Fire Lake

by J C Paulson

  “Come into my office,” she said, and they followed her down the long, green and grey hallway.

  Once settled in her space, she folded her hands on the desk and said, “Okay. Let me see.”

  “Are you in fact missing a patient?” Adam asked. “You seem resigned.”

  She inhaled sharply, then exhaled slowly. “Yes. Please, let me see the photo.”

  “This won’t be pleasant.”

  “I’ve seen much worse than unpleasant, Sergeant,” she said, much like Father Cey.

  “Of course.”

  Adam drew the photo out of his shoulder bag, put it down carefully and pushed it across the desk. Deverell closed her eyes, inhaled again, then opened them and looked down.

  She didn’t move, for a moment, nor did she speak. Neither did Adam.

  “Yes,” she finally said. “This man was our patient.”

  Grace’s stomach tightened, and she could see a flicker of triumph in Adam’s eyes. Even so, he gave the woman some time and waited for her to continue.

  “Damn,” said the administrator, under her breath. “I’d hoped he would return.”

  “Who was he?” Adam asked.

  “He was Martin Best. Martin Joseph Best, age thirty-six. He came to us about three years ago, I think. He had tried, very hard, to manage on his own; to fight his disorder. But he had little support, and finally, he came here.”

  “We thought he might have been living on the street,” Adam said, and by his flat tone, Grace could tell he was trying not to sound accusatory.

  “Many of our patients are very, very sick,” Deverell replied. “They don’t look very healthy, no. And Martin was . . . in bad shape.”

  “When did he go missing?”

  “He didn’t go missing,” she said, colour rising in her face. “We don’t normally lose patients, Sergeant.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply you did. What happened, then?”

  Deverell’s eyebrows came together in an expression of contrition.

  “No, I’m sorry. He is missing, after all. A man claiming to be his cousin, with a substantial amount of evidence for that claim, came to take him on an outing two days ago. He did not return. We’ve been worried. Rightly so, apparently.”

  “Not worried enough to call the police?”

  “We did call the police,” she retorted. “But as you know, they don’t start looking for twenty-four hours, and in theory, Martin was with a relative.”

  “What was this man’s name?”

  “Charles Best. Or so he, and his identification, said.”

  “Describe him for me, please.”

  She thought for a moment.

  “He was tall, but not quite as tall as you are. Brown hair; not as dark as yours. Slim, but reasonably fit-looking. Stood very erect, shoulders back. I noticed it particularly. Remarkable posture.”

  Grace’s head, which had been bent over her notebook, snapped up. She looked at Adam with wondering eyes but didn’t want to intervene in the interview without permission.

  “What are you thinking, Grace?” he encouraged her.

  “Did you see a tattoo?” she asked the administrator.

  “I don’t recall seeing one.”

  “Did he wear a hat?”

  “Yes, he did. I remember thinking it was odd at the time.”

  “But you could still see his hair.”

  “Yes. His cap didn’t cover all of his hair.”

  “Ball cap?”

  “Yes.”

  Grace cast Adam a sidelong glance and nodded. Charles Best, or whoever the hell had picked up the victim at the hospital, fit the description of the satellite salesman as provided by Tillie Allbright, minus the tattoo.

  “Was he wearing long sleeves, do you recall?”

  “Um. I think he was.” Kate Deverell squeezed her eyes shut, in an obvious effort to see the man better in her mind’s eye. “He wore a shirt, yes, a button-down white shirt, rolled up just over his wrists.”

  Bingo, thought Grace. That would have covered the tattoo. With another nod, she turned the interview back over to Adam.

  “What can you tell us about Martin Best?” he asked.

  “We do have privacy regulations, Sergeant.”

  “I’m aware of that. Will I have to get a warrant?”

  “Probably.”

  “The man is dead.”

  “Yes, but his health information remains protected.”

  “I realize that, but in this case, other people’s lives may be in danger. I believe there are other regulations surrounding such circumstances?”

  “Oh.” Deverell paused. “I see. Let me speak to his psychiatrist and I’ll renew my understanding of the regulations. Give me your card, Sergeant Davis. I’ll be in touch.”

