Tumbled Graves (2 page)

T
he
desk sergeant, Fred Taylor, took the call at exactly 4:23 p.m., and after a moment's reflection punched it through to Staff Sergeant Jacques Rouleau. Taylor knew his decision to send the call to Major Crimes might be an overreaction, given that the mother and child were only missing a few hours, but the details put their disappearance into the higher risk category. And hadn't he been warned to pay more attention when a child was involved? In any case, his conscience would be clear. Rouleau could decide.

Rouleau was in his office with Paul Gundersund when the phone rang. He held up a finger and smiled at Gundersund. “Hold that thought. I really want to know why you keep giving the Leafs your blind devotion when they finished in the basement again this year. It might be time to cut your losses and join the Habs' fan club.”

Gundersund shook his head and watched Rouleau as he listened to whoever was at the other end of the call. His own stomach tightened when Rouleau's features changed from relaxed to attentive, his mouth settling into a stern line. He reached for a pen and pad of paper and jotted down an address. Gundersund's first thought was that something had happened to Rouleau's ex-wife, Frances. The talk around the station was that she was in a hospice in Ottawa. Nobody knew where the rumour started, but it hadn't come from Rouleau. Gundersund hadn't known how to broach the subject with his boss.

Rouleau ended the call. He was still for a moment, deep in thought. His green eyes met Gundersund's. “I think we should send someone to have a look at this one.”

Gundersund reached across the desk and took the paper from Rouleau. “What have you got?”

“A woman named Adele Delaney and her young daughter, Violet, didn't turn up at an appointment after lunch. Her friend Catherine Lockhart went to check on them and found the front door open, breakfast still on the table. She called the husband, Ivo Delaney, and he beat it home. He says that he has no idea where they could be. That's the address. Apparently in a rural area just outside of Kingston, but still within city limits.” Rouleau looked out his open office door and spotted Kala Stonechild at her desk. He checked his watch. “See if Stonechild can manage the call with you. I'll be in a budget meeting with Heath but check in and let me know what's going on.”

Gundersund unfolded his large frame from the chair. “I'm on it.”

“Let's hope it's nothing.”

“I won't go looking for trouble.”

Gundersund left Rouleau's office and walked over to Kala Stonechild's desk. “Got time for a run just outside the city? A woman and her kid have gone missing. Rouleau thinks it's worth checking.”

She looked up at him, black eyes expressionless. “Yeah, just let me make a quick call.”

“I'll meet you outside.”

This had become their way of operating. Clipped sentences. All business. Gundersund couldn't figure out why Stonechild had decided to freeze him out, but she was doing a hell of a job. He walked down the hall and into the fresh air. The station was out of the downtown on Division Street. A modern building low to the ground with a large outdoor parking lot on the south side. He kept going until he reached his vintage Mustang. He leaned on the front hood and waited. Puddles dotted the ground, left over from the early morning rain, but the sun was out and felt good on his face. It had been a wet, bone-chilling winter. He needed something warm to chase away the bleak lethargy that was keeping him in front of the television night after night like an old man in his undershirt.

A few minutes later Stonechild sauntered toward him, wearing a black leather jacket and sunglasses, looking more like a biker than a cop. She pointed toward her truck. “I'll follow you. I have to get home right after this.”

He wanted to tell her how ridiculous it was to take two vehicles when they lived so close to each other. He could drive her home and pick her up in the morning, and her truck would be safe in the police parking lot overnight. Instead, he nodded and asked, “Do you know where we're going in case we get separated?”

“It's not like we're driving through New York City. Don't worry, I won't lose you.”

He shrugged and got into his car. He waited until Stonechild had started her engine before easing out of his parking spot. When he reached the Princess Street intersection, she was still right behind him. They headed down the one-way through the downtown toward the harbour. He waited at the lights and turned left, straight past the armed forces base and across the bridge out of town. The water level was up with spring runoff. It sparkled in the sunshine, giving an unexpected jolt of pleasure. Highway 2 followed Lake Ontario and ten minutes out he turned north on a side road. The houses were spread out on large wooded lots. He slowed, checking house numbers until a few minutes later he spotted the Delaneys', a two-storey house with grey siding. Two cars were lined up in the drive but there was room for a couple more. He pulled in and Stonechild swung in behind him. They walked up the drive together.

