Black Water

by Rosemary McCracken

  Bruce was staring sadly at the lights of the town when I joined him on the deck.

  “The police want us to wait here. There’s an accident on Highway 123, and it may be a while before they arrive.” I paused. “You understand that I had to call them.”

  He looked down at his boots. “Tell me what he’s done.”

  “Your father isn’t himself right now. He has a lot of people worried.”

  He looked up at me. “I know where he went.”

  “Tell me.”

  “You have to drive me there.”

  “I have to wait here for the police.”

  He stared at me for a moment, then turned and walked down the stairs.

  I hustled after him and grabbed his arm. “Okay, let’s go.”

  We got into the Porsche and I turned the key in the ignition. “Where are we going?”

  He gave me a weak smile. “North on Highway 36. The Fortress of Solitude.”

  “When I was a kid, Dad and Superman were my heroes,” Bruce said when we’d put Braeloch behind us. “Dad worked at a newspaper like Clark Kent did at The Daily Planet.”

  “And the Fortress of Solitude?”

  “Dad’s cabin. He built it before I was born. Said it was the place where he could get away from everything.”

  I thought of cabin at the lake where Ted had put his son’s body. “Is there a lake at this cabin?” I asked.

  “Porcupine Lake.” Out of the corner of my eye I saw him smile.

  “Turn north here,” Bruce said as we approached an intersection.

  “You and your mother never went up to this cabin?” I asked when I’d made the turn.

  “Mom never did, but twice, when I was a teenager, Dad took me up for a week of hunting. It would make a man out of me, he said.” He paused. “It wasn’t my thing. He didn’t understand.”

  “Accommodation was pretty rough, I imagine.”

  “Yeah. A couple of cots, a table, two chairs.”

  “No running water, no electricity by the sound of it.”

  “We cooked canned stuff on one of those camping stoves with propane canisters. And Dad had kerosene lanterns for light.”

  “Not much fun.”

  He turned to glare at me. “You think you know, but you don’t.” He turned his attention back to the road. “The mornings were beautiful. We’d hike to other side of the lake looking for game. Sometimes there was mist on the water…”

  Black Bear Lake was on our left, and the driveway to our house was just around the curve in the road. I slowed as we approached it, checked for vehicles on the highway and made a left-hand turn.

  “Hey,” Bruce said. “Where are you going?”

  “Won’t be a minute. This is where Celia and I are staying.”

  I let myself into the house with my key. Celia stood on the other side of the door brandishing a cast-iron frying pan.

  “It’s you!” she cried. “You had us terrified. Why didn’t you call?”

  “No phone. I’m here to get my cell.”

  I found it fully charged on the dresser in my bedroom. I asked Celia to call Foster, and to tell him that Bruce and I were headed north on Highway 36. And that I’d call him when we reached Ted’s cabin.

  I grabbed my waterproof boots and returned to the car.

  We rode along in silence for the next twenty minutes. The sun had just gone down when Bruce pointed to something ahead of us. “There’s a lane coming up on the right side of the road.”

  I turned into the lane—a single set of muddy tire tracks through the woods. I parked in a small clearing just off the highway. I didn’t think the Porsche was built for off-road treks.

  “We’ll have to walk from here,” I said. “It’ll be dark soon. Why don’t we call the police?”

  “I’m going.”

  He got out of the car and started to follow the tracks. I dug out my cell and called Foster. I told him approximately where we were on Highway 36.

  “There must be a roadside number where you turned in,” Foster said.

  I got out of the car and walked over to the highway where I found a small sign with a five-digit number. I gave it to Foster.

  “Stay at the car,” he said. “Don’t go near the cabin.”

  I found a high-beam flashlight in the Porsche’s glove compartment. I stepped into my waterproof boots and hurried to catch up with Bruce.

  Ten minutes later, we reached a cabin at the edge of a frozen lake. Darkness had fallen, but under the full moon I could make out the silhouette of Ted’s van. The building was bathed in shadows. Its roof sagged under the weight of snow or time, probably both.

