by Ken Ogilvie
Sykes called a halt. “Charger should be able to track her from here. There are squad cars patrolling the local roads and farm lanes. If she hasn’t left the area, there’s a good chance we’ll find her. Things could get dangerous from this point on, so keep your guns handy. If you hear a shot, drop to the ground and scramble to cover. If you see her and she’s armed, shoot to kill.” His grey gaze rested on each of them in turn. “Okay, let’s get on with it.”
Charger followed Jackie’s scent to an isolated farmhouse. The team spread out and inched forward. Guns drawn, they went inside and checked every room, trading worried looks when they saw the shattered gun cabinet. Sykes brought the team together and gestured at the open basement door. “Be ready to shoot,” he said, and led the way down the steps. When they had adjusted their eyes to the gloom, they saw a woman bound to a post in the middle of the room.
Sykes ran over to her and felt her neck for a pulse. “Too late.” After a closer examination, he said, “This is curious. No marks that I can see, beyond rope burns. She hasn’t been strangled, or shot, or knifed.” He paused. “Suffocated, perhaps. But I don’t think so.”
“You sure she’s dead?” Chad asked. Sykes nodded. He took out his cellphone and called in the SOC team. It was almost 4:00 p.m.
After inspecting the garage, Sykes concluded that Jackie had stolen a vehicle. From the wide tire tracks, it looked like a large truck. She had obviously fled not long before they arrived. And they now knew she had a rifle and plenty of ammunition. He notified the patrol cars, then turned to Hadi. “Check the drawers and the remaining cartridge boxes. See if you can figure out what make of rifle she took.”
While the team was considering what to do next, a school bus rumbled along the gravel road and screeched to a halt in a cloud of dust. Two children jumped out and raced up the lane. They came to a bewildered stop in front of the detectives. They began to cry, and Rebecca put her arms around them.
In the meantime, Chad and Hadi went into the cornfield in back of the house and spoke to the father. He rushed to the house, where he fell to his knees and hugged his children. All three of them began to wail.
Sykes trudged over to Rebecca. “That woman is truly a monster. That was a terrible thing to do, leaving children without their mother.” He sighed heavily. “I know this brings back your own sad past, and I understand how much you want to stop Jackie from killing again. All I can say is, I’ll do everything I can to catch her.” He paused, and looked at her with a strange expression on his face. “When we get some quiet time, I’ll share a few things with you that might help you find your mother’s murderer.”
Rebecca’s breath caught. Before she could recover and start hurling questions at him, he raised his hands. “We’ll talk later. Right now, we have a job to do.” He hurried off to help Chad and Hadi prevent the devastated man from running into the house. A squad car arrived with an experienced constable, who took charge of the children.
The SOC van pulled into the driveway and Sykes hurried over to brief them. Then the detectives piled into Sykes’s car and resumed the search, with Bob and Charger following close behind. On the way to Conroy, Sykes called O’Reilly and told him to wait for them in his office. He also briefed Cartwright, and learned that a sniper still wasn’t available. He swore.
No one spoke during the dreary trip north.
* * *
Jackie watched spellbound as Black Suit tried to creep through the trees and bushes bordering the meadow. He was making so much noise she could have closed her eyes and shot him without looking. When he reached the middle of the meadow, Jackie coughed to get his attention. Instead of bolting for his life, which is what he should’ve done, the bonehead whirled about, searching for the source of the noise. Jackie had a choice of two takedown shots. Either would do the job.
Jackie lowered her rifle barrel slightly and shot Black Suit in the heart.
Chapter Seven
Another disastrous Christmas at home. Dad shut me down every time I asked about Mom. I’m losing hope that I’ll ever get him to open up. Maybe I can shake things loose if I find some new information and confront him with it. The problem is, I don’t know where to begin searching for clues, other than in Prospect. But no one there will say a word if my father tells them not to, and I’m sure they’ll check with him first.
