“Is he angry?”
“He’ll be fine, once everything’s been taken care of.”
They left the room shortly after, but Carey waited until she heard them leave by the back door before she crawled out. She sat down carefully at the end of Seth’s bed. He didn’t look like he was going to wake up, but she decided to wait a while, hoping he would.
Someone was taking the children to Washington on Tuesday. It seemed like Phineas was the boss and if he didn’t let Ange keep her, she’d have to go with the other children and be sold.
The police weren’t looking for her and didn’t really want to because they thought she was a bad girl and that she ran away. That made her angry and scared at the same time. It wasn’t true, not about her and not about her mom, who was so kind, and loved her and Elwin and really cared about the women she worked with.
The woman named O’Meara was one of the ones who came to the dark house trying to find her. She remembered how upset everyone was. After that, Seth drove them to Theo’s farm. Then they tried to kill the woman named O’Meara. But they failed and she’s still alive. They were telling lies about her too. Maybe now, the women were afraid and had stopped looking.
Phineas was wrong about one thing. No one ever saw them going into the dark house because Seth always pulled up to the back door in the lane. He always made sure no one was around. Carey was sure it was Seth who called her mom and told her where she was. That’s why the women came to look for her.
She leaned over and asked Seth to wake up, but she knew he couldn’t hear her. She had to get away and get help. For him. For all the kids. She was the only one who knew that they were going to sell them all.
Carey was tired now and knew she couldn’t let anyone find her here. She whispered in Seth’s ear that she was going to get them out of here. She just had to figure out how.
She went upstairs and climbed into bed with Marie and took her hand. They were selling Marie tomorrow and the rest of the children in just a few days. Carey couldn’t stop the tears.
CHAPTER 28
Fernice sent Alex a text message late afternoon. The message was simple: What’s up? He’d promised to call with the results of the PG interview and still no word. It wasn’t like him. He purchased a burner cell on his way to the office in 100 Mile House and called her before he got there. She picked up.
Alex went over what he had. He was sure he’d tracked down the tweeter: a young man named Seth Boyce who’d been missing for nearly eight years. It was his mother Tanya he’d interviewed earlier. Two days ago, Inspector Ford MacLeish had paid her a visit. Why, after nearly eight years of silence, would MacLeish want to know whether Seth Boyce had contacted his mother, unless he knew that Boyce was alive and maybe where he was? Alex had checked and there was nothing in the Boyce case notes that linked MacLeish to Seth. Then he told Jeri about the drawing. He was almost certain the Mountie in Seth’s drawing was Ford MacLeish.
“An Inspector!”
“Yeah. Seth’s mother is a member of the same church that MacLeish attends and as a boy, Seth was a participant in the boys’ club that he led—still leads, according to Tanya.”
“When are you coming to Vancouver?”
“We’re short handed here. The best I can do is a late flight out tomorrow, that way I’ll be on the ground for Saturday. I’ll text you the particulars.”
“Okay.”
Alex was still at his desk a few hours later. It was getting late and he was tired. He’d decided to wait before he brought his suspicions to his boss, Ian Kennedy. He and his wife were in Toronto, visiting their daughter. She’d started classes at York University last month and was away from home for the first time. Kennedy wasn’t due back till Tuesday next week. Alex liked and trusted Kennedy, an intelligent man who ran the detachment fairly, but it occurred to him that Kennedy would feel duty bound to report what he told him to the brass in Vancouver. He didn’t want to give MacLeish time to cover his tracks.
Seth Boyce would be in his late teens and seemed to be reasonably savvy with internet technology. He had inside information about the abduction of Morgan O’Meara. He had conceived of a clever way to get important information to her, and in doing so, he’d put himself in real danger.
Someone tipped off MacLeish that Boyce had been successful at getting a message to O’Meara, but who? Someone at the university more than likely. Or someone here in 100 Mile House? Not a comforting thought.
