“What else did he say?” I asked.
“He didn’t say much else to me. I think he’s saving that for you.”
Maven came up behind a camper, pulled into the left lane, and left it in the dust. He hit I-75, took that north to the International Bridge. When we got to Canadian customs, things got a little interesting. The woman in the booth wasn’t accustomed to police officers from the States telling her why she could save her questions. Eventually, Maven had to step out of the car, go into the little shack to speak to someone else in charge. When he got back behind the wheel, he was ready to tear someone’s head off.
“Moreland left specific goddamned instructions to let us through without delay,” he said as he gunned it back to full speed. “How the hell that could be so hard to understand is beyond me.”
He looked at his watch as he hit the traffic in Soo, Ontario. He swore at a few drivers before he finally turned his flashers on. It’s funny how an unmarked car suddenly makes you pay attention when the headlights and all the hidden auxiliary lights start dancing back and forth.
“Technically not kosher for me to do this in Canada,” he said, “but I’d like to see them try to stop me.”
I would have felt sorry for anyone who did. Soon we were out of the city and on the King’s Highway, heading due east. We passed through the Garden River First Nation. I had come to a healing ceremony here with Vinnie, once upon a time. We drove through Bruce Mines and Thessalon, and as we got closer to Blind River I could feel the lump in my throat. This was the way to Natalie’s house, the way I had driven so many times, back and forth. When the relationship was young and we were both feeling our way through it. God damn, all the hours on this very road, looking forward to seeing her again. Coming home happy. Or coming home wondering if this thing would ever work out.
We passed the turnoff for McKnight Road. It had always felt like a lucky charm to me, seeing that sign. If Maven noticed the name, he didn’t say anything.
Through Iron Bridge, over the Mississagi River. This was getting harder for me. I wanted to close my eyes and not see these places again.
Finally, we drove through Blind River. The house was a mile east of town.
“You all right?” he said. It must have been pretty obvious.
“This was her town.”
“I’m sorry. There’s no other way to get there.”
“I know. It’s all right.”
I couldn’t help watching for her driveway, looking through the trees, just to see the house one more time. When we were past it, I looked out the window in the opposite direction. I watched the North Channel rolling by us, the green water under the dull gray sky.
Algoma Mills, Serpent River, Cutler, Sheddon Township, Walford, Victoria. A string of small Canadian towns, with miles and miles of empty road between them. The trees got heavier as we left the water and headed toward Sudbury. We’d been on the road almost four hours now, with Maven driving like a speed demon. Finally, we could see the Superstack rising high above the horizon, which could only mean that Sudbury was just ahead.
We started to see the nickel mines, the desolate piles of white ore that made the place look like something on the face of the moon. As we got closer, the Superstack loomed over a thousand feet above us, this giant chimney that fed the sulfur gases to the winds. There was supposedly a lot of environmental reclamation going on around here, a lot of great places to live now, especially around Lake Ramsey, but I was in no mood to forgive the place today. It just seemed like the strangest place in the world to say goodbye to Natalie.
“You realize she’s not going to be here,” Maven said, as if he were reading my mind. “I mean to say…with the investigation still underway…”
“Her body, you mean.”
“Yes.”
“Then why are they doing this today?”
“Well, they’re not exactly sure when they’ll be able to put her to rest. With an open case like this, not to mention having two different countries involved…it could take weeks. So they decided to go ahead and have the service.”
“I understand.”
“They’re going to take her back to Hearst, eventually. They’ll bury her there.”
“Okay.”
“Like I said, though…Sudbury’s the one place everybody can get to today.”
“Why are you doing this?” I said.
“I told you. Moreland asked me.”
“No matter what he said, you could have said no. I could have come up here by myself.”
“He seemed to think that would be a bad idea. He wanted me with you.”
It still wasn’t adding up for me, but I let it go. I kept my mouth shut while Maven drove through town, looking for wherever we were supposed to be. He was about ready to blow a gasket for the second time that day when we finally found it. It was a funeral chapel on the east side of town, just past the rail yards.
A funeral chapel. Where they had funerals, although this one would be with no coffin. Yet one more thing to hit me between the eyes, just when I felt like I might be on top of things. From one second to the next, I wasn’t sure I could do this. I wasn’t sure that I could even get out of the car and walk into this place.
There were dozens of police vehicles parked outside, from both the Ontario Provincial Police and the Royal Canadian Mounted. Maven parked the car. We got out.
“Are you ready?” Maven said to me.
“No.”
“Would you like to stay out here for a moment, get some air?”
“Yes, one minute.”
I turned away. I walked to the far side of the lot, stood there looking out past a row of houses at the trains in the yard. Nothing was moving.
Okay, I told myself. Go do this. Do it for Natalie.
I went back to Maven, gave him a nod. Nothing else. He went to the front door and opened it for me.
