Nothing Is Negotiable (8 page)

She was in a dimly lit hallway. The ceiling was low, just a few inches above her head. There was a closed door at each end. There was an eerie silence as she looked from one door to the other, unsure what to do. The door on one end opened and an old man stepped out. He had scraggly white hair and a long hooked nose. With an evil eye, he scowled at her and pulled a stethoscope out of his ragged coat. She backed up a step then turned to the door behind her. It opened and the same man stepped out into the hallway, holding the same stethoscope.

Bonnie blinked hard and woke up gasping. It was just a dream. Wild, vivid dreams had been part of her life since she was a kid. She exhaled loudly and immediately forgot about the dream when she became aware of the severe pain in her temples. It felt like her head was in a vice. Her natural reaction was to squeeze her eyes shut, but that made it hurt more. She rolled her head to the side and opened her eyes a little. Bright lights from a window across the room made her close them again.

She flung her arm across her eyes and the brightness disappeared.

Never in her life had a headache hurt this bad. She took a deep breath and slowly rolled away from the window wondering why her head hurt so much. She buried her face in the soft pillow and slid her hand underneath it causing her thumb to bend back. Instantly she recoiled from the pain, pulling it back and putting it in full view of her squinting eyes.

What the hell?
There was some kind of plastic contraption on her wrist and hand. Where did that come from and why did her hand hurt so much. Again, she closed her eyes and let her head drop back onto the pillow.

For a bit she tried to think, concentrate on what happened, but her mind was too foggy. Then she realized she had her shoes on. And her shorts.
All
of her clothes. What was going on? What time was it, morning? And where’s Luke?

She groaned and with her other hand reached over to the other side of the bed and felt for Luke. But, he wasn’t there. Slowly, she propped herself up on one elbow and glanced around the room through the narrow slits in her eyes. There was nothing that looked familiar about this room. Her thoughts were coming more clearly now. She knew they were on vacation in Montana but the last motel room she remembered had white walls. This one had beams of wood, like a log cabin.

There was an old wooden dresser and mirror next to a door, which was probably the closet. On the adjacent wall was a small table beside a leather chair. Next to it bright sunlight came through a window covered by cream colored curtains. On the wall closest to the bed was a door.

“Luke?” she said weakly toward it.

There was no response.

Bonnie swung her legs over the edge of the bed and sat up. When she tried to stand she felt the blood drain from her head and she thought she might pass out. She dropped back onto the mattress, winded. For a minute she took deep breaths and regained her strength.

“Luke?” she said a little louder.

Still nothing.

After a minute she slowly rose and shuffled to the door. The handle was old and brass, a dark tarnished copper color. She twisted on it but it didn’t turn.
Is it locked? Why?

“Hello?” she said to the door.

There was no noise of any kind. No clocks ticking, no electrical appliances running, no TV off in another part of the house... nothing. She was alone, and locked in a strange bedroom.

While she waited, she eyed the handle closer. Under it was an old-fashioned keyhole. The kind that used a skeleton key.

Why would the door be locked?

Maybe the handle’s just stuck. She grasped the handle with both hands and twisted it. Then she pushed and pulled. It wouldn’t budge.

This small amount of activity exhausted her so she propped herself against the door and this time, a little louder said, “Hello?”

Still nothing.

She knocked a few times. “Luke?”

She knocked louder. “Luke? Are you there?”

Nothing.

It didn’t make sense. She rubbed her pounding temples and tried to think, but nothing was clear. Looking at the contraption on her wrist she knew it was some kind of brace and when she moved her thumb pain shot up her arm. The memory of falling down the hillside returned. And she remembered the neighbors drinking wine on the patio. And Luke joined them.

But it hurt to think.

She started toward the other side of the room but felt light headed, so she dropped down into the leather chair to catch her breath. Across the room she saw a digital alarm clock on a nightstand that said 6:23. She pulled open the curtains to behold an amazing sight. Beautiful mountains covered with pristine forest as far as she could see. Between the mountains, a rocky canyon snaked between jagged cliffs. There was not a sign of civilization. No roads, no houses, no telephone poles; nothing but forest and mountains. It was beautiful, but where was she?

