by Garry Ryan
“You boys want some coffee?” Eva asked.
Silence was her answer.
“Bruce, Elliott, Everett? I know you’re there. Your mother told me you three helped move Norm’s grader last night. You come on out and get a coffee! You must be cold. It’ll warm you up! Your mom is in the truck on the other side of the fence.” Eva lifted her coffee in greeting.
A man appeared from behind an evergreen in the ditch. Another materialized from the opposite side of the road, next to one of the women working at the fence.
Two more crawled out of the trench cut across the pavement.
Lane handed out coffees. The men cradled their weapons as they formed a circle around Eva. “Two more coffees left!” Eva said.
Another man stepped out from behind the ancient grader. He hopped over the trench. When he reached them, Eva handed him a cup.
They stood there in silence, sipping their coffees.
The engine of the backhoe belched a cloud of diesel smoke. It inched nearer to the fence. The women at the fence posts had the wire down on the ground, keeping it there with their feet as the backhoe hobbled over the uneven ground, nosed down into the ditch, then crawled up the other side and onto the pavement. The cab lights revealed a driver wearing a pink ball cap and red satin jacket.
Eva waved at the driver. “Judith! Shut it down.”
The clatter of the diesel died.
In the fresh quiet, Eva said, “We’re gonna have breakfast. Then we’re gonna talk. Your mothers and aunties are in the trucks. We’ve been talkin’. We don’t want anyone else to die. Lost Norm and Alex and four other boys. That’s enough.” Eva pointed her coffee at Lane. “The policeman’s here ‘cause I invited him. He’s the one got shot by Norm.”
Eva waved at the pickup trucks. The engines started up and the trucks moved forward. Dipping and bouncing, they eased their way in and out of the ditch, then parked between the protesters and the police.
The woman driving one pickup opened the door and looked into the crowd. She nodded at one of the men who nodded back. Similar greetings occurred within the group of women and men.
Within five minutes the women had coolers out and more coffee. The coolers held sandwiches, muffins, bread, fried potatoes, and bacon. Paper plates were distributed. People stood alone or in groups, talking quietly while eating and sipping from coffees resting on hoods and tailgates.
Eva looked at Lane. “Come on. Get something to eat.”
Lane’s phone began to vibrate. He pulled it out of his pocket. “Lane.”
“McTavish here. We’ve just arrived. We’re wondering if you need some assistance.”
Lane looked at the faces of the men and women around him. “We’re just having breakfast.”
“What?” McTavish said.
“Who’s with you?” Lane asked.
“Don’t worry, Stockwell is not on this detail. He’s off duty until the shooting has been investigated.” McTavish sounded insulted that Lane had even asked the question.
“At this stage, everything is fine. Give us some space. Eva’s looking for a solution and it’ll take time.” Lane looked east. The sun was painting the horizon red and orange. A layer of solid cloud left a gap so the sun could paint the belly of the overcast.
“Check in with me every fifteen minutes or I’ll be calling you. The chief is pretty specific about that. She doesn’t want anyone else hurt.” McTavish was blunt to the point of being rude.
“None of us want that.” Lane looked at the sky as the top half of the sun rose, ripe and orange. He looked at the people, could see their faces now, their teeth when one or two smiled. A mother hugged a son. A wife touched a husband’s hand. Eva watched it all.
Lane thought, There are more officers at the roadblocks, policemen putting on their body armour and checking their weapons, and scouts watching us through night vision goggles. Someone touched his elbow. He looked to his right. Aidan offered him a sandwich.
“Egg salad. My specialty.” She sipped at her coffee and watched him over the rim of the cup.
“Thanks.” Lane unwrapped the sandwich. It was thick whole-wheat bread. There were sweet pickles in the mix with the egg. Lane was ravenous. “This tastes wonderful. I haven’t had breakfast yet.”
“So, it tastes wonderful only because you haven’t eaten?” Aidan asked.
Lane could swear Aidan was smiling behind the coffee cup.
“You’re enjoying this.” Lane waved his sandwich in the general direction of the barricade.
