Tumbled Graves (3 page)

K
ala
pulled into her driveway just past eight thirty. She was relieved to see the lights on. The feeling of having someone inside waiting for her return was still strange. Of course, Taiku awaited her return, but this was different. Dawn was somebody she had to interact with and learn how to mother. Kala wasn't sure the responsibility suited her. She had no role model to draw from. Sometimes, in the middle of the night when she couldn't sleep, having a thirteen-year-old girl in the house felt like a noose around her neck.

She opened the truck door and jumped onto the ground. The night air was even foggier here, so close to Lake Ontario. The stars and moon were hidden from view and the darkness was absolute this far from town. She started up the driveway and heard the back door slam as loud as a pistol shot in the evening's stillness. A soft thudding of paws and then Taiku was upon her, jumping up and licking her arm and face. She laughed and pushed him down, then bent and rubbed his head all over while his tail thumped against the pavement.

“That's my good boy,” she said and looked up as Dawn ran around the corner of the house. The girl stopped a few feet away and stood silently watching Kala with Taiku. She was tall for her age, long straight hair braided, black staring eyes. Her body language was unsure, neck bent, arms wrapped around her stomach. Kala wanted to reach out and hug her slender frame but resisted. The last time she'd tried, Dawn had stood frozen with her arms stiff at her sides. The counsellor had said to give her time and space. The past year's events had made her fragile, untrusting.

Kala settled on a neutral greeting. “How was your day?”

“Fine.”

They started walking toward the back deck, Taiku between them. “Sorry I'm so late. The case was at a house the other side of Kingston. How was school? Bus on time?” She stole a sideways glance. Dawn's eyes were fixed on the ground as she walked.

“Yes.”

Inside the brightly lit kitchen, Kala glanced over to the table. It was filled with Dawn's school books. A pencil lay on a half-filled lined sheet in an open binder. “How's the homework going? All done?” She mentally kicked herself. Dawn's one word responses were turning her into an inquisitor.

“I just have to finish my story.”

“Well you do that and I'll get supper heated up. Stew okay?”

“Yes.”

Another question. She'd done it again.
Shit.

The stew was soon bubbling away in a pot on the stovetop. Kala cut thick slices of multi-grain bread and poured Dawn a glass of milk. She poured herself a glass of iced tea and set bowls of the thick beef stew on the table. Taiku stretched out at Kala's feet.

“I'll pick you up tomorrow,” Kala said when they were nearly done eating. “You have an appointment with Dr. Lyman that'll run until five. I'll be waiting in the parking lot.”

Dawn nodded, head down.

Kala resisted reaching out to brush back Dawn's bangs from where they fell into her eyes. “If you want to go watch TV before bed, I can clean up,” she said instead.

Long after Dawn had disappeared into her bedroom and shut the door, Kala sat outside watching the band of lake from her spot on the deck. She'd wrapped herself up in a wool blanket and tucked her feet under herself. Taiku was off chasing shadows in the woods. She'd received a call that morning that Gil Valiquette, Dawn's mother's boyfriend, had been sentenced to ten years in Millhaven Pen. Her mother, Rose, would be doing five years in Joliette prison outside Montreal. Armed robbery and a police chase through Manitoba with Dawn in the car. When Kala had taken custody, Dawn was nothing like the girl she'd met twice in Ottawa. The light in her eyes had died and been replaced by something flat and lonely. She hadn't even asked when she'd see her mother again. Compounding the misery, her father, Paul, was already in prison and not due out for four years. He'd been friends with Valiquette and while they'd been partners in crime Valiquette had managed to stay out of jail … until now. Kala found out that Paul had been moved to Millhaven when Kingston Pen closed. She wondered if the two men would team up inside. Her main concern at the moment was deciding the right time to tell Dawn this latest news. Perhaps the best thing to do would be to give Dr. Lyman a call in the morning to seek her advice. Even better if she could convince the counsellor to break the news to Dawn herself.