“How's Dawn doing?” Gundersund asked. He looked sideways at her. She kept her eyes straight ahead, the angular lines of her face looking as if they'd been chiselled into a block of granite. Her long black hair lifted back from her face in a sudden gust of wind.

“Not great. Having your parents in prison and living with a stranger can be hard on a thirteen-year-old.” She finally turned to look at him. Her cheek muscle twitched. “Sometimes I wonder if I'm up for this. Then I remember that I'm all she has.”

“You'll be fine. Just give it some time.”

“Well, we've got nothing but. Her parents aren't going anywhere for a good number of years anyway.”

Gundersund leaped up the steps and rang the bell. A plump woman in her thirties with a pleasant face answered the door. Her eyes flashed relief when they said they were from the Kingston police. “I'm Adele's friend, Catherine Lockhart,” she said. “Ivo, Adele's husband, is in the living room. He seems … at a loss.” She held the door open until they were inside, then turned and started down the hall.

Gundersund shot Stonechild a worried look that she returned. They both knew this could turn odd very quickly. They followed Catherine into the living room. Ivo Delaney sat hunched into himself on the couch. Gundersund took a second to realize that he was reading something on his phone. A boy who looked to be four or five was building something out of Lego on the floor. He had the same reddish hair and freckled pug face as Catherine. The child who had been reported missing was a girl, so this had to be Catherine's son — if the resemblance hadn't already confirmed it.

“Ivo,” she said louder than she need to. “The police are here.”

“I gathered that.” Ivo set the phone down beside him and pushed himself to his feet. Gundersund could see that Ivo Delaney was a man ill at ease in his own body. Being a big man himself, he knew the feeling of always being on display with nowhere to hide. He instinctively reached out and shook Ivo's hand. It was soft and sweaty, no pressure returned.

“I can't imagine where Adele and Violet have gotten to,” Ivo said, releasing his hand and sinking back onto the couch. He leaned forward and ran his fingers through his hair, scratching both sides of his head before letting his hands fall between his knees. Catherine seemed unsure what to do. She glanced worriedly between them before walking over to sit on the edge of the couch next to Ivo.

Gundersund and Stonechild pulled the only two chairs in the room closer and angled them in front of Ivo. Gundersund nodded at Stonechild to take the lead.

“Mr. Delaney, when did you last have contact with your wife?” Stonechild asked. She kept her eyes focused on his face until he finally looked at her.

“She was in bed when I left for work at the bank. It's the CIBC on Princess. That would have been around six-thirty. I'm an accountant and this is a very busy time of year. I hadn't had a chance to call her all day, but tried before four o'clock, after Catherine phoned me to say that my wife had missed an appointment. I rushed right home.”

“Has your wife ever done this before? Left for the day without telling you?”

“No. At least, not that I know of. She's always home when I get back or she tells me where she is.”

“Your daughter …”

“Violet, yes, she's missing along with Adele. My daughter is three years old. She'll be starting kindergarten in the fall.”

“Was Adele upset about anything?”

“How do you mean?”

“Oh, I don't know. Had you been fighting about anything? Was something bothering her about living out in the country?”

Ivo's cheeks reddened. “No, nothing unusual. She talked yesterday about us going on a trip to
celebrate
our wedding anniversary. She liked living in the country.”

“Have you checked with your friends and family to see if they've heard from Adele?”

Ivo raised his head and hope crossed his features. “I hadn't thought of that! She has a sister. They're not close, but maybe that's where she's gone.” He grabbed his phone and flipped through a couple of screens until he pressed her number.

“What's the sister's name?” Gundersund asked while they waited.

“Leanne Scott. She lives in Gananoque.”

Stonechild sent Gundersund a questioning look. “About half an hour from here,” he said. She nodded. He could tell by her eyes that she also thought Ivo was a man grasping at straws.

Ivo spoke a few words into the phone before he dropped it back onto the couch. His shoulders rolled in further. “She hasn't heard from Adele today.”

Gundersund almost felt sorry for the guy. Sorry until he reminded himself that the husband was always the first suspect when a wife went missing. “I'll take her phone number and address and your wife's cellphone number.” He jotted them down in his notepad before asking, “Do you mind if we have a quick look around? I understand she left food out in the kitchen.”

