Hound

by Ken Ogilvie

  About ten miles further on, she stopped to check the supplies that Lily and Cora had prepared for her. The backpack yielded a sizable package of waterproof matches, so she would be able to build a fire. She could make do with a lean-to for the time being, given the mild fall weather. She pulled out a metal pot for boiling water in. She didn’t have much perishable food but there was enough to see her through the next week. The salt and pepper would last for a couple of months if she used them sparingly. During the late fall and winter, she would need to snare rabbits for meat, and she could catch fish, which were abundant in the northern lakes. If necessary, she could shoot game animals with her rifle, until she’d become proficient with Matthew’s bow.

  Jackie moved on, periodically checking the compass that Cora had slipped into a side pocket of the backpack. She scarcely noticed the heavy weight of the backpack as she climbed the hills and crossed burbling streams that tumbled over the endless rocky outcrops of the Canadian Shield.

  * * *

  Hound easily picked up Jackie’s trail, and he followed it as far as the cave. The detectives found Lily inside, kneeling beside the lifeless body of Cora Simon.

  Lily got to her feet. “I have been waiting for you. You must help me take Cora to her house. She will be buried in her precious garden, near the birds she loved so much.”

  “Your name, madam?” Sykes said.

  “Lily Caldwell, officer. I have plenty of things to tell you, but I will say nothing until Cora’s taken care of.”

  “Where’s Jackie?” Sykes said.

  “Gone, officer. I don’t know where. But you will not find her.” She held his fierce gaze steadily.

  “Which direction did she go in?”

  “I do not know, officer. I have been in here with Cora. You must find her yourself.”

  Sykes grunted angrily and turned to Rebecca. “Take Mrs. Caldwell into custody.” He paused. “And, Chad, go and bring four of the ERT men here. Rebecca will stay with Mrs. Caldwell.” He jabbed an index finger at Hound. “As for you — come outside and tell us where Jackie was heading when she left here.”

  Hound nodded. “Alright, DI Sykes, I’ll have a look. But Mrs. Caldwell is right. You won’t find her.”

  Sykes muttered something. “Get on with it, everyone.” He stomped out of the cave.

  Chapter Forty

  Wednesday, October 3, 2007

  Wednesday afternoon found Kingsley McBride chewing reluctantly on a huge slab of Angus steak that was twice as much as he could manage. Opposite him, Mario was tearing into a huge porterhouse as though he hadn’t eaten for months. Despite Mario’s earlier reassurances, Kingsley was concerned that this might be his final repast. He barely tasted the juicy pink meat and the fine Italian wine. In addition to fretting over what Mario might do to him, Kingsley was worried about Jackie Caldwell. Mario had sent eight men to get rid of her, but what if they failed? She’d be after him again for certain.

  Mario raised his bull-like head from his empty plate and belched. He wiped a greasy napkin across his mouth and leaned back in his plush leather chair with a broad smile across his face.

  “Why the dreary look, McBride? You should be jumping for joy. Sure, you’re a little beat-up, but soon you’ll be walking the streets a free man, safe from harm. With the bitch dead, the charges against you will be dropped. There’ll be no witnesses left, nothing for the cops to follow but a paper trail that means shit in a court of law. Life will be great.” Mario drained his wine and waved a hand. A waiter in a black tuxedo scurried over and refilled the glass.

  With a faint smile at Mario, Kingsley took a sip of wine. It tasted like turpentine. He imagined Jackie shooting the crystal glass out of his hand. He put it down quickly.

  “Okay, McBride. Time to talk.” Mario beckoned to him to come closer. Obediently, Kingsley leaned forward. What now?

  “I’m truly sorry, Mario.” Kingsley swallowed with some difficulty and loosened his shirt collar. “I won’t feel any better until Jackie’s taken down for good. There’s something about her . . . I can’t put it into words. Since she broke out of prison, I’ve become more and more uneasy.”

  “McBride, you’re one for the medical books, you really are.” Mario took another gulp of wine and bellowed for more. He was drunk.