Looking down she noticed the ground was far below, maybe a hundred feet.
The house must be on a cliff.

She let the curtains fall closed and she noticed a cardboard box in the corner beside the window. Inside it she saw bottled water, granola bars, bread, grape jelly, peanut butter, and a plastic spoon.

She started back to the door and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror above the dresser. From the way she felt, she thought she’d look worse. Her nose was red and in the corner of her mouth she saw something crusty. With her fingernail, she scraped at it and small flecks came free.
Blood
? When she pressed her lip together they felt tender and swollen, but she didn’t remember hurting them in the fall.

On the dresser she noticed a dish with two different kinds of pills. Beside them was a short typed note:

– The light blue pills are for your upset stomach. Take one morning, noon and night.

– The white capsules will relieve the pain in your sprained thumb. Take one every four hours with food.

Unconsciously, she rotated her thumb, and it sparked the memory of her visit to the clinic in Cardston. A few other memories came back too but weren’t clear. Like the guards at the border crossing and the big Indian man at the clinic. But those memories faded as quickly as they came.

She took one of each pill and pulled a bottle of water out of the box on the floor. After she took them, she went back and stretched out on the bed.

Her eyelids grew heavy and as she started to drift off, she wondered,
Where is Luke?

“Ernest isn’t in right now. What can I do for you?” asked the skinny officer who stood at the coffeemaker with the carafe in mid-pour.

“I really need to talk to him. I’m Luke Wakefield.”

“Oh, you’re the guy whose wife is missing. Did you find her?”

“No, but I found some stuff behind the clinic and I need to talk to Ernest about it.”

“Ernest had to go over to Medicine Hat for a meeting. He didn’t say when he’d be back.” The cop finished filling his cup and dropped in two cubes of sugar. He pulled a pen out of his shirt pocket and started to stir. “Anything I can do for you?”

Luke laid the windbreaker, the broken sunglasses, and the piece of chartreuse paper on the counter in front of the Mountie. Holding up the windbreaker and pointing to the red stain, Luke said, “This was my wife’s. Look here. Blood. I found this in the dumpster behind the clinic in a plastic bag. Someone had thrown it away.”

“Was there any blood on this before?”

“No.”

“Did anyone say anything about this to you at the clinic?”

Luke shook his head. “No.”

Luke pointed to the other items. “And look at this. These sunglasses and this grocery list were in her purse when I left her. I found both of them in the alley.”

The cop put down his coffee and looked at the glasses without touching them. Then, by using his pen, he rotated the piece of small piece of paper around and read aloud, “Lettuce, tomatoes, bread, mayo. Do you think she was she going to go to the grocery store after she left the clinic?”

“No, the receptionist said she checked her out in the front of the clinic. There would be no reason for my wife to have been in the alley. It’s obvious someone was trying to hide this windbreaker. And it didn’t have blood on it when we got to the clinic. Don’t you think it’s proof that they’re hiding something over at the clinic?”

The cop raised one eyebrow. “Leave the detective work to us, Mr. Wakefield.”

“Don’t you think you should send some cops over there to question the people at the clinic?”

“Ernest will make that decision.”

“What are we going to do?”

“
We
aren’t going to do anything. Like I said, when Ernest gets back, I’ll give this to him and he’ll make that decision.” He rummaged around under the counter and came up with a plastic bag. He picked up the windbreaker, shopping list and sunglasses and put them inside.

“My wife has been missing for over eighteen hours. Somebody needs to do something pretty quick.”

The cop took a deep breath and in a consoling tone said, “We have done something. The information about your wife has been sent to all RCMP outposts and all other law enforcement agencies. At this time, there’s not a lot more than that we can do. Okay?”

“I’m positive that if she was in the alley, it wasn’t of her own free will.”

“Mr. Wakefield, I understand you are worried, But, there’s nothing else we can do at this time. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

It seemed clear that until Ernest came back, there was nothing he could do. He took a deep breath and said, “I guess so.”

Luke left the building mad and frustrated. As he slid into the car he was suddenly aware of how much his body ached. Sleeping in the car hadn’t worked out too well. He decided there was nothing he could do here so he might as well go back to St. Mary for a while.

