Turning Secrets

by Brenda Chapman

  “I’d like to ask you a few more questions,” she yelled above the construction racket. He motioned for her to follow him back down the road. The cacophony dropped several decibels, enough so they could hear each other. Lapointe pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one while he waited for her to talk. Kala opened her notebook and felt for a pen inside her jacket pocket.

  “How do you like working here?” she asked.

  “Well enough. Construction’s no picnic, but it pays the rent.”

  “Have you been with Mortimer long?”

  “Eight years, give or take. I was working on a project in Ottawa and they moved me here last year to handle this build.”

  “Mortimer has an office in Ottawa?”

  “Yup. We’ll take on projects around the valley too. Got a condo job on the go in Brockville and a fire station in Pembroke.”

  Kala filed away the information and watched him as she said, “Nadia Armstrong’s body was dropped off of this hotel, which has always struck me as an odd choice of location. They’d have to have known it was here and how to get to the seventh floor in the dark. Do you know of any workers who might be angry with the company or who might want to stick it to Mortimer for some reason?”

  Lapointe laughed. “You’re not always dealing with the most upstanding segment of society when it comes to some of the trades. Several of the guys have done time, but I have to say, they aren’t likely to bite the hand feeding them. They also wouldn’t be stupid enough to kill a woman where they work. That’d be like shitting in your own nest.”

  “You’re right.” She watched an eagle soaring high above their heads, its wings spread wide, riding a current. “Anyone quit recently?”

  Lapointe scratched his temple. “We hire from a union pool now and then, so they come and go. Fired a guy a few months ago. He wasn’t too pleased.”

  “Do you have a name?”

  “Uh, Lenny somebody. I don’t remember.”

  His gaze shifted away from hers. Kala detected a lie. “Do you recall what he looked like?”

  “Not really. I don’t spend much time getting to know the occasional workers. He was a labourer brought in on someone’s recommendation. He was lazy and had zero skills so we let him go.”

  “Would any of the other guys know more about him?”

  “Maybe, but I doubt it.”

  “You must have his contact info.”

  “The office would have it. You sure this is important?”

  “We’re looking at all angles.”

  “Makes sense, I guess.” He sucked on the cigarette like a baby with a pacifier. Smoke poured out of his nose. “Anything else? I have to get back to work.” He tossed the cigarette butt onto the gravel.

  “Do prostitutes come to the site?”

  Surprisingly, he wasn’t taken aback by her question. “Not here.”

  “Then where?”

  “Some of the guys talk about going to the Blue Nights Motel, not far from the site. To be clear, I have no personal knowledge.”

  “Are we talking young girls?”

  “I wouldn’t know.”

  “Well, thanks for your time.”

  She got into her truck and called Morrison to contact the Mortimer office about the elusive Lenny. She deliberately chose Morrison, knowing Gundersund or Rouleau would tell her to stay home and rest. “I’m going to the Blue Nights Motel,” she added before hanging up, “to check out a tip.”

  “Stay in touch,” said Morrison. “And call me if you need backup.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Fisher was breathing on his own but an oxygen mask covered his mouth. Woodhouse sat in the chair vacated by the last officer on watch and stretched out his legs while crossing his arms across his chest. He’d agreed to a two-hour shift over the supper hour after which he planned to cruise the streets on his way home to look for the missing girls. More than twenty-four hours without sleep … the warm hospital room was making his eyes close. He felt himself dozing and jerked himself awake, staring at the man in the bed who was not expected to survive. Woodhouse forced himself to stand up and moved to the head of the bed.

  “You’re one poor miserable bugger,” he said. “What were you doing that got you into this condition?”

  Woodhouse had heard that talking to comatose patients sometimes brought them around. He wasn’t convinced but talking would help him to stay awake. The word from HQ was that this sad specimen of a man was Dawn’s father and that he could have witnessed something that would lead to her whereabouts. Woodhouse had met Dawn a couple of times and knew she’d had it rough. He’d never admit it to anybody but she reminded him of his own little sister, Cassie, who would have been thirty-five now if she’d lived past her sixteenth birthday. She’d had that same quiet exterior you could read as strength but that he’d known was an illusion. He was twenty-four when Cassie took her own life. He’d moved into his own apartment six months before she died, leaving her alone with an alcoholic father and a bitter mother who hated every person in her life by that point, her children in line behind her husband. He’d thought his dependable sister would be able to handle them with him gone. His mistake was his burden.

  The nurse made a drive-by, checking Fisher’s vitals and reading the heart machine before she moved on to check her other patients. They hadn’t wheeled Fisher out of the critical care ward yet. Gurneys with fresh patients were being rolled in and out. The luckier ones stabilized and got moved to another floor before too long. When Woodhouse have first arrived to take up watch, he’d witnessed a frantic flurry of white coats working around one man before the sheet was pulled up over his face and he was taken away.

  “I’m going to check Fisher’s temperature,” said the nurse close to his right ear. She’d come up behind him on silent feet.

  “Is there any change?” asked Woodhouse, taking a step back but remaining standing.

  “He’s still critical.”

