“It wasn’t moving that fast,” Emily said, dismissively. “But it’s a good idea to have her checked out. She’s been through a lot, recently. They might also want to do a psych eval.”
“I should go with her,” Lana said, and admonished Emily with a disapproving glance, undoubtedly because of her comment regarding Michelle’s mental stability. “She doesn’t have anyone else here.” She put her hand on Emily’s shoulder. “I’ll see you later?”
“I’m not sure when,” Emily admitted, displeased that Lana seemed to think she was somehow responsible for Michelle, yet warmed by such a clear display of her kind and compassionate nature. She leaned into Lana’s touch. “As soon as I can, I’ll catch up to you. I promise.”
Lana squeezed lightly in farewell and then let go, leaving Emily feeling a bit empty as she watched her make her way over to the ambulance where they were putting Michelle on a gurney. Michelle, uncharacteristically, wasn’t objecting. Perhaps she was hurt worse than they’d thought, or maybe the experiences of the past few days were simply catching up to her. She had fallen out of a tree, after all.
“Come on,” she said, sighing slightly as she looked at her fellow member. “Let’s get started on those statements.”
Over the next few days, Emily thought often of Lana as she performed the necessary duties involving Pierre and Juan’s arrests. They had to figure out a lot of charges and jump through more than a few hoops regarding the red tape of holding American citizens, which required a couple of calls to the consulate in Halifax and a whole lot of extra paperwork.
She also had to make a rather embarrassing call to her superior, who needed it all explained more than once before he grudgingly signed her leave to be away from Windsor while she assisted the detachments in Baddeck and Cheticamp. She traveled back and forth between the two communities so much, she had the road memorized. She could have driven it with her eyes closed.
Sleep itself was brief, a transitory experience in a local motel in Baddeck, and she caught her meals on the fly from local restaurants that, at least, had great food. Though she’d brought one of her uniforms with her, she had to borrow another pair of trousers and a couple more shirts from another female officer in Baddeck who was close to her size. They issued her a Sam Brown belt and firearm on a temporary basis while she was operating out of their detachment. It didn’t fit as well as her own, but she made do.
She and Lana and Michelle kept missing each other, brought in at different times and different places for questioning. That included one meeting with the Minister of Acadian Affairs, Nicolle Crosiers, who seemed greatly excited to hear about the cross in the missing car.
It had yet to be found. By now, various government departments and locals were searching up and down the river in the hopes that the car would appear as the water receded, but it was entirely possible, in Emily’s opinion, that they wouldn’t be able to recover anything until the ice broke up in the spring. That was still a couple of months away.
Finally, after three excruciating days, she was free to return to Cheticamp and the cabin where Lana had been staying. She felt a sort of lightness in her heart as she got out of the Challenger, truly excited to be seeing her again. It didn’t even bother her that Michelle had apparently also been staying in the cabin while the situation was sorted out. Well, not much, anyway.
After knocking briskly at the door, she caught her breath as Lana threw it open. Dressed in a dark-gray sweater that clung to every curve and a pair of jeans that hugged her hips and legs, Lana took one look at Emily and didn’t say a word. She just stepped into her arms and hugged her tightly.
Which was exactly how Emily had wanted that to go.
She inhaled deeply as she buried her face into the soft, dark hair, breathing in Lana’s scent and the warm sense of being with her again. Oh yeah, she thought with a sort of happy resignation, she’s got me good.
“You okay?” she murmured.
“Now that you’re here,” Lana said. She drew back, regarded her for a happy moment, and then kissed her,
“It’s about time you got here, Constable,” came the unwelcome but irritatingly familiar voice from somewhere over Lana’s shoulder. “Any word?”
Emily needed a second to gather her wits. “Any word on what?”
“The cross,” Michelle said, as if it should be obvious, which, Emily thought in retrospect, it should have been.
“Still no sign of the car,” Emily said as Lana released her embrace, allowing her to enter the cabin. Shaking out of her heavy police jacket, Emily hung it neatly on the hook by the door.
