by Lorena May
He answers without hesitation. “Sure. What time?”
“The concert’s at 7:00. I made a big pot of chili last night. Wanna help me eat it? I’ll be home in ten minutes.”
The surprise in his voice is tangible. “Okay. I’ll swing by right away.”
Darby’s heart races as she sets the phone back in its cradle. His voice is so warm and alluring. What am I doing? But she has a light, whimsical feeling as she rushes out of her office, waving breezily to the stragglers at their desks and the staff coming on shift. She jogs across the parking lot to her little black Honda Civic, and, turning the music up finds herself singing along to James Brown’s ‘I Feel Good’ all the way home.
HE ARRIVES PROMPTLY at 5:30, wine in hand. “Am I early? Do I look too anxious?” And he smiles his deep-dimpled smile.
Her breath catches. “Not at all. Chili’s hot. It took two minutes! Come in. I’m just throwing together a salad.” She leads him through her small living room to the kitchen.
“What can I do to help?”
She feels his eyes on her, and suddenly she’s all thumbs; clumsy and self-conscious. Reaching into the cupboard she pulls out plates and hands them to him. “Here. You can set the table.” Grabbing cutlery, she drops it on the table, making an awful clattering sound. What’s wrong with me? He’s a friend here for left-overs. Get a grip, girl!
He opens wine, and pours some into the wine glasses that Darby has set on the table. She pulls a loaf of steaming garlic bread, wrapped in foil, from the oven. Dishing themselves chili and salad, they sit across from each other at the small wood table in Darby’s kitchen.
They talk about the weather - warm for December. They really haven’t had much snow yet. And they talk about Skye. She has a friend now, and plays percussion in the band. She seems happier. They talk about the Christmas decorations on Main Street. But the elephant in the room remains large and unmentioned. He’s been away working in Fort McMurray the last six months. Before he left they spent the day riding and eating lunch, visiting over a few beers - a lovely day. Until she suddenly panicked and left the pub.
She wants to -needs to - explain. He didn’t deserve that. But how? And there isn’t time now. They don’t want to be late for the concert. So they eat and pick up their dishes, setting them in the sink. “Leave them. They’ll take me two seconds later,” Darby tells Jim. “We don’t want to be late.” They rush out the door to his car.
Chapter 13
- Em~
It’s still dark outside when Em drags herself into the kitchen after a night of tossing and turning. Matthew and Abigail are already up. Abi stands at the stove, cooking eggs while her fiancé sits at the kitchen table dotingly watching her.
“Coffee’s ready,” he tells Em as she sits on a chair across from him. She’s sleepy and sullen, so he gets up and pours her a cup.
“I’ve got an idea for how to get enough money to keep the wolves from the door.” He is enthusiastic. Cheery, even.
She looks at him through scornful eyes, saying nothing.
Abigail scoops two eggs onto a plate with toast and bacon, setting it in front of her older sister.
“I have ten-thousand dollars in an account for next year’s college tuition. We can use that and maybe borrow some from the bank. Then I’ll set up a go fund me page to pay it back.” He looks eagerly at Em. “What do you think?”
She takes a long swallow of coffee. “I found this in Scarlett’s room last night.” From her robe pocket, she pulls out the ring-box and envelope full of money.
Abigail’s eyes nearly pop out of her head. “Oh my goodness! Where did she get all that money? And what’s in the box?”
Em opens it, shoving it onto the middle of the table. “Look at that diamond. It must’ve cost a fortune. There’s no receipt, but do you think we can return it to wherever she got it from?”
Matthew’s fingers grip his coffee cup, his knuckles white, as he stares at the gaudy ring on the table. “What on earth was she into?”
Em yanks her phone from her other pocket. “And I got this text from her last night.”
‘I’m sorry. It’s impossible for me right now. I’ll pay you back when I get home. Just pay the money. Please don’t contact the police.’
“So she doesn’t want us to go to the police,” Matthew says, eyebrows furrowed, gritting his jaw. “We should just pay this guy and it will all be over.”
“It’s so lucky you found this, Em,” Abigail says, hugging her sister.