  “I’ll start working on the court order, as well. It’s important, Ms. Deverell. We don’t know if there may be another potential victim.”

  “I’ll do my best, Sergeant.”

  Adam rose and offered his hand again. “Thank you. You’ve been very helpful.”

  Kate Deverell gave a short laugh. “Perhaps not very.”

  *****

  On the way north, they discussed Martin Best’s apparent abductor, agreeing that he was almost certainly Tillie’s satellite salesman. Grace drove, allowing Adam to call and ask Charlotte to procure a court order for the victim’s history, and to seek a man named Charles Best.

  Two and a half hours later, they were back at Ferguson Lake. James had turned off to his cabin nearby, and Adam and Grace opened the Rampling cottage, mere days after having closed it.

  The weather was not quite as warm as it had been a few days ago, and the aspen leaves were falling in a golden shimmer all around them. A few of the remaining late-season cottagers had apparently gone south after the weekend, leaving boarded-up and locked cabins behind.

  Immediately after unloading the truck and going down to the water — business trip or no, Grace had to follow the ritual — she and Adam slipped over to the Allbright cabin, to ensure they were still there. Grace stood uncertainly at the end of the path, chewing her lower lip, for a moment.

  “Maybe I’d better make sure they’re not leaving tomorrow,” she said.

  “Good idea.”

  But while their vehicle was in the driveway at the back, sheltered by the towering pines, the Allbrights themselves were not there. Probably visiting friends at another cabin. Grace couldn’t decide if she was relieved, since she and Adam could spend the evening doing whatever they wanted, or frustrated at not finding them at home.

  “Want to go for a wander?” she asked Adam.

  “Yeah. Let’s walk and talk. What’s your plan tomorrow, then?”

  “First thing I’ll go see Tillie, see what she has to say. I hope she knows more about Elias than I do; it just never really came up. She’s up here much more often than I am. And if she doesn’t, she might know someone who does.”

  “You’ve never discussed his family?”

  “We’ve never really discussed him. It’s always been a quiet sort of understanding, that we — the cottagers who knew a bit about him — would protect him, but none of us really knew him. I think I probably knew him best, which isn’t saying much. So, there wasn’t much to gossip about, except when Uncle Howard tried his land grab. And the less said, the better, to preserve his privacy. And maybe his sanity, or what was left of it.”

  She sighed. “Obviously, I should have asked her when we were here. I never thought the RCMP wouldn’t find his family. What will you do tomorrow?”

  “I’ll head into Meadow Lake in the morning,” Adam said, with a small sigh he couldn’t repress.

  “You’re not looking forward to this.”

  “No. It’s hard. I don’t want to confront a fellow officer.”

  “I don’t blame you.”

  “What if he’s involved in the murders, and not just the landlord of Mrs. Robertson’s house? Can you remember if he said or did anything strange after we found Elias?”r />
  “No. Nothing. He seemed to react normally, although you’d know better if he was following protocol.”

  “He was, as far as I can recall. But he’d have to. Especially since I was there.”

  Grace thought for a moment. “The RCMP did get here remarkably quickly that night.”

  “Maybe he was in the neighbourhood.”

  “Maybe he was.”

  “Let’s go start on dinner. James will be by soon.”

  *****

  Adam and James left for Meadow Lake at eight in the morning, and Grace was ready for a visit with Tillie Allbright soon after. Too anxious to wait in the cabin, Grace went for a walk in the thin morning light, trying to wait until nine before she knocked on the neighbours’ door. Was even that too early? she wondered.

  She decided to roam around the greenway and along the path, in the hope that Tillie would see her and invite her in. That didn’t work, so Grace, beside herself with impatience, gave up her grasp on self-control and approached the cottage.

  Tillie answered her tentative knock right away.

  “Grace. I didn’t expect to see you again so soon. Come in.”

  “Thanks, Tillie. Sorry if I’m disturbing you. It is a bit early.”

  “No, no. When you’re a farmer all your life, you’re up at first light, or earlier. Coffee?”

