Astrid is quiet for a few moments, then says in barely more than a whisper, “Like father, like daughter.”
“What?”
“I don’t normally tell people this, Kathy. When I said I don’t have family to speak of, I meant it literally. I have a living father but never tell anyone I do. Because he killed my mother.”
“Oh, my god!”
“I was seventeen. He’s in jail.” Astrid has her hands in her lap and is studying them as she clasps and unclasps them.
“I’m sorry.” Kathy tears up as she says, “Maybe that’s worse! All I knew was that my father disappeared.”
“But they found him, all those years later? In the furnace? I guess the furnace wasn’t in use, but how did they find him?”
“No. I, uh, a guy…” Kathy chokes up and can’t continue. She feels the weight of Astrid’s intense stare. After a moment, she collects herself and says, “Anyway, they were looking for me and found him when they searched the house.” Her throat constricts and she focuses her attention on driving for a moment. “I’m sorry. I still get too emotional to talk about it.”
“I get it. I never tell anyone my, er, my life story either.” She sniffs. “Have you tried counselling?”
“Yes. I’m down to once every few months now. You?”
“I quit. It was too gut-wrenching. I decided it was better not to have to keep talking about it even though Dr. Malone seems to think otherwise.”
“You went for the, er, you went because of your mother?”
“No, I’m pretty well past that. Having the old bastard locked up was closure for me on that one. Hope he rots there! He got life with no chance of parole for twenty-five years, also ten years for a Ponzi scheme he was running, but of course this is Canada, the sentences were concurrent, and he’ll be eligible for parole soon. I wouldn’t put it past them to decide he’s not a danger to society and let him out. As if a sixty-something asshole can’t push anyone else off a cliff.”
“Oh!”
“If I see him, I’ll kill him. But then, I think of my daughters… And Denver… So I hope I never see him.”
They drive along, not speaking, for a few blocks. Then Kathy asks, “But you were in counselling all these years later?”
Astrid sniffs again before replying, “Not for that, although that’s part of it, I suppose. I was abducted.”
They share a look.
“You were too?” Astrid asks.
“Well, sort of. There’s more to it.”
“There always is.”
They arrive at the Riverview; Kathy turns into the lot and parks in front of the door to her room. They both get out and Kathy goes to the door, key card in hand. She pushes the door open and Astrid follows her inside. Once past the bathroom, Kathy puts her purse down on the bed and the door closes with a clunk behind them. The scent of her perfume is strong.
How could one quick spritz be that powerful, or hang around so long? It must be from housekeeping, she concludes, but they didn’t make the bed?
“Wow,” Astrid says, “Nice! Separate bedroom?”
“Yeah, I didn’t need a room this big but—what was that? Did you hear something?” Kathy gets halfway into the sitting area and stops up short. “Oh, my god!”
The patio door is open and the drapes are still billowing out the door as if someone has just left. Her computer and the papers are missing from the desk. The pillows that should be on the bed are on the floor, their cases removed. One of the pillowcases is ripped to shreds; the other is nowhere to be seen. She brings both hands to her face, and cries, “No!”
“What’s wrong?” Astrid asks as she comes up beside her. “What is it?”
“Someone’s been in here! My laptop! The letters! They were on the desk and they’re gone! And I didn’t leave that door open!”
“Oh my god! Don’t touch anything! We’ll go to the desk and report this. I’ll call the police!”
♦ ♦ ♦
TWO MARKED POLICE cruisers are parked outside Room 110 when Denver turns into the parking lot. He sees Astrid and Kathy standing on the sidewalk talking to the cop he recognizes as Constable Villeneuve. Sergeant Villeneuve, he corrects his thought. There is a chubby man with a comb-over nearby as well.
He parks as near as he can, and joins them. “Hey! It’s been a while,” he says to the cop. He extends his hand and they shake.
“It has,” Sergeant Villeneuve replies. “You playin’ wid duh old timers again dis year?”
“Yup. You?”
“Yeah, me too.”