  The cabin was smaller than I’d imagined, probably no larger than a modest living room.

  I heard a chugging sound that I guessed was made by a gas-powered generator. It seemed that Ted had added a few amenities since Bruce’s last visit.

  I shone the flashlight on the building. A gas canister sat on the small porch beside a barbecue. I could see a propane tank beneath the tarp covering the barbecue.

  A light came on in the cabin window.

  “Hey there!” Bruce called.

  The door swung inward. A man stepped out on the porch with a rifle in his right hand and an oil lamp in his left. “Who’s out there?” It was Ted’s voice. “Show yourself. I’ll shoot if I have to.” He set the lamp down beside him and raised the rifle to his shoulder.

  “It’s me, Dad.”

  “Who’s that with you? You with the flashlight, show yourself.”

  I took a few steps forward and shone the light under my chin. “Pat Tierney.”

  “Go away, both of you.” He swung the rifle up in the air and fired. “That’s your warning. Now go.”

  Bruce moved forward. “I can help, Dad. Whatever’s wrong, I’m here for you. I’m your son.”

  “You’re no son of mine.” Ted’s voice was as cold as ice.

  Bruce stopped a few feet away from him. “What?”

  “I said you’re no son of mine. Ask her.”

  I stood frozen, unable to say anything. Bruce took a step toward Ted.

  Ted fired again, this time into the snow next the Bruce. “Get back!”

  “Tell me what’s wrong. Let me help,” Bruce said.

  I switched off the flashlight and inched forward.

  “That crazy idea of Vi’s,” Ted said. “I bought into it because I wanted a son, but I got you.”

  Bruce squared his shoulders. “I’m a good son. You just never let me show you.”

  “It’s too late, boy. It’s time to end the lies.” Ted braced the rifle against his shoulder and aimed at Bruce.

  “No!” Bruce lunged sideways.

  I switched on the flashlight and aimed the beam straight into Ted’s eyes. He stumbled and knocked over the lamp beside his foot. The glass broke, lamp oil spilled on wooden floor of the porch and a tongue of flame licked at the rivulet of fuel.

  Bruce jumped onto the porch. He and Ted both gripped the rifle. They spun as each tried to wrest it from the other’s hands.

  A shot ricocheted off the barbecue and punctured a hole in the gas can. Gasoline streamed out of the container and met the fiery rivulet from the lamp oil. There was a whoosh, and flames began to crawl along the cabin walls and roof. Fire enveloped the propane tank and it exploded.

  I dropped the flashlight on the ground and rushed forward. Flames were devouring the wood and I knew it wouldn’t be long before the cabin came crashing down.

  Bruce and Ted toppled through the open doorway, neither giving up his grip on the rifle. They fell on the floor. Bruce was on top, his eyes locked with Ted’s.

  I ran in after them and grabbed Bruce by the shoulders. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

  Bruce released his grip to brush me away. Ted shoved and kicked from beneath, sending Bruce and me sprawling toward the door. The rifle clattered to the floor. Bruce and I staggered to our feet, coughing from the smoke. Flames worked their way along the walls. Above us, the roof was a
checkerboard of fire.

  Ted seized the rifle and got to his feet. “Now I’ve got you!”

  As he raised the gun to fire, a fiery piece of ceiling fell on him. He screamed, and his shot went wild.

  I yanked Bruce’s arm and dragged him out of the cabin. We fell on the snow landing on our backs. As I got to my feet, I saw Ted flail away at his burning clothing. I helped Bruce up. Screams came from inside the blazing cabin.

  “Dad!” Bruce took a step toward the house, then threw up his hands to shield his face from the heat.

  The screams had stopped. I picked up the flashlight and touched Bruce’s shoulder. “He’s gone.”

  I put an arm around Bruce and steered him toward the highway. At the edge of the clearing, he turned to look at the burning cabin. He fell to his knees and let out a wail.

  “That’s it.” I looked across the desk at Foster after I’d given my statement.

  “That’s quite a story. You sure you have nothing to add?”