“But how did she think we were going to come up with all that money? And where is she?” Em splutters. “Ugh! I could throttle her!”
Chapter 14
- Darby~
“Oh my god!” Darby feels her insides drop to the floor. “Thanks Jill. We’ll go talk to the guy. Fuck! I hope he’s wrong.” She holds her head in her hands, images swimming through her mind. Ugly pictures of bloated bodies. Her breath comes in gasps. Gathering strength, she walks to Mel’s office next door. He is happily eating a sandwich from his left hand while he stares at his computer, scrolling with his right.
“Mel, a guy was walking his dogs down by the river and saw a body washed up in a gravel pit over by the rail bridge.”
Mel sets his sandwich on his desk and looks at his anguished partner. “You think it’s your missing woman?”
“A young woman, Jill said, with long, light-colored hair in a tattered red dress.”
Mel breathes deeply. “CSI is on it?”
“They are. But we should go have a look.” She scrapes her hands through her hair. “Oh, God, I hope it’s not Scarlett Sims.”
Mel drives while Darby talks on her cell to an officer on scene. Her eyes well up as she sets her phone on the seat and turns to her partner. “Female, mid-twenties, probably been in the water a few days. The body is swollen and blued. She’s gashed up but could have been hitting rocks. The current’s strong in there. It’s hard to say at this point what the cause of death is.”
Mel nods, his face impassive, just a small muscle in his jaw twitches.
When they arrive on scene CSI, all in white, are covering the area. The mangled, swollen body of a young woman lies sideways in a gravel pit, small and wretched-looking. Her long hair, string-like, is wrapped around her face. Darby feels the bile rise in her throat. Fuck! She stares up at the rail bridge covered in graffiti. ‘Class of 2017’, ‘Alex was here’, ‘Rockydale Comp Rules!’ Did this poor girl fall from the bridge? Was she pushed? What the fuck was she doing here?
Darby wanders off alone, aimlessly kicking at the long grass and brush, flinging a light coating of snow into the air. A wood-pecker taps at an old poplar. The dark ripples of the river flow by. Needles on a tall spruce rattle in the breeze, emitting a piney-spicy scent. Everything goes on, oblivious to the young life that has been ruthlessly snuffed. Smashed against rocks. Hurled along in the frigid waters. Tragically ended.
WHEN DARBY CALLS UPS she is told that Em is out doing deliveries, but that they will page her and have her call. “Em has a younger sister, Abigail, who works at the Evangelical Church here in town. Maybe she can identify the body.”
Mel and Darby head to the Evangelical church, dreading the conversation to come. The worse possible kind.
They pull up in front of a large, white-stucco building with stainless doors in the front, and two wings off to the sides. Stepping into the foyer, a bright, tiled area, they look around. Purple carpeted steps lead to the sanctuary where they can see a wooden pulpit covered in embroidered cloth. Behind it is a stunning stained glass window depicting Jesus on the cross, and Mary kneeling beneath it, ladies comforting her. A lone organist sits on the bench practicing, it appears. The sound reverberates throughout the building. It’s a familiar hymn, though Darby can’t name it, and it takes her back to her childhood. Years ago she sat between her parents on wooden pews much like those she sees now. It’s been a long time since Darby’s been in a church, and she feels a sense of reverence; of awe and of hope. Maybe Scarlett is no
t just a destroyed body. Maybe there’s something beyond this life. She hopes so.
A sign with an arrow and the words ‘office’ points down the stairs. Darby and Mel stand, lost in their own thoughts. Then, reluctantly, they head down the stairs, knocking on the office door even though it is open.
“Come in,” calls a sweet voice from around the corner. They enter a small room filled with book-shelves. A pretty blonde woman sits behind a cluttered desk where she appears to have been keyboarding. A delicate, fragile-looking girl. Oh, how I hate this, Darby thinks, her insides churning. Her tongue feels swollen in her mouth. The girl’s eyes widen at the sight of two police officers.