“Us old dogs never learn I guess.” Denver gives Astrid a quick hug and asks, “so what’s going on? I came as quick as I could. What did you say happened? Someone cleaned out Kathy’s room?”
“Yes. I think we surprised them,” Astrid replies.
“I thought I heard something when we came in,” Kathy tells him. “The drapes were still moving as if someone left in a hurry and the patio door was open.”
“They took some of your things?”
“They took all my things. Even the stuff out of the bathroom. Well, except for my perfume, which is broken on the floor. Who steals toothpaste and deodorant?” Kathy’s voice catches. “How did they even get in? I wonder if they have a master key or something because the other day the patio door wasn’t locked when I came in, and I’m sure I locked it when I left and they said there’s no surveillance cameras out the back only the front but there was nothing missing that time so … and then they tore up one pillowcase and took the other?” This last comes out almost as a sob.
Astrid reaches for her arm, gives it a rub, and says, “You’re okay. Take a breath.”
“Why would anyone take a pillowcase?”
“Sometimes, dey take a pillowcase to carry stuff in,” Sergeant Villeneuve explains. He turns to the comb-over man and asks, “So dere’s no surveillance?”
“Not in the back. Just in front.”
“We’ll need to take a look at it anyway. Dey packed off enough stuff, likely had a vehicle. Could be dey parked in front here. We need to check.”
“Well, umm, Kiersten is the one who knows how to run it.”
“I’ll talk to her, den.”
“She’s not here.”
“She was here when I left,” Kathy says.
“Umm, well, she left without telling anyone. Left us scrambling for someone to put on the desk. Thought she’d be right back because she left her purse under her desk.”
“Does she do dat often? Just leave?” Sergeant Villeneuve asks.
“No. She’s very dependable.”
“And she hasn’t come back to get her purse?”
“No.”
The implications flood over her and Kathy feels a jolt of angst; the blood drains from her face and suddenly everything seems very far off. Astrid clasps her elbow.
Sergeant Villeneuve frowns as he studies Kathy’s face. “Ms. Klein,” he says, “you don’t need to stay here. You have anywhere you can go for a couple hours until we’re done wid your room? You could start making a list of everyting dat’s missing. And if you would come to my office so we can take your statement.”
“When does she have to do that, Jacques?” Denver asks. “Can she come home with us and maybe come to your office tomorrow?”
“Dat would be fine. I know where to find her.” He turns to Kathy and says, “call me if dere’s anyting else in the meantime.”
“But Kiersten! What about Kiersten?”
“We’ll look into it.”
The second policeman comes to the open door and beckons to Sergeant Villeneuve, who says, “Excuse me folks,” and follows the other cop inside.
“You can’t stay here tonight, Kathy,” Astrid says. “You can stay with us. I’ll loan you some jammies.”
Denver says, “Good idea. We have an extra bed and I bet we can find a toothbrush no one’s used yet.”
Kathy nods and murmurs, “thank you.”
“How about I drive?” Astrid suggests. “You�
�re very pale.”
“I’m worried about Kiersten…”
“Yeah, me too.”
“Ladies,” Denver says, “let Villeneuve do his job. He’s not only the best center in the Dark River Old Fart Beer League, but he’s a good cop, too. We can check in with him later.”
“I know it’s early, but there’s a box of Riesling in the fridge that’s calling my name,” Astrid says, and guides her to the Sorrento.
♦ ♦ ♦
BEARON IS AT his desk when he’s surprised by two short blasts of a car horn. He’s not expecting anyone. He clicks the monitor to display the front gate, and sees a car he doesn’t recognize. The driver rolls down the window, sticks his head out, and waves in the direction of the camera. Recognizing Trent, Bearon clicks the open gate command, and the gate starts to roll.
By the time the car is parked in front of the garage next to Annie’s Honda, Bearon has pulled on a balaclava is standing at the door. Trent gets out of the car and trots up the steps.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Bearon asks. “Didn’t your dad tell you to take the stuff to the Dogwood Street house?”