  “Listen, McBride,” Mario slurred. “I’ll bet you’re wondering why I read all those spy novels and books about kings and knights and courtroom intrigues. Right?” He blinked a few times, and stared hard at Kingsley, who hadn’t given a single thought to Mario’s reading habits.

  “I’m no dumb-ass crook, McBride. And don’t put your hands up like that. I can see it in your beady little eyes. And don’t ever make the mistake of thinking you can put one past me. Eh?” Mario reached out across the table and seized Kingsley by the lapels, pulling him forward until they were nose to nose.

  “You better toe the line, mister, or I’ll crush every one of your feeble bones with my own two hands.” He thrust Kingsley back into his seat.

  “Right, that’s over with.” Mario smiled happily. “Relax, McBride. Eat your steak and drink that goddam wine I paid a fortune for. Time for the scotch.” He flung his hand up and his chair wobbled precariously.

  Kingsley began forking steak into his mouth, gagging on it and washing it down with water while sipping from his half-full glass of wine. Fortunately, Mario had already consumed most of the carafe. Then, to Kingsley’s horror, an entire bottle of Laphroaig quarter cask appeared on the table. The waiter eyed him with undisguised sympathy as Mario grabbed the bottle, uncorked it and shoved it forward. Kingsley made sure he knew where the washrooms were located.

  Mario continued to boast about the number of scholarly books he’d read, and how much smarter he was than any of the other syndicate men, while Kingsley ruminated on how he might take advantage of Mario’s need for recognition. It had become clear to Kingsley that Mario would never trust him, no matter what he did for him. He hoped this wouldn’t spoil his chances of getting ahead in the syndicate. Then again, if Mario’s hitmen failed to dispose of Jackie, maybe he could find a way to undermine the pompous idiot and pledge allegiance to his half-brother Tony. So far, Tony trusted him, although he must be wondering why he’d started to cozy up to Mario. Kingsley resolved to set things right with his sibling.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Wednesday, October 3, 2007

  Hound led DI Sykes a short distance from the cave and stopped.

  “Look, Hound,” Sykes said. “I have to find that woman, and I’d appreciate it if you came with me this time.”

  Hound shook his head. “DI Sykes, I’ve already told you I won’t go after her again.”

  “You’re a strange fellow, Hound,” Sykes said. “What are you all about really?”

  “I’m just a big dumb guy who should know better than to get mixed up with the police,” Hound shot back. “It’s time I got on with my life.”

  Sykes grunted. “What life? What do you actually do? You’ve got the potential to do something really meaningful, yet you spend your days hanging out in that dying little town with your juvenile friends. Is that how you want to spend the rest of your days?”

  Hound said nothing.

  “Okay, if that’s the way you want it.” Sykes pushed past him and stormed back to the cave.

  Chad arrived shortly after, along with several ERT men, two medics carting a stretcher, and four burly constables. Chad hurried over to Sykes. “A search dog and handler will be here before long, sir. Two of these officers can escort Lily Caldwell out of here.” He lowered his voice. “I recommend that you send Rebecca with them. The rest of us can go after Jackie.”

  Sykes nodded. “We’ll continue the search. Unfortunately, Hound has refused to join us. Let’s just hope the dog and handler get here soon.” He went over to a granite outcrop where he sat down to wait.

  * * *

  Jackie continued on until the sun began to set. She’d covered her tracks as best she could, but any search dogs could fin
d her if she didn’t keep moving. She was hoping a day’s lead would be long enough for her scent to dissipate, enabling her to shake free of the cops by late tomorrow. She wasn’t counting on it, though. Her tracks, mingled with the moist autumn leaves, would be visible to a human tracker, and she was concerned that Hound would help the police, although she doubted it. She hadn’t killed him when she could have, so he would feel honour-bound not to pursue her further.

  It wouldn’t be safe to make a fire tonight, but her supplies included cold cuts, a loaf of bread and some bottled water that would tide her over until tomorrow, when she would put in another hard day of hiking. The weather was warm enough to make a shelter with a few branches, and she had no fear of wild animals. Hunting season was underway, and the moose, the wolves and the bears were keeping well away from all humans. If any did approach her, she had a flashlight and her rifle, although she didn’t want to advertise her presence.