Darby looks toward the counter where a big, clean-cut young man is shuffling papers. He is flushing, and he smirks a little, hinting at monkey-business. What did we interrupt here? The thought gives her a welcome bit of relief.
Mel speaks solemnly. “Abigail Sims?”
“Yes?” The young woman tilts her head to the side, her eyes narrowing.
“This is Sergeant Greer and I am Sergeant McDougall, Rockydale RCMP. I’m afraid we may have bad news,” Mel says solemnly. “We have found a body that fits the description of your sister, Scarlett.”
Abigail gasps, paling, and falls back into her chair. Instantly, the young man is at her side, his big arms wrapped around her. But she is oblivious to anything but the agony she is absorbed in. “No - no- no,” she moans, tears welling up in her eyes.
Darby crouches so that she is eye-level with the young girl. “We can’t be sure. She hasn’t been identified. We are so, so sorry.” She feels her own eyes filling with tears.
Mel addresses the young man who is frantically murmuring sweet nothings into Abigail’s ear. “Maybe it’s not her. It’ll be okay ...” Tears course down his handsome face.
“You are . . .?” Mel asks.
The distraught young man continues to sweet-talk Abigail, barely stopping to say, “I’m Matthew Goodall. My father is the Pastor here.”
Abigail shakes her head, bringing herself back to the present. “Does the woman have long, blonde hair, blue eyes - very beautiful? Is she wearing a red dress?” Her voice comes out a whisper.
Darby nods, her eyes glistening. “Can you think of anyone who may have wanted to harm your sister?”
Abigail stares up at them, “She was so full of fun. So loving and affectionate. People loved her. No one would want to hurt Scarlett.”
Darby touches her hand. “It sounds like you’re close to your sisters”.
Abigail’s face crumples. “They’ve been everything to me. My mother died when I was born, and my father became a lost soul. I never really knew him. Scarlett and Em - they were everything.” She breaks into heart-wrenching sobs. Matthew kneels before her and they watch his shoulders shake as he cries with her.
He is white-faced as he turns to the two detectives. “Scarlett was involved in something dangerous. A man came to the house looking for her the other night.”
“Did he say why he was looking for her?” Darby asks.
“He said she’d been messing with the wrong people.” Matthew steals a quick look at Abigail. She sits, staring straight ahead, her eyes vacant.
He stands and paces the floor, hand to his forehead. “He told us that Scarlett owed them twenty-thousand dollars. He seemed a gangster type, you know? Big, mean, scary.” Matthew’s eyes are filled with panic. “He said he needed the money by Friday or they’d do something to Abigail.”
“Something?” Mel asks.
Matthew throws his hands in the air, a gesture of futility. “Maybe throw acid at her? Throw her in the river? I don’t know.”
“How were you to deliver the money?”
“He told us to mail it to a John Smith at a post office box.”
“Write it down for us please.” Darby watches as Matthew scribbles on a piece of paper, handing it to her.
“Did you get a name? License number?” Mel asked.
“No.” Matthew is shaking his head, breathing hard; clearly distraught “His car was parked out by some trees and I couldn’t see the license plate. But he was threatening and obviously had a lot of power.” He looks at them entreatingly. “I think he knew Scarlett wouldn’t be back. He wanted us to come up with the money. It was Abigail he threatened. Not Scarlett.”.
“Can you describe this guy?” Darby has her notebook ready.
“Sure. He was about six feet tall, well over two-hundred pounds, solid muscle. He was bald, had a crooked nose, beady brown eyes and a big scar on his cheek.”
“Okay.” Darby’s look penetrates Abi, then Mathew. “We will deal with this. We’ll put marked bills into an envelope and keep watch on that post-office box. Neither of you are to go near there. Don’t speak to anyone about this. Do you understand?”
They nod, looking at her through wide eyes.
“Abi, do you want to be put into protective custody until this is all over?”
She blushes, shrugs, grimaces. “Protective custody?” She looks at Matthew, who has moved back to her side and is holding her protectively.
“That’s not a bad idea, Abi.” He looks to Darby for reassurance. “I can come see her at a safe-house, can’t I?”