  “Sure, thanks.”

  “How’s Adam’s hand?” the older woman asked as she poured.

  “Healing well, thanks to you. I’m ever so grateful, Tillie.”

  “Least I could do, as it turned out.” Tillie sighed heavily. “Do you know what’s happening with Tom? I haven’t heard from him, nor the RCMP.”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t. Adam is in Meadow Lake today; hopefully he’ll have some news when he gets back.”

  Tillie looked confused. “Why is Adam in Meadow Lake?”

  “I can’t say; I’m sorry. Something to do with the case. Nothing to do with Tom, specifically, though.” Grace sipped her coffee. “Tillie, I have to ask you about Elias.”

  “What about him?”

  “What do you know about him? And his family? I barely knew him. He never told me anything about his background, just that he had served with the forces. But you’re up here more often, and I’ve been wondering if you know more about him than I do. It just never came up. But now, it’s important. What do you know?”

  “I don’t know a lot. I don’t know much about his time in the forces. But I do know a bit about his family. He’s from a reserve further south, but he was adopted by his uncle over at Raven River when he was pretty young. Maybe eight or nine.”

  “Do you know the uncle’s name?”

  “Elijah Starblanket.”

  Grace found it hard to conceal her excitement.

  “How do you know him? Let’s face it, Tillie, we cottagers don’t mingle much with the local people, which you could say is pretty awful of us. But we don’t. How do you know Elias’s uncle?”

  “Do you remember that night — you must have been only what, five or six? — when Tommy went missing? Everyone gathered at your cabin to organize a search party. Remember?”

  “I couldn’t ever forget that night. It was so scary.”

  “No kidding. We didn’t know if Tom had drowned or was lost in the bush or mauled by a bear. It was awful.” Tillie paused. “Elijah Starblanket was the man who found Tom in the forest. He’d been out fishing or trapping or something and heard the little bugger thrashing about and crying. You may recall he marched Tom back here and disappeared. But eventually, I found him. I needed to thank him for finding my kid. It took a few years.”

  “How did you manage that?”

  “It took a while. I went to the reserves around here whenever I could, which wasn’t often, and just kept asking questions until someone finally told me it had been Elijah. I barely saw him in the dark, that night; but I did get a peek at him. And it had to be someone who knew the forest and the lakes, and that meant, more than likely, an Indigenous man.

  “That’s when I met Elias, too. He would have been about thirteen or so. Sweet kid. Elijah doted on him, although he was also very strict; I could tell by how he spoke to him. Kind, but strict.”

  “Please tell me Elijah is alive. And at Raven River.”

  “Oh, yes. Well, as far as I know. I haven’t seen him for a while, but I’ve tried to stay in touch a bit. He was certainly fine and still around a year or so ago.”

  “Tillie,” said Grace, slowly. “You must be very upset about Elias. You are obviously very fond of his uncle. You haven’t contacted him, then?”

  Tillie’s mouth worked; her eyes filled with tears, and with a sob she broke down completely. Grace moved her chair beside Tillie’s an put an arm around her shoulders.

  “No. Oh God, what a terrible thing. What an awful, disgusting, terrible thing,” Tillie gasped, a few moments later, between heaving breaths. “I just couldn’t contact him. What if Tom had something to do with Elias’s death? I can’t stand it. Especially since Elijah saved his life. Please, Grace. Get Adam to find out. I have to know.”

  Grace leaned in further and hugged Tillie tightly.

  “He’ll find out. I promise. He’s brilliant, and he never gives up. If anyone can figure it out, Adam can.”

  Tillie nodded, and wiped her eyes on a sleeve.

  “What will you do now?” she asked.

  “Go to Raven River. Want to come?”

  Chapter Nineteen

  The truck bumped and lurched over the dirt road into the Raven River reserve. Despite the vehicle’s considerable size, Grace was forced to fight the steering wheel to keep from bouncing out of the ruts. Shitty roads were ubiquitous on Saskatchewan reserves, which Grace always thought was a result of very bad government policy and jurisdictional confusion. This road, little more than a trail, was exceptionally dreadful.