  It took her thirty minutes to gather enough branches and twigs to build a lean-to, and another half-hour to construct it around a tree trunk that would serve as a windbreak and an anchor for the larger branches. She cut and layered on balsam fir bows for roofing, although there was little chance of rain tonight. Then she settled into her temporary abode, where exhaustion soon took hold of her and she fell into a deep sleep. For the second time in two decades, her unhappy memories left her in peace, and she dreamt she was a child again.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  DI Cartwright still hasn’t cracked the McBride case. It’s been six months now since her murder, and he’s given up, that much I know. I’ve heard he’s slated for senior management training, so he’s definitely on the fast track to promotion. The position of Superintendent of Ontario Region will be coming up soon, after Charlie Michaels retires. Speculation around the office is that Cartwright has the job. If so, maybe I can convince him to assign me to McBride. The trail’s gone cold, and DI Sykes hasn’t shown a shred of interest in it.

  — From the diary of Rebecca Sarah Bradley (December 11, 2006)

  Wednesday, October 3, 2007

  Once the detectives and the ERT men had left, Rebecca gazed wonderingly around the cave. It was eerily similar to Hound’s secret retreat, although this cave was smaller. The walls of both had been scraped straight.

  She turned to Lily, who was watching her closely. Slightly taller than her, Lily was slender and willowy, although she must have been in her sixties. She radiated an inner strength that Rebecca found disconcerting.

  “You know about me and Jackie?” Rebecca said.

  “I have heard.” Lily’s dark eyes continued to scrutinize her, compelling her to speak.

  “What my grandfather did to your family was awful. I’m so very sorry about it.” Rebecca hesitated. “I don’t know what else to say.”

  “It is even worse than you think.” Lily spoke flatly, but Rebecca sensed her profound sadness and pain.

  “What do you mean? If there’s more you can tell me, please do.” Rebecca’s stomach muscles tightened.

  “I have been praying for a private moment like this. I need to share some things with you that have been hidden for too long.” Her gaze turned inward, and Rebecca couldn’t stop herself from empathizing with this mysterious woman from the past.

  Lily wandered about the cave for a few minutes. Then she came back to face Rebecca.

  “I will tell you the worst part first.” She drew in a long breath, and stated, “Steven Bradley raped my daughter.”

  Rebecca felt as though she’d been slapped in the face. It was difficult to look Lily in the eyes. “You must hate me,” she said in a shaky voice.

  “No, child,” Lily said. “You are not responsible for your grandfather’s actions.”

  Rebecca looked into Lily’s eyes and saw nothing there but warmth and love. “Thank you, Lily. I cannot begin to tell you how devastated I am. I’ve led a sheltered life, and I’m beginning to discover things that have shaken my faith in my family, and myself.”

  “I have known about you for some time, child,” Lily said.

  She was about to say more, Rebecca was certain, when one of the constables waiting outside the cave came in.

  “It’s okay, officer,” she said. “You can leave us until I call for you.” He backed out, looking puzzled.

  When they were alone again, Lily said, “And now I must tell you about another terrible thing that happened. It involves me.”

  Rebecca waited.

  When she finally spoke, Lily’s voice was quivering. “In revenge for what he did to my poor child, I killed your grandfather. I saw him leave the town after ruining my husband, and when I saw on Jackie’s face what he had done to her, though she refused to speak of it, I followed him. Just north of Conroy, I drew up alongside him and waved at him to stop. He ignored me at first, and then he shrugged and pulled over to the side of the road. We got out of our cars, and I confronted him with what he’d done. He laughed in my face and then he hit me with the back of his hand, knocking me to the ground. When he turned to get into his car, I picked up a rock. He was still laughing when I brought it down on his head. He fell, and I knelt down and hit him again. I dragged his body to a ditch and dumped it there.” She buried her face in her hands.