“Well, yeah, but umm, a contingency,” Trent says.
“A contingency? What’s that supposed to mean? And whose car is that?”
“Like I said, a contingency, a contingency happened. Two contingencies! First, my car wouldn’t start. Hadda boost one.”
“You brought a stolen car here?”
“Had to otherwise I woulda been late.”
“Je-sus! Get it the fuck outta here! I hope the hell no one saw you.”
“But …”
“But what?”
“A broad …”
“What?”
“This broad came in when I was gettin’ the stuff so I hadda bring her.”
“What the fuck?”
“Couldn’t take her to Dogwood Street in the middle of the day, could I? Don’t worry, I ain’t stupid. She’s tied up and she didn’t see nuthin’. I put a bag over her head.” He holds his hand up to display bite marks in the fleshy mound at the base of his index finger and complains, “Fuckin’ bitch bit me. Hurts like hell. Prob’ly gonna get infected.”
“A contingency,” Bearon snorts. “Never mind. It’s done. Put everything including the girl in the garage. Then get the fuck outta here.”
Trent says. “I need to put something on my hand. You got polishsporn?”
“It’s just a bite, for fuck’s sake.”
“Yeah, but Des says human bites are bad, all them germs. Maybe I need to get a tetnis shot.”
“Tetanus—? Jesus fuckin’ Christ! Get everything out of the car and get the fuck outta my sight.”
“But..”
“But what?”
“My pay?”
“If it was up to me, you’d be lucky to even get paid, fucking up like this. Your father will settle with you.”
“It wasn’t my fault! What was I supposed to do?”
“You didn’t think you could just tie her up and leave her there?”
“She saw my face! I hadda do something with her!”
Bearon draws quick, deep breaths, then relaxes with a shrug. Naturally he wouldn’t wear a mask for a simple B and E when the woman was supposed to be gone for longer than it would take. Anyone seeing someone around the motel wearing a mask would be sure to report it.
“Okay. You’re right. But your dad will pay you. As agreed.” He steps inside and closes the door firmly before touching the pad to open the garage door, then watches from between the slats of the blinds.
Trent stands as if he’s forgotten how to move his feet; his lips are moving and his fists are closing, opening, closing, opening. Bearon is reminded of the navigation system when you miss the turn: recalculating. Not that Trent is as smart as the nav system.
Finally, Trent spins and trots down the steps to the driveway. He gets a suitcase and a laptop out of the back seat and takes them into the garage. When he returns, he opens the car’s trunk, leans in, and hauls the girl out. It’s awkward; her hands are tied behind her and she has a white cloth bag over her head. She wobbles a bit but he has her by the arm and steadies her, then propels her into the garage.
When Trent gets back in the car and drives out, Bearon pushes the buttons to open, then close the gate, before going through the house to the man door into the garage. He touches the control for the garage door; it trundles noisily along its tracks as he goes to stand beside the girl. She’s sprawled on the concrete floor between the Range Rover and the man door, feet out in front of her, struggling to get up.
With a jolt, he sees she’s wearing a Riverview Inn uniform jacket and her brass name tag reads “Kiersten”.
Muffled cries come from the bag over her head. He can make out some of what she’s saying: she won’t tell anyone if they let her go, why is she here, where is she? And then she’s sobbing. Bearon clicks his tongue, turns and goes back inside the house.
Annie comes into the kitchen with a rag in one hand and an aerosol can of Pledge in the other. “What’s going on?” she asks. “Whose car was that?”
“Nobody’s.”
He picks up a kitchen chair, takes it into the garage and sets it down beside the girl. He paws through the cabinet over the workbench until he finds the roll of duct tape. Hoisting Kiersten to her feet, he pushes her down onto the chair and secures her ankles to the chair legs before releasing her hands from the cords. She flails her fists and one surprisingly hard punch stings his nub ear. He snorts in astonishment, then pins her with his knee while duct taping her wrists to the chair’s arms.
