“I’ll call Tanaka in a few days. Nokomis too.” I looked out the window at the inlet and the night sky, the grey drizzle of rain. “I didn’t think I’d make it home.” He took my hand and held it gently.
“I was so scared Lucas. I’ve never been so scared. Gwen and Alex saved my life.” Once I heard the words, I knew that’s all I really wanted to say—out loud—so those words would stop bouncing around in my head. I was looking into his eyes when I said that and saw the fear.
“I need to be able to talk, Lucas.” Accusatory. What the hell was the matter with me.
“I want to hear everything you have to say.”
Then it dawned on me, the truth plain enough.
“You thought I wasn’t coming back.” I watch his eyes tear up.
“I should never have gone running, alone, at night.” I hate the sound of those words and I’m immediately so pissed off. Never go running again, alone, at night. Never again?
“That’s what you do. It’s who you are, a free spirit who goes for a run before dinner. It’s why I admire you, one of the many reasons I love you so very much.” His voice broke and he was silent for a while before continuing.
“After what happened to Carey Bolton. And now you.”
A free spirit who trembles and shakes and is afraid. I feel like I’m bleeding inside. Bart would say, when you’re ready, journal your feelings. My cousin Tanaka would tell me to turn on my camera. Document what’s happened to you. But I don’t want anyone to see. Or know. I don’t want to talk any more. I’m tired, but I don’t want to go back to bed. I don’t want to be alone, so I curl up on the couch beside Lucas. He got up to fetch a blanket for me.
Lucas looked at Morgan, awake moments ago, now fast asleep beside him. Kate told him about the visits they’d made to the Franklin Street house. He talked again with Michael last night about the children in the car with Carey. And the men—child trafficking—the attempt on Morgan’s life a message to back off.
The room was cool. He pulled the blanket up over her shoulders, careful not to disturb her. She didn’t want to be touched. Not even by him. He’d wake her later and help her back to the bedroom. He himself was so tired. He hadn’t slept well for days now. He was avoiding sleep because of the nightmares and last night, a new dream.
He was in the jungle, walking somewhere. His mother was with him and there are others, but he can’t see their faces. The Pintos are close. Soldiers. Pintos, a word he hasn’t heard in years. Like the beans—brown and white, mixed bloods—Spanish and Maya. The dream shifts and women are crying. They cry and cry, their tears a flood. A bloated carcass floats in their tears. The dream shifts again, and someone tells Lucas to look. His father, Rafael is there beside him. He’d been gathering firewood and he has a bundle of dry sticks strapped to his back. He’s standing in front of a rhododendron, his shirt so white against its red blooms.
He’d woken up in a cold sweat, heart racing, gasping for air; got up and had a quick shower. Waited a while before coming back to bed. He was almost asleep when he remembered the red rhododendron his mom had planted. After a few years, it was almost as tall as their hut.
CHAPTER 9
It’s Monday morning. I’m on the couch. Lucas is in the kitchen. I have to have him close, a coward now who can’t be alone. Not a coward. I’m scared ... stupid not to be scared. We’re too close. I was too close. They’re afraid. Everything is so mixed up. My dreams are mixed up. My thoughts are so dark. Shit. I need to pull myself together. How do I do that? Slept so late. Just want to sleep. But I’m out of bed now. Dressed. Hurrah for me.
Lucas interrupts my thoughts to hand me a cup of coffee. I force a smile. Why do I feel like he’s a stranger? He returns to the kitchen. I follow him, wanting to be in the same room.
“What were you writing, Morgan?”
Should I tell him? He already knows. Silent, I watch him carefully chop onions and garlic and hot peppers, move each pile to the waiting skillet. He says nothing. I want to speak. I can’t go back to that place. Not alone.
“There’s something I remember. Lying on a hard floor, hard like concrete and something against my face that felt like wool. There was loud banging and men’s voices. Angry. Yelling.” I remember words. Try to shape them, give them air, but they’re ugly and hard on my tongue. I don’t want to speak them yet.
