Chapter
Forty
That bastard! When I called the Migiskan police station to have them remove the Lightbody van from my driveway, I discovered that he’d already reported it stolen. He was counting on his fleeing family being stopped by the police and returned to him. I fully expected him to come zooming up behind us and bouncing my bumper to stop us, but thankfully, if he was following us, he remained out of sight. Unless, of course, he was waiting in Somerset, which was why we’d agreed to meet Marie-Claude’s brother at an abandoned drive-in cinema on the outskirts of town. A good distance off the main road, it wouldn’t require either of us to travel through the middle of town and risk being seen.
Thankfully, her brother was waiting for us by the time we arrived. It had been a tense drive, and although I could feel Marie-Claude desperately trying to bolster her courage, it was slipping away as the miles ticked by. From the moment the professor climbed out of his ancient BMW and embraced his sister and nieces, I could tell he fully supported her decision. Thank God. Worried Jeff might still track us down, we spent little time in exchanging words, other than offers of thanks and encouragement.
I did, however, suggest they consider hiding out at a shelter until Jeff’s fury had abated, since he probably knew where Richard lived. While Marie-Claude seemed reluctant, I could see the suggestion resonate with her brother. Another person who wasn’t fooled by his brother-in-law’s outwardly respectful demeanour.
As I was about to climb back into my truck, Marie-Claude called out and came running back to me.
“I am so busy thinking about my own problems, I forget ma cher Fleur,” she said, gripping my hands. “Please save her. Now that my dear brother J.P. can no longer help, you are my only hope.”
“Don’t worry. The Migiskan police are working on it. Once they pinpoint the location of this fishing camp, they’ll launch a rescue. By this time tomorrow, she’ll be safely with you,” I said, crossing my fingers and praying it would be true and that Eric would also be found alive and well at the camp.
“How I wish this will happen. But sadly, I see that Will has no power. The Sûrété du Quebec, like the Ottawa police, will do nothing. No, you must find this place yourself and rescue her.”
“You’re wrong. I hate to say it, but your brother’s murder will force the police to ramp up their search for Fleur. After all, he was probably killed for what he’d learned about her.”
“You are so trusting, ma cher amie. J.P. was Les Diables Noirs, one of the toughest gangs in Quebec. They are involved in many criminal activities. The police will see his death as one less gang member and will do nothing about finding his killer.”
“You’ll be in Ottawa shortly,” I persisted. “Go to the police station and tell them what J.P. told you. Surely that will force them to do something. In fact, Will Decontie is there right now working with them on Eric’s disappearance. Speak to him and the police involved in Eric’s case. I’m convinced his disappearance is tied in with Fleur’s.”
By this time, Richard had come up behind her and had been listening to our conversation for the past several minutes.
“I think this is a very good idea,” he said in French. Although taller than his sister and with darker hair, he had the family’s pale blue eyes and slim build. “And you can file a restraining order against your husband at the same time.”
The haunted look in her eyes returned. “Oh, I couldn’t do that. He would be very angry with me.” Her eyes began to tear. “If only ma petite Fleur hadn’t gone looking for a job, she would be here safe with me.”
I started. “What do you mean?”
“J.P. said that a place where she went to looking for a job put her in this danger.”
“Did he tell you where or what this job was?”
“I didn’t ask him. I thought it didn’t matter. He said he was going to rescue her, and I believed him. And now he can’t.” More tears fell. “That’s why, Meg, you have to do it. I have no one else.”
“Please, ma petit soeur, do not worry,” her brother said. “The police will find her. I will speak to them personally when we arrive in Ottawa.” He nodded at me then pulled her gently around. “Now we must leave.”
With her head against his chest, his arm around her shoulder, they walked back to his car, from which her daughters peered worriedly out the back window.
A knot tightened in my stomach as I watched their car turn onto the empty road and disappear from view. I was worried the terrified woman would lose her resolve and go back to her husband. And I was beginning to worry that she was right. That despite her brother’s efforts or Will Decontie’s, the Ottawa police and the SQ would do little about rescuing her daughter or Eric, for that matter, even though they supposedly had made his case a priority.
But what could I do? I could hardly commandeer a plane and rescue them myself.
However, before I got too wound up, I decided I should check with Sarah. Hopefully luck was with us and Will had managed to mount a rescue.
Unfortunately, when I reached the policewoman on a payphone at a gas station, I learned that the rescue would be delayed by at least a day. George had notified the charter plane company to delay pick-up until tomorrow. His client was enjoying himself too much. Wendy had only found this out when the plane company called her to let her know the change in plans. When she’d tried to call her husband on his satellite phone, he’d already turned it off.
“But the charter company knows the location of the lake where George is. Why don’t you send a plane in to ask him about the fishing camp?” I asked.
“I don’t think we can do that. It’s outside our jurisdiction, besides the Chief says he’s not convinced Chief Eric is at this fishing camp.”
“What about the matchbox found in his luggage?”
“The Chief figures Chief Eric picked it up at the same time he got the beer glasses.”
