Among the Departed

by Vicki Delany

  “Hi, Becky,” May said, loudly.

  “It’s not Becky, it’s me, Courtney.”

  “Sleep-over. That would be fun. Hold on a sec and I’ll ask. Mom, it’s Becky. She wants me to come over and study for next week’s history test. Can I can spend the night after? We’ll probably study until really late.”

  Mom started to shake her head.

  “You know Becky. Her father’s a policeman, right? So it’s okay?”

  Dad finished his tea and stood up from the table.

  “Dad can give me a ride to Becky’s house. I really need help studying for that test and Becky’s the best student in class.”

  “If studying, then okay,” Dad said.

  Mom didn’t look happy, but she nodded.

  “Great. Let me grab my stuff and I’ll be right with you.” She spoke into the phone as she ran to her bedroom. “It’s okay, Becky. I can spend the night and everything.”

  “Cool,” Courtney said.

  Courtney was definitely not the best student in the class, and Becky had no intention of working on history homework. She’d contact that man and tell him she was ready to come to Vancouver.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  As Eliza didn’t work regular hours and they didn’t have children to worry about, Winters usually took the weekend shifts so Ray Lopez could spend the time with his family. Sunday morning, he was surprised to see Lopez in the office on his day off. He was even more surprised to see Ray’s youngest daughter, thirteen-year-old Becky, crouched in the single visitor’s chair. They both glanced up as Winters came in, the detective’s face set in tight lines, the girl looking as though she wanted to bolt.

  “Hi, Becky. Congratulations on winning the cup. Your dad told me all about it.”

  Becky mumbled something.

  Winters glanced at his partner. Despite his surname, Lopez was blue-eyed and red-haired and had a splash of freckles across the bridge of his nose. He’d been adopted by a Spanish family, but the Irish in him came to the surface whenever he was angry.

  He was angry now. “Becky has something to tell you, Sergeant.”

  Winters draped his jacket over the back of a chair. “I’m listening.”

  Becky studied her feet.

  “Let me start then,” Lopez said. “Becky met a man. In the park, is that right?”

  “Yes,” she mumbled.

  Winters sat down. He could guess where this was heading. He said nothing, waited for the girl to speak.

  “I took Scissors for a walk and he got away from me. He started barking at this couple sitting on a bench. When I went to get him, they said hi. Nothing happened, Sergeant Winters. We just talked for a few minutes, about dogs.”

  Winters glanced at Lopez. His color was high and his fists clenched. “You said a couple. What do you mean by that?”

  “A man and a woman.”

  “Go on.”

  “Friday we didn’t have school because it was a teacher’s day, and I went out with some of my friends. Scissors is still a puppy so I have to give him lots of exercise. We took Scissors and Donna’s dog Sammy to the park, and May came with us. Sammy is big and not very good so Donna took him home and then we went to Big Eddie’s. We met Courtney on the way.”

  Winters glanced at Lopez. He was staring at Becky. Winters thought it would be a big mistake to mess with one of Ray Lopez’s daughters.

  “Go on.”

  “They were there, on the patio. That couple from the park. He bought us all drinks and we sat with them for a while. Look, Dad, I know I’m not supposed to be talking to men I don’t know, but we were at Eddie’s and there were all kinds of people around and he was with a woman. That means it’s okay, right?”

  Lopez and Winters exchanged glances. Karla Homolka. Girls, teenage girls, had gone with Paul Bernardo because Karla was with him, so he looked safe.

  “It’s not what happened at Eddie’s, as you know,” Lopez said. “Carry on.”

  She took a breath.

  “The woman left. We stayed for a while and talked. The man was nice, friendly. Wanted to know where we went to school, what subjects we like. Stuff like that.” She sighed. “He asked us if we’re on Facebook. Of course we are. He said he’d like to be our friend, so we can keep in touch after he’s gone back to Vancouver.”

  Becky shot her father a look. “I know the rules, Dad. You or Mom get to see all my Facebook friends and you can read what we post. I wasn’t going to keep it secret.”

