Читать книгу A Killing Frost - Margaret Haffner - Страница 15

Feeling restless and hemmed in by the four walls of the house, Catherine slipped away early, without waking Morgan who liked to sleep till noon on weekends.

She headed south, then east along the lakeshore road, straining to catch a glimpse of the metallic expanse of Lake Erie between the trees. Five miles from town she pulled off on to a grassy road leading into a small conservation area. Here a shallow creek which had meandered through acres of farmland and small woodlots emptied into the lake. Catherine parked the car and crunched down the gravel path to the water’s edge where she perched on a rock. The creek’s delta cut through the beach to her left and the clay cliffs typical of the area rose to her right. Irregular mounds of grass-covered sand provided evidence of recent landslides. The pundits of Atawan said nature had arranged for everyone in the area to have waterfront property sooner or later, though not for long.

Catherine put on her sunglasses, then sauntered inland along the bank of the creek. In the shade of overhanging trees she spied the sinewy forms of carp gliding through the sluggish current. Overhead, warblers occasionally burst into attenuated song but the exuberance of spring was long gone and they husbanded their energy for the long journey south. The splash of a turtle, startled from its rock by her approach, eddied through the silence. A sudden lightening of her spirit quickened her step and she took off her sweater, tied it around her waist and jogged along the trail in the morning tranquillity.

When she’d worked up a sweat, Catherine put her hands on her knees and blew deep breaths, purging her lungs of carbon dioxide. She pushed the hair off her forehead and sighed. She’d really got out of shape since being injured in the fire.

A rhythmic splashing caught her attention and she peered upstream, trying to locate the source. Moments later a canoe rounded the bend in the water course. A fishing line trailed over the side as the lone canoeist sliced lazy j-strokes with his paddle in the dark water.

Catherine stepped back into the shadows, annoyed her solitude was shattered. As she watched the progress of the craft the figure in the stern took on a familiar profile. It was Ed Royce.

Ed shipped his paddle and reeled in his line as he drifted on the current. As he prepared to cast, he pushed his hat back on his head and glanced at the shore. A sudden stillness in him told Catherine he’d seen her. She stepped forward and gave a small wave. ‘Any luck?’

He waved back. ‘Just carp.’ He set the fishing pole across the gunwales and, with a few deft strokes of his paddle, grounded the canoe on the sandy bank. He ran nimbly forward and jumped to shore, catching the prow as he did so, and then beached the canoe. ‘What brings you out so early in the morning, Ms Edison?’

‘Call me Catherine,’ she said with a smile. ‘Cool temperatures and trees.’ She gestured to the forest behind her. ‘I miss the trees.’

Ed nodded. ‘Know what you mean. I moved here from Thunder Bay and I just can’t get used to the flatness and lack of trees.’

‘So you’re not a native of these parts either.’

‘No way.’ Ed heaved his pack from the bottom of the canoe. ‘Want some orange juice?’

‘Thanks.’ She settled down on a mossy stump while Ed squatted beside her. She accepted the juice box eagerly – she hadn’t intended to work up a thirst. ‘When did you move to Atawan?’ she asked.

‘Four years ago.’ Ed grimaced. ‘Not a good move.’

‘Why not?’

Ed hesitated a long time before answering. ‘Business is slow,’ he finally replied.

She sipped her juice. ‘I’m surprised. You’re the only mechanic in town.’

Ed smiled ruefully. ‘That’s why I bought the place – thought I’d make a good living for me and my boy.’

‘Jason, right?’ Catherine stretched her legs out in front of her. ‘My daughter’s in a couple of his classes.’ And he turned her down for the dance, she added to herself; he mustn’t be as friendly as his dad. ‘Jason’s mother … she doesn’t live with you?’

A spasm of pain flitted across Ed’s face. ‘She died five years ago. Cancer.’

‘I’m sorry …’ She picked at the moss, ripping off a ragged square.