Possibly, but … “What about the fact Marie-Claude’s brother mentioned this same bar in his dying breath? Surely that counts for something.”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t place Chief Eric there. Besides the Chief says the Ottawa police are following up on other leads.”
“What about Fleur? Her uncle places her there.”
“How do you know that?”
“He told his sister before he died. Called the camp a brothel, which is hardly legal. Surely that’s enough evidence to launch a rescue.”
“I’ll pass it onto the Chief. I’m afraid I’ve got to go now. There’s been B&E at the Rec Centre.”
“Do you have a number I can reach Will at?”
“He’s on his way home. You can try his cell.”
After hastily scribbling down the number on a corner of a page from the phone book, I scrounged through my wallet for more change, but not finding any, had to run across to the gas station to get some. When I finally managed to place the call, I heard his voice mail instead. Figuring there was no point in leaving a message, I tried the number again without success.
I reached him on the third try.
“Look, Sarah, can’t it wait until I get back to the station?” He sounded exasperated. I could hear wind blowing through an open window with the sound of a car passing by.
“Will, it’s me, Meg.”
“Sorry.” He chuckled. “I’m afraid this is the first time my young gal has been manning the office on her own, and she’s a bit nervous. What can I do for you?”
“I gather from Sarah that you don’t think Eric’s at that Green Parrot fishing camp.”
“To tell you the truth, Meg, I have no idea whether he is or not. Just the matchbox isn’t sufficient evidence to place him there. Besides, the Ottawa police have a couple of much stronger leads they are pursuing.”
“Like what?”
“Now you know, Meg, I can’t discuss an ongoing investigation with you.”
“Come on, Will. You know how much Eric means to me. I have to know you guys are doing all you can to find him.”
“You can be assured that we are.”
“Good. Did Sarah tell you that before he died, Marie-Claude’s brother told his sister that her daughter was being held at the camp as a prostitute?”
“She just told me.”
“Isn’t that sufficient evidence to fly into the camp and check it out?”
“I’m afraid we just can’t go on the word of a known felon. We need more hard evidence from more reputable sources. Besides, we don’t know if it’s the same place.”
“Oh, come on, Will. How many remote locations can there be with green birds?”
“Look, I want to find Eric and Fleur as much as you do, but to mount a proper investigation takes time and money.”
“Christ, you’re sounding like a bureaucrat.”
“Look, my hands are tied. If it were up to me, I’d send a plane in now, but it’s not. The SQ is the only police force with the authority to fly into that camp, and they need considerably more solid information before they are prepared to commit their men and their resources. Mounting a plane operation isn’t cheap.”
“What do they need to know?”
“Now, Meg, I don’t want you running around half cocked, trying to collect more information. It could be dangerous. The Ottawa police think there might be a link between the shooting death of the woman who went over the bridge in her car and Marie-Claude’s brother-in-law.”
“Why do they say that?”
“Sorry, I can’t tell you, but lets just say the Black Devils appear to be involved in both cases.”
“Didn’t I hear mention of witnesses seeing motorcycles speeding away from the accident? Were they identified as Black Devils?”
“Now, Meg, I can’t say any more.”
At that point the pay phone operator asked me to insert more money. Deciding that if the police were going to be cash conscious, I would be too, I hung up.
Marie-Claude was right. We couldn’t count on the police.
Chapter
Forty—One
It was well past lunchtime, and I was starving, so I headed off to a traditional Quebec cafe on Somerset’s only main street, where I devoured a croque monsieur, merely a fancy name for a grilled ham and cheese sandwich, and poutine, Quebec’s answer to a calorie bomb, French fries smothered in gravy and cheese curds. I was hoping this bit of sustenance would help me figure out what to do next.
Even though the police chief thought it likely Eric had picked up the matches during his earlier visit, I wasn’t convinced. Sure, he could’ve left them accidentally in his suitcase, but given his recent travels, I thought it likely he would’ve found and removed them. No, I believed that he’d come across the matchbox elsewhere, and recognizing the green parrot logo, he’d figured out its origin. Because it was significant, he’d kept them. Since Eric wasn’t a smoker, there was no other reason for keeping the matches. I figured the matchbox had to be related to his investigation into the missing women. He’d told Mary that he’d uncovered something disturbing but needed more evidence before making his findings public. And then he’d disappeared.
With J.P. confirming that Fleur had been taken away to a remote brothel with this strange oiseau vert, I could only conclude that Eric had uncovered this same nasty business. He must have come across the matchbox during his investigation, and having recognized it, he knew where the girls were being taken. Someone had realized this and set about to have him silenced. But did they kidnap him … or kill him?
I couldn’t bear the thought of Eric gone forever, so I had to believe that he was still alive. In fact, I was convinced he was. We’d been so close. Surely I would feel an emptiness if he were dead, but I didn’t. But I was terrified that his time was running out. Eric would be a liability to the criminals behind the trafficking. If the police delayed much longer, they might very well find him dead.
In my mind, the most likely place to hold him was this isolated fishing camp accessible only by plane. It was supposed to lie somewhere in the vast empty forests of northern Quebec, hundreds of kilometres from any habitations, which would make escaping alive all but impossible.