Kala stood and called for Taiku to come. A cold wind blew back her hair and made her shiver inside the blanket. She could hear the distant roar of waves slapping the shore at the far end of the property. This guardian role that she'd agreed to take on was filled with landmines. One wrong word, gesture, look could topple the delicate relationship she'd managed to keep going the past few months since the night she'd picked up Dawn from the police station. In some ways, that night felt like a lifetime ago; in other ways, the sight of Dawn's bruised face and terrified eyes could have happened yesterday.

“There you are, Taiku,” she said as his nails clattered up the cedar steps. “Let's get some sleep before the night gets away. We have another busy one tomorrow.”

Sergeant Jacques Rouleau hefted his father's battered leather suitcase into the trunk of his car and hurried around to the driver's side. His father,
Henri
, was already inside, belted into the passenger seat.

“All set,” Rouleau said. “Got your train ticket?”

“I do.” His father patted his breast pocket. His thick white hair was newly trimmed and he was wearing his good black coat. He'd tucked a silk cravat the colour of a robin's egg around his neck. “And it's not too late for me to order a cab. You need to get into the office.” He squinted through the front windshield. “Nice to see some spring sun for a change.”

“Work can wait half an hour, Dad.” Rouleau put on his sunglasses before pulling out of the condo parking lot. He turned right onto Ontario Street then left onto Brock, a one-way that would merge onto Division. Division was a main road that led past the police station to the train depot closer to Highway 401. The trip would take under half an hour this time of the morning. He put the heater on low to take the chill out of the car. By mid-
morning
the temperature would climb and he'd have the windows open.

“Will I be seeing you on the weekend?”

Rouleau felt that he should nod, but knew he had no way of knowing. “We got a report yesterday about a woman and her daughter gone missing. It could be nothing or it could turn into a major case. I might not be able to get away this weekend.”

“Well, I've taken a suite at the Delta on Lyon in case you can make it.”

Rouleau felt the weight of his father's sharp blue gaze without turning his head. “You really need to spend the next few weeks rooting around in Library and Archives, Dad? I worry that this might be too much so soon after your surgery.”

“I do, and you shouldn't worry because I don't. The doctor says I'm fine to resume my normal routine.” He paused. “Since I'll be in Ottawa anyway, I'll probably go visit Frances. Anything you want me to pass along?”

“No.”

His father's voice got softer. “You can't keep pretending this isn't happening, Jacques. She'll want to see you.”

Rouleau felt the tightening in his chest that would soon have him sucking in air like a fish. He worked to control his breathing. He checked the rear-view and glanced toward his father. Henri was now staring straight ahead, his elbow resting on the armrest, bearing his weight. The pain in Rouleau's chest eased. “I'll try to make it, Dad. I just can't guarantee anything with the woman missing.”

“Well, I'll be there a couple of weeks. Offer stands.”

“I'll come to Ottawa if I have time.”

“Can I count on that, Son?”

“All I can do is promise you that I will try.”

T
he
team was waiting for Rouleau in the small meeting room when he arrived fifteen minutes late. Someone had brought in doughnuts and everyone had a mug of coffee. He selected a Boston cream from the nearly empty box and sat in the chair at the head of the table they'd left vacant for him.

“Caught in traffic?” Gundersund asked, smile tugging at his lips. Even on the worst days, Kingston roads were not an issue this time of the morning.

“I see you've managed to fill in the time without me,” Rouleau said before biting into the doughnut. He chewed and then asked, “Any word on the missing woman and child?”

“Nothing,” Gundersund said. “Stonechild called this morning and spoke with the husband, Ivo Delaney.”

Rouleau saw Stonechild fix her eyes on Gundersund. He knew what she was thinking. Gundersund would be wise to let her speak for herself. “Delaney didn't hear from his wife overnight?” Rouleau deliberately turned to face Stonechild.

She stared back. “Nothing. He was up all night.”

Zack Woodhouse was sitting across from Stonechild, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed over his potbelly. “Or at least that's what he told you. He probably has a better idea where she is than he's letting on.”

“We haven't ruled that out yet.”

Rouleau picked up the file and read through Gundersund's report of their visit to the Delaney house. The others silently drank their coffee and waited. Rouleau looked across at Gundersund. “No sign of a struggle and her car still in the driveway. Breakfast on the table uneaten and the front door open as if they left in haste.” He was speaking aloud, sorting the facts and wondering at their significance. “You checked the woods?”