She nodded. “I like to see people stick up for themselves.”
Lane looked at the rifles and shotguns leaning up against the trucks. “I’d prefer it was done without weapons.”
She pointed at his Glock. “So would I.”
“Fair enough. How come you’re talking to me today?” Lane asked.
“Eva likes you. She doesn’t like everybody. And I saw you try to save Norm. You didn’t try to stop Eva from cutting Stockwell down to size after the bastard killed Norm.” Her voice choked at the mention of Norm’s name. “And you stopped me from running into the middle of the whole mess.”
“I regret not thinking quickly enough to save Norm.” Lane looked at his coffee and sandwich.
“That’s my big regret about Alex. But Alex is dead and so is Norm.” Aidan shrugged.
Lane looked around. “Maybe that’s why Eva is here. One less regret.”
Aidan said, “It’s time to talk. At least that’s what Eva says. When she talks, people tend to listen. And most of these people have been at her sweat. They’ll listen to her if they’ll listen to anyone.”
Eva looked toward the barricade. “Any more fellas there?”
“Just me,” a voice said.
“Come on out. Time to talk,” Eva said.
A man stepped out from behind the barricade. He carried a rifle with a scope mounted on top. Lane saw that it was Al from the gas station.
“Come on over, Al,” Eva said.
A woman, who Lane assumed was Al’s wife, said, “Coffee’s good.” She handed Al a cup when he got close enough.
Lane saw the golden eagle amulet at Al’s throat, his buckskin jacket, pants, and moccasins. Over top of it all he wore a black waterproof canvas coat reaching to his heels. The coat matched the colour of his stetson. Lane looked around, studying the reactions of the First Nations people to Al’s European attempt at transforming himself into an aboriginal. Most faces revealed neither distaste nor acceptance. Only one young man smiled and shook his head at Al’s outfit.
Eva handed Al a sandwich and the last cup of coffee Lane had brought with him.
The sun was high enough now to hide itself behind the solid cloud cover. Their part of this world was half-lit somewhere between sunrise and sunset.
“We’ve got some time,” Eva said. “How much?” Eva looked at Lane. All eyes turned in his direction.
“How much do you need?” Lane asked.
“Hard to say,” Eva said.
Lane pulled out his phone, recalled the chief’s number, pressed a button, and waited.
“Lane?” the chief asked.
“We need some time. Eva’s got everyone together to talk,” Lane said.
“Do you trust Eva?” the chief asked.
Lane nodded. “Yes.”
“How much time do you need?”
“I’m not sure.” Lane waited.
The chief took some time to reply. “I’ll get you as much time as I can. Pretty soon someone from the province will be calling me and then someone from Ottawa. The media will get wind of this if they haven’t already. It’ll be a circus in no time. Who knows how much time you’ll have? I’ll get in touch with McTavish for you. You call him in two minutes. Keep him in the loop?”
“Okay. Thanks.” Lane closed his phone and looked at Eva. “The chief of police is giving us as much time as possible. I’m not sure how much.”
Eva nodded. “Let’s get started.”
Lane called McTavish. “Sit tight. We’re trying to s
ort this thing out.”
McTavish said, “Understood.”
Lane closed his phone while nodding at Eva.
Eva sat on a tailgate at the edge of a rough circle where some leaned against the trucks, sat in lawn chairs, or stood together in pairs. She listened. The conversation flowed and ebbed as the people spoke of their issues. Some talked of the two years it took to find Alex’s killers. Many wondered why Norm was killed. They asked if it were true that there were no bullets in his twenty-two rifle. Others talked of the city trying to push them off their land.
Lane watched Eva handle each issue with a nod or the one comment she repeated over and over again, “Six dead is enough.”
Every fifteen minutes, Lane called McTavish with an update. If Lane forgot, someone in the circle would remind him.
Three or four hours later one woman said, “What about the guns?”
Her son stood, lifted his shot gun, ejected the shells, and set the weapon down in the middle of the high-way. The women looked at each man in turn. In silence they waited as one man after another emptied his weapon and set it down next to a growing stockpile. An hour later, the group watched Al as he cradled his weapon in his arms, refusing to meet any of the eyes aimed at him.