“Where’s your gun?” Michelle asked. “You’re still in uniform.”
“Because I don’t have that many clothes with me,” Emily explained pointedly. “I’m living out of my trunk, and I haven’t had a chance to change. As for my gun, we don’t wear our Sam Brown belt off duty. That’s left back at the detachment.” She turned to look at Michelle, scanning her from head to toe, assessing her condition. “You look a lot better than the last time I saw you.”
“I’m going stir-crazy here.” Judging by Michelle’s emerald eyes, she was considerably aggravated. “Why can’t I go look for the car with everyone else?”
“Because they know what they’re doing and you don’t,” Emily told her in a logical tone. “And it’s out of your hands, now. The Department of Acadian Affairs is handling it from here, which is what they should have been doing in the first place.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Lana said, a long-suffering note in her voice that Emily was secretly very pleased to hear. Obviously, the allure Michelle had initially offered Lana had finally worn off.
Michelle protested. “I can’t just sit here and do nothing. It’s driving me crazy.”
“Not just you.” Lana went over and sat down on the sofa, an uncomfortable and cheap-looking piece of furniture. “Although I do agree that I’m tired of staying here. Are they finished with us?”
“Yes, good news there,” Emily said with a smile. “That’s why I dropped by. You’re free to go. We both are.”
“Finally,” Michelle said. She looked at Lana. “Listen, I need to go back to the bridge and—”
“No, I’m sorry,” Lana said firmly, holding up her hand. “I’m checking out, and Emily, if she’s agreeable, is going to drive me home. Where you go from here is up to you, but I’m done.”
“Just like that?” Michelle looked a little angry. “Don’t you know how important this is to my people?”
“Your people?” Lana erupted. It felt to Emily as if this reaction had been building for some time. Perhaps being cooped up with Michelle in this cabin for a few days was all that was needed to clear away any lingering illusions Lana might have that the girl was her responsibility to look after. “Don’t you get that the cross belongs here in Canada, and that it’s never going back to the States with you? Do you really think that you and your father are somehow better Acadians than those who returned home, whose descendants actually live here in what was Acadia?!”
She stopped and visibly calmed herself. “It’s over,” she added in a more reasonable tone. “I wanted to help you find the cross, and that’s what we did. It was an incredible adventure, but now I’m done. Acadian Affairs knows where the cross is, and it’s just a matter of time before they find it. If I were you, I’d go to Madame Crosiers and talk to her about assisting the department. She seemed very interested in your research and the documents you ‘borrowed’ from Tulane and your father. I’m sure if you play your cards right, you’ll be able to parlay that into some kind of paying arrangement.”
“But don’t you want to see how it ends?”
“I did see how it ends.” Lana shot a look at Emily. “The hero rescues the damsel and captures the bad guys. We all live happily ever after.”
“So I’m the damsel in this story?” Michelle was clearly outraged.
“I’m the hero?” Emily said, vastly pleased with herself.
“Oh, God,” Lana
said, and put her face in her hands. “Please, just take me home.”
Chapter Twenty-eight
Lana rested her head against the cool glass of the car window, feeling a bone-deep fatigue that made it hard to think. She felt irrationally guilty about leaving Michelle back in Cheticamp, but she knew she was a resourceful young woman. Michelle would just have to find her own ending to the story one way or another. And knowing her as Lana did, it would undoubtedly be complicated and dramatic, yet somewhat oddly and irrevocably disappointing.
Glancing sideways at Emily, who seemed content to let her be, listening to the classic rock music on the radio, Lana wondered what her ending would be. Or if they were both at a new beginning.
“Hey, we’re coming up on the Truro exit,” Emily said, almost as if aware of her glance, though she never took her eyes off the road. “Do you want to stop and get something to eat?”
“Can we wait until Kennetcook?” Lana asked. “I’m tired of restaurant food, but I could use some fish and chips from the diner.” She paused. “That didn’t sound right.”