When we stepped inside, I saw fifty, maybe sixty uniforms. Mostly men, a few women. They were all in full dress, the OPP in their blues, the Mounties in their reds. Shoes shined bright, white gloves. Some of them were wearing their Stetsons, others held them in their hands. I couldn’t see one other person who wasn’t wearing a uniform. Me in my black suit that should have taken a trip to the dry cleaner’s before I put it on…I wouldn’t have felt more out of place if I had been wearing a pink tutu.
Somewhere you’re sharing in the joke, Natalie. Somewhere you’re laughing. That’s the thought I held on to, the only thing that got me through that first five minutes.
I saw Staff Sergeant Moreland across the room. He was a tall man with a full head of white hair. He could pass for a kindly old grandfather until he decided he was unhappy with you. I knew that all too well.
He gave me a long look, then a nod. He saved the grim smile for Maven.
We had to stand around like that for a few more minutes. I could feel the mood of the room changing, as everybody became aware of my presence. Things got quieter. Finally, people started to sit down in the pews. Maven and I sat alone in the last row.
That’s when I saw her picture. It was sitting on a table, with a blue flag folded up next to it. Next to that was her hat, and next to that was a black velvet pillow with what looked like medals resting on top of it.
There were roses, lilies, a big bouquet of what looked like wildflowers. Either somebody knew that she loved wildflowers, or it was just a lucky guess.
A clergyman stepped up to the podium. Finally, another man in a dark suit. He said some words about Natalie Reynaud. About duty and honor and serving her country. It was obvious he had never met her. The words could have been about anyone.
Then Sergeant Moreland went up to the podium, walking as slowly as any man could. He started out talking about Natalie growing up in Blind River, how she came to his detachment when she was only twenty-three years old. He had to stop then. He closed his eyes and breathed out hard. He swayed so far that three of the men in the front row got to their feet, as if they’d need to catch him. Moreland fought t
hrough it, told everyone what a great officer Natalie was, what a great person. How she was like the daughter he never had. That seemed to shut him down again. I was sitting there in the last row, feeling the burning in my stomach.
“We have a man here named Alex McKnight,” he said, regaining some of his composure. “He’s the man in the suit. In the back row. He was closer to Natalie than anybody else, so I hope you’ll take a moment to give him your best wishes. Thank you.”
The clergyman got back up and asked if anyone else would like to say anything. None of the other officers stood up. They probably didn’t want to follow Moreland. Or maybe, in the end, none of them had really gotten to know her well enough. The only partner she had for more than a few months was a Senior Constable named Claude DeMers. And he was dead.
I asked myself if I wanted to stand up, if there was anything I could tell these people. I decided that I couldn’t. Whether that made me a weak person, or a wise person, I’ll never know for sure.
When the service was over, everyone stood up and filed slowly past the table. Maven and I waited until the room was almost empty, then we stood up for our turn. I took a long look at the picture. Natalie in her blue uniform, hair pinned up, wearing her Stetson. Her expression all business. I couldn’t help but smile at it. The one smile I would manage all day.
I touched her hat. “Goodbye,” I said. “I love you.”
When I turned around, I saw a few of her fellow officers watching me. I couldn’t help but wonder how much they knew about me. I couldn’t imagine Natalie talking about me too much. Their only other source of information would have been Sergeant Moreland, and beyond whatever he may have told them about me, they all had to know she was in my cabin when she was killed.
Three of the men approached us, all of them dressed in OPP blue.
“Mr. McKnight,” one of them said. I saw something in his eyes before he reached for my hand, got myself ready just in time. His grip was hard enough to break bones. I didn’t flinch.
The second man shook my hand, just as hard as the first.
The third man didn’t extend his hand at all.
“Sergeant Moreland tells me you were a cop once,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Nice of you to show up for her today, Mr. McKnight. Of course, she could have used you a few nights ago.”
“Excuse me?”
He grabbed me by the lapels. I didn’t try to stop him.
“Let go of him,” Maven said.
“This doesn’t concern you, old man. And that badge doesn’t mean shit here.”
“Let go of him now or I’ll put my boot up your ass, so help me God. Right here in the chapel.”
The other two officers were trying to pull him off me now. I couldn’t think of one thing to say to the man. There was a part of me that couldn’t help but agree with him.
The spell was broken by the sound of the bagpipes. The three men left us there. I straightened my suit and then Maven and I went outside. Everyone was standing around in the parking lot, talking in small groups. After a few minutes, it was obvious that nobody really knew what to do. There was no coffin to put in a hearse. No procession of cars to the cemetery.
Sergeant Moreland finally came up to me. His eyes were still red. He shook my hand, then Maven’s. He thanked Maven for bringing me out.
I thanked him for thinking of me, for making it possible for me to be here.
“I’m sure Chief Maven told you,” he said to me, “that I’d like to have a few words before you go back.”
“Of course.”
“The local detachment is just down the road,” he said. My first clue that this might be more than just a polite chat. “I’ve already arranged an interview room for us.”
