Читать книгу Bleeding Darkness - Brenda Chapman - Страница 11

The house was an older split-level, set back from the street, lights shining from every window. A mirror-image house sat dark and silent close to the property line on the neighbouring lot, no fence separating one from the other, coniferous trees and bushes abundant on both properties. The trees stretched into a forest to the left of the McKenna property line. Gundersund parked in their driveway while Stonechild found a spot for her truck on the street. He walked back to meet her at the foot of the drive, quickly chilled by the wind. The sun was nearly down, twilight soon to be overtaken by the night. A half moon and stars would break up the darkness.

“Hopefully, this will be quick,” said Gundersund. He thought about how long it had been since the two of them had been out in the field together. Stonechild and Bennett had been teamed up three weeks earlier when he’d taken over for Rouleau. He knew they’d started seeing each other outside of work and the thought kept him from falling back to sleep in the middle of the night.

“You never know with these calls. Could be a suicide.”

“Hopefully not.” He wasn’t prepared to make the gruesome leap yet. Evelyn McKenna had said the missing woman went out for a walk — the woman from out of town. The likeliest scenario was that she ended up in a pub or restaurant out of the cold and lost track of time. He shivered and zipped up his jacket. It was looking like he’d have to pull out the parka. The warmer winter weather that had held through December was making a sharp plummet into the freezer.

Stonechild jumped up and down, stomping her feet. “Let’s get inside before they find us frozen to death.”

She strode ahead of him and the front door opened before her foot hit the bottom step. Two elderly women stood in the entranceway. The shorter one hovering in the background was wearing a black dress that stretched tight over a full bosom and fell past her knees, beige tights and sensible shoes, a red head scarf the only bit of colour. The one who had to be Evelyn, the more regal of the two with her grey hair tightly permed, held a black-and-white dog that appeared to be a spaniel and Boston terrier mix. The mutt was barking and squirming in her arms and looked ready to have a go at them.

“Clemmie!” she said in a voice so sharp Gundersund froze with one foot inside the doorway. She lowered the dog to the floor while keeping a firm hand on his collar and looking up at Stonechild. “Let him sniff you and he’ll settle.”

Clemmie took his time checking them out — lingering over Gundersund and growling low in his throat before Evelyn clipped out his name again — and then immediately lost interest in defending his castle, turning and walking away, his nails clicking on the hardwood. Gundersund’s eyes tracked him down the hallway. You’re probably going to lie near a hot air vent where I would love to stretch out alongside, you lucky dog.

After introductions, Evelyn led them into a living room to the right of the entrance partway down the hall. Gundersund smelled traces of pipe tobacco before furniture polish and cleaner overpowered the scent. The room was small, the furniture made from dark-stained oak of a long-distant age, the grey couch cushions frayed but clean, the carpet faded even in the lamplight pooling from two end tables. The couch faced a fireplace with a charred grate swept clean. Evelyn gave them the couch while she and the neighbour, introduced as Antonia Orlov, pulled wing chairs closer, one on either side of the room. The space was gloomy and claustrophobic and Gundersund felt himself pulling in air through an open mouth, trying to fight past an asthma attack and regain his equilibrium. Stonechild sat perfectly still next to him, her eyes taking in the room while her face remained its usual inscrutable mask.

Evelyn began speaking without prompting. Gundersund got the feeling she was used to taking control. “My daughter-in-law went for a walk in the early afternoon and nobody has heard from her since. The children are out searching for her.”

“The children?” Stonechild asked.

“Well, my adult children. Adam and Mona are in one car and Lauren and Tristan in another. We’re getting worried as you can imagine with Vivian pregnant and not from here. Her coat wasn’t suitable but she refused something of mine.”

As if this was a bigger crime than being lost. Gundersund leaned forward, arms on his knees. “Was Vivian experiencing any medical issues with her pregnancy?”

“Not that anybody told me. She certainly ate enough at mealtime and she insisted on wearing inappropriate high heeled boots even in her condition.”

“How far along is she?”

“From what they told me, four months. Girls are so careless these days. I put no stock in her reliability about anything. Today is one more reason.”

Gundersund felt as if questioning Evelyn was like trying to catch an eel with his bare hands. He was relieved when Stonechild took over.

“Let’s start from the beginning, shall we? You said that Vivian is not from here. What is her full name and what is she doing in Kingston?

“Why Vivian McKenna, of course, since she’s married to my son Tristan. None of this nonsense about keeping her maiden name. I insisted that if she was marrying my son, she had to take his name. They live in Edmonton but everyone is here because my husband is in the hospital.”

Gundersund saw her chin quiver, the first sign of a chink in her prickly armour.

Stonechild’s voice softened. “I’m sorry that your husband is ill. Can you tell me the other relationships for the names you gave earlier?”

Evelyn relaxed her shoulders. She appeared to focus on Stonechild for the first time. “Adam is my eldest. He’s a pilot with Air Canada and his wife, Mona, is a teacher. They have a nine-year-old son, Simon, whom they left at home in Vancouver. Lauren is the second oldest, my daughter. She lives in Toronto and owns a kitchen design business.”

