Tumbled Graves (24 page)

A
ny
word yet?” Gundersund asked.

Kala shook her head. “The assistant says Judge Dixon will sign as soon as she gets back from court. She's due in the office around one thirty.”

“Well, I guess I can wait that long. The cottage isn't going anywhere.”

“Yeah.” Kala drummed her fingers on the top of her desk. She wanted to get moving. She pulled up the map of Otter Lake again and had another look at the road to Maurice Manteau's property. It looked to be off from the other cottages on a piece of pie-shaped land, ending in a narrow stretch of beachfront. The acreage spread like a fan back toward the road. She guessed the road would be more of a dirt track by the distance it was from the main road. Her cell rang and she checked the number.

“
Salut,
Prevost. Any news?” She was watching Gundersund as she spoke. He lifted his head and looked across at her. Woodhouse and Bennett were on a call. Prevost's voice was low and heavily accented.

“Etienne Manteau
dit rien d'important
. I had to let him go after breakfast. With sad misgivings.”

“I didn't believe he would say anything, but thanks for trying.”

“Ah, but I have something else to tell you. Chez Louis did not open today. It is the first time in the history of the bar. Many patrons were left
sans bi
è
re
.”

“Could it have stayed closed because Etienne Manteau was in custody?”

“I don't think so. The cousin, Philippe Lebeau, runs the bar. He would still open without problem. I have one other odd thing to report.”

“What's that?” She saw Gundersund get up from his chair and come toward her.

“Cécile did not go to the appointment with her parole officer yesterday afternoon. She's not in her apartment. I drove over myself to find her. We have put a bulletin out.”

“So Chez Louis remained closed and Cécile has disappeared.” She repeated for Gundersund's
benefit.
He was standing uncomfortably close, leaning across the desk to listen in.

“And Etienne is on the loose.”

“Could they all be making a run for the border?” She was only half joking. Something was going on and they were a step behind. She hung up after thanking Prevost and looked up at Gundersund. “Our suspects in Montreal are on the move, it appears. What do you think it could mean?”

He stepped back and leaned against her desk, arms folded across his chest. Kala became aware of the smell of Irish Spring soap and freshly washed clothes dried in the outdoors. She took a closer look. His hair had been trimmed since she'd last seen him and he'd shaved the two days growth from his cheeks. If Kala had to guess, she'd say he'd been on a date with Fiona, or she'd moved back in.

“No idea,” he said. “Feel like grabbing some lunch while we wait?”

“Why not?”

They got club sandwiches and coffee and found a table in the far corner of the lunchroom. A lot of support staff were on break and the noise level was high. Kala looked for Fiona as she balanced the tray and wove through the rows of chairs but didn't see her. Gundersund was walking ahead with his head lowered and didn't appear to be searching for his wife. Kala decided not to read anything into it.

Gundersund knew Kala well enough to stop talking while they dug into the food, something she appreciated about him. She liked to enjoy what she was eating, even if just a cafeteria sandwich. When she was onto the last wedge, she looked up and saw him staring at her with a smile on his face. She reached for the napkin and wiped her mouth. “What?”

“I don't know. I like watching you eat.”

“Great. So I'm a freak show.”

“No, that's not it. I like that you get so much enjoyment out of your food. It's refreshing.”

“Well, I like to eat.”

“That makes two of us.” He took a big bite of sandwich as if to prove his point. After chewing and swallowing, he said, “Say, have you seen how Woodhouse is strutting around lately like the cat that ate the canary?”

“That's the way he's always been.” She tried to think if Woodhouse had said anything out of the ordinary and couldn't come up with anything. “He's probably showing off for Bennett. You know, doing that dominant male stuff to make certain Bennett knows his place in the pecking order.”

“Maybe. How's it going with Dawn since the baseball tournament?”

“I have a meeting with her counsellor Dr. Lyman today. Dawn and me both.”

“You seem worried.”

“Because I am. I have no faith in the system, in case you haven't noticed.”

“They'd be crazy to move Dawn now. She's settling in with you and getting happier. You're doing a great job, Stonechild.”

“I'm not so sure, but thanks. Tomorrow I might have a fight on my hands to keep her.”

“Why's that?”

“Nothing for you to worry about.”

“Well, if I can help …” His phone buzzed on the table. He grabbed it and checked the message. “Time to roll. The search warrant just came through.”

“At last.” She slurped the last of her coffee as she stood. “Let's hope I'm not taking us on a wild goose chase.”

Randy pulled two green plastic lawn chairs off the pile and carried them to the cash for Mrs. Fielding. She tried to slip a five dollar bill into his hand but he gently refused it. “You keep that for your grandkids,” he said and was rewarded with a wide smile. Mrs. Fielding had lost her husband two years before and Randy worried that she was showing signs of dementia. He'd passed the information along to Leanne in the hopes she could warn Mrs. Fielding's doctor at the clinic. He waited around until she'd paid for the chairs and then took them into the parking lot and slid them into her hatchback. The clouds were looking ominous and the wind had come up since he'd driven to work. Another spring storm rolling in. On the way back across the parking lot he spotted Chuck Darenger having a smoke on the far side of the building.