But how to convince Will Decontie of this?
He said he needed evidence, concrete, irrefutable evidence. But how could I obtain that short of flying into the camp myself? I wasn’t about to do that, even if I did know its location. For one, I didn’t know how to fly, nor did I have access to a plane, and for another it would be pure madness to try to mount my own rescue operation.
I supposed I could pretend to be a client and do some sniffing around while I was meant to be fishing and hope I would come across Fleur or Eric or both. But since I imagined the clientele was mostly male, my solitary female presence would be suspect. Moreover, this could take time to arrange, and time was what I believed Eric didn’t have.
On the other hand I didn’t believe Fleur’s life was threatened, unless of course she did something to get her captors angry like trying to escape or refusing to service the men she was required to. Still, Becky had been killed, as were four others. But I didn’t know if their deaths were linked to the prostitution ring Fleur was trapped in. They had, after all, been killed not far from where they’d gone missing and not hundreds of miles away at the camp of the green parrot.
And where did the biker connection come in? I couldn’t see a biker gang running a fishing camp-cum-brothel, but I could see them being behind the trafficking of the women. And Eric had noted a Black Devils connection to some of the missing women. Fleur had also been seen with a gang member. Still, if the Black Devils were in the business, one would think that J.P. would’ve been aware of it. Unless it was a secret operation run by only a few members, one the broader membership didn’t know about. But J.P. had found out and paid the price.
Will said that Claire’s murder was also linked to bikers and to J.P.’s killing. But where did she fit in? She’d told the police that she’d seen Fleur with Becky. In fact, she was probably the last person to see both girls before they disappeared. Had she seen something she shouldn’t have? After Becky’s body was found, had she begun to suspect someone and asked one question too many?
I found it curious that all these missing girls were estranged from their families. It was if they had not been randomly snatched, but rather had been specifically targeted by a perpetrator who knew their absence wouldn’t be noticed. It suggested maybe they had been followed, even wooed by someone who already knew their history. Hadn’t I read somewhere that human traffickers often used a job as the incentive to lure unsuspecting young women into their trap?
And Fleur had gone in search of a job. In fact, J.P. had said this search had led to her entrapment. Perhaps I could find the evidence Decontie needed to convince the SQ to fly into the fishing camp. I knew of three places where the young woman had gone looking for a job: the Welcome Centre, the Dreamcatcher Bistro, and the Black Orchid Spa.
I also knew that most of the missing women, except Fleur, had at one time been clients of the Welcome Centre, which had worried Eric. But surely an organization that was in the business of helping its own people wouldn’t be instrumental in causing them harm. But they would’ve kept detailed family histories of their clients. Either someone outside the organization could be illegally accessing its files or someone from within had turned on his or her own people.
It looked as if I should return to these establishments to see what more I could learn. Although I hadn’t seen anything to spark my suspicions on my first visits, now that I knew what I was looking for, I could follow up with more discerning questions and a more critical eye. But I wouldn’t do this on my own.
I found some more change, went to another pay phone, and called Teht’aa, who promptly agreed to join me at the cafe. She would also bring Eric’s files, along with photos of each of the women.
My plan was to try to determine if any of these women had gone to the spa or the restaurant, either in search of a job or as a client, and if so, whether we could home in on one place where the majority had gone. I
was also hoping we could link their visit back to a specific person or leak of information at the Welcome Centre.
I felt there was no point in going back to the Centre itself. I’d already spoken to a number of people, all of whom knew some, if not most of the missing women, and who would have had access to their client information. None of them had acted particularly suspicious to me, although I’d only been asking about Fleur, unless Paulette’s possession of the photo of the camp with the green parrot made her a likely suspect. Besides, if one of them were indeed guilty in providing information to the traffickers, I wouldn’t want to tip them off to my suspicions. And if the Black Devils were behind it, it put Teht’aa and myself in danger.
Chapter
Forty—Two
Worried we were running out of time, Teht’aa and I decided to split up. I would go to the Black Orchid Spa while she went to the Dreamcatcher Bistro. Since the owner at the restaurant had been more than open with me, I doubted she was involved in any kind of nefarious dealings. Still, she would probably be quite familiar with the native scene in Ottawa, so she might be able to pass on places frequented by native women that could be possible conduits for trafficking.
The spa, on the other hand, with its haughty receptionist who’d been less than helpful on my first visit, seemed a better candidate. I could see a job at a fancy spa easily attracting pretty young women, and once lured behind its locked glass doors, they could be spirited away elsewhere. I’d called the manager three times, and she had yet to return my call.
The minute Teht’aa arrived at the café with copies of the photos of the missing women, we took off in our separate vehicles. Our plan was to meet at O’Flaherty’s at six to compare notes. On her way to Somerset, Teht’aa had dropped by Three Deer Point to feed Sergei and to let him outside to do his business. He should then be set for several more hours on his own, no doubt blissfully flopped out on his favourite chesterfield until I got home later in the evening.
A Green Place for Dying Page 22