Desocarras pulled out the burner again. He tried O’Meara’s number. She didn’t pick up, so he left a message that he’d be in Vancouver Saturday morning and that he wanted to meet with her and Lucas.
CHAPTER 29
Lucas sat bolt upright, heart pounding. The clock said 3:18 am. Morgan turned to him sleepily.
“Lucas. What’s the matter?” He patted her arm and she snuggled down and went back to sleep. He slipped out of bed, put on a robe, and retreated to the kitchen. His journal was where he’d left it last night. He opened it and picked up a pen, looked at his hand resting against the white paper, the lines. He began to write, the words tumbling over each other to get on the page.
Several hours later, Lucas returned to bed but couldn’t sleep. Morgan woke up soon after.
“You’re already awake,” she said.
“I’ve been up for a few hours.”
“Last night you yelled something in your sleep: ‘The pintos. They’re everywhere.’ What does pintos mean?”
“That’s what the Maya call the army, because it’s made up mostly of Ladinos—like the pinto bean, brown and white—Spanish and Maya. They did most of the killing during the civil war. Killed many of mom’s people, the Ixil-Maya, burned their villages. Chased and killed the ones who escaped to the jungle to hide. Sometimes, they followed us over the border to Mexico and killed us there. Some Maya were press ganged into the army too. All other Maya men and boys older than 12 that lived in areas under army control were forced to participate in civil patrols. They were killed if they refused. The civil patrols also participated in the genocide. Sometimes though, it was the guerillas who were responsible for killing us. We called them The Little People because they were predominantly Maya. Last night, I dreamt that my father was shot by one of the guerillas. I was only a few feet from him. His blood was pumping out. Like a fountain, Morgan. I tried to stop it with my hands.”
My poor Lucas. What was there to say. Atrocity after atrocity and the aftermath continued—in Guatemala and here, in our cottage. I took his hand.
“I could use some fresh air,” he said. “Want to go for a walk. It’s not raining.”
“Sure. I think I could manage a short run.”
“You want to run.” He smiled. “You’re a crazy woman, but I love you.”
“And I love you, dear man.”
It was cold and the air was crisp as we made our way down to New Brighton and the running trails on the water. Night lights still danced on the blue-black water of the Inlet. The dawn’s early foray had just begun to lighten the under tips of heavy cloud as we ran through the parking lot and took the pedestrian tunnel to the exercise paths along the ocean.
We ran the laps twice at a leisurely rate. It was wonderful to be running by the ocean as the city woke up all around us, to take back ownership of my park. By the time we looped back through the tunnel, the sun was up in earnest, rain clouds in check at least for awhile.
We came to a stop at the spot where I had parked the night I was taken, an innocuous parking lot, the pavement a little uneven, not a car in sight at this early hour. Incorrigible blackberry bushes remained green and lively in the train track area which skirted the inlet. High steel fencing, barbed wire coiled at the top, kept everyone out. The Americans had insisted that the entire dock area be off limits since 9/11.
“Let’s walk the rest of the way home. You can wait till next week to train for the Sun Run.”
Lucas was right. It did feel good to run but pushing beyond my limit wasn�
�t going to achieve anything. We headed back to the cottage.
CHAPTER 30
Breakfast was going to be a feast. A platter of fruit already sat on the table and the pot of black beans which Lucas had soaked last night simmered on the back burner. He was making Tamales de Elote especially for me, with chilies and shredded goat cheese generously sprinkled over the top. A tray of sausages grilled in the oven and an oversized omelet was planned for our biggest skillet. ‘Oh yum,’ I thought and realized I was honestly hungry. My legendary appetite was returning.
“Something pretty important must be up or Alex wouldn’t be making the trip,” said Lucas, as he carefully added a little more water to his tamale dough.
“He said he’d be here by 9:30 am.”
“We’ve got lots to tell him.”
“I should have called Fernice. It just seems easier to tell Alex everything and let him tell her."
“So, you decided to take the easy way out,” Lucas said, with a grin. I gave his arm a gentle whack.