— From the diary of Rebecca Sarah Bradley (January 1, 2005)
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
When the search team reached Conroy, DI Sykes decided to book them into the Royal Oak Hotel for the night. Instead of staying with the detective team, Rebecca begged permission to board with Maggie Delaney. Sykes agreed, but only for one night. She should be with the team, he said. He told her to carry her gun and keep her cellphone charged. He also said she should ask Maggie about where she thought Jackie might hide.
Rebecca called Maggie.
“Rebecca! Wonderful to hear your voice again. You’ve been away too long, I’ve missed you terribly.” Maggie sounded tired.
“I’ve missed you too,” Rebecca said. “I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch. DI Sykes has been running me ragged on homicide cases.”
“I hope you’ll be coming to see me,” Maggie said. “I know you’re in town.”
“Sure am! Right this minute. If you’ve got a room, I’ll stay the night too.”
“Lots of ’em.” Maggie laughed. “Archie MacDougall’s gone a-wandering again, and Freddie Stafford’s vanished.”
Archie had been a fellow boarder at Maggie’s house during the McBride investigation. Rebecca wondered if he was avoiding her. He was still working for her father, so maybe he’d been told to make himself scarce. She was certain he knew things about her mother that he wouldn’t divulge unless her father okayed it.
* * *
As soon as Rebecca turned into the driveway, Maggie hurried towards the car. They hugged, and Rebecca felt her throat tighten. Maggie always evoked memories of her mother.
“Grab your bags,” Maggie said. “We’ll dump them upstairs and come right back down. I’m dying to hear what you’ve been up to.” She held Rebecca’s face between her hands and gazed fondly at her. Rebecca bent and kissed her forehead.
Rebecca was apprehensive at being in Conroy again. The havoc her grandfather had wreaked on some of the townspeople must be widely known by now, and she was expecting a chilly reception. Luckily, Maggie hadn’t been living in Conroy at the time, and Rebecca hadn’t even known about her grandfather’s shady deals until she came to Conroy. It was something else her stubborn father refused to discuss with her. Then there was the role her grandfather had played in turning Jackie into the hateful woman she became.
Rebecca knew her family had a lot to answer for, including her father’s dubious business connection with Kingsley McBride. She wondered if her mission of capturing her mother’s murderer was worth the anxiety and suffering that might come with it. It had already consumed sixteen years of her life. She couldn’t shake the feeling that Conroy had also somehow figured in her grandfather’s death, and possibly that of her mother, although she had no evidence to support it. If that were the case, the town would see yet more turmoil.
Maggie shepherded Rebecca upstairs to the room she had occupied during the McBride investigation. She smiled at the sight of the massive oak bed with its matching chest of drawers and side tables. The antique lamps, faded paintings and Persian rug seemed to welcome her like old friends. She stepped inside to look around, and turned to Maggie, who was standing in the hallway, beaming. Rebecca noticed now how much Maggie had aged in the past two months. Her shaggy grey hair was thinner and more unkempt, and she’d lost a lot of weight. Her face was pale, and the skin on her cheeks and neck sagged. She looked ill, but Rebecca decided not to ask her about it right now.
As they made their way downstairs, Rebecca heard the front door open. And there, in the main hallway, was Hound, his massive bulk filling the foyer. He grinned sheepishly, and shuffled his feet. She ran down the hall and threw her
arms around him, then stepped back quickly. Would he mind?
Hound indeed looked taken aback, but pleased as well. Rebecca recalled her first awkward encounter with the young giant at Duffy’s Doughnuts. He had stared at her through a half-filled milkshake glass, and then, when she glared at him, he had struggled to get out of his seat and crashed to the floor. She couldn’t help smiling at the memory. As if he’d read her mind, Hound grimaced. Then a huge grin transformed his square face, and they both burst out laughing.
Maggie regarded them with a puzzled look before nodding slowly to herself. Rebecca wondered what she was thinking.
Maggie clapped her hands. “Okay, kids. Get to the living room while I dig out some leftovers and stick ’em in the oven.”
Dig out some leftovers. Rebecca’s stomach rumbled. She knew there’d be a lot more to it than some cold chicken and toast. Maggie was a brilliant cook, and her dinners were always lavish. Hound’s smiling face meant that he was staying for dinner.