“What's going on?” Randy asked as he approached.

“Nothing. Just finished putting out the fertilizer and compost.” Chuck pointed inside. “Did you hear them paging you just now?”

“No, I was helping Mrs. Fielding.”

“Well somebody wants you.”

“Guess I'll go check.”

He headed back to the main doors, figuring Leanne had finally gotten some free time at work to call him back. He'd left a message on her cellphone at his ten o'clock break just before his phone ran out of juice. It was charging in the office so if she'd been trying to reach him unsuccessfully she'd try the store line.

Kelly was behind the customer service desk. She waved him over.

“Hey, Randy. The clinic just called a minute ago and asked that you phone them back.”

“Was it Leanne?”

“I don't think so.”

“Great, thanks.”

An uneasy feeling made him quicken his steps to the back office to get his cellphone. It was three quarters charged and the light was flashing to show he had a message. Looked like Leanne had tried to get ahold of him. He hit her speed dial number and listened to it ring five times before going to her voice mail. Strange but not worrisome. He squinted at the screen and scrolled through the address book until he found the clinic. A few seconds later, the other receptionist, Wendy, picked up.

“I'm looking for Leanne,” he said. “Can you pass me over to her?”

“Randy? I just called you because she hasn't come in this morning and she's not answering her phone.”

“That can't be right. She was getting ready for work when I left the house this morning around eight.”

“It's not like her to miss work without notifying us. I hope everything's okay.”

“I'm sure it is. I'll make a run home and will call you after I speak with her.”

He disconnected and stood for a moment looking out the office window. It had gotten darker since he helped Mrs. Fielding with her chairs. He heard a rumble of thunder and looked around for his rain jacket. It was hanging on a hook on the back of the door. He grabbed it on his way out.

“Just heading home for a minute,” he said to Kelly on his way by. “Call this my early lunch.”

He drove above the speed limit and arrived home ten minutes later at the same time as a lightning flash jagged across the sky off to the east. The clouds had darkened and hung low over the town. The rain would be starting any second. Leanne walked to work so he wasn't alarmed to see her car in the driveway. He parked behind it and skirted around the house into the backyard. One of her flower boxes was tipped over near the walkway and he tried to remember if it had been upright when he left for work that morning. He would have sworn it had been. The wind was strong but not that strong.

What the hell was going on?

He opened the back door and called her name but silence greeted him. He spotted her purse hanging on a hook just inside the door. She never left home without it. His voice rose to a higher pitch as he yelled for her and ran from room to room. Back in the kitchen he tried to get his breathing under control and think this thing through. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he quickly checked the number. Kelly was calling him from the store.

“Yeah, Kelly. I seem to have a problem here at home so I probably won't be in for the rest of the afternoon until I get it sorted.” He listened and then said. “Thanks. You too.”

He leaned against the counter with the phone in his hand. Her call reminded him that he hadn't checked his voice mail and he logged into the system. The second message was from a number he didn't recognize. He clicked on the right button to listen to it. A stranger's voice filled his ear.

“I have your wife. We're having a friendly chat about where the two of you've hidden Violet. If you want Leanne back in one piece, I'd say you better get my kid to me ASAP. Call me back at this number.”

Randy clicked on the next message. This time it was Leanne's voice, shakier than he'd ever heard it.

“Randy, he means what he says but I keep telling him we don't know where …” A scream, and the line went dead.

Randy clicked back through the messages until the man rhymed off his phone number again. He logged out of the voice mail system and punched in the digits with sweating fingers. The phone rang once before the man picked up.

“I'll bring her.” Randy said into the silent phone. “Tell me where to make the trade.”

After he tucked his phone back into his pocket, he jotted down the instructions on a notepad in the shape of a cat that Leanne kept by the home phone. Then he took the steps two at a time into the basement. He used a key on his key ring to unlock a cabinet partially hidden behind the couch and pulled out his hunting rifle. From a separate location he took cartridges from a box and loaded the chamber.

The rain soaked him on his way back to his truck but he barely registered the wet or the cold. He unlocked the front door and hid the loaded gun on the back seat under a Hudson's Bay blanket. The fear he'd felt at hearing the man say he had his wife had turned to fury when he heard Leanne scream. If this guy thought he was going to do to her what he'd done to Adele, then he had another thing coming.

He'd blow the bastard away without a second's hesitation.

T
hey
left the cafeteria and stopped by the office before heading to Otter Lake. Gundersund crossed the floor to Rouleau's office to check in while Stonechild went to the washroom. Bennett and Woodhouse were back at their desks, both speaking on their phones. An unnatural darkness had settled outside the windows, making it look as if night had fallen. Wind battered the glass but so far no rain.

“We're on our way to Smiths Falls,” Gundersund said, standing in the doorway.