It took about forty-five minutes to get back to the Red Eagle Lodge. His first stop was to talk to the owner, Mrs. Johnson. The day before he had called and told her about Bonnie’s disappearance. In the process of planning their trip, Bonnie had talked to her on the phone numerous times and said she felt a connection to her. She told Luke she was like the grandmother she never had.

“I’ve been worried sick ever since you called yesterday,” she told Luke. “We’ve been renting to tourists for over thirty years and we’ve never had anything like this happen.”

“The people at the RCMP said the same thing, but they don’t seem to be doing much,” Luke said. “I’m going to shower and rest a while. It might be best to get a room over there.”

“I understand how you feel, but let me warn you—tourist season is at its peak right now and there aren’t many rooms available to rent.”

“I don’t care if I have to sleep in the car. I just need to be there.”

On the way to his room he saw Jack and Christina putting their suitcases in the Hummer. Luke told them what had happened and asked Jack if he had any contacts in Cardston.

“Man, I’m no help at all. I’ve done very little business in Canada. I don’t know anyone with the RCMP, no private investigators or even any lawyers in Cardston or the area. But, I have a friend in Calgary I can call,” Jack said. He reached in his wallet and pulled out a business card. On the back he scribbled a number. “That’s my cell phone number. We’re on our way home so give me a call tomorrow and I’ll let you know what I find out.”

Luke said he would and went to his room. After a hot shower he collapsed on the bed and within minutes he was asleep.

Five hours later there was a knock on the door. He bolted upright and saw at the clock. It was after two. He hadn’t intended to sleep that long. Dressed only in his boxers, he cracked the door to see a young girl in blue jeans with a vacuum cleaner at her side.

“Give me ten minutes and I’ll be out of here, okay?”

He dressed quickly and grabbed a quick lunch at the café before heading back to Cardston. As he approached the border he dreaded a repeat of the day before. But, none of the agents looked familiar and after he showed his passport and driver’s license they passed him through without incident.

As soon as he got to Cardston he stopped at the police station. Ernest was back in his office and Luke asked him if he’d been given the items he found in the alley earlier that morning.

“When I called in, they told me you left them here and I told them to turn everything over to Paul Simpson. He’s one of our officers here. We don’t have a full time investigator but he’s real good. I just got back a few minutes ago so I haven’t talked to him yet.”

“I’d really like to see what he’s found out. He needs to go over to the clinic and see if he can get some answers. I found all that stuff in the alley behind it. And her windbreaker was in a garbage bag in the dumpster, like someone was trying to hide it. It needs to be checked for DNA and—”

“Luke, settle down. I know you want to help, but I think it’s best if you just let us handle it, okay? Paul will get to it when he has time.”

Luke screamed, “When he has time? What in the hell is more important than this? Writing parking tickets?” His blood was on the verge of boiling. “My God, Ernest, Bonnie’s been missing for over twenty-four hours and you only have one person who’s going to work on it
when he has time?
”

“No, there’s a lot more happening than that,” he said, trying to settle Luke down. “Trust me Luke; we’re taking this very seriously. Every law enforcement agency in Alberta has been notified as well as personnel at all border crossing. Here in Cardston, every patrolman has her picture and we are looking all over the county. The sheriffs and highway patrolmen also have been briefed.”

“I crossed the border about seven this morning and no one even noticed my name,” he exclaimed. “I would think they’d notice my name if they were paying attention to this crap. It doesn’t sound to me like they’re taking it serious.”

“They are looking for a woman, not a man. That’s one reason they didn’t pay attention to you.”

Luke turned and stepped over to the window. He pulled off his cap and ran his hand through his dark hair while he thought. It seemed obvious that they weren’t equipped to handle an investigation like this. “Is there a private detective around here I can hire?”

“No. The closest one you can find is probably in Calgary.”

“So, what do I do now? Go to the motel and watch soap operas?”

“I know it’s hard, but give us some time. There’s not much to work with here. Paul’s good and he’s checking out that stuff you brought in. Let’s just give him some time.”

“I can help, Ernest.”

Ernest shook his head. “Luke, give us a little time.”