tan siding, almost invisible against the dusty golden grasses. That was the bunkhouse, Ben told her, where the ranch hands lived. A dirt road followed the line of buildings, intersecting with wooden fences and metal chutes that were doubtless important for managing livestock. It crossed the valley floor and climbed the far ridge at a slant. Surely the ranch hands, and the twins, had checked in that direction for the missing pair.
“Was it unusual for your father to leave without telling anyone where he was going?”
“Absolutely not. He’s a law unto himself.”
“Could something have gone wrong with his vehicle?”
“Unlikely,” Ben said. “It lives in the fleet garage with the rest and has a regular maintenance schedule. It’s weird he took that one if he was headed for Water Valley, though. He’s the only one who’s ever driven it, but it’s pretty beat up from bouncing along cutlines and river bottoms. For anything town-ish, where other people would see, he’d normally take his brand-new Rover Discovery, with the air conditioning and shit. It’s so shiny, you’d see it through the deepest bush. But maybe he was going to teach Ty to drive and didn’t want to risk his new one.”
“At barely twelve years old?”
“In Orrin’s book, twelve is the official start of manhood. Ty already runs around on quads and dirt bikes. We all did that, although I think we were fourteen before we got to drive the trucks.” Ben shook his head. “The gullies off some of these back roads are sheer drops, like twenty metres or more into rocky creek beds. If Ty was driving, and they went into one …” His jaw tensed. “Well, maybe they’ll wash out again in the spring floods, because we won’t spot them otherwise. Come on. Ike should have everyone gathered in the staff common room by now.”
Following him toward the garage, Lacey added up the security issues she had to cover: nine buildings, an unknown number of gates, and several kilometres of split rail fencing. Every gate should have a guard, as well as camera coverage. And the number-one security issue on Wayne’s mind: which of Orrin’s family members wanted the foul old man dead enough to help him along? Was Ben’s anger the kind to sabotage the vehicle only his father drove? If she had nothing concrete by tomorrow, would Wayne help her out by telling her what he was investigating for Orrin?
“Don’t you believe they’ll be found safe?” she asked.
“I don’t know what to hope for.” He trudged on, shoulders hunched, his hands in his jean pockets. “If Orrin’s alive, nothing changes. Unless he got Ty hurt. Then Sloane will shoot him where he stands.”
Lacey mentally added questions beside Sloane’s name: Did she sign a pre-nup, and what does she inherit if Orrin dies? Not that a bad pre-nup would matter if her son, Orrin’s clear favourite, survived to inherit the majority of assets. “You say Sloane is very attached to her son, yet she didn’t raise the roof when he wasn’t home by bedtime?” That might have sounded judgmental, but the words were out now.
Ben shrugged. “Ty’s not a little kid anymore who has to be put to bed while it’s still light outside. And I’m not even sure if she was home. She goes places with Cheryl.”
“You weren’t here last night, either?”
He shook his head. “Andy’s house in Calgary. We drove out together when Ike called to say Orrin hadn’t come home.”
Lacey watched him out of the corner of her eye. “Why do you call him ‘Orrin’ instead of ‘Dad’ or ‘Father’?”
“Habit, I guess. Our mom always referred to him as ‘Orrin.’ Ty calls him ‘Pops,’ but we’d never have dared. To his face, we still call him ‘sir.’ Fob here, please.” He opened the human-sized door into the two-storey garage. Across the corridor was the elevator he’d mentioned, and two other doors. One was a fire door with a staircase symbol, while the other had a slit window into the garage proper. He steered her along the corridor until glass panes on her left showed they were out past the bluff. “Look back at the cliff. You can see the cabins from here.”
Lacey looked. Earl’s house was about half the size of his father’s, with two peaked wings bracketing a central core and a flagstone terrace looking over the valley. A glimpse of turquoise water suggested a swimming pool. Beyond it, the ridge sloped. On a lower ledge was a log house rather like Dee’s. Cathedral windows reflected the sunlight angling nearer the mountaintops. Sunset would come, and another night with Orrin and Tyrone stranded — possibly — out in the wild.
“Where’s this staff common room?”
“Down on the ranch hands’ level, part of the machine shed. We’ll take the elevator.”
The common room had the impersonal atmosphere of a hotel lobby: comfy chairs, a couple of couches, a huge TV on one wall, a pair of tables and a kitchenette. A dozen or so men standing around the closest table all looked up at her, each wondering, no doubt, what a woman was doing here and how much she’d interfere in their manly efforts. She stiffened her spine and stared coolly back as if they were rookie constables and she their new corporal.
Ben stepped into the circle. “Ike,” he said to a tall man at the end, “this is Wayne’s representative. Lacey McCrae.” Two men shuffled aside to let her join them at the table. Maps of the area were spread out, with the ranch’s borders marked in thick brown marker. An eyeball estimate told her the area covered was several kilometres per side. Had they really searched it all?
“As Ben said, I’m Wayne’s representative. I’m here partly as technical support for the security cameras, but also to run you through what you can and can’t do to any reporters who come snooping out here once the news leaks that it’s Orrin Caine who’s missing.” She looked around at all of them. About half met her eyes. “Which it will do by this evening if he’s not found. Ike, I assume the land is properly posted: gates, fence corners, and in between? Those gates should all be shut immediately, and guarded. Wayne wants half-hourly patrols everywhere there’s a road along the property. Do you have enough people for that? I can take a shift if needed.”
“Yup,” said the tall man. “Do you ride?”
“Yes.” Honesty compelled Lacey to add, “I’m rusty.”
“We’ll leave it to folks familiar with the land. Now, you’re supposed to teach us how to handle intruders? We can’t just rough ’em up and toss ’em out?”
There was some general muttering. Lacey didn’t need a translator. Ranchers preferred to punch first — or shoot — and ask questions later. Incidents appeared in the news often enough, and every RCMP officer who’d ever been posted to rural Alberta or Saskatchewan had a story in which a trespasser lay bleeding at the feet of an angry landowner.
She cleared her throat. “Regardless of what you might want to do, don’t physically touch anyo
ne you find inside the fencelines. If they’re reporters, they’ll start recording the instant they see you, and anything you do will not only be all over the internet an hour later, but also have to be answered for in court as to whether it seemed reasonable in the circumstances.”
Ben interjected, “Reasonable to a city judge, not to our neighbours out here.”
Lacey nodded. “You absolutely should not shoot, not even over their heads. That invites charges against you, and potential lawsuits against you and your employer both. Worse, you could end up with a human life on your conscience.” About half the men were listening intently now. Good. “Patrol in pairs so you always have a witness, and if you do encounter someone inside the fencelines, your best bet is to get between them and their vehicle so they can’t leave. Then call me right away, and I’ll come out to deal with them.”
Ike’s lip curled. “And I suppose you let them off with a warning?”
Lacey shook her head. “I’m ex-RCMP, with years of experience handling trespassers. I’ll offer them a choice: delete photos and other recorded data or be escorted to the nearest RCMP to face charges. Those would involve confiscating their equipment as evidence. This story isn’t worth that much to them.” Yet. If Orrin and his son weren’t found soon, a media circus would be the least of the ranch’s problems. “Seriously, if you don’t want to spend a night in jail when you’re most needed here, keep your hands off the reporters.”
Ben added, “Listen to her, guys. Orrin might clap you on the back and put up your bail, but while he’s gone, it’s Earl who holds the chequebook.”
Ike said, “Hear that, men? Hands off the reporters. Let this … Miz McCrae handle them. You radio me and I’ll bring her right over.”
She looked at the map again. “Are these distant gates covered by cameras?”
Why the Rock Falls Page 9