  “Good thing.”

  “We gave him our Facebook names, and yesterday he friended us.”

  “What’s his name?” Winters asked.

  “Joe McNally.”

  “Unlikely to be real. Go on, Becky.”

  She took a deep breath. “He told us he organizes movie shoots in Vancouver. Hollywood movies with big stars. He scouts locations, stuff like that. Said if we ever come to Vancouver, he’ll show us around.”

  “I bet he will,” Winters said.

  “And then I came in,” Lopez said.

  Becky hung her head.

  “As Becky said, we have rules. Madeleine and I access the girls’ computers any time we want. We don’t read notes to and from friends we know, but we do insist on knowing who they’re in contact with and what web sites they’re accessing. I looked over her shoulder and saw some adult male asking for her e-mail address and inviting her to Vancouver to meet movie stars.”

  “I wouldn’t have gone, Dad!”

  “I know that, Beck. It’s not you I’m mad at.”

  “You’d never seen this man before you ran into him in the park?” Winters asked.

  “No. Never.”

  “What about his Facebook picture. Does it look like him?”

  “It’s a shot of a man in front of movie set. Could be almost anyone.” Lopez answered.

  “Can you describe him?”

  “Sort of normal-looking. Thin, shorter than you or Dad.”

  “Age?”

  She shrugged. “Old?”

  “The woman he was with?”

  “She’s pretty. Short, thin with long black hair and big boobs. I figured she might be one of the movie stars he’s friends with. Oh, the man had a really strong accent.”

  “What kind of accent?”

  She shrugged. “English, maybe?”

  “Thanks for telling us, Becky,” Winters said. “I’m sure this guy is harmless, but your dad’s right about meeting men on the Internet.”

  “There is one other thing,” she mumbled. “She told me not to tell, but…”

  The men exchanged glances again.

  “But what?” Winters asked.

  “Becky…” Lopez said.

  “It’s my friend May. She’s having a lot of trouble at home. Her parents are really strict. They don’t let her go to dances and parties and stuff and they’re always on at her about her marks at school and practicing the violin and stuff. They’d probably be mad if they found out she went to Big Eddie’s, ’cause she’s not allowed. She told them we were walking the dogs in the park, but didn’t say we were hanging around in town after. She’s been talking about running away, Dad. I texted her last night to say Donna and I were going to a movie. She asked if she could come, but her mom said no. She phoned me later and said she was thinking about going to Vancouver with this guy. He said he could get her a job in a movie.”

  “For heaven’s sake, Becky, why didn’t you tell me this last night?”

  “She said to keep it secret,” Becky mumbled. “She wouldn’t actually run away, Dad. It was just talk.”

  “Do you have May’s phone number on you?” Winters asked.

  Becky pulled her phone out of her tiny pink purse. “Yes.”

  “Call her.”

 
“Invite her around to our house for lunch,” Lopez said. “I’ll get your mom to talk to her. See how serious she is about this idea.”

  “Okay,” Becky said.

  Winters turned to his computer. The Nowak funeral was tomorrow and he intended to be there.

  “No. She’s not.” He turned back at the sudden panic in Becky’s voice. “I mean, I don’t think…”

  “Give me that,” Lopez ordered his daughter.

  He took the phone. Becky spoke to Winters. “May isn’t home. She told her parents she was sleeping over at my house and they haven’t seen her since dinnertime yesterday.”

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Mr. and Mrs. Chen met the officers at the door. Their eyes were wide and their faces full of worry. Lopez and Winters had brought Becky. No point in trying to keep Becky out of it, Winters decided.

  Mr. Chen’s English was poor, his wife’s worse. They owned and ran Trafalgar Thai, a popular restaurant on Front Street. Mr. Chen gave the visitors a small bow and led the way into the living room. It was immaculate, furnished in red and cream. Family pictures dotted the tabletops and hung over the gas fireplace in the center of the room.