  Rebecca was stunned. Just like that, her grandfather’s murder had been solved. After what Lily had told her about what he’d done, she couldn’t bring herself to blame her. But now it meant that she had to arrest Lily, and she didn’t know whether she could do it. How could she take into custody a woman whose daughter Steven Bradley had raped?

  Rebecca stood for a moment, undecided. Then she called out, “Officers! Please come in here to witness my arrest of Lily Caldwell for the murder of Steven Bradley.”

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Wednesday, October 3, 2007

  Three hours after Kingsley and Mario had entered the steakhouse, both were totally drunk, even though Kingsley had tried to limit his intake. Mario had fallen off his chair three times, and Kingsley was slumped low in his. He was just about to stand up and tell Mario he was leaving, when the restaurant door opened and two syndicate bodyguards hurried to their table. They hesitated when they saw Mario’s sorry condition. One of them nudged him, none too gently. Mario grunted and half-opened his eyes, and struggled to sit upright.

  “Sorry to interrupt you, Mr. Daglioni, but we’ve got some bad news.” The man shuffled his feet. “Maybe we should go outside.”

  Mario snarled like an angry dog. “Tell me now, moron. Nobody will hear a goddam word. ’Cept him.” He jerked his thumb towards Kingsley, who knew at once that his worst fears were about to be confirmed. Jackie wasn’t dead.

  “Well, sir, when a few hours went by with no word from the guys we sent up north, we got worried and tapped into the police chatter using that equipment we brought in from the U.S. last month. Works real well.”

  “Quit stalling,” Mario bellowed. “Give it to me straight.”

  “Okay, then.” The man gulped and his voice sank to a whisper. “We lost six men. Two got nabbed by the police.” His eyes were fixed on the floor. “Actually, we’re pretty sure they turned themselves in.”

  “What the hell do you mean, ‘lost?’” Mario lurched to his feet, his chair crashing to the floor. He seized the bodyguard by his lapels and lifted him up.

  “Dead,” the man squeaked.

  Mario released his grip and sat down, but there was no chair and he landed on the floor. The bodyguards pulled him to his feet and he shrugged their hands off, demanding to know more about what had happened.

  “We don’t have much, Mr. Daglioni. It sounded like two of them were shot by the Caldwell woman, two more were hit by a guy with a bow and arrows, and the last two were killed by a huge man — with his bare hands.”

  “Him again.” Mario spluttered, and ground his teeth. “The monster from that two-bit town of Conroy where McBride comes from.” He glared at Kingsley’s chair, now empty. “Where is the slimy little weasel, anyway?”

/>   From inside the washroom, where he’d snuck off while Mario was quizzing the bodyguards, Kingsley heard the inebriated crime boss bellowing his name. Things had gotten even worse for him, if that was possible. He thought quickly. What were his options? None that were good. He could go back into the restaurant and take whatever Mario dished out, but Mario was enraged and there was no telling what he’d do. He could try to make a run for it, but he didn’t have the keys to Mario’s car, and he wouldn’t make it far on foot. Mario roared his name again, and Kingsley made a snap decision. Tony was his only chance at salvation. He groped in his pocket for the new cell phone that Mario had given him, found Tony’s private number and called it.

  “Kingsley! What the fuck’s going on? I know you’re with Mario, and I know where. You’ve heard about the guys Mario sent after Jackie Caldwell? Jesus, man, the whole organization’s in chaos.”

  Despite his alcohol-soaked brain, Kingsley found he was surprisingly coherent.

  “Yes, Tony, I know what happened. I warned Mario about that woman, but he wouldn’t listen. Look, he’s been trying to force me into betraying you. I haven’t been able to shake free of him and warn you until now. Thank God you’re okay. Something has to be done about Mario. He’s got some crazy notion that he’s super-intelligent, a man of destiny or something like that. He’s a danger to us all. He’s looking for me, and I’m hiding in the steakhouse washroom. I think he plans to kill me. He knows I’m loyal to you, and he’s convinced you want his job.” Kingsley paused to catch his breath. “Tony, what should I do? He’s howling my name again. There’s two bodyguards with him. Any second now, they’ll come after me.”