Читать книгу Stonechild and Rouleau Mysteries 3-Book Bundle - Brenda Chapman - Страница 14

Friday, December 23, 11:30 a.m.

Rouleau walked with Kala and Hunter toward the room where Tom Underwood’s body was waiting for identification. He’d tried to prepare Hunter for what he was about to see, but he knew it would still be a shock to see his father’s body laid out on the table. Kala stood behind Hunter while he gave his recital, her face impassive. Surprisingly, she didn’t look tired. In fact, she looked like she’d just started her day. She made Rouleau feel old. There’d been a time he could go a few days and still perform, but not anymore. Between briefing Vermette and bringing Malik and Grayson up to speed, he’d managed a fifteen-minute cat nap in his office chair. It had left him feeling worse, not better.

He led Hunter and Stonechild into the viewing room. They lined up next to him and he grabbed the sheet. “Ready?” he asked.

Hunter nodded and Rouleau rolled the sheet carefully down from Underwood’s face and halfway down his chest.

Hunter took a step forward. His eyes swept the man on the table and then back to Rouleau. “That’s my father. Tom Underwood.”

“You’re certain?”

Hunter nodded.

“I’m sorry. We’ll do all we can to find who did this.” Rouleau glanced at Kala who’d also taken a step forward. She shook her head just as Hunter turned his full gaze on her. Rouleau realized his mistake. “Let’s step into the office next door. Perhaps you can answer a few questions and we’ll tell you what we know.”

Hunter nodded again and they filed into the coroner’s office. It was Spartan clean with a desk, computer, and a wall of filing cabinets. Posters of the human anatomy covered two walls. Hunter lowered himself into the one chair and bent forward, his elbows on his knees and his forehead in his hands. Kala leaned on a filing cabinet and Rouleau stood in front of Hunter, waiting for him to collect himself. It didn’t take long before Hunter looked up.

“Was my father murdered?”

Rouleau nodded. “He died in the trunk of his car. Preliminary findings are that he froze to death.”

“My God.”

“We’re not exactly sure when, but probably a few days ago. We’re running tests.”

“This is like a bad dream. My father wasn’t the easiest man to get along with, but for somebody to murder him in such a heinous way … it’s unthinkable.”

“You were estranged from your father until recently. Can you tell us why?”

Hunter slowly raised his head. “What you’re really asking if I could have murdered my own father? If I said I found that offensive, I don’t suppose it would matter to you.”

“We are a far cry from accusing anybody, but the sooner we start finding out the situation of everyone involved in your father’s life, the sooner we can solve who left him to die.”

“I see.” A look crossed Hunter’s face as if he was choosing what to reveal. Rouleau noticed and glanced over at Stonechild. The look in her black eyes signalled that she’d observed it too.

Hunter looked at a spot between them. “My father and I had a falling out about ten years ago. I didn’t like the fact that he was fooling around on my mother and told him so. When he left her, I ended contact with him.”

“You didn’t talk for all this time?”

“I live far enough out of Ottawa that we didn’t run into each other. I might have seen him leaving my mother’s once or twice but that was it. We didn’t seek each other out.”

“It seems like a long time to be upset about his affair.”

“I wasn’t upset after the first while. It was more I didn’t feel anything at all for him. He didn’t matter to me one way or the other.”

“Can you account for your movements over the last week?”

“I spent yesterday afternoon in town getting groceries and meeting friends at the pub. Other than that, I’ve been home working. I had a few pieces on commission to finish before Christmas.” He glanced at Kala as if seeking confirmation.

“Did you see anybody over this time?”

“Just customers.”

“We’ll need everyone’s name, including your pub friends. Jot down their addresses and phone numbers for me, would you?” Rouleau slid a pen and notepad across the desk.

Hunter complied, then tossed down the pen. “Is that all?”

“All for now.”

Hunter stood and started for the door. Rouleau called to him.

“Do you have any idea where Laurel Underwood might have gone? We’ve been trying to reach her to let her know what’s happened.”

Hunter stopped, his hand on the doorknob. “No idea. Sorry.” He didn’t turn around as he pushed open the door and kept moving.

Rouleau and Stonechild followed him into the hallway and watched him get into the elevator. Rouleau turned to Kala.

“He’s hiding something.”

She nodded. “I have the same feeling. He’ll be heading home now to tell his sister Geraldine what happened. She came by for lunch just before we left. I’m certain we can rule her out. She’s so pregnant there’s no way she could have gotten her father into the trunk.”

“She might have hired somebody to do it, or managed it with somebody else’s help. Maybe Hunter’s.”

“Hunter said that Geraldine and their father were close.”

“That might mean nothing. I’ve seen close family members kill each other over the most insignificant things.”

“You’re saying to keep an open mind.”

He smiled. “The first rule of investigation.”

“Any word from Whelan?” Kala asked.

“No. I’ve asked a squad car to go by his place and check in. I hope to have an answer soon.”