  Not only had I described what had happened at the cabin, but I’d also related what Ted had told us that afternoon. “What more is there to say? Bruce can corroborate what happened at the cabin, but he doesn’t know anything about Lyle’s murder or his…parentage. You’ll need to speak to Lainey Campbell.”

  I paused. “Will you tell Bruce about his parents?”

  Foster leaned back in his chair. “First I’ll hear what he has to tell me.”

  He picked up the telephone receiver. “Send Mr. Stohl in.”

  Lainey and Soupy walked into the detachment while I was waiting for Bruce. They spoke to the woman at the front desk, then took chairs across from me.

  “The cops told us Ted was dead, but nothing more,” Soupy said.

  I gave them a short version of the fire at the cabin.

  “How horrible.” Lainey took a tissue from her purse and dabbed her eyes. “That’s not the Ted I knew.”

  “If you had called the police he might still be alive,” I said.

  “I like to believe the best about people, even if…evidence…shows otherwise.”

  “What did you think Ted would do?” I asked.

  “The right thing,” she said softly. “I hoped he would go to the police, but he was a proud man. I guess he couldn’t admit to himself that he’d done wrong.”

  Soupy patted her shoulder. “What about Bruce?” he asked.

  Lainey gave him a stern look. “Bruce, poor soul, had nothing to do with it. He was a baby when he was taken from his parents.”

  “He has to be told who his real parents are,” Soupy said.

  “I don’t think so, son. Bruce is devoted to Vi, always has been. He and Lyle never got along. He even threw a rock into Lyle’s grave.” She closed her eyes. “His own father.”

  I had to step in. “Bruce has the right to know about his parents. But not now. Maybe in a day or two.”

  I excused myself and went to the other side of the room to call Celia. We agreed that Bruce shouldn’t be alone for the next little while. She said she’d have the pullout couch in the basement ready for him.

  Foster brought Bruce back to the reception area. I asked Foster if I could have a word with him.

  “Did you tell Bruce that Vi took the Critchleys’ baby?” I asked when we were in his office.

  “No, I didn’t,” he said. “I’ll look up that missing child case tomorrow. If we can find some hair samples at the Critchley place, we’ll see if there’s a DNA match. Hopefully we’ll be able to close the case.”

  “Can we tell Bruce that Lyle and Edna were his parents? He’ll want to know why you’ve asked him for a hair sample.”

  “He’ll need to know,” Foster agreed. “But it won’t bring the Critchleys back for him.”

  He locked eyes with me for a few moments, then gave a slight nod to his head.

  I was still without my car, and the service station was closed for the night. “Any chance of a lift out to Black Bear Lake?” I asked.

  Foster sighed. “One of the officers will take you.”

  He came out to the reception area with me. “Mrs. Campbell, I’ll speak to you now,” he said.

  Lainey gave Bruce a hug and followed Foster into his office.

  Bruce watched them leave the room. Then he looked up at me with mournful eyes.

  “Bruce,” I said, “it’s time for us to go.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  I was permitted to return to my office the next morning. Soupy and I were dividing up Nuala’s client accounts when Ivy messaged me over the intercom. “Mr. Kulas is here to see you, Pat.”

  Keith was visiting the boonies? I didn’t like the sound of that.

  “Pat,” Keith said, when I met him in the reception area. He nodded briefly at Soupy, who had followed me out of my office. “We need to talk, Pat. In your office.”

  I had a feeling that this wasn’t going to be fun.

  “Nuala Larkin’s stunt yesterday is bad for our business,” he said as I closed the door. “Clients and prospects will be spooked as soon as word of that and her other…activities gets out.”

  I didn’t tell him that word was already out.

  He sat down in my chair. I dropped into the chair facing the desk.

  He rested his elbows on the desktop and leaned forward. “We’ve got a problem here, Pat, and you’re the girl to fix it. You’ll stamp out any fires and you’ll focus on getting this branch up and running.” He cleared his throat. “This will be your permanent base. And, by the way, there’s a vice president’s title in it for you.”