“Just the perimeter. It was getting dark when we finished inside the house.”

“Although unlikely, we need to make sure they aren't wandering around lost. Stonechild, take Bennett and Woodhouse and have another look around the property. See if Mr. Delaney sticks to his story. Talk to the neighbour again and see if she can provide more information about the Delaney marriage. I'll pull in someone to check out the airport and the train and bus stations.” He looked back at the notes. “She has a sister named Leanne Scott who lives in Gananoque. Can you follow up with her, Gundersund? It's a short drive. Might be good to talk to her in person.”

“Right.”

“I could get the Amber Alert in motion, but if the child is with her mother, and we have no reason to believe otherwise, an alert appears premature. So far this is baffling and worrisome, but not criminal. It's quiet right now so we may as well move on this one until somebody hears from Adele Delaney. I'll be in court this morning testifying on the Mendelson case but keep me informed by text.”

Four heads tipped in unison.

Rouleau watched them file out. Nobody had bought into a crime yet, but they were definitely intrigued. Even Woodhouse moved more quickly than usual. He was infamous for dogging it but Rouleau had hopes that Woodhouse would turn around now that his partner Ed Chalmers was retired. Andrew Bennett had replaced him, a bright young cop from the Ottawa force who wouldn't be satisfied skirting over investigations and taking shortcuts. Already Bennett had asked to be partnered with Stonechild. They'd worked a case together in Ottawa and he liked her investigative skills, could learn from them, at least that was the reason he gave for wanting to work with her again. Rouleau doubted that was the only reason. If Stonechild knew that Bennett found her attractive, she'd given no sign.

Bounded on the southern end of town by the St. Lawrence River, Gananoque is known as the Gateway to the Thousand Islands. Gundersund had taken Fiona on the Thousand Island cruise one August day several years back. They'd caught the ship, along with another hundred tourists in the harbour, outside the Gananoque Hotel. The day had been overcast and cool, but he and Fiona had huddled together on deck, his arm around her, not wanting to miss the beauty of the islands slipping past or the feel of her body pressed against his. She'd been captivated at the sight of Boldt Castle, a magnificent six-
storey
masonry masterpiece built in the early 1900s on Heart Island. They'd docked and spent a happy afternoon traipsing around the island, exploring the restored structures, and posing for pictures. She'd agreed to marry him standing under the stained-glass window in the central hall. Once back in Gananoque, they'd walked up Stone Street to downtown with the requisite charming small-town shops, restaurants, and bars kept alive by the summer tourist trade. A leisurely supper with two bottles of wine to celebrate and then lucky to get a room in the hotel. One of the few idyllic memories he had left from their time together. Until now, he'd had no reason to return.

Leanne Scott lived on Elm Street on the west side of town in a bungalow: white siding, green trim, and detached garage on a small lot. The windows and front door had been recently upgraded and a small verandah added to the front. A modest house well maintained on a quiet street.

Unlike his last day in Gananoque, the spring sun and clear sky gave the day a promising feel. He spotted tulips pushing up in the small garden that lined the walkway. The smell of earth and damp rotting leaves rose up to greet him as he passed by. Purple and white crocuses had pushed through and would soon be in bloom. Leanne Scott was waiting for him and opened the door at the top of the steps before he rang the bell. She'd already brewed a fresh pot of coffee and served him a cup in the living room, snugly fit with a plaid couch, coffee table, rocking chair, and recliner.

He took a moment to study her as she settled into the rocker. She was an older, faded version of her sister, from what Gundersund had seen in Adele's photo. Leanne's eyes had the same blue directness, but the brown in her hair was overtaken by grey. She was a tall woman but her body had thickened in the middle, fat dimpling her arms and what he could see of her legs. She was wearing a striped v-necked T-shirt, pink Bermuda shorts, Birkenstocks over socks, pushing summer and fashion sense just a bit, Gundersund thought.

“Have you spoken with Adele this week?” he asked. He took a sip of coffee and waited. It was strong and sugary, flavoured with hazelnuts and chocolate. The unexpected sweetness made him wince. He raised the back of his hand to his lips to hide his involuntary response. He preferred his coffee bitter and unadulterated.