Catherine jumped up. “I could take them, Ivo.”

“It's okay. You stay here with Sam.” He stood and led Stonechild and Gundersund into the hall. He stopped and turned to look at them when they entered the kitchen. The ruddy colour was back in his cheeks. The hand he lifted to his forehead had a slight tremor. “I've already checked the basement. I found Violet's knapsack and stuffed rabbit on the floor and the television left on. She never goes anywhere without her rabbit. Puts up a big fuss if we forget to pack it. I didn't want to say this in front of Catherine and the boy, but I have a very bad feeling about this, officers. A very bad feeling.”

K
ala
Stonechild looked at the food on the kitchen counter and the meals left uneaten on the table. Adele and her daughter had been interrupted while they were getting ready to sit down to their meal, no question. They'd left on an emergency or somebody had forced them out of the house. As the afternoon slid into evening, the second option was becoming a dangerously real possibility. If it had been an emergency, Adele would certainly have called her husband by now. She wouldn't have turned off her phone. But who would take them, and why?

“Do you want to see the basement?”

She looked into Ivo's eyes — a nondescript pale shade of blue, small dark centres. He seemed so unsure of himself, a man who cared too much, perhaps. She wondered what type of woman would have joined her life to his. One equally as unassuming? “Yes, thank you,” she answered.

She followed him down the steps while Gundersund called into the station. The room was large, carpeted, and wood-panelled. A flat screen
perched on one wall with a couch facing it. A colouring book and crayons lay scattered on the floor. Violet had been colouring a duck in galoshes holding a bright yellow umbrella. Kala walked past the picture to check the laundry room and small bathroom. The furnace room was also empty. No sign of Adele or Violet, but she hadn't expected there to be. Ivo was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs.

“How did you the two of you meet?” she asked.

He seemed startled by her question before a smile lifted the corners of his lips. He looked younger, not handsome but passable, when the worry lines in his face relaxed. “Adele came into the bank and I was asked to help her with a problem. For some reason, we got along. She asked if I had time for coffee. Before I knew it we were seeing each other every day. I owned this house in the country and she asked if she could stay with me.”

“Were you married by then?”

“No, we'd only known each other two weeks, but she just moved right into my bedroom. We decided to get married and went to city hall the following week.”

“Two weeks. That was quick.”

“Yeah, I could barely believe it myself. A woman like Adele falling for me. You only get a chance like that once in a lifetime, if ever. I wasn't going to let it go by hesitating.”

The conversation felt intimate, as if the real Ivo was letting himself out. Kala was sorry when Gundersund pounded down the stairs and broke the moment.

“Do you have a couple of recent photos of your wife and daughter, Ivo? We can get started on circulating them.”

“Of course. They're on my computer.”

They all filed back up the stairs. Catherine and Sam met them in the kitchen. “We need to get on home. Sam is hungry and it will soon be his bedtime. Will you be okay, Ivo?” Catherine asked.

“I'll be fine. I'll call you as soon as I hear anything from Adele.”

“I want to play with Violet,” Sam said. He pulled on his mother's arm until she restrained him with her free hand.

“We'll be back another time when Violet is home,” Catherine said. “Say goodbye to Ivo.”

“No.”

Catherine smiled an apology. “Make sure you call me as soon as you hear anything. We'll let ourselves out.” She took a firm grip on Sam's arm and frog marched him toward the kitchen door that led into the front hall.

“I'll just jot down your phone number and address,” Gundersund said, following her. “We might have more questions if Adele isn't home by morning.”

“I'll be by the phone, waiting to hear from somebody,” Catherine tossed over her shoulder before disappearing from view with Gundersund right behind her.

“I'll get you those photos, shall I?” Ivo asked Kala when they were alone.

She nodded. He led her through a second door down a short hallway into a small study. She took a moment to breathe in this sanctuary, tucked into a corner of the building. On first entry, she'd liked the feel of this house. High beamed ceilings, double paned windows with stained-glass transoms, hardwood floors and comfortable, well-worn furniture. Ivo's office was more of the same, dominated by an antique oak desk and swivel chair. It faced a window with a view of the woods, darkening now in the purple and indigo shadows of evening.