“She told me not to go near the shipyard.”
“She did. But when she finds out what we’ve uncovered, she’ll be glad we did.”
“They’ll both be thoroughly pissed off with us.”
“Oh well. Can’t be helped,” said Lucas. There would be eight of us, with Alex. Bart was joining us after early morning rounds at West Sanctuary.
Alex arrived a little before 9:30 am, looking very dapper in a black fedora. I’m big on hats and I loved the fedora. Amelia and George arrived next, with Michael and Kate only minutes after. I was introducing everyone to Alex when Bart arrived.
We used the extender, which got all of us around the table, pretty much elbow to elbow. I served up a pot of coffee, setting the table with cream, sugar, juice, cutlery, and plates, then started another pot. Kate made herself a pot of tea.
Lucas’s timing was great, as always, and it was stove to platter to table in record time, everything piping hot and smelling delicious. No prompting was needed, and we all dug in. Lucas beamed with pleasure as gratified sighs of appreciation were heard all around.
Alex ate quietly. I had introduced him to everyone as Sergeant Desocarras, but he insisted on Alex. Michael jumped in first.
“Alex, it was you and your wife who rescued Morgan.”
“Yes, we did.” Alex said with a smile, as he reached for the omelet platter.
“Luke, could you pass the tamales please?” Lucas handed the platter of steaming tamales to Bart.
“Lucas, I hope you don’t mind me asking. Where are you from? asked Amelia.
“I don’t mind at all. I’m from Guatemala.”
“Are you Indigenous?” she asked.
“I’m Ixil-Maya and Spanish.” In Guatemala, the Maya say I’m Mestizo, which means mixed.”
“Mestizo. Like Métis?” asked Amelia.
“Similar,” said Lucas, with a smile. “How is everyone doing? Can we get you anything?”
There was a chorus of ‘No thank you’, ‘This is great’, ‘Where did you learn to cook like this’ and ‘Awesome’. Lucas basked in the limelight good cooks always generate.
“Lucas, did you find out what department Marvin Roche is enrolled in?”
“Well Michael, he’s not enrolled in a department because he’s not a student at SFU.” Alex looked at Michael, then Lucas.
“Aha,” said Michael. “I knew there was something fishy about that guy.”
“Who’s Marvin Roche?” asked Alex.
“He’s a waiter at the Clarendon.” said Michael.
Alex nodded and kept eating.
I jumped in. “Lucas and I think he might be a drug dealer. What better cover than to say you’re a student, and he looks the part, don’t you think Michael?”
“Describe this guy Marvin,” Alex asked Michael.
“He has very bright, auburn hair, bed head, and electric blue eyes,” said Michael. Amelia and George exchanged glances.
“Uncle is he about 6 feet tall, on the slender side, very snazzy dresser?” asked Amelia.
“Yes to everything, except the snazzy dresser part. I’ve only seen him in his waiter’s uniform so I wouldn’t know,” said Michael. “Why do you ask?” He looked at Amelia quizzically.
“Lots of freckles?” added George.
“That’s right!” said Michael. At this point, everyone was paying attention. Alex fished out a notebook and opened it beside him.
“Mark,” George and Amelia spoke together.
“Who’s Mark?” Michael asked them.
“I’ll bet he’s a drug dealer at SFU,” I said.
“That’s right Morgan,” said Amelia, beaming at me. “He deals pot, some pills.
“Lots of students are into pills, especially at exam time. Cocaine too and other things if they can afford it,” said George, raising his eyebrows and looking at Alex.
“Mark or Marvin deals at the club as well. Lots of drug use there,” said Michael.
“Drug dealer,” said Alex quietly, nibbling on a tamale. “Really delicious, Lucas.”
“Thank you, Alex.”
“Let’s just say that some club members do exactly as they please and the staff turn a blind eye. You could say it’s part of their job description,” said Michael.
“So, Mark is a drug dealer at SFU?” Alex asked both George and Amelia.
“He is,” said George. “He’s been pointed out to me. I don’t know his last name.”