  A boy sat on the couch, iPod in his ears. He wore jeans and a BC/DC T-shirt. He pulled the white buds out of his ears. “I’m Simon,” he said. His accent was Canadian. “I’ll translate for you. My parents’ English isn’t too good.” He got to his feet and gestured his mother into a chair. She sat, crossing her small hands in her lap. She stared at the police. She said nothing, yet Winters could almost smell her terror.

  “Where May?” Mr. Chen said.

  “Not at my house. I’m sorry,” Lopez said, “May didn’t spend the night with Becky. When did you see her last?”

  Simon spoke to his parents. No one had offered the officers a seat. “I was out,” he said when his mother and father stopped talking over each other. “I went to the movie with friends after dinner. May was here when I left, so that was around six-thirty. Mom says she got a phone call just after that. She said she’d been invited to Becky’s to study and then for a sleep-over. She packed a few things into her backpack and Dad took her.”

  “Took her where?”

  “To your house, Mr. Lopez. He dropped her out front and drove away. I know he should have gone in, at least said hi, but May’s embarrassed that our parents work in a restaurant and don’t speak English and, I’m sorry to say, she does just about everything she can to keep them out of her life.”

  “Where did this phone call come in? The house phone?”

  “No. May’s cell. She only got it last month, for her birthday. The folks didn’t think she should have one, but she put up such a fuss. All the other kids have one, don’t you know?” He shook his head. “Poor May, she only wants to be like the other kids.

  “When you told us, Detective Lopez, you hadn’t seen May, I asked Mom to check her room. She took a lot more clothes and stuff than you’d expect for an overnight.”

  “Tell your parents we’ve begun a search,” Winters said. “All of our officers have been alerted as well as the RCMP.

  “Do you have a picture of May?” he asked Mrs. Chen directly.

  “Picture?”

  “To show police?”

  She smiled. “Many.” She picked a framed photograph off the side table. It showed a pretty Asian girl with long black hair and a big smile dressed in an orange and black soccer uniform. She looked at the picture for a very long time, before handing it to Winters. “May,” she said.

  “Thank you.”

  “May’s on my team,” Becky said.

  “Good player,” Mr. Chen added.

  “Can I take this?” Winters asked.

  The couple nodded. They were looking at him with so much faith, he was embarrassed. He wanted to tell them not to get their hopes up.

  Instead, he turned to their son. “Simon, would you ask your parents to prepare a list of May’s friends.”

  “I can help with that,” Becky said. “I know her friends better than her parents do.”

  “Thanks, Becky. That’ll help.”

  “What can I do?” Simon asked.

  “You and Becky start phoning the friends. Kids at school, any teachers or group leaders she might be close to. Ask if they’ve seen her, of course, and tell them to let us know immediately if they hear anything from her.”

  “What do you think’s happened to my sister, Sergeant Winters?”

  Winters glanced at the parents, and then he looked at the photograph in his hand. The girl’s face was wide open and innocent, her smile broad, her eyes clear. Breasts like rosebuds poked at the uniform shirt, her knees were scraped, and one long orange sock was crumpled around her left ankle.

  “There’s a good chance she’s met someone here, in Trafalgar, who wants to her to come with him to Vancouver. We’ll try to find her before they leave.”

  Simon let out a puff of air. “That’s good then.” He smiled at his parents and said something. Winters caught the word Trafalgar. Mr. and Mrs. Chen smiled and nodded.

  Winters forced himself to smile in return. Highly unlikely this Mr. McNally would hang around Trafalgar once he had May. If she’d been taken to Vancouver, finding her would be a nightmare. Runaways disappeared into the city like water on a parched lawn.

  ***

  The funeral for Brian Nowak was held on a beautiful fall day. The sun shone in a startlingly blue sky, and the church grounds were redolent with the scent of falling leaves, freshly cut grass, and turned-over flower beds. The wind was cool, and people had put away summer sandals, short-sleeved shirts, colorful dresses.