Lane looked at their faces until he saw Aidan watching him. He thought, Of course!
He took his pistol out of its holster, ejected the clip, checked for a round in the barrel, then dismantled the Glock and set the pieces down next to the other weapons. He dropped the clip into his pocket, then stepped back to join the circle.
For thirty minutes they waited in silence until Al stood, took the scope off his rifle and slipped it into his pocket. He emptied the rifle and put it with the rest.
Eva said, “We’re here today. We’ll be here tomorrow. The city will not be able to take away T’suu T’ina lands if we stick together. The city is coming this way. We have no choice but to find a way to live with each other.”
One of the men said, “We need to fill the hole in the road.”
Judith walked to the backhoe, “I’ll get it started.”
One woman joked, “Judith was the one who dug it!”
Men and women grabbed shovels. Within half an hour, the trench was filled and tamped. They used the winch on one of the trucks to tow the grader off the road while the backhoe’s bucket pushed the museum piece from behind. The grader was maneuvered through the ditch to the south side of the fence. Pretty soon, Lane was the only one on this side of the wire.
He stood in the middle of the highway next to the weapons. The barbed wire was tacked back onto the posts. Lane watched as the men and women packed into the pickups and backhoe.
He took his phone out of his pocket and dialled.
“Lane?” the chief asked.
“The road is repaired. The barrier is down. The weapons have been left in the middle of the highway. Please let McTavish know that the protesters are leaving and will be allowed to pass through road blocks without any interference. Without Eva, you know this probably wouldn’t have ended peacefully. We got away with a warning.” Lane closed his phone.
Eva watched him from the cab of a pickup truck where she sat with four women.
Lane’s phone rang a minute later. He opened it.
“Lane?” McTavish asked.
“It’s me. The protesters have disarmed themselves and will be allowed to go home without any delays. The weapons are here. Come get me and the weapons.” Lane closed his phone after noting that it was after ten o’clock.
A police van pulled up within a minute. McTavish stepped out. He was dressed in his black tactical uniform. Without a word, he and Lane loaded the weapons into the back of the van.
As they drove back through the police barriers, McTavish nodded in the direction of the cameras set up on the gas station’s lot. “Our deputy chief sure knows how to find the spotlight.”
Lane turned to watch Deputy Chief Calvin Smoke smiling at the cameras and pointing at his chest.
chapter 19
WEDNESDAY, JULY 17
Lane sat at the table on the deck, just off their kitchen. He sipped Arabica and watched Roz with her nose nestled between paws. The sun reflected off the neighbour’s vinyl siding. He sat under an umbrella to protect him from nearly thirty degrees of heat.
The phone rang. He picked it up.
“Lane?” Harper asked.
“You okay? How about Erinn?” Lane asked.
“They’re both sleeping. When Erinn found out about the last shooting, it was just too much. She started thinking about the time I was shot. She had a meltdown. Glenn and I have been busy taking care of her and Jessica. It’s not easy because the baby is being breastfed. Erinn’s finally getting some sleep instead of staying in bed and staring at the ceiling.” Harper kept his voice at a whisper.
“How about you?” Lane looked at Roz. Her tail swept the deck.
“I’m hangin’ in there. If it wasn’t for Glenn, I don’t know what I’d do. The kid’s been cooking meals, helpin’ with clean up, walking the baby, doing loads of wash. He’s sleeping too.”
“What’s up?” Lane asked.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said about this case. About how it’s not over until we find the two missing guys.” Harper gave Lane a second to get up to speed.
“Have you been sleeping?” Lane asked.
“A couple of hours. My mind is on overdrive.”
Lane asked, “Nightmares?”
“No. Nothing like that. It’s the case. I can’t stop thinking about it. Look at what’s happened, all because it wasn’t solved the first time around. We’ve got to find those two missing guys.”