“I don’t think anyone does,” added Amelia.
“Someone named Mark got in touch with Stacie Smith,” I said. “He claimed to be working for The Pinnacle, the SFU student newspaper. He wanted to interview banished boy.” It was difficult to ignore Alex—completely deadpan cop face, pointed look and slightly raised eyebrows—but I managed. He’d warned us off interviewing Stacie. I stole a glance at Lucas, who was studiously eating.
“Did Mark say how he came to know about the tweeter?” asked Alex.
“We think he found out through a student named Gary Sulzberger,” said Lucas. “Gary’s in another film lab; not Morgan’s.”
“We didn’t actually meet with Stacie. I phoned Detective Fernice as soon as I got off the phone with Stacie and filled her in.”
Alex looked at me, then Lucas and then around the table.
“I spoke with the tweeter’s mother yesterday. He disappeared about eight years ago. She hasn’t seen him since. An RCMP officer is implicated in his disappearance.”
“Do you have any idea who the officer is?” Michael asked.
“Yes.” All eyes were on Alex. “That’s one of the reasons I’m here. He appears to have strong connections to Vancouver. I think someone down here tipped him off about the truck tweet, Morgan. He visited the tweeter’s mother a few days ago.”
We all fell silent. I felt the hair on the back of my neck prickle.
“I believe that officer is either linked to the tweeter or people close to him and now, with what you’re telling me, it appears that he may be connected to someone at SFU. The reason I’m here today is that I’m concerned for your safety Morgan, and anyone connected with you. That would include everyone at this table,” he said pointedly as he looked around the table at all of us, “to say nothing of Carey and other children that are most likely being held.”
Alex gave Amelia and Michael an understanding look. Michael looked grim and said nothing. Silent tears slid down Amelia’s cheeks. George put an arm around her.
“I need to clarify a few things. First, it’s a good bet that Mark and Marvin Roche are the same person?” There were nods all around.
“Maybe Mark’s the informant, or the Vancouver connection,” said Lucas.
“The only connection that we’re sure of is that Mark is Gary Sulzberger’s dealer, and Gary is in the other film lab for my course.”
“I’ve seen Gary and Mark together, a few times,” said George.
“And everyone knows Mark deals,” s
aid Amelia.
“Gary’s in Carl’s film lab. We have Gary’s contact info.”
“Morgan, tell me you didn’t contact Gary?” Alex didn’t hide his alarm.
“No, Alex, we didn’t.”
Alex didn’t hide his relief either. He turned to Michael.
“Do you spend much time at the Clarendon?”
“I’m there quite a bit. I’m a lawyer with Bourdais Lambert. The firm has a business membership and I meet a lot of my clients at the club for lunch and dinner. Most of them are in the entertainment industry. My specialty is intellectual property, all areas.”
Lucas and I exchanged a glance. Time to spill.
“Alex, Morgan and I want you to know we had a friend hack into the main server at the Clarendon.”
“You have a friend who can hack into secure databases?”
“Well, it couldn’t be that secure or he wouldn’t have been able to get in. I mean, he’s good, but he’s not a professional criminal.” I said.
“That is comforting,” said Alex. “What did he get?”
“Club membership list for the last three years, and we have the list of who has used the overnight accommodation this past year and a list of which club employees worked which member functions,” said Lucas. “I have two copies of everything for you and Detective Fernice. We haven’t had a chance to make a careful examination of the lists. We just got them late last night.” He got up to fetch them.
“We can’t tell you our friend’s name. We have to protect him.”
“Morgan, I don’t want to know your friend’s name,” said Alex. We all watched as Lucas handed him two large manila envelopes.
“And here’s Gary’s contact information as well,” said Lucas.
“Anything further anyone would like to share?”
“There is some urgency now,” said Kate softly. “Today has been very hard.” Alex relented a little and gave her an understanding nod. Amelia and George looked perplexed, having no idea what Kate was talking about, but said nothing.
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