“An interview room?”
“Yes, Alex.” He looked me in the eye. “There are a few things I need to know.”
Chapter Sixteen
The Sudbury detachment was a single-story brick building in the middle of town. It had about as much charm as Maven’s building back home. Moreland was waiting at the front door for us. He led us both to an interview room. It happened to look exactly like an interview room in the States, or probably any interview room in any police station anywhere in the world. A single table, a few chairs. A mirror on one wall.
“Would you like Chief Maven to stay?” Moreland asked me. “Or would you prefer to do this one-on-one?”
“I’m not exactly sure what it is we’re doing,” I said. “But the chief brought me all the way out here. I don’t see why he can’t stay in the room.”
“Very well.” He sat down at the table and asked me to sit across from him. Maven took a third chair and sat at the end, as if he were the referee in a chess match.
“As I indicated before, I’d like to ask you some questions,” Moreland said to me. He took out a legal pad and a pen. “Some for our investigation. Some for myself.”
“Go ahead.”
“First of all, tell me everything that happened, from the moment Natalie came out to your place.”
I thought back for a few moments, then I gave him the full rundown. Natalie showing up at night. The two of us spending the next day together, going to the Glasgow, going into town, even the quick side trip to see if Leon was home. Everything I could think of. Then going back to my cabin…
“You left her there alone,” he said. “For the first time all day?”
“Yes. Things were getting a little tense between us. We both needed a few minutes to cool off. Plus I had to go take care of some people in one of the other cabins.”
“Why were things getting tense?”
“Because I didn’t want her to go back to Toronto. I could tell she was scared.”
“Did she say that to you?”
“Yes. She described the meeting with Laraque and the woman.”
“Rhapsody.”
“Rhapsody, yes. She had been spending a lot of time with her. I already knew that part. But this was the first time she had met Laraque in person. From the way she described him…”
“Yes?”
“She told me that she had a gut feeling Laraque had seen through the whole trap. That he was just playing with her. With everyone.”
Moreland was busy taking notes. Perhaps this was helping him. Doing this police business, writing things down like I’m sure he’d done a thousand times before.
“She also told me,” I went on, “that you didn’t like the idea of her going undercover in the first place.”
He looked up at me. “She told you that?”
“Yes, she did. I guess you could say that you and I were both in complete agreement on that point.”
He looked down at his pad. He wasn’t writing anything now. He was just staring at the words.
“So you left her at your cabin,” he finally said. “How long were you gone?”
“Fifteen minutes. Maybe twenty.”
“You live in a pretty isolated place, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“When you came back, you saw a vehicle?”
“I saw taillights. That’s all.”
“You can’t tell us anything else about the vehicle?”
“No, I’m sorry. It was a little foggy.”
“It was foggy.”
“Yes.”
“So you were gone for fifteen or twenty minutes. And when you came back…”
He looked down at the paper again.
“I didn’t hear anything,” I said. “I know that’s the next question. The cabin was close enough for me to hear a gunshot.”
“So whoever this was, he used a suppressor.”
“It would seem.”
“You heard about Don Resnik. We estimate he was killed about six hours before Natalie, although he wasn’t found until the next day. Someone shot him in his apartment. His body was right by the door. So they figure he answered the door and got it right then. Whether he looked through his peephole or not…Well, in any case, he still had his wallet. Not
hing else looked out of place. So it wasn’t a random robbery.”
“Was it the same gun that killed him?”
“No, it wasn’t. The ammunition was similar, but it was definitely two different guns.”
“But it still could have been the same person,” I said. “He could have made it from Toronto to Paradise in six hours.”
“Yes, although he probably would have had to take a plane. Which would explain a change of guns. We’re checking on that angle right now. Everyone who flew into Chippewa Airport. Or Pelston. Or Soo, Canada. Any airport that would have gotten him to your place in time.”
“So what about Laraque? Does anyone know where he was all day?”
“The folks in Toronto tell me he was seen several times that day. They were definitely keeping an eye on him.”
“It could have been somebody working for him.”
“It could have been, yes. But how did this person know to find Natalie in your cabin? That’s the question I keep coming back to.”
“I don’t know the answer. I really don’t.”
“Why would Laraque have two police officers killed, anyway? If you look at it objectively, it’s probably the dumbest thing he could ever do.”
“Why?” I said. “Because it would turn up the heat on him? If he knew he was getting set up, how much more heat could he feel? Maybe this was a message to you and to those guys in Toronto, and to every other law enforcement officer in the country.”
“You’re assuming he considers himself untouchable then.”
“If he does,” I said, “I’d like the chance to prove him wrong.”
“Meaning what? If you knew for sure that it was him-”
“What would I want to do to him? Once again, Sergeant, I think we’d be in total agreement.”
“What I’d want to do is build a good case against him and put him away forever.”
“You’re speaking like a police officer now,” I said. “But as a man…as a friend who loved her…I think you’d have a different idea.”
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