“There seem to be a few people missing. It’s like Ottawa has a black hole that people keep dropping into.”

He smiled again. “Sounds like the script for a science fiction movie. Let’s hope not. Vermette has already let me know that we’ll be running this investigation through Christmas season because staff in Major Crimes is at a minimum. One just had surgery, another two are off with the stomach flu, and of course there are the booked holidays. I’ve got Malik heading up a team at Tom Underwood’s office and Grayson at his home. They’re going through his things to see if there are any clues hidden in his effects. Underwood’s laptop and computers are already in the lab being gone over. You should go home and get some sleep.”

“If you need me, I’ll have my cell close by. I can be here inside of ten minutes.”

“Hopefully, we’ll both get time to rest. I don’t anticipate any news for a few hours at least. I’m going to stay down here for a bit.”

“Okay.”

He watched her walk down the corridor and get on the elevator. He’d meant to ask her where she was staying, but his mind was sluggish. There were several hotels in the city core not too far from the station. They’d start adding up if she stayed in one very long. Maybe he should offer her a spare room. It would save her some money until she got to know the city and found a permanent place. He’d ask her next time she was in.

Geraldine was angry. Angrier than she could remember being in her entire life. The car seemed an extension of the rage coursing through her body, barrelling down Highway 417 toward Ottawa like a bullet.

Hunter had wanted her to stay overnight. He’d kept studying her with that worried look on his face he reserved for lost animals until she wanted to push him away and scream like a mad woman. She’d eaten his homemade soup and drunk the sugary steeped tea, not shedding even one tear after he told her that their father was dead. She’d known all along how her father’s disappearance would turn out. Hunter had just confirmed what she’d been expecting.

He’d tried to drive her into town but she’d told him not to be so ridiculous. She could drive herself. Their father had died. The world hadn’t collapsed and neither would she. Still, Hunter had hovered, watching her with concerned eyes when he thought she wasn’t looking. It was a relief to finally back her car out of his driveway and be alone with her thoughts — thoughts that kept her from looking her brother in the eyes because she didn’t want him to see the suspicion in hers, and she sure didn’t want to see the evasion in his.

She wouldn’t blame him. Their father had set this into motion many years before when he’d put his self-interest before the good of his family. Hunter had been a victim and maybe now, he’d gotten revenge. He thought he’d escaped the ugliness by hiding out in this cabin for the past ten years, but he couldn’t hide forever. It all started and ended with Laurel. She was to blame. She was the one who would have to pay.

Geraldine passed the St. Laurent exit in the passing lane. Slower traffic ahead forced her to brake and get a grip on her emotions. It wouldn’t do to be in an accident now and hurt the baby growing in her stomach. The baby for whom she’d given up alcohol and barely formed thoughts of leaving Max. The growing fetus had become her excuse for inaction. It had seemed like a second chance.

She was coming up on the Bronson exit. Decision time. Would she take the off ramp and head to her father’s home to confront Laurel with what she knew? Would it hurt her brother or help him? She gripped the wheel and changed into the middle lane. She put her turn signal on in preparation for pulling into the inside lane to take the exit. One last shoulder check showed her the green Toyota riding in her blind spot. The sight of it made her gasp. She straightened the wheel as he pulled alongside, cutting off her chance to pull into the lane in time to make the off ramp. She realized how close she’d come to hitting the other car, and her heart beat hard inside her chest. If she hadn’t done that last shoulder check, she’d have driven right into him.

She kept driving. Her anger had ebbed and a feeling of weariness was replacing it. Her arms felt heavy and her head was throbbing. All she wanted to do was go home, crawl into bed, and sleep for a dozen hours. Maybe the green Toyota had been a sign from above. She’d come too close to disaster to tempt fate now. She’d bide her time and confront Laurel when she felt stronger. Whatever it took, she’d bring Laurel down. She’d protect Hunter from himself.

By the time she reached the March Road exit in Kanata, the first of her tears were seeping out of the corners of her eyes. She’d begun shaking and was having trouble driving in a straight line. She slowed the car to below the speed limit and cruised down the ramp, turning left and left again before pulling over in a no parking zone in front of an elementary school.

The children were out for recess, chasing each other around the yard, their snowsuits and toques patches of brightness against the white snow and grey sky. She could hear their loud carefree voices through the windows of her car and their innocence made her weep. She watched them for a while until the tears blurred her vision and she couldn’t see more than watery shapes in the distance. The salty tears dripped down her cheeks and onto her hands lying across the steering wheel. She slowly lowered her head until it rested on her hands.

Her life had been unravelling for months. Alcohol had been her salvation. Now she couldn’t even turn to that for fear of hurting her child. The only one who’d come close to understanding was her father, and now he was dead. Her one safe harbour and she’d never see him again. She started to cry in earnest then, her shoulders shaking and sobs ripping up her throat until her pain and rage filled the car’s confined space.