  Vice president! Adrenaline hit my bloodstream. The bastard knew I wanted that title. And that I’d do whatever he asked to get it.

  Keith addressed the Tom Thomson print on the wall behind my head. “You’ll run this branch. You’ll also oversee all our operations from Lindsay to the south all the way up to North Bay. Your title will be vice president, north-central Ontario.”

  Reality came into focus. What about my clients in Toronto? Those were relationships I had nurtured for years. My home? The kids?

  Keith’s pale blue eyes shifted and fixed on mine. “So it’s settled. You can stay at Black Bear Lake while you look for a place of your own. You’ll have the place until the end of June, but it’s booked for the summer.”

  I pulled myself together and looked Keith in the eyes. “I’ll need to think this over. And talk to my daughters.”

  “Take the weekend. But I want an answer on Monday.”

  If my answer was no, there would be no vice president’s title for me. And my career at Norris Cassidy would sink like a stone.

  “I’ll let you get back to work.” He stood up and flashed me a smile. “Norris Cassidy is counting on you, Pat.”

  So confident that I’d take his offer, I thought as I watched him leave the office. I got up, closed the door and slammed my palm against it.

  A minute later, there was a knock and Soupy came into the office, looking wary. “So?” he asked. “What’s up?”

  I took my coat off the rack. “We talked about the branch and how it’s doing. Now I’ve got an errand to run.”

  Five minutes out of town, I turned the Volvo into the parking lot at the public beach. I walked down to the water’s edge where the snow had receded. Leaving the sandy beach, I wandered along the rocky shore of Serenity Lake until I came to a finger of land that stretched out into the water. I sat on a log and gazed at the ribbon of black water along the shore. Beyond it, the lake was covered in snow and ice.

  If I accepted Keith’s offer, I’d have to leave Tracy and Laura in Toronto. They wouldn’t be happy about that, but they were moving on with their lives. But what about Tommy?

  I had another option. I could leave Norris Cassidy and start my own business. The company maintained that it owned its clients and reassigned them whenever an advisor left the fold. I would have to give up people I had worked with for years. I would need to rent an office suite and build up my business from scratch. On the upside, I’d be my own bo
ss. I wouldn’t be jerked around by people like Keith.

  I didn’t know what to do. I had to talk to someone. I walked back to the Volvo.

  I was about to get in when a vehicle honked. Al and Ruby’s Ford pickup, with a U-Haul trailer hitched behind it, pulled into the parking lot.

  Al rolled down the window of the passenger door and waved me over.

  “Glad we caught you before we headed out.” She extended her hand.

  Killer growled in his seat between the two women.

  “This is goodbye?” I asked as I shook Al’s hand.

  “We figured it was time to move on,” Ruby said.

  “Ruby put the farm up for sale,” Al said. “We’re movin’ out to British Columbia.”

  I smiled. Canada’s westernmost province is known for its cannabis culture.

  “Good luck to you,” I said.

  “You too, Pat,” Al said.

  She rolled up her window and waved. Ruby honked again. Then they disappeared down the road.

  The kitchen light was on in the rectory. I opened the back door, and found Celia and Bruce seated at the table.

  Bruce glanced at me and turned back to Celia. “What are you saying? That I’m—”

  She touched his arm.

  He jerked away and stood up. “Mind your own fucking business.” He looked at me. “Both of you. Get out of my life!”

  He grabbed his parka from the hook beside the door. The kitchen door slammed behind him as he left the rectory.

  “You told him about his parents,” I said.

  “He had to be told.”

  I looked out the window. Bruce was gone. “You’re not afraid…?”

  “Let him walk off some steam,” Celia said. “He’s angry, and anger is a reaction to grief. He’s just lost the life he’s known.”

  I stared at her. Bruce was a troubled man who had been given information that would shatter anyone’s world. I didn’t think he could handle it.

  “Bruce is a grown man, not a child,” Celia said. “He’ll be back, probably with questions. I’ll tell him what he wants to know, but I won’t dump a lot of information on him.”