Ivo sat down at his desk and clicked on the keys. A series of images appeared on the screen. He clicked again and a woman and child filled the space. Kala leaned in, surprised. Adele Delaney was a looker: long brown hair with honey highlights, direct blue eyes, full lips, and pointed chin. Strength emanated from her eyes, the set of her jaw. Kala had no doubt this was a woman who would not put up with bullshit. The child was tiny and blond. Eyes like a doe and delicate features in a heart-shaped face. She was going to break some hearts in the school yard. Adele had her arm wrapped around Violet's shoulder, holding her close. Kala would never have placed either one of them with Ivo.

“This will do,” Kala said. “Do you have separate head shots of them?”

Ivo nodded and brought up two more pictures for her approval. He transferred them to her mobile and she sent them on to Rouleau. Seeing the two missing people made this more real and urgent than before.

“Do you know of anyone who would want to harm your wife or child?” she asked the back of his head.

Ivo's shoulders drooped. “We lead a quiet life, Detective. Adele wanted it that way. I have no idea who would force them out of our house.” He turned and fixed eyes glistening with anguish upon her. “I just want everything to go back the way it was this morning when I left them safe and sleeping. I want you to bring them home.”

“I know. I need to ask though: if Adele was depressed, would she take Violet into the woods? Have you checked the grounds around the house?”

“My wife wasn't suicidal. I checked the yard before we called and they aren't there. They rarely go into the woods.”

“They never disappear with the front door open either. We have to look everywhere.”

He bowed his head. “This makes no sense. Adele isn't flighty or unpredictable. She wouldn't do anything to put Violet in harm's way. I know that as surely as I'm standing here.”

“We don't need to jump to any conclusions either, but we need to eliminate possibilities, no matter how remote. My partner and I will walk around the grounds before we leave.”

“I understand, but I must insist that wherever they are, Adele wouldn't just leave me unless she was being forced. She's my wife, Detective. I know her better than anyone. Something is very wrong.”

Descending darkness and mist made the search difficult and less than thorough. Kala walked the east perimeter of the half-acre yard, venturing several feet into the woods when the foliage allowed. Gundersund was mirroring her search on the western edge. The temperature had dropped along with the disappearing sun and Kala shivered in her short-sleeved shirt, having left her jacket in the truck. Her shoes were soaked through from wet grass and pooled rain that had fallen earlier in the day. Her hair was damp from the moisture in the air. She cursed quietly when a branch slapped back and struck her cheek. Maybe they shouldn't be stumbling around back here in the semi-dark. If something untoward had happened, they might be trampling on evidence that would be more apparent in daylight. Something told her that Violet and Adele were not going to be found this close to home. She pushed back a low-hanging branch and stepped back onto the lawn. Gundersund's tall, dark shape was moving toward her across the last stretch of property. He stopped a few feet away, closer than felt comfortable.

“Find anything?” he asked.

“Nothing. Unless we have a better idea of where they are, this could be a fool's mission.”

“Yeah. They might be halfway to Europe by now. I phoned Rouleau a few minutes ago. He said to give it a night and see if Adele makes contact. He agrees the whole situation is suspicious, but we can't be sure a crime has been committed. She might have run off with a boyfriend for all we know.”

They started walking toward the lights of the house. They should have led to a safe, warm harbour. Now, they seemed eerie in the foggy night air. “What do you make of this?” she asked.

“Not sure. He's an odd one though. I wonder if he would have reported this if the neighbour hadn't entered the house. Maybe he did something to chase them off … or worse.”

Kala stopped. “You think he killed them and then planned to come back after work and tidy up the kitchen and carry on as if nothing happened? He'd never get away with it.”

“I'm just running around possibilities. We both know that a husband is suspect number one when a wife goes missing.”

“I just don't get that vibe off the guy. Why kill his child?”

“No idea, Stonechild, but people do crazy stuff all the time.”

“So, we just leave him here tonight?”

“Nothing more we can do. I'll check in with Rouleau and we can be on our way.”

“I suppose we don't have any other choice. Let's hope they turn up by morning and Ivo's dire prediction that something is wrong proves unfounded.”