  Molly Smith accompanied her mother. She wasn’t particularly well inclined toward Nicky any longer and had rebuffed her former friend’s lunch invitation yesterday. Regardless of whether or not Nicky was a prostitute, that she would even attempt to seduce Adam, whom she’d met as Molly’s boyfriend, would not be forgiven.

  But she and Lucky had known Brian Nowak and wanted to pay their respects.

  John Winters was there, on duty. So was the chief constable. Ray Lopez was in the office, working flat-out on the May Chen disappearance. Station gossip said Ray’s youngest daughter was friends with the missing girl, and he was taking the case personally. There had been no sign of May since she’d left her parents’ house after dinner on Saturday.

  A lost cause, Smith thought. Girls that age did not show up, blushing and giggling about errors in communication, after being away for two nights. May was either raped and beaten and left in a ditch somewhere for the vultures and the wolves, or taken to Vancouver. For wolves and vultures of another kind to chew at a body that might be still breathing but otherwise wasn’t much more than a corpse.

  Molly Smith despaired, sometimes, at the depths to which humanity could plunge.

  Pre-funeral conversation in front of the church was scattered with whispers about the missing girl. Dawn Solway was scheduled to give a talk to the students at May’s school this afternoon. Something about predators and using the Internet safely. May hadn’t been kidnapped, snatched off the street. She’d run away, leaving her home under her own power. Trying to convince themselves it would never happen to them, to their daughters, a lot of the gossip blamed the parents. Too strict, too lenient, spending too many hours at the restaurant, not involved enough in the community. Immigrants.

  Smith saw the chief turn from whatever Winters was saying and give Lucky a smile and a wave. She crossed the lawn to join the men, leaving Smith standing alone.

  “The love birds are looking quite happy,” Christa said, giving her friend a hug.

  “Spare me.”

  “Come on, Molly. I think it’s sweet. They say Karen Keller is seeking a divorce. Do you think it’s because of Lucky? Their house is going up for sale this week.”

  “Nonsense. W
here’d you hear that?”

  “Nancy at Alpine Meadows Reality. It’s not a secret.”

  “It has nothing to do with Mom.”

  “Come on, Molly, give her a break. Not that I’d want to snuggle up in bed with the chief, but if she wants to let her go for it.”

  “They are not going to bed together.”

  “I didn’t mean literally, but you obviously do. Your parents were happy, weren’t they?”

  “They sure were.” It was the closeness of her parents’ marriage that was, strangely enough, one of the reasons Smith feared committing to Adam. She just didn’t know if she loved him in the all-encompassing way Lucky and Andy had loved each other.

  “So, what’s wrong with your mom wanting to be happy again? Don’t you think your dad would want that for her?”

  Smith looked at Christa, who said nothing more, simply put her hands on her hips and waited for an answer.

  Smith shuffled her feet. “I guess he would.”

  “If he would be happy for her, why can’t you be? She looks better, Mol. Her eyes are bright, her skin has more color, her smile is real and genuine. She looks like the Lucky I’ve always known, not as she’s been this past year, going through the motions, holding herself together.”

  Smith looked across the lawn. Lucky laughed at something the chief had said, and he smiled down at her. John Winters had moved away, leaving Lucky Smith and Paul Keller in their own private world. Lucky wore a long blue dress decorated with silver beads that sparkled in the sun. She never wore dark colors to funerals, believing that a funeral should be a celebration of a life.

  “Thank you for coming.” Smith turned. Nicky was dressed in gray. A gray suit, skirt cut at the knees, well tailored jacket with a black blouse. Her jewelry was restrained, gold hoops through her ears and a small gold brooch. She wore large sunglasses. The heavy scent of cigarette smoke lay over her perfume.

  Smith stared at the trees lining the lawn.

  “Christa.” Nicky held out one perfectly manicured hand, nails painted a pale pink. “It’s been a long time.”

  “Nice to see you, Nicky. I’m sorry it’s on such a sad occasion.”