“More than one man?” I hear the anxiety in his voice.
“Yes. More than one.” I’m relieved. I told him. If I don’t tell the truth, I’ll never get through this. We’ll never get through this. Neither of us spoke for a while. Men’s voices swirl in my head. Down a long tunnel, their voices echo back: House. Bitch. Fucking. Native. Bitch. Close. It. I make note of the words, but don’t share them. Lucas doesn’t ask what I’m writing.
The smell of browning onions and garlic and green chilies fills the room.
I break the silence. “What are you making?”
“A frittata.”
And yet another of my favourite dishes. His plan is to get me to eat. “I think I could eat a little.” Can’t believe I said that, and I want to take it back because I’m not hungry. At least the smell doesn’t make me nauseous. I should eat something. I know that. I’m trying to please him. He’s so unhappy—because I was beaten and raped and nearly killed.
“Not too much for me?”
“Okay.” A quiet glance in my direction. So much love in those blue eyes. What is the matter with me? It’s like part of me is missing. Part of me is missing. I re-read my notes and they give me an idea.
“I’m going to do a timeline for Detective Fernice. She needs to know everything that’s happened, up to when I was rescued.”
“I can do the writing, if you like.” He’s chopping veggies now.
“That would help. We’ll do it when Kate and Bart get here.” Kate insists Carey’s alive and I hold onto that for comfort. As they say in her Irish homeland, she has The Gift.
I remember the year I met Kate. Such a long time ago. A small plane went down somewhere in the Coastal Mountains below Prince George—a father and two sons, returning home to Vancouver from a vacation up north. Rescuers couldn’t find the plane and there was hope the men had survived. But Kate told us the men didn’t survive. I was quietly skeptical at first—an inward rolling of the eyes—but only because I liked her far too much to roll them in her presence.
Kate went to the VPD and told them about her vision of the plane wreck and the police arranged to take her up in a small plane to do a search. Kate directed them right to the site of the crashed plane! There were no survivors, just like she said. Talk about a major shift in one’s worldview—mine did a 360. I didn’t even know that the police used psychics.
“Kate called to say there’s a chance they might be late and if they are, we should go ahead without them,” said Lucas.
“I’d rather wait for them.”
“Me too.” Lucas had beaten eggs into a creamy froth and poured them over the veggies. He turned the burner down low, covered the pan and sat down at the table.
“Kate told me about the phone call to Carey’s mom, the Friday before you were taken. The caller said Carey was seen entering the house on Franklin Street. She said that a detective from VPD followed up the same day but told Rosaline that no one appeared to be living there.” He looked at me closely. “Are you okay to talk about this?”
“I’m okay. When we went to the house, there was someone there. A young Asian woman answered the door. She insisted Carey wasn’t there and that she lived there alone. She was upset we were there, but also very stoned. Our showing up could have freaked her out because of the drugs. Still.”
“The caller was very specific about the address.” He looked at me. “Then, you were taken three days later.” He returned to the stove and checked his frittata.
“Kate and I went back the same evening. I went back the next day. I left a note with my name and cell.”
Lucas dropped the egg lift
er and we both watched as it bounced across the floor.
He turned to me. “You went back. Alone.”
“I did, the next morning, but the house was empty. I’m sure it was. It felt—desolate. It seemed such a useless gesture, to leave a note, but we were all so disappointed that it turned out to be a dead end.”
“Of course.”
“I thought, maybe if someone comes back to the house and they read the note, they might remember something that could help us find Carey.”
He’d retrieved the egg lifter and rinsed it under the tap. Trying to be casual. “What did the note say?”
“I said we were looking for Carey Bolton and if anyone knew anything, please call me.”
Moving to the stove, Lucas checked the frittata again.
“If I’d been here, I could’ve gone with you.”