When he opens the door to go back into the house, Annie is standing there as if she was just about to come out. She has a clear view of the girl in the chair. “Oh!” she exclaims.
Bearon pushes her inside and shuts the door. “Shut the fuck up! You don’t want her to hear you. You know her, from church? And likely she goes to Dot’s too? She’ll recognize your voice.”
“What? Who?”
“It’s Kiersten.”
“Oh my god! What are you doing? Let her go!”
“Not that simple, Annie. Don’t worry, she’s not hurt. I won’t hurt her, but she has to stay put for a bit. I’ll explain everything, but now is not the time.”
“But she’s—that’s uncomfortable! Why—?”
“I said, I’ll explain later.” He gives her a quick kiss. “Don’t worry. I have to make a few calls. After that, no reason we can’t spend some fun time together before you have to leave.” He loops an arm around her, pulls her to him, nuzzles her ear and whispers, “You know how much I love playin’ with those big beautiful breasts of yours.”
♦ ♦ ♦
KIERSTEN IS HUSTLED out of Bearon’s garage, pushed into the delivery van and hauled up onto the bench seat, pressed between two men. The van door closes. One of the men raps on the solid wall separating the front seats from the rear. The engine starts and they drive off.
“Let’s have a look at what we got here,” the man on her right says as he pulls the pillowcase off her head.
“Where are you taking me?” she asks.
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“We got a long drive ahead of us,” the smaller man on her left says. “We got time. Let’s get to know each other a little. Where’re you from, honey?”
Kiersten brings her hands, duct-taped together at the wrist, to her face. “I have to pee,” she sobs.
♦ ♦ ♦
BEARON IS AT the head of the table, with Clint on his right and the others in their usual seats. There’s an empty chair at the far end.
“Preacher’s late again. Let’s start without him,” Brent says.
Just then they hear footsteps thumping up the staircase and the portly sixty-something Preacher appears in the doorway. “Hey,” he says by way of greeting. He comes to stand behind the empty chair and looks around the table; his gaze settles on Clint. He asks, “why is he here?”
“Hello to you,
too, asshole,” Clint hisses.
“This concerns him,” Bearon explains.
Preacher’s eyes narrow but he nods, pulls the chair out and sinks onto it. “No appies? Nothing to drink?”
“Jesus! I know you’re a bachelor now but you own a fuckin’ restaurant! Didn’t you eat supper?” Brent asks.
“Yeah, but…”
“Don’t worry, we got a few items coming up soon.”
“I thought we weren’t going to meet here again,” Kevin says.
“That’s what I thought, too, didn’t think we’d have the need before the Lodge was ready,” Bearon tells them. “Wouldn’t have, but a project went off the rails this morning.”
“What project? I did’t hear about any project.”
“Here’s all you need to know, Kevin. All of you. Trent was supposed to clean out a room at the Riverview. Kiersten walked in, so to keep her from calling the cops, he tied her up and brought her to my place.”
“So? Apologise and let her go.”
“And tell her what? A guy B and E’d a motel room, kidnapped her and took her to Bearon’s, but it’s okay? Let her talk to the cops?” Clint asks.
Bearon gives Clint a sharp look, then says, “Look. It’s too late for that. I had Parm and a couple of the guys move her to the basement at the Lodge. They sat with her in the van while they drove around for a while, talkin’ tough. Enough to get the idea across that there’s lots of us and we’re people she doesn’t want to cross. She said she had to pee so they kept drivin’ around until she pissed herself. Took fuckin’ hours. Jeez, you wouldn’t think anyone could hold it so long! The upside is, she thinks they took her a long ways away from here. And then she was happy to get out of the van and into the room. They made her strip, shoved her in the shower and took her clothes. Then they made friends, gave her a sandwich and one of the bathrobes from the Grotto. But we can’t keep her. She has to turn up at work tomorrow before your manager, Wally,” he indicates the Preacher with a lift of his chin, “what’s his name?”
The Bear Mountain Secret Page 12
