Rouleau took the bag and looked at the photo through the plastic. The man wasn’t Boris but the woman resembled Antonia. This must be her husband who died in prison and the two children who disappeared. Petran had believed Boris to be a brutal monster capable of selling out his own family, torturing and killing prisoners, murdering Zoe Delgado and Vivian McKenna. They should not be feeling any sadness for his death.
If they’d died by Boris’s hand as it certainly appeared, he must have received word that authorities were beginning proceedings to have him tried for war crimes. Petran’s visit and what lay before him could not be a coincidence. Rouleau only wished that Boris had left a note confessing to the murders. He’d feel more confident closing their files with that final admission of guilt.
Kala filled in Gundersund on the information that she and Rouleau had received from Petran earlier that afternoon as they walked down the Orlov driveway and up the road to the McKenna house. She stopped talking when they reached the reporters lining up on the side of the road with cameras angled to film the Orlov house in the background even with visibility marred by the falling snow. Marci Stokes broke away from the cameraman she was talking with and caught up to them halfway between the two houses.
“Woodhouse is giving a statement in a few minutes,” said Gundersund. “We have nothing to say.”
“Is it true Boris Orlov murdered Zoe Delgado and Vivian McKenna?” asked Marci, shaking snow from her hair and wiping the melting flakes from her eyelashes with a gloved hand. “The rumour is that’s the reason he killed himself.”
“No comment.”
“No comment because you don’t know or no comment because you do?”
Kala and Gundersund kept walking and Marci fell back. “That woman’s everywhere,” mumbled Gundersund. “Like a bad penny.”
“She’s doing her job.”
“The question is, where’s she getting her information? She’s at the crime scenes practically before we are.”
A police officer was guarding the McKenna house. “They’re all inside,” he said and knocked on the door, stepping aside to let them by.
Adam McKenna ushered them into the hallway. “This is crazy,” he said. “Boris must have killed Zoe and Vivian. We’re reeling.”
“We’re here to speak with Lauren,” Kala said.
“She’s upstairs.” He turned and saw his wife in the doorway. “Mona, can you go get her?”
He brought them into the living room where Tristan and Evelyn were sitting. Tristan stood and Evelyn remained seated. Her eyes were red from crying.
“I can’t believe Boris would do such a thing. Poor Antonia. Why would he kill her?”
Tristan moved across the room to stand next to Adam. “Lauren won’t tell us what happened. She’s in shock.”
Evelyn said, “Why she was over there in the first place, I’ll never know.”
“Let it go, Mom,” said Tristan. “The only reason we’re all still here is because of the storm. Toronto is already snowed in and we’ll be next. Lauren wanted to check on Antonia because she was worried.”
“I told her not to bother them. Antonia has sick spells and comes around when she feels up to it. Why didn’t your sister listen to me for once?”
“I’m quite sure that Lauren’s visit had nothing to do with Boris killing himself.”
“How can you know that, Tristan? Maybe she said something or got him angry.”
“Mom, stop it.” Adam’s voice cut across the room like ice. “You can’t say things that have no basis in fact. We can’t turn on each other.”
Kala touched Gundersund’s arm. “Why don’t I go upstairs and see if Lauren feels up to speaking with us?”
He nodded, his blue eyes seeking hers and signalling that they couldn’t end the sniping too soon for his liking. “I think that would be helpful.” He lowered his voice so that only she could hear. “I’ll stay here and keep a lid on things.”
“Her room’s at the end of the hall,” Tristan offered.
Kala took the stairs two at a time, happy to be away from the negative energy in the living room while also filing away the insight that the exchange had given them into Evelyn’s relationship with Lauren. Mona was walking down the hallway toward her. Her eyes were puffy from crying as well and her voice was dangerously close to wailing. “She won’t let me in. I don’t know what to do.”
“Join the others downstairs. I’ll speak with Lauren and make sure she’s okay. I imagine it’s the shock.”
“I can’t take this in.”
“I know. It’s hard to understand sometimes why people act as they do.” She put an arm around Mona’s shoulders. “Are you okay?”
“No, but I have to be for the family.”
“Don’t hesitate to seek out someone to talk to when you get back home. A counsellor will help you to deal with the trauma.”
“I’ll remember. Please go carefully with Lauren.”