“But you weren’t.” There was a knock at the front door—Kate and Bart. I got up to let them in. They had to park a block away and neither of them are aware that the umbrella has been invented. The rain was coming down hard this morning and their outer garments were soaked.
“How are you?” they chorused together.
“I’m okay. I’m even a little hungry.” Maybe if I said it often enough, I might feel hungry. I fetched them towels from the bathroom.
“Sorry we’re late,” Bart called out in the direction of the kitchen, as the two of them removed their outdoor clothes and dried their hair. “Traffic was heavy, even for a Monday.” Then to me: “You’re hungry Morgan. That’s a good sign!” He seemed relieved. Sign of what? Right. Eating. A return to the land of the living. Me. Normal. Pretending to be normal.
“You’re appetite’s returning. I’m so glad to hear that, Morgan” said Kate, towelling her black curls vigorously.
I’d have to eat something now, even if I gagged on it. I hung up the towels and followed them to the kitchen.
“You’re not late,” said Lucas. “In fact, your timing couldn’t be better.” He’d dished up plates of food. They sat down and dug in with murmurs of pleasure. He offered coffee all around before sitting down.
I took a small bite, chewed, and swallowed. I was kind of surprised that it went down okay. “It’s good,” I said and meant it, “but Lucas, you gave me way too much.”
“Eat what you can, honey” he said, trying to hide the fact that he was completely elated.
“Thanks for this Lucas,” said Kate. “It’s delicious.”
“You are the master,” said Bart, reaching for toast.
“Morgan remembered something very important.”
Kate and Bart stopped eating and looked at me.
“Morgan visited the house on Franklin by herself. She left a note, with her name and number.”
“When Morgan?” asked Kate. The gentleness in her voice scared me.
“The morning after we went. I was on my way to Cineworks, to do some editing.”
“You didn’t mention it when we saw you later.”
“The house was empty Kate. It didn’t seem important.”
Kate looked at Lucas. “Best to buy a couple of burners.”
“Yup. After lunch.”
Kate caught Bart’s eye, “We should too. Take no chances.”
“We will. On our way home,” said Bart. He turned to me. “Someone had your schedule and knew that you’d be at the park on Tuesday, or they followed you there. And if they followed you there, they must know that you work at SFU. They may have gotten their information from someone at the university, maybe one of your students, Morgan.”
“If they had her cell number, they wouldn’t need much else. Maybe they, whoever they are, are keeping tabs on all of us,” said Kate.
“We’ve lost valuable time, thanks to me,” I said. “No one is going to get the drop on me again!”
“Morgan, you have no responsibility here!” said Bart.
“But she’s right,” said Kate.” We’re running out of time.”
“Morgan wants to create a timeline: between Carey’s abduction on September 18th, and her rescue, October 7th” said Lucas.
“I have an interview with Detective Fernice tomorrow morning. I’m taking it with me.”
Lucas had a notebook and calendar on the table beside him. “It’s been 24 days since Carey was abducted.” We all let that sink in.
“It was a lucky break when Mike spotted her getting into the Suburban, behind the Clarendon,” said Bart.
“Saturday, September 27th, nine days after she went missing,” said Lucas.
“The VPD has a record because Michael reported it immediately and he was interviewed a few days later. Detective Fernice will have the reports,” said Kate.
“The day after Morgan was abducted, Michael and I talked. He called Gilbrauson at MPU.”
“What did he say?”
“He didn’t call back until Thursday and by then, MPU knew that Morgan had been rescued. Gilbrauson said he’d add Michael’s concern that the abductions were linked to Carey’s case notes. He went on holiday the next day.”
“We know at least one club member is involved,” said Kate, or someone who’s friends with a member.”
“A club employee could be involved too,” said Bart.