  She made notes on his chart and straightened the sheet after she was done. “I have a new patient being brought in from surgery so we’ll be busy for the next while.”

  “I don’t know how you do it. This steady stream of patients and no time in between.”

  Her serious face relaxed into a smile. “You get used to it.”

  He wanted to ask her if it was true that speaking to a comatose patient could help bring them around but she’d already gone. He moved back into position near the head of the bed. Sitting down would mean instant sleep so he’d keep upright even though his legs ached and the chair was looking damn attractive. He thought he heard a groan coming through the raspy breathing rising up from the bed and he leaned closer.

  “You okay there, buddy?” Of course he wasn’t. Woodhouse checked to make certain nobody was close enough to overhear him. He felt stupid enough talking to a guy who was unconscious without getting razzed about it later. “Thing is, we need you to wake up so we can find out who’s taken your daughter. Dawn’s in trouble and you’re the only one who can help.”

  This time he knew he wasn’t imagining the eye movement and the sounds coming out of Fisher’s mouth. He kept going. “Dawn’s missing, man, and we’ve got no leads. You were the only one to see her get taken and we need you to wake up and tell us who’s got her. She’s counting on you, Fisher. Talk to me, man.” He was guessing about Fisher being the last one to see her but Stonechild seemed to think he knew something.

  Fisher was trying to get some words out and the line on the heart machine was going crazy. Woodhouse knew this might be his only chance. He lifted the oxygen mask and put his mouth next to Fisher’s ear. “Dawn needs you. Who took her? You’ve got to give me a name. Dawn’s counting on you.”

  “Bruuu.”

  “I need a name. Try harder.”

  “Braaa … ggg.”

  He could hear the nurse’s footsteps thumping toward him. “What are you doing?” she asked, her voice low and angry. Woodhouse chanced her ire and blocked her view of Fisher for a few more seconds. “
Come on, Fisher. Give me something to save Dawn.” The nurse was looking at the heart machine and buzzing for assistance. Woodhouse leaned closer and Fisher’s eyes flickered open. He made a couple of new sounds that sounded like numbers. His eyes rolled back. The nurse elbowed her way between them and all but shoved Woodhouse out of the way as he let the oxygen mask drop back into place on Fisher’s face. “You’ll have to wait outside,” she ordered. “Go now and stay in the waiting room until we allow you back in.”

  He took one last look at Fisher but left without argument. Once in the hall he pulled out his notepad and wrote down what he’d heard before he felt the nurse’s elbow in his ribs. He tried to make sense of it. Thought of what Fisher might have witnessed as Dawn was being taken and where he’d seen this pattern before. “Why, you wily old bastard,” he said, recognition dawning on him. “If this bears out, you’ll be my new hero.”

  He took out his phone and scrolled through to his buddy’s number. It was late but he’d still be able to track this down and it wouldn’t take long. The guy owed him a few favours. He sure hoped he was right about what Fisher had been trying to tell him and that he wasn’t off on a wild goose chase. He’d wait for the info to come in to make sure he’d cracked this before phoning it in to HQ.

  Dawn and Vanessa huddled together on the couch and watched Leo pacing in front of them, talking on his cellphone. He was upset and distracted and Dawn considered how she could use this to their advantage. “I’m not evil,” he’d said when he let them out of the basement after a full day of shivering in the cold. “This is just business.”

  Vanessa had roused herself enough to say, “I thought I meant something to you.”

  “You do, baby, but I can’t let my feelings get in the way. It might have gone differently if you hadn’t seen that dead girl at the motel.”

  Dawn kept her eyes straight ahead. Kala was working on a case about a woman who’d been found dead on a construction site. Was Vanessa holding something back about why they’d been brought here? She wanted Vanessa to respond but she stayed silent. She’d have to wait until Leo left them alone.

  “I want them gone,” he said into the phone. “Shawn is bailing. Yeah, he says this is all bullshit and I’m starting to freak.” He listened and paced and then said, “You make sure and it better happen soon.” He shoved the phone back into his pocket and glared at them. “What’re you two looking at?”

  His phone buzzed a message and he pulled it out again, standing in place as he read. “Shawn’ll be here in an hour. What am I going to do with you until then?” Leo’s gaze settled on Vanessa. “This could be our last chance to say goodbye.” His smile was more of a leer and Vanessa flattened herself against the cushions. Her eyes looked wildly around the room for escape.

  Dawn grabbed onto Vanessa’s arm as Leo pulled her up from the couch, but he wrestled Vanessa away from her. “Stand there,” he told Vanessa, pointing to a spot on the floor. He backed into the kitchen and returned with a knife and some twine. He cut off a few lengths and told Dawn to sit in the straight-backed chair near the doorway. He tied her wrists together and then tied her arms to the chair. “You sit here nice and quiet, and this won’t take long.”

  Vanessa was waiting silently behind him, not even trying to get away. Dawn wanted to scream at her to do something but she had that same faraway, dead look in her eyes, just like before. Leo turned when he was done with his knots and shoved Vanessa forward in front of him to the bedroom off the side of the living room. Dawn waited until the door was shut before she began working at the knots. Lucky for her, Leo clearly hadn’t been a boy scout and she’d managed to hold her wrists apart slightly as he tied them together. It didn’t take her long to worm one wrist out of the twine. A minute later and she was free.