Lane felt Roz nudge his free hand. He began to rub her under the chin. “We have to go back to Eva’s. The problem is that, after what’s happened, I wouldn’t blame her if she refused to allow us on her place. And there’s the problem of where to start looking.”
Harper thought for a minute. “I’ve been doing some research. There may be a likely search area.”
“What have you been researching?” Lane asked.
Harper told him.
chapter 20
THURSDAY, JULY 18
“Christine got a job,” Arthur sat at the table on the deck. He wore his housecoat to cut the chill of the early morning air.
“Where?” Lane stretched his legs out and sipped from his coffee. He thought, What am I going to say to Eva when I get to her place?
“The coffee shop. You know, the one Kuldeep runs.” Arthur adjusted his housecoat.
“When was this?”
“Yesterday. She starts today,” Arthur said.
“She seems in a rush to get on with her life,” Lane said.
“And if she’s living here for a while, we’ve got to make plans.” Arthur leaned forward.
“Plans?”
“Christine will need to go to school in the fall,” Arthur said.
Lane parked to one side of the burn mark in Eva’s yard. Aidan’s pickup truck was parked close to the Quonset. The inside back door of the house was open. The glass on the screen door sparkled.
Alone, Lane, turned off the engine, got out of the Chev, and listened to his feet crunch over gravel as he walked to the back door and knocked. He studied the fuchsia plant hanging next to the door.
Aidan came to the door. She smiled at him.
“Who is it?” Eva asked.
“Lane.” Aidan crossed her arms.
Eva came to the door. Her hair was braided. She wore a sweatshirt and sweatpants. She looked at Lane. “Want a cup of coffee?”
“I’m coffeed out. How about a walk instead?” Lane asked.
“Okay.” Eva stuffed her feet into shoes and grabbed a ball cap. “Comin’?” She looked at Aidan.
Lane backed down the stairs and waited.
Aidan opened the door, sat down on the steps and put on a pair of boots. She stood to hold the door open for Eva.
A hummingbird swooped in, hovered, and stuck its beak i
nto the nectar of one of the fuchsia’s blossoms. Lane, Aidan, and Eva watched until the bird zipped away.
Eva led the way past the car and along a path. They walked up a rise. At the crest, the downtown towers could be seen through the morning haze. “City’ll be here pretty soon.”
“I’m sorry,” Lane said.
Eva turned to him.
Lane felt a tightness in his chest making it difficult to form the words. “I saw the box of shells and the rifle bolt in your kitchen cupboard. I put it all together too late. Norm should never have been shot.”
Eva looked back toward the city. “You tried to stop it.”
Aidan stood beside her and put her arm through Eva’s.
“I was too late,” Lane said.
“Stood out in the open and tried to stop it,” Eva said.
Lane shook his head. He looked past the women to the silhouettes of city buildings in the distance. There was no denying the city was creeping this way.
“Like I said before. We’re here. You’re here. None of us have got anywhere else to go. Gotta learn to live with each other. It took a while, but the boys at the blockade are beginning to understand.” Eva turned to Lane. “And, you came to our sweat. Then you came to the blockade with coffee instead of soldiers. That’s a start.”
“You didn’t judge me,” Lane said.
“Look at how European religion treated some of us in the residential schools. Judgin’s the wrong way to go.” Eva almost maintained her impassive expression.
Lane thought, That’s always been the problem: judgement.
“Norm’s funeral is tomorrow at ten. You and Harper be there?” Eva asked.
“I’ll be there. Harper’s wife is …” How do I say this? Lane thought.
Eva waited.
Aidan watched him with curious expectation.
“She just had a baby. She’s afraid of what might happen to Harper,” Lane said.
“Oh.” Eva studied Lane’s face. “You still have to find those other two, don’t you?”
“Yes.” Lane looked at his feet.
“Those bastards killed Alex,” Aidan said.
Eva looked at Aidan, then spoke to Lane. “Hatred eats us up from the inside. Been tryin’ to figure out where Norm might have put those two boys. Could be anywhere.” Eva looked west to where the prairies rolled up to the foothills and the mountains.