With a grateful smile at Maggie, Rebecca led Hound to the living room, running her fingers across Maggie’s majestic but seldom-played vintage Steinway piano. They settled into the period furniture, gazing around at antiques that would make any auctioneer salivate.
Hound perched on the edge of an elegant sofa that creaked ominously under his weight. He seemed to be searching for something to say. Rebecca spoke quickly to set him at ease.
“I’ve missed you, Hound, and I’m sorry I haven’t kept in touch. I have no excuse. Tell me how you’re doing. How are Lukas and Shorty?”
Gingerly, Hound leaned back. “Well . . . Lukas first.” His expression turned somber. “He’s recovering well enough from the wounds he got during the shootout, but it’s been slow going. He’s frail, and has a nasty cough that won’t shift. The doctors say it might be chronic. I can’t believe how brave he was. He’s such a devoted and courageous friend. I’m making sure he gets the best medical treatment possible. The doctors believe he’ll recover before long, physically at least. But I’m worried about his mental state. He jumps at every noise and the slightest thing irritates him. The doctors have arranged for counselling, and we’ll just have to see how he responds over the next few weeks and months.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Hound. If there’s anything I can do, let me know.”
He paused, and said, “As for Shorty, well, it’s business as usual, except that he spars a bit less with Lukas. It does Lukas good, I think. If he’s back in the normal routine, he’ll improve faster. But Shorty’s resilient. He doesn’t seem much affected by the fact that Jackie Caldwell nearly killed him, although maybe he’s just good at hiding it.”
At the mention of Jackie, Rebecca’s skin prickled. “Let’s not talk about her now, Hound. We can come back to her later, if you don’t mind.”
Hound nodded. “As for me, well, you know. Same old, same old.”
They fell silent. To their relief, Maggie charged into the room. She, at least, was never at a loss for words.
“Unless my old eyes are deceiving me, you’ve lost some weight, Hound.” He got to his feet and drew himself up to his full height. He towered over Maggie like a colossus.
Hound gave a smug chuckle. “You’re right. Twenty pounds. And more’ll come off soon. I’m getting exercise and eating the right kinds of food, sort of. And no more milkshakes at Duffy’s.” He tugged at his belt.
“And you’re having dinner at Maggie’s?” Rebecca said. “You’ll have to start all over again tomorrow.”
They all laughed, and the atmosphere lightened. Rebecca wasn’t joking about the meal. A rich aroma of roast beef and gravy wafted into the living room, reminding her of family dinners. She had to try hard to push the bittersweet memories of her mother from her mind.
The evening unfolded pleasantly. They avoided all serious talk until dessert had been served and the early autumn light had begun to wane. Rebecca was reluctant to spoil the cheerful atmosphere. She waited until they were back in the living room before she broached the subject of Jackie Caldwell. “I’m sorry, but there are some questions that I have to ask.”
“Of course, dear,” Maggie said. “We were just enjoying each other’s company for a while. Now’s the time for serious talk.” Hound wriggled forward on the couch.
Rebecca smiled gratefully. She took out a notebook and pen from her bag. “Thanks. I know how horrifying it is to have Jackie on the loose, and possibly nearby.”
“She won’t come into Conroy proper, that much I’m sure of,” Maggie declared. “But I’m bettin’ she ain’t far away. Lived her whole life around here, so I don’t see her going somewheres else.”
Hound looked contemplative. “She’s in the area, for sure. Miles from Conroy, I hope. Best guess? The woods north of here.”
Rebecca nodded. “The question is, where should the police start their search — I mean our search?” She’d forgotten she was police.
Hound waved his hand in the air. “The only thing I can think of is to scour the forested lands around Conroy and widen the hunt from there. That would ease the townsfolk’s anxiety. I’d be pleased to assist. I’m familiar with the woods. And if you want, I could ask some of the indigenous trackers to help. I’ve met several of them hunting in the forest north of here. One of them, called Matthew Simon, has become my friend. He traces his lineage to the Hurons, who inhabited the Georgian Bay area up to the mid-sixteen hundreds when all their villages were destroyed by the Iroquois. Matthew knows many of the ancient Huron hideouts and sacred places.” Hound paused. “Now that I think of it, I’ve been told that Jackie’s mother had Huron ancestry, although she disappeared from Conroy more than two decades ago. Maybe Jackie still has links to some of the indigenous people around the Bay. They might have some ideas about where she’s hiding.”