“No, I get it,” Emily said with a smile. “The taste of home without actually having to cook. And that place is home for us, in a lot of ways.”
“Exactly,” Lana said, relieved that she understood. “By the way, did you find out anything about Hector? Is he a bad guy?”
“We couldn’t find any criminal connections,” Emily told her. “He just seems to be a businessman. Made most of his money in real estate, and while he’s a known collector of Acadian artifacts, he doesn’t seem to have a reputation for engaging in illegal activities. Not in any official capacity, at least.”
“So she lied about that, too?” Lana let out her breath wearily.
“Not necessarily,” Emily said in an even tone. “Just because he’s never been caught or convicted of anything doesn’t mean he’s a good guy. He might just be really careful. In any event, Juan and Pierre aren’t giving anything up, and the very expensive lawyer from the States is assisting the solicitor they hired here. It’s going to take a long time before the case gets to trial.”
“I’ll have to testify, won’t I?”
“Maybe.” Emily flashed her a smile, obviously trying to be positive. “Or they might just go for a plea bargain of some kind. You never know.” She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. “I doubt Michelle will be charged with anything, unless something else comes up. I don’t suppose she let anything slip while you two were staying together at the cabin?”
“All I discovered was just how obsessed she is with that cross, as if I didn’t know that already.” Lana thought about it for a moment. “She claimed it was because of her Acadian heritage, but that always felt—not fake, exactly, but unreal, as if she doesn’t quite believe it herself. Or has just latched onto it as the reason for her actions. Maybe she grew up without a sense of belonging in the world and discovering that she had a Cajun father, that in fact, she was of Acadian blood, helped define her in some way. Perhaps the cross became a symbol of that identity. It was proof that she was part of something bigger.”
“That’s pretty good.” Emily glanced over at her, admiration in her eyes. “Motivation. It would explain a lot.”
“Maybe.” Lana shook her head fretfully. “I’m just speculating.”
“Well, I do know that if you hadn’t became involved in this, she might have found the cross and stolen it out of Nova Scotia with no one being the wiser,” Emily said. “So you can take pride in preserving an important part of our historical culture.”
“It was just a matter of helping out. I really didn’t do anything.”
“You probably saved her life,” Emily said with certainty. “And you kept her from killing herself or being arrested while she looked for the cross. She may not appreciate it now, but meeting you was very good for her.”
Lana wasn’t sure she agreed, especially since she hadn’t prevented Michelle from falling out of a damned tree, but Emily’s words did make her feel a bit better. She straightened in her seat as they came off the exit in Truro and turned left onto the 236 leading to Old Barns and Maitland, the last stretch before home. The back road was more scenic than the Trans-Canada, even in winter, and as Lana gazed across the flat fields and the muddy stretch of Cobequid Bay, she felt more comfortable, almost free, unlike the constant sense of claustrophobic oppression that the brooding hills of the Cape Breton Highlands had inspired.
“I report back to Windsor on Monday, but I’m off until then,” Emily said conversationally. “Do you want to do something tomorrow?”
Lana smiled. “I’d like to do something tonight. Pick up some takeout at the diner and spend the evening in, maybe watching old movies?” She hesitated, suddenly uncertain. “Unless you need to get back home.”
Emily lifted a brow. “I haven’t seen my cat for nearly a week, but a friend has been checking on her since I left so she should be all right.”
“I didn’t know you had a cat. What else don’t I know about you?”
“Oh, quite a lot of things, I would think.” Emily flashed her a grin. “Takeout and a movie sounds great.”
And perhaps there would be other things they could do, Lana thought happily as she leaned back in her seat and watched the scenery pass, suddenly eager to be home as quickly as possible.
The diner in Kennetcook felt oddly unfamiliar as she strolled in, maybe because she’d been through so much since the last time she’d been in. Had it been only a week? It was hard to believe so much had changed. How much she’d changed, not only emotionally, but obviously in some kind of physical outward manner. She could see it in the eyes of Wanda, who took her order, the raised brows of the cook, Bill, who nodded at her through the service opening in the kitchen, and the way Old Man Kent, huddled on his stool at the counter, rumbled a hello in response to her cheerful greeting.