  She stood and looked at the closed door. Should she try to rescue Vanessa or get out while she could and find help? She had no idea how long she had before Shawn showed up and she couldn’t fight off two of them, especially with Vanessa acting like a walking zombie. A quick scan of the room didn’t reveal any handy makeshift weapons and the thought of using a kitchen knife on Leo didn’t appeal to her. She made her decision and moved silently toward the back door.

  The kitchen was still a mess and smelled of stale pizza and beer. She tiptoed across the floor, holding her breath. The phone on the wall made her pause but the urge to flee kept her moving. She unlocked the deadbolt as quietly as she could and collided with the screen door before she realized it was also locked. Her frantic fingers found the hook and then she was outside, pulling the doors shut quietly. She turned and scanned the darkness, letting her eyes adjust for a moment. The back-door light of the neighbour’s house was on and she started running in that direction. Halfway across the yard, she could see that the inside of the house was in darkness and her spirits dropped. She’d have to keep going and hope someone was home farther on.

  Before she made it past the leading edge of the house, a car slowed on the main road, the arc of its headlights barely missing her as they swung up the driveway between the two houses. Dawn flattened herself against a wall and stayed motionless while she watched Shawn jump out of the black car that had brought her here. As soon as he entered the back door, she ran across the neighbour’s yard in the direction of the water and the temporary safety of the trees.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  The man behind the counter at the Blue Nights Motel was an innocent babe in the woods, if Kala was to believe his version of the truth. He’d never seen any prostitutes on the premises, let alone underage girls. Mind you, he only worked nights and most patrons were already tucked safely in their rooms by the time he took over. “Sure, have a look around,” he said to her at the end of his stream of bullshit.

  Kala tried unsuccessfully to get a view of the TV screen behind the desk. “What about security cameras? Do you have tapes of people coming and going?”

  “Nah, we live stream to the office but don’t keep any of the feed. It’s not like we’re a high-security building.” He laughed, showing teeth browned from nicotine. “I can let you into a room if you want but they’re basic places to sleep. No frills.”

  “If it’s not too much trouble.”

  He jangled a ring of keys as he led her to room eleven. He hadn’t padded his description of the decor. Her eyes took in the off-orange bedspread, scarred brown headboard, and green-and-gold patterned carpet. The desk under the window had a vinyl-covered chair and a small fridge tucked underneath. She remembered seeing the black-and-white flower pictures hanging above the bed at Ikea. She checked the bathroom. Cramped shower, toilet, and sink with a yellowish stain surrounding the drain.

  “Do people pay by the hour?” she asked as he locked up.

  “Not that I’m aware.”

  “Do you know a guy named Lenny?”

  “Lenny?” he turned, a puzzled expression on his face. “No, can’t place anyone by that name.”

  She pulled out her phone and showed him photos of Nadia Armstrong, Vanessa Jefferson, and Dawn Cook. He shook his head each time. “Like I said, I’m not here during the day.”

  Kala knew that he couldn’t be that unaware of what was going on but she had nothing to use to leverage the truth out of him. The innocent look on his face was at odds with the cunning in his blue eyes, magnified to an owlish intensity by his black-rimmed glasses.

  “I’ll be back tomorrow,” she said.

  He nodded. “I’ll leave a note that you’re coming.”

  She had no doubt that he was on the phone to his boss before she even reached her truck. She slammed the steering wheel with the heel of her palms. The answers felt close and yet out of reach. Taiku got up from where he’d been lying on the passenger seat and began licking the side of her face until she flung an arm around him. “It’s okay, boy. I’m not upset with you.”

  Now what?

  She turned on the engine and let the truck idle while she considered her next move. Her phone vibrated in her pocket and she pulled it o
ut. “Yeah, Stonechild here.”

  “And Woodhouse here. I have something. Can you meet me in front of the Merchant in ten? Park your truck and we can take my car. It’s less obvious.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I have a lead we need to check out.”

  Kala started to ask him again what was going on but the line went dead in her ear. “What the hell, Woodhouse?” she muttered. She had nowhere else to be so she put the truck in gear and started downtown. At least this errand would keep her from thinking too much about all she was in danger of losing.

  Woodhouse was waiting for her at the main entrance, his car idling in the no-parking zone. Kala settled Taiku in his back seat before climbing into the front. Her phone rang as she was buckling up her seatbelt and she answered after glancing over at Woodhouse. He was doing a shoulder check and pulling onto the street.

  “Hey, Gundersund,” she said. She kept her eyes on Woodhouse. “Yes, I’m with Woodhouse and we’re going to check out a lead.” She listened for a moment. “I’ll put the phone on speaker. Where are we going?” she asked Woodhouse.

  “Fisher gave me the licence plate number of the car that hit him. At least, I’m hoping that’s what he told me. I got a name and address for the owner of a black Audi and I thought Stonechild and I could go have a look. I could be totally wrong, however, so I didn’t want to raise the cavalry yet, especially considering the name of the owner.”