  She glanced at Tillie. “How are you doing?”

  “Okay. I’m a bit nervous about seeing Elijah, considering Tom, but it’s really time I expressed my sympathies, too. I assume he knows about Elias. Pretty tight grapevine around here, on the reserves.”

  “How’s your back? This can’t be helping it.”

  “I’m fine, Grace. Thanks, but don’t worry about me. Must be done. And I will be glad to see him again.”

  “Any idea which house is his?”

  “Oh, yes. Keep going up to that turnoff, head right. We’re almost there.”

  Three minutes later, Grace pulled up in a tidy yard in front of a small, white house nestled among pine trees. The road sucked, but Raven River was one of the prettiest reserves she had ever seen, tucked as it was into the forest with a river flowing along its western boundary.

  Would they find him at home? Grace’s shoulders tightened as she wondered if their trip had been for nothing, and what their reception might be. She climbed out of the truck and helped Tillie clamber down from its high running board.

  The two women approached the door, took deep breaths together, and Grace knocked. No answer.

  “He might be around the back,” Tillie said. “He has a shop out there.”

  “Let’s go see.”

  They walked around the south side of the little house, and Grace soon saw a large garage at the back.

  “Hello!” Tillie called. “Elijah! It’s me, Tillie. Are you there?”

  The door opened, and an incredibly tall, lean man with long, thick black-and-grey hair appeared, holding a wrench.

  “Tillie,” was all he said, before he walked over and embraced her. The look on his face told both women he knew Elias was dead. Tillie hugged him back and wept.

  “I’m so sorry, Elijah,” she said. “I’m so sorry about Elias.”

  They stood like that for a while, until Tillie collected herself, stepped out of the hug and said, “I’ve brought you a visitor.”

  “I see,” said Elijah. “You’re Miss Grace.”

  Grace’s eyes widened. “Just Grace. Sir, nice to meet you. But how do you know me?�
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  “I know Elias found you in the forest. He described you perfectly, and I’m sure you haven’t changed that much. You were very frightened. He told me.”

  “It’s something you shared, then. Saving us stupid children when we got lost.”

  The big man just smiled, sadly, down at her.

  “Come to the house,” he said. “I think you have something to ask me.”

  “Yes, sir. If you don’t mind.”

  Elijah led the way to the house, and once inside, put a kettle on to boil.

  The kitchen and living room were small, but quite comfortably furnished and very tidy. Tillie and Grace took chairs at the dining table, waiting for their host to prepare tea. It was a fascinating procedure. Elijah Starblanket didn’t simply pull out a teabag but tossed rosehips and a variety of leaves into a pot, along with dried blueberries, as far as Grace could tell. When he poured the boiling water over the tiny cornucopia, the aroma was spicy, rich and complex. Grace couldn’t wait to taste it.

  Finally, he bore three cups, the steaming pot and a plate of bannock spread with crushed cranberries to the table. Briefly, he closed his eyes as if in blessing, and Grace suddenly knew how to address him.

  “Elder Starblanket,” she began. “You may already know this, but I’m a reporter for the Saskatoon newspaper. We are covering Elias’s murder, as well as a second murder that occurred very shortly afterward in the city. As I understand it, you have not yet been officially informed of his death. Is that right?”

  “Yes. I called the RCMP; we must have Elias’s body returned to us. But no one has responded.”

  “I’m so sorry, sir. And sorry to have to ask you about this. Please tell me if it’s too upsetting.”

  The Elder shook his head.

  “It is time for the truth to come out. It is too late, for Elias. I will answer any questions you have.”

  Grace’s stomach knotted. In a flash of realization, she understood that Elijah Starblanket’s life might also be in danger.

  “Is it safe for you to speak to me?” she asked, voice low.

  “Possibly not. But I will. I must.”

  “If you’re sure, sir.”

  “I am sure.”

  Grace inhaled deeply and took a sip of the fragrant liquid in front of her. It tasted of sun and pure water, berries and pungent herbs. It awakened her senses and calmed her nerves. What on Earth was in this? she wondered. Her eyes betrayed her.