Ed got up and brushed off his pants. ‘Want a ride back to the parking lot?’

‘Would it be faster than walking?’

Ed laughed. ‘With me paddling? Only a little but it would be less effort and you seem to be limping.’

Catherine ignored the question in his voice. ‘OK, thanks. I’ll push the canoe off.’

The subtle murmurings of nature accompanied them as the canoe drifted along the current, helped by Ed’s slow paddling. Catherine trailed her fingers in the water, leaving a wake of tiny ripples. Feeling Ed’s eyes on her back, she straightened self-consciously, then smiled at herself for doing so. She had to admit she liked the man – he seemed so uncomplicated. However, it was his very simplicity which made her feel a fraud. She had no intention of revealing her past to him – at least not yet.

‘Penny for your thoughts?’ Ed broke in on her reverie.

‘Oh … I … I was thinking about Morgan, my daughter. She said your Jason is very reserved. Kind of a loner.’

‘Jason said the same about her,’ Ed retorted.

‘I’m not surprised.’ Catherine twisted around to see her companion. ‘We’re new, and Morgan’s very shy. She has trouble making friends and everyone here knows everyone else. It’s hard to break in.’

Ed nodded in agreement as he shifted his paddle to the other side of the canoe. ‘For adults as well.’

She remembered the strange reaction in the restaurant when Ed had come in to talk to her. If that was how he was treated after four years, she didn’t have a chance of fitting in. Had she made a mistake in coming to Atawan?

‘We’re here,’ Ed announced, giving one last powerful stroke to send the bow of the canoe crunching on to the beach.

She climbed out and pulled the canoe farther out of the water. ‘I’ll take the fishing gear,’ she offered, gathering up the pole and tackle box.

‘My truck’s over there.’ Ed gestured to the nearby copse of trees where the pick-up was hidden in the dense shade. He frowned. ‘What the …’ He dropped his pack and his paddle and raced towards the vehicle. A figure detached itself from the shadow as Ed lunged.

‘What the hell are you doing to my truck?’ Ed yelled, grabbing the stranger by the arm and yanking him backwards.

Catherine edged closer, eyes wide. The struggling figure was the Jimmy Grant who had helped install her window.

Ed gripped a handful of shirt and twisted it at the neck of his quarry. ‘Answer me!’ he hissed through gritted teeth.

‘Nothin’!’ the youth squealed. ‘Let me go.’

Ed levered the boy around to face the truck. ‘See that gouge in the paintwork, Jimmy boy? That wasn’t there an hour ago.’

‘So?’ Despite his position, his voice rang with insolence.

‘So?’ Ed sputtered. ‘So there’s paint on the keys sticking out of your fingers. How did that get there?’

‘Ed,’ Catherine called urgently, ‘don’t hurt him!’

In the second Ed’s attention was drawn to Catherine, Jimmy wrenched himself free and ran a few strides before turning to face his accuser. He spat, the gob of mucus glinting on the grass between them. ‘You should’ve left town right after the trial,’ he snarled, smoothing his close-cropped hair. ‘Now we’re gonna run you out. This town don’t like lady killers.’

Anger burned in Ed’s eyes as Jimmy sprinted to his motorcycle, gunned the engine and took off, spraying his audience with a shower of dirt and gravel.

Catherine stared after the motorbike until it disappeared, then she turned back to Ed who stood glaring after the teenager.

She watched the anger spots in Ed’s cheeks gradually fade. He stood limp beside his pick-up, his hands loose at his sides, his breathing laboured.

Feeling like a voyeur, Catherine hurried to her car. Ed didn’t seem to notice until the Datsun’s engine sputtered into the uneasy stillness. She saw his stricken face staring after her as she accelerated out of the drive.

Once on the main road, she drove slowly. So that was it. A whole lot of strange things were beginning to make sense. Ed had killed Tracy Tomachuk. And she had just been canoeing with him …