Darby shakes her head. “No, the location of the safe house has to be kept confidential.”
Matthew strokes Abi’s hair. “How about you stay at my parent’s place for now? Or I at your place?”
Abi nods. “I’d like that,” she murmurs.
“Can we set you up with our sketch-artist? We’ll circulate it to other detachments. Ask around. See if anyone can identify this John Smith.” Mel says.
“For sure,” Matthew says eagerly. He looks down at Abi who is trembling. “If he had anything to do with hurting Abigail’s sister I want this monster caught.”
Chapter 15
- Em~
With half her deliveries finished, Em pulls into the Hogshead parking lot. I wonder if he’s working. She hasn’t heard from Luka since the night they cooked dinner together. It hasn’t been all that long, but ...
When she enters the pub a lunch crowd is buzzing. Em finds a table in the corner by a window, and scans the bar, hoping to see him. Sure enough. There he is, talking gaily to a group of middle-aged women, probably here on their lunch hour. She watches as he deftly sets drinks and food on the table, laughing, his body language playful. The women are lapping it up - whatever he’s saying to them. Five faces beam up at him. From where she sits, Em can hear them jabbering and giggling. A stab of jealousy punctures her heart. Silly twits. Then, Of course they like him. He’s that kind of guy. Am I really any different?
He sees her and his face breaks into an even bigger smile. Is that a flush creeping across his face? He finishes serving the table of women, and heads toward Em. “Jamila!” He calls to her as he approaches. “How are you today?”
She feels herself flush. A warmth spreads throughout her. Suddenly she feels shy; tongue-tied. “Fine,” she mumbles. “You?”
“I’m - what you say? Top of the world!” He bows with a flourish. “To see such a beautiful lady.”
She lowers her eyes, unable to speak, but her eyes shine when she looks up at him. “I’ll have a coffee and pita with hummus,” she says.
“Coming right up!” And he scurries off to get her lunch.
Couldn’t I have thought of some cute quip? Something to keep him here a moment longer? Her phone dings. A message. It’s Joe, her boss. ‘Sergeant Greer, Rockydale RCMP asked that you call her right away. Number 403 735 8222.’
Have they found Jed? Scarlett? With shaking hands Em punches the number into her phone.
“Sergeant Greer speaking.”
“Sergeant Greer, it’s Em Sims.”
Darby’s voice becomes grave. “Em, hello. I need to see you. I need to talk to you.”
“Is it about Scarlett?”
“It is. Would you like to come into the precinct? Or shall I come to you? Where would you be most comfortable?”
“I’ll be right there,” Darby says.
What has she found out? Is Jed involved somehow? Or the ‘wrong people’ Scarlett’s mixed up with? Judging by Darby’s tone, it’s not good news.
Luka sets her coffee on the table, and looks into her face. “What’s happened?” He asks, his forehead furrowed.
“The police want to talk to me.”
“You want to go somewhere private?”
Her mind races, searching, but her brain is frozen. “Okay,” she says dumbly.
He carries her coffee through the ‘Staff Only’ door, setting it on a large, rectangular table. Pulling a chair out for her, he says, “No one will bother you here. We don’t take breaks during lunch hour. I’ll bring your food.”
She nods, and picks up the coffee cup.
“You okay?” He peers into her eyes.
She nods again, this time looking at him. “Yes.”
“I’ll bring police here when they come.”
Her mind is swimming. She looks absently around the room. It’s a square room with a counter holding a tea kettle and coffee machine. At the end of the counter there is a fridge and stove. The table she sits at takes up most of the space, with a sectional couch beside it. A low, beige-colored coffee table is littered with magazines and newspapers. Through two small windows she sees the forest in the distance. Did Scarlett disappear into the woods? Why?
The door opens and Sergeant Greer enters, her face a mask. Only her large, dark eyes betray the sorrow she feels when she looks at the forlorn little woman sitting drinking coffee. Luka follows closely behind, holding a tray of hummus - home-made- and a plate of pita bread. He gives Em a meaningful look - an ‘I’m here if you need me’ look, and leaves silently.