“And what do Tristan and Vivian do for a living?”

“Tristan is a writer. He had a bestselling novel a few years ago and is working on a new book while also freelancing. Vivian works at the Bay in cosmetics.” Evelyn’s mouth drooped as if pulled taut at the ends by a string.

Her face was a series of tells that let them know exactly what she thought of the people in her life. Gundersund knew that Stonechild would be way ahead of him on this. She was as intuitive at reading people and situations as anyone he’d ever met. Except when it came to her own personal life.

The other woman had been sitting motionless across from Evelyn, half in shadow, and she shifted slightly so that he could see her. “You live in the house next door?” he asked.

Her eyes darted over to look at him. They were faded blue and startled above plump cheeks. “Yes, with husband,” she said, but it was enough for him to hear a strong Slavic accent.

“Did you see Vivian today?”

She shook her head, the red scarf slipping lower on her forehead.

“What about your husband?”

“Boris is working all day in basement. He make birdhouses.”

“That are works of art,” said Evelyn. The two women smiled at each other.

“My Boris has gift.”

Gundersund felt Stonechild’s elbow against his arm as she stirred next to him. “It’s early to file a missing-person report,” she said, “but if you have a picture of Vivian, we could start our patrol officers looking for her and we’ll check the hospitals in case she stopped in for any reason. If she isn’t home by morning, we’ll reassess the situation. If Vivian turns up or contacts you, please be sure to let us know right away.”

“Of course.” Evelyn rose and picked up a picture in a silver frame from the mantle. “This is their engagement photo from a few years ago. You can make copies and return it to me in the same condition.”

Stonechild stood to accept the picture and Gundersund pushed himself off the hard cushion to stand beside her. He pulled a business card from his pocket and handed it to Evelyn. “Call me as soon as you hear from Vivian.”

They left the McKenna house and crossed the street. Gundersund leaned against the side of her truck while they discussed next steps. Stonechild held the framed photo and studied it in the light from the streetlamp. “She’s pretty: black hair, brown eyes, and Tristan looks vaguely familiar. I might have seen him on television or something to do with his book. He’s got a pleasant enough face and quite piercing brown eyes behind his glasses.”

“Let me have a look.” Gundersund took the photo from her. “A good-looking couple. I can’t say that I’ve ever seen either of them before. I’ll keep this and go get things started back at headquarters while you get home to Dawn.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, no problem.” He pushed himself off the side of the truck. They were standing so close that he could smell coffee and spearmint on her breath. He resisted the urge to cup his hand around the side of her face.

“You need to move and let me in the truck before my hands freeze up and I can’t work the key.” Her eyes held his and he felt something unspoken pass between them. Her smile was amused and regretful at the same time … or perhaps that was only his imagination.

He nodded and pulled away from her before crossing the street to his car. He had a few hours’ work ahead of him and needed to get things moving. He’d handle the hospitals after he got word out to the officers on patrol. Hopefully Evelyn McKenna would call him with good news by the time he reached Division Street.

All the way to the station, he saw Stonechild’s haunting black eyes — the eyes that filled his dreams and kept him from patching things up with his wife, Fiona. The eyes that he couldn’t get out of his head. The only consolation was that she had no idea how much she filled his thoughts or the effect she had on him.

And now that she was involved with Bennett, he fully intended to keep it that way.

Kala found Dawn reading at the kitchen table when she arrived home just after eight, Taiku stretched out at her feet. She was bone weary but the sight of her niece and her welcoming smile lifted Kala’s spirit. The smell of chicken roasting in the oven made her mouth water. “You’re so good to come home to,” she said, and then crouched down to rub Taiku’s head.

“The chicken and potatoes will be ready in fifteen minutes,” Dawn said, closing her book and standing up. “I thought you might not make it home in time.”

“It has been a long day.”

They ate at the kitchen table. Dawn said little in response to Kala’s questions about her day. Dawn ate quickly and stood to clear the plates as soon as Kala set down her fork. Kala watched her scrape the plates and put the kettle on for tea. How much to tell her about the trip to Joliette?

While the tea steeped, Dawn washed their few dishes and left them in the rack to dry. She poured Kala a mug of tea and brought it to the table. “I’m going to skip our walk tonight,” she said. “I have to study for a test.”

“I’m going to skip the walk too. I’m exhausted. Sit for a minute.”

Dawn glanced at her from under her long bangs and then lowered herself onto the seat next to her. She dropped her head. “Have I done something wrong?”

Will you be sending me back to foster care? Kala knew this was the question lurking in Dawn’s mind every day, every moment. “Of course you haven’t. I can’t thank you enough for this meal and cleaning up. You’ve made this place a home.”

Dawn raised her eyes to Kala’s. “Have you decided to buy it?”