Rouleau looked up from a document he was reading. He'd turned on his desk lamp and the light was a circle of brightness in the dark room. “There you are. I'm sorry to make you put off your trip, but Heath wants you to take a call at the mayor's office. It's a sensitive case of a staff member being stalked and he specifically asked that you take it. I've opened a new file in the system under today's date and sent the case number to you in an email.”

“Woodhouse and Bennett should be able to handle the interview.”

“Normally I'd agree, but Heath was adamant that it be you and Stonechild.”

Gundersund rubbed his jaw and thought about how he'd tell her that their jaunt was on hold. He heard her laugh and looked over his shoulder. Stonechild and Bennett had their heads together at her desk.

He looked back at Rouleau. “What if I go to the mayor's office alone and Stonechild and Bennett have a look at the cottage?”

“You think it's that urgent?”

“To be honest, I have no idea, but this feels like something that has to be done sooner rather than later.” He must have caught some of Stonechild's bloodhound instincts because he was as disappointed as he knew she'd be at the thought of waiting another day.

“So, ready to hit the road?” Stonechild had come up behind him. She was holding a black raincoat. “I want to make sure we're back in time for my appointment with Dawn at four-thirty.”

“We've got a change of plans,” Rouleau looked past Gundersund to where she was standing. “Take Bennett. Call in when you've had a look at the cottage and I'll have a forensics team on standby.” She stared uncertainly at Gundersund and he nodded. “I've got another call. I'll see you later.”

Her eyes told him that she found this odd but she would roll with the change. She nodded back and went to tell Bennett he'd be her partner for the afternoon.

Gundersund took another look out the window as he walked back to his desk. Was it the impending storm that was making him apprehensive about letting Stonechild go on this trip without him? Driving might get rough when the rain struck, but she was more than competent. He tried to shake off the worried feeling, but it was still with him when he sat at his computer to check the messages. “Take your sidearm,” he said as she passed by him on the way to the door.

Stonechild stopped as if considering. “Yeah, okay, although probably not necessary.”

“I've got mine,” said Bennett, rounding his desk to follow her.

“That'll be enough. We're not going to arrest anybody.” Stonechild kept walking and was out the door before Gundersund voiced his unease.

“Don't worry,” called Bennett, stopping and turning as he reached the exit. “I'll keep a good eye on her.” He grinned and dimples appeared in his cheeks, making him look all of fifteen years old.

Gundersund watched the door close after him before turning back to the task at hand. He rubbed the scar on his cheek and told himself to relax. The feeling in his gut was simple indigestion from having eaten too quickly and drinking one too many cups of coffee. The two of them would be fine. He'd get this call over with and pick up some groceries on his way home. It would be good to finish work early for a change. Maybe he'd even get some laundry done. He was down to his last pair of clean socks.

“When will this damn rain stop?” Randy craned his neck and looked up at the sky through the windshield wipers. He was waiting for a chain of cars to pass by on the left so that he could turn onto Otter Lake Road from Highway 15 north. The drive had been slow going with the rain coming down in buckets and a bunch of slow-moving cars in front of him. Normally, he would have passed them in a nanosecond, but vision was limited and he wanted to make sure he wasn't in an accident. That's all he'd need.

A break came in the oncoming traffic and he made the turn. He took a second to pull over and check the map. The cottage was on the left side of Otter Lake, toward the southern tip. It was a fair-sized lake and the cottage lots looked to be big and well treed. Lots of cedar and deciduous trees, not yet in full leaf. Some of the lots had grass to mow once the season got going but others had kept a wilder tangle of bushes and forest. They'd give him some cover. He didn't spot any cars on the properties as he drove slowly past. This weather and the lousy spring would have kept people from opening their cottages for the season. The road was paved but narrow with a yellow line painted down the centre, for which he was thankful with the rain making it difficult to see far ahead.

The man had told him to drive about ten minutes until he saw a red scarf tied to a post on his left. The cottage would be down the incline heading toward the water. He was to pull in and park and wait for the man to come to him. “Yeah, right,” Randy said out loud. “Wait in the cab like a sitting duck while you take a shot at me from wherever you've settled yourself.”

About five minutes down the road, Randy pulled off and backed his truck through a tangle of weeds to park behind a string of cedar trees. When he was satisfied that the truck couldn't be spotted from the road, he put on his rain poncho and grabbed his rifle from under the blanket. He slid out of the cab and shut the door as quietly as he could, leaving the key in the ignition. With the nose of his tuck pointing toward the road, he'd be ready for a quick getaway if it came to that.

The sound of the rain pattering on the cottage roof and trees made Randy feel like he'd stepped into a world cut off from civilization. The rain muffled sounds and gave a dreamy feel to the woods. He figured he had a few kilometres to go before his destination but he'd be careful and stay hidden just off the road, keeping to the trees and bushes. He was going to need the element of surprise to separate this guy from Leanne so he could get off a good shot. Hopefully, there was only one of them; he had no reason to think otherwise. His first choice would be to shoot the guy in the leg to immobilize him, but he'd do what he had to do. Shooting a man would be like shooting a moose. He had to think of it that way. He had to remember what this animal had done to Adele.