“For all we know, bringing children to the club is business as usual,” said Kate. “The duty of care to children is a bloody fucking fiction. Paedophiles and paedophile rings: The UK—Jimmy Savile, BBC, raped hundreds of kids; Savile dead now and never charged. His is only one of the historical cases still under investigation there. The Franklin horror in the US and Canada no better with its own abysmal record of convictions. I assume there are security cameras at the back of the club.”
“There’s a security attendant in the office at the back entrance, but he doesn’t have a window facing the street and he doesn’t have a view of the parking lot exit west of the club. When we had dinner with Michael, he showed us where he spotted the car and the closest street camera is about 20 metres away,” said Lucas. “Michael assumed the VPD didn’t request footage.”
“A fair assumption,” said Kate. “How long has he been a member?”
“Since he joined Bourdais Lambert,” I said. “I’m not sure what year. His area is intellectual property, but you know that. Interesting clientele: writers, musicians, people in film.” Me trying to make a joke.
“All the best people,” said Kate with a smile, playing along.
“It’s quite the place. It was modernized a few years back.”
“The Hong Kong Shanghai Banking Corporation, HSBC—the second biggest bank in the world—many billions of dollars in assets, has a branch right next door,” said Lucas.
“I think they might even be sharing a wall with the club,” I said.
“Oh, they do,” said Lucas. “I checked.”
“Right. HSBC,” said Kate. “They’re in the dirty laundry business on the side. Must be so handy for some of the members to have them right next door.”
“I’m sure it is, Kate,” said Lucas with a grin. “The influence of money and power. You feel it the moment you walk through the door.
“I’ll admit to feeling out of my element,” I said.
“You looked beautiful that night,” said Lucas, trying to catch my eye. “I always feel like an interloper and I’ve been there a few times now for SFU functions.”
“I’ve been thinking a lot lately about power and the powerful,” said Lucas. “You’ve seen Morgan’s pictures of our visit to Guatemala.”
“All of your pictures are incredible,” said Kate. I tried to pass it off. “They are Morgan!”
“Do you remember the ones she took of the Catholic church in the town square in Nebaj? The Catholic Church, house of their Lord and the entrance to that house is a massive wooden front door, covered in Mayan religious symbols!” He grinned at the thought. “The 40-foot ceiling, statues larger than life. The massive, black Christ with his crown of thorns—Spanish domination
and Spanish money—but built by my ancestors, with their wonderfully rich Mayan religious and cultural touches everywhere—like hidden messages.”
“But at the club, there are no hidden messages from the poor,” I said.
“I’m sure not,” said Bart. The club is for the rich and powerful. It’s a mark of membership.”
“Exactly. And in the real world, some of those bastards get away with murder,” said Kate.
“That they do,” I agreed.
“After dinner and drinks, we moved about, here and there, somewhat surreptitiously,” said Lucas.
“As surreptitious as four brown folks can hope to be,” I said.
“Michael’s been scouting around a lot since he saw Carey,” said Lucas. “There’s overnight accommodation on the fifth floor. Fernice and Desocarras need to know just how easy it is to get up there and back down to the parking level, completely unnoticed.”
“They did their big reno a few years back. The public areas got the upgrades, and the private areas, like the stairways, were ignored,” I said. “We went up by elevator, and back down by stairways along the walls of the building. We didn’t see a single soul coming down. I think most people use the elevators. There’s a bank of them.”
“Members, their children, and guests all use the overnight accommodation on the fifth floor,” said Lucas.
“Michael says once you’re registered, you can come and go pretty much as you please,” I said.
“You think it would be easy to bring children in and out, undetected?” asked Bart.
“Very easy,” I said.
“Children are allowed at the club. If they’re under 13, the General Manager is supposed to be informed that they’re there, and they have to be supervised.”
“’Supposed to be informed’ are the operative words here,” I said, looking a Lucas. “A member could rent accommodation and bring children into the club and no one would be the wiser.”
“There’s a staff lounge on the ground floor, near the back entrance and a gym as well,” said Lucas. “There not much else on that floor.”
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