“I'm fifteen years older than my sister. We keep in touch, but not daily, or even weekly for that matter. I guess the last time I spoke with her was just after New Year's.”

“I guess not even monthly then.”

She returned his smile. “No. I guess not even that.” She paused, “Although, we did exchange emails this week.”

He should have been less specific with his question. “Can you share what she wrote?”

“Of course. She was asking how Randy and I are doing and mentioned that she and Violet were due for a visit. I emailed her back and said next weekend would be great. She said that she was hoping for this weekend but could hold off until then. I still have the exchange if you'd like to read it.”

“I'll give you my email address and you can forward the emails. Did she use the words ‘hold off'?”

“Yes.”

“Did these words strike you as odd?”

“A little, since I hadn't heard from her in so long. They made me think that she had something to tell me. Naturally, I wondered about her marriage since she didn't mention Ivo.”

“How would you describe your sister's marriage?”

“Okay. It had been okay.” Leanne shifted, groaning softly. Sweat glistened on her forehead and cheeks. A flush travelled upward. Even her hair shone damp in the lamp light.

Rouleau had felt a chill from the moment he entered the house. “Are you feeling alright?” he asked.

Leanne waved a hand back and forth in front of her face. “Hot flash. Getting damned inconvenient. Randy's sleeping in the spare bedroom, I sweat that much at night. Nobody's ever died of them though. Where were we?”

“Your sister and her marriage.”

“Oh yeah. Ivo seems like a nice enough man. A little bland maybe, but Adele was looking to settle down. She seemed happy with him.”

“I hear some hesitation in your voice.”

“Adele and I weren't exactly close growing up, being so far apart in age, so it's hard for me to pass judgment. I just, well, I wondered if Ivo was enough for her.”

“Was she happy being a mother and living in the country?”

“I guess. It's not where I thought she'd end up by a long stretch.” Leanne laughed. “She was a wild one back in the day.”

“How so?”

“We grew up in Gananoque but she moved to Montreal after high school. Couldn't wait to leave. Had to see the big city. She ended up working in a bar in the east end the last six years she lived there. We lost touch for several years until she moved back to the area. From the little bits she let drop, I gathered she was running with a wilder crowd in Montreal.”

“Do you know the name of the bar where she worked?”

“Let me think. It was a man's name. The … Henri? No, that's not right.” She snapped her fingers. “The Louis. She worked at the Chez Louis. She told me that it wasn't a place that Randy and I would like. A bit rough.”

Gundersund jotted both names down in his notebook. “What was your surname before marriage?”

“Dufour. My father owned a hardware store on the main drag. Randy works at the Home Hardware on Stone Street. Life can be one big circle.”

He had her spell the name and wrote it down too. “Is your husband at home?”

“Randy?” She hesitated as her cheeks flushed bright red for the second time. A fresh coating of sweat covered her nose and cheeks. “No, he's gone to town. I don't expect him back anytime soon.”

“I'll give you my card with my email, cell number, and the central police number. I'd appreciate if you would call if you hear from Adele.”

“Of course. I imagine she just took Violet on a vacation somewhere for a few days. Maybe someone from her past life showed up and surprised her and she jumped at the opportunity to have a change from her routine. I wouldn't be surprised.”

“You're not worried then.”

“Not overly. I know Ivo is though. He probably has no idea what my sister can get up to when she gets it into her head to kick up her heels.” Leanne held his gaze. “Just one thing, Detective. I'd appreciate if you keep our names out of the press. We value our privacy and I don't want any media at our door asking us about Adele. My sister and I weren't close and I don't want to have to explain that to anybody.”

“Of course. We'll keep your names out of it.”

“You can do that?”

“Yes, we certainly can at every stage of the case.”

“Thank you. I'll hold you to that.”

He was surprised by the relief on her face because the world had turned into a reality TV show with everyone trying to become famous. He found it refreshing to know that she and her husband had no desire to make themselves into media stars. He'd respect their request for privacy and make sure that they weren't bothered by journalists looking for a family connection for their stories.