“I sign papers next week.” Dawn needs stability. Buying the property will start her believing you mean to keep her. Dr. Lyman’s words replayed in Kala’s head. “Time you, me, and Taiku put down roots.”

Dawn seemed to think about this before she said, “I’ve never lived in one place longer than a year. I wonder what it will feel like.”

“We can take a holiday if we feel the need for a bit of freedom.” Kala smiled at her. She took a cleansing breath. “I saw your mother today. That’s why I went to Montreal.” No secrets.

“Is she okay?”

“Yes, but sad to be away from you.”

“Dr. Lyman said she made bad choices but that doesn’t make her a bad person.”

“Do you want to see her if I can arrange it?” She’d have to convince Rose but was sure she could if given time.

“I’ll think about it. Do you need me to do anything else?”

Kala studied her bowed head and bit her bottom lip. Now might not be the time to spring her father’s parole on her. Better to find out where he’s living and what he’s up to first. She might not have to tell Dawn anything at all if he’d moved away from the area. In all likelihood, he’d headed west to find work. She reached over and rubbed Dawn’s shoulder. “No, we’re good. Make sure you take a break from studying before bed. You’ll sleep better.”

“Okay.”

Kala sat thinking and sipping tea long after she heard Dawn climb the stairs to her room. Dawn had been roaming the house in the wee hours of the morning for the past month, the only outward sign that she was struggling. Kala would fall asleep again only when she heard Dawn return to bed, Taiku padding behind her, trusted companion and the one source of comfort that Dawn would allow. If Dawn was considering visiting her mother, this was a big breakthrough. She’d refused to talk about Rose since Kala picked her up at the police station after a wild police chase in a stolen car across the prairies that saw Rose and her boyfriend Gil Valiquette serving long sentences in Joliette and Millhaven respectively.

Taiku stood from his spot at her feet and stretched. She rubbed his ears and said, “Such a life, my boy. So much pain in one so young.” She pointed toward the hallway and raised her voice to a command. “Go find Dawn and keep her company. I’ll be up in a bit. Go on now. Find Dawn.”

Taiku followed the direction of her finger toward the entrance to the kitchen and moments later she heard him galloping up the stairs. Taiku had helped to heal her and he was doing the same for Dawn even if some days it felt like they had made little progress. Taiku was the tonic. She just had to learn to be as patient as her faithful dog.

David McKenna was dreaming that he was a boy again. His mother was in the kitchen mixing up something in a bowl. The radio was on and she was singing along to a Frank Sinatra song. He tried to listen to the words and recognized her favourite, “Moon River.” She used to pick up his baby brother and rock him to this song while she walked around the apartment singing the words. Oh, dream maker. You heartbreaker. She was calling his name. No, it must be his father. Wherever you’re going. He opened his eyes, expecting to see his father standing in front of him in his grey work shirt, a cigarette hanging from his bottom lip. I’m going your way. David squinted in the sudden shock of light.

“You’re awake.”

He turned his head. It took a few seconds for him to recognize his neighbour’s grizzled face. He moved his lips to say, “Hey Boris,” but wasn’t sure the words came out. Boris was sitting in a chair as close to the bed as he could get. His head was at a level with David’s own, less than a foot away. His breath smelled of stale garlic and cigarettes. Rye and coke.

“I would have come sooner but I’ve been busy in the basement building the houses. Trying a new model for chickadees. I have an order for ten and the store owner wants them by next week.”

Boris was then quiet for a bit and David felt himself drifting off. His eyes jolted open again when Boris said, “Do you ever think about her, that girl? That girl Zoe? She would have been in her early thirties by now.” His voice was low. “I think about her sometimes … and the other dead girls in Romania.”

David blinked and moved his lips. Fear pulsed through him, an emotion dredged up from another time. He wanted to say, We promised never to speak of these things. This is not the time to drag it up from the corner of hell where it belongs, but his mouth wasn’t working.

Boris scratched the white stubble on his cheeks. His breathing was laboured as if he’d been running. He wheezed softly as he spoke. “The police were by your house today. Not the same ones that came when the girl went missing. They’re probably retired by now. Antonia happened to be there having tea with your wife, which could mean something or nothing.” He cleared the phlegm from his throat. “Seems your daughter-in-law, the dark-haired one, went for a walk and didn’t come home.” He paused. “I hear she’s pregnant.”

He paused and David’s mind felt as if it were free-falling through time and space. His heart was beating like a frightened bird in his chest, trying its damnest to get out. “Nooooo.” He said it this time and was rewarded with a trickle of drool down his chin.

“What’s that you’re trying to say?” Boris asked. His face was inches from David’s mouth and David felt the heat from him. Smelled his gamy sweat. Boris pulled back enough that David could breathe again.

“I’m looking after it. I just wanted to let you know in case this doesn’t end well like the other time.” He patted David’s hand lying exposed on top of the bedspread. “I’ll do what I can to make sure the past stays that way. You can rest easy knowing that. I just thought you should know before you heard the worst from somebody else.”