Rebecca scribbled this down in her notebook. Hound came out with nuggets like this from time to time. She hadn’t thought of looking for Jackie’s mother, and she should have. “Thanks for telling me, Hound, and for offering to help the police. You can’t come with us this time, though. Jackie’s got a rifle, and you know how deadly she is. We have a search dog to help us track her, as long as it can pick up her scent. You remember Bob and his German Shepherd, Charger?”
“Okay, Rebecca, if you insist.” Hound looked crestfallen. “But I could do a better job of tracking her than the police, and maybe even Charger.” His cheeks turned pink. “I’m not bragging, but I truly believe I could find her faster.”
“I understand, Hound. I’m not dismissing your talents. I’m just being protective. Jackie’s got a score to settle with you. Anyway, the police can’t put civilians in jeopardy without a compelling reason.”
Hound rubbed his right shoulder. It was the one Jackie had injured in his last encounter with her. “I get that, Rebecca, but you need to find her before she kills someone else. She murdered Abigail and Herman Voegel, and I don’t want to lose another friend.” He lowered his eyes to the floor.
Rebecca was touched at his concern. “I promise to be careful, Hound. But don’t worry, the police will be with me. And DI Sykes said he won’t let me lead any forays into the woods.”
“Well, then, there’s nothing more to talk about, is there?” Maggie said. “I agree that Hound shouldn’t join the hunt for Jackie, and if you had any sense, you’d stand down too, Rebecca. But you won’t, so make sure you stay near the back of the pack, although not right at the back. I’m just hoping Sykes isn’t using you as bait to draw Jackie out.”
“Of course not.” In truth, Rebecca had been thinking that very thing, and felt guilty about it.
An awkward silence ensued.
Maggie struggled to her feet. Rebecca noticed again how frail she looked. In a weak voice, she said, “It’s been quite a night, children, and now it’s time to grab some shuteye. Rebecca, I know you’ll be up before dawn to rush off to meet your team, so I’ll leave the breakfast fixings out. Hound, be careful on your way home. Jackie may surprise us and pay the town a visit aft
er all. I’ll be locking the windows and double-bolting the doors tonight.”
Hound headed out of the room and Rebecca stood up. She thanked Maggie for the wonderful meal and watched her walk stiffly off to secure the house. Still, it wasn’t the right time to ask about her health.
Rebecca followed Hound to the front door, stretched up on her toes and pecked him on the cheek. Flustered all over again, he thumped down the front steps and climbed into his Bentley.
Rebecca watched him back out of the driveway. She lingered at the door, and peered out into the dark. Then she padded through the mansion to her room, turning off the lights as she went. She smiled to herself. She hoped Hound wasn’t too embarrassed.
Chapter Eight
I tried asking people in Prospect what they know about mother. As expected, no one would open up. All I got was sympathy. I can’t believe how powerful my father is around there. He didn’t even bother to stop me asking them questions.
— From the diary of Rebecca Sarah Bradley (January 3, 2005)
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
An hour before daylight, Rebecca climbed out of bed. It was still dark when she arrived at O’Reilly’s office. The pre-dawn air was chilly, but the weather forecast told of sun and warmth — a fine day for the search.
Officers and patrol cars were already assembled in the OPP parking lot, waiting for directions. A patrol officer told Rebecca that DI Sykes was planning to start the hunt for Jackie around Conroy, and then widen it further, if necessary. Rebecca wasn’t surprised that he concurred with Hound. They often reasoned alike. Hound would make a great detective, if he could only commit to it. But he seemed to be pursuing his own path in life — perhaps he himself didn’t know where it led. His aura of mystery and danger intrigued her. DI Sykes too, she guessed, although he was interested in his past, while she focused on his future.