She felt a little self-conscious standing there, wishing Emily had come in with her, but she’d decided to stay in the car and call her friend to let her know she still required a cat-sitter. As it was too late for lunch and too early for the supper rush, no one else stopped by as she waited, and Lana was oddly grateful. She was still getting used to being herself again. She didn’t want to have to make the lengthy explanations required to all her neighbors and friends as to why she’d snapped out of her depression. Not quite yet.
When she came out of the diner, Emily glanced up at her through the windshield, smiled brightly, and quickly concluded her conversation on the phone. As Lana got into the car, the greasy, delicious smell of battered fish and fried potatoes filled the interior. Suddenly, she was starved.
“I believe you know the way from here,” she said as she put on her seat belt.
Emily chuckled. “I believe I do.”
They crossed over the bridge that had been underwater but was now clear of ice, the river having subsided somewhat though it remained higher than normal for this time of year. As they progressed up the hill, Lana felt herself start to relax, the familiar sights and sounds of home working their inevitable magic.
The cabin was cool when they entered through the back door. Electric baseboard heaters backed up the woodstove, but she had them set only high enough to prevent the pipes from freezing.
“I’ll get a fire started,” she said, tossing her bag and coat onto the island in the kitchen. “There’s a bottle of wine in the cooler.”
“White, of course, to go with the fish.” Emily’s voice held an amused note. “Do you want me to set the table?”
“Everything’s in the cupboards,” Lana said as she went over to the stove. She stirred the dead ashes, then loaded it with kindling and newspaper, building the base of her fire with long practice. “Actually, I wouldn’t mind a shower. Can you put everything in a pan and keep it warm in the oven for now?”
“I’ll handle it,” Emily told her. “Take your time.”
Lana grabbed her bag and dashed upstairs. In the bedroom, she quickly stripped the bed and remade it, just in ca
se, then went into the ensuite, where she showered and pulled on a blouse and a pair of jeans. She glanced in the mirror, debated about adding makeup, decided that was being somewhat over the top, and headed back downstairs.
Emily was seated in one of the armchairs by the fire that was now burning briskly, a few logs added to it from the brass basket by the chimney. She lifted a glass to Lana, who accepted it gracefully. In the kitchen, the small wooden dining table was set, and Emily had turned on the stereo, digging out some CDs from Lana’s collection, music she hadn’t bothered with in years.
“This is very nice,” she said, pleased that Emily had done so much. It felt domestic rather than invasive. “Ready to eat?”
Hoping the oven hadn’t dried out the meal too much, she quickly served the food. Emily had even found some candles for the table, or perhaps they’d been left over from the power outage. Lana couldn’t remember if she had put them away or not before taking off with Michelle. The tiny flames cast a glow over the kitchen, granting a coziness to the winter light filtering weakly through the window above the sink.
“So, this music,” Emily said as they settled into eat. “You like this?”
“Yes, Norah Jones. It’s a little jazzy.” Lana searched her heart for any sorrow. This CD had been one of Sarah’s favorites. But now listening to it was just familiar and pleasant, and nice to be sharing with Emily, who clearly needed her musical palette expanded a bit. “What do you think?”
“It’s okay. It doesn’t make me want to run screaming from the room or anything.”
“I’m glad.” Lana laughed, realizing how often she did that with Emily, now that she’d granted herself permission to be amused at things. She took a mouthful of fish and found it more flavorful than usual, the batter tangy with beer and red-pepper flakes. “So, are we dating now?”
“I think we are,” Emily said as she sipped her wine. “We’ve had a few meals together as a couple. Let’s see. Breakfast in Grand-Pré, the dinner and dance in Wolfville, that supper in Cheticamp. I guess we’re up to about our fourth date now.”
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