Kala approached the closed door at the end of the hall as she heard Mona descending the stairs. She rapped sharply with her knuckles and said Lauren’s name, asking to be let in. She listened to the silence on the other side of the door for ten seconds and was deciding whether to break in or wait a bit longer when the sound of feet hitting the floor made the choice for her. Lauren pulled open the door and flung herself back onto the bed where she stretched out on her back and covered her eyes with one arm. Kala followed her to the bed.
“Do you mind if I sit with you?”
When no answer came, Kala slowly lowered herself to the edge of the single bed so that she was even with Lauren’s legs. “You’ve suffered a terrible shock,” she said. “Would you like to see a doctor?”
“I’m fine. I wouldn’t mind if Jack Daniels put in an appearance, though.” She’d dropped her arm and was attempting a smile but tears were brimming in her eyes.
“That can be arranged. In fact, a shot of something will help with the shock. I’ll be right back.”
Kala called to Gundersund from the bottom of the stairs and he soon met her with a bottle of Scotch and a glass. “How’s it going?”
“This should help her to relax. She’s not in great shape. How are the rest of them doing?”
“Let’s say I could do with some of that myself.” He touched the bottle and then her hand. “Call if you need backup.”
“I will.”
“We’ll debrief after this and then destress somewhere.” His eyes were concerned.
“I can handle it.”
“I know you can.”
She returned to the bedroom. Lauren was sitting up, her back against the headboard. Her white hair was standing in patches and her pale skin was bruised purple under her eyes. She accepted the tumbler of Scotch, closed her eyes, and took a couple of quick gulps. She held the glass against her chest. She said, “I now know what it’s like to think you’re about to die.”
“You were there when Boris shot Antonia and turned the gun on himself?”
“I went in to check on Antonia because I’d been in her room last week and she said things … that Boris was her brother, and her husband and children were gone. She seemed so drugged out and we hadn’t seen her like we normally do for a few weeks. She usually spent afternoons at our house.” Lauren took another drink from the glass. “Both times I went over when Boris was out.”
“Why?”
“I thought she’d be more willing to talk with him gone and I doubted he’d let me in anyway.”
“Did she tell you anything about her life or what was going on with Boris?”
“Yes. She said … she said that she killed Zoe with a knife and when Boris found me in the bedroom, he said much the same. He said she’d had a psychotic break and killed Zoe and Vivian.”
“So Boris came home and you were still in the house?”
“Yes, it was so strange. Antonia heard him first and panicked. She made me hide in the closet.” Lauren’s face flashed a look of embarrassment. “I felt like a kid hiding from the bogeyman.
Boris came upstairs and looked in on her but left right away. She must have been pretending to be asleep. He went downstairs and a few minutes later the phone rang. I heard him speaking in what sounded like Russian because I’d left the closet and was at the door thinking about making a break for it. Antonia got agitated and I went over to the bed to calm her down and then Boris started back upstairs. I’m humiliated to say that I hid in the closet again, but Antonia was frantic.”
“Then what happened?”
“He came into the room and they said something to each other and then he pulled open the door. I saw the gun in his hand and just about passed out. He told me to get out of the closet, and after I did, he said that he wasn’t going to hurt me. I knew he was planning to kill Antonia and himself. He said they were old and had suffered enough.”
“And he told you that Antonia had killed Zoe.”
“Yes. He said that she’d killed Vivian too. He was trying to protect her and I think that was why he killed her. He didn’t want her locked up.” Tears were rolling down her face now and Lauren took another gulp of Scotch. Her hand was shaking. “I asked if I could take her to see my mother but he wouldn’t let me. I knew that he would kill her if I left, but I was scared he’d kill me too. I was at the front door putting on my boots when I heard the shots. Two shots. I ran home and called 911. I hadn’t brought my phone with me to the Orlovs’ and I didn’t even think about using their phone. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Her voice rose like a wounded child’s. “I left her there with him. I left her to die.”
“You had no choice, Lauren. He had a gun and he’d made up his mind. He probably had this planned for a long time. You mustn’t blame yourself.”
Kala thought about Evelyn and the vicious way she talked about her only daughter and knew Lauren would get no comfort there. Lauren reminded her of Rose, tough on the outside and seeking love in all the wrong places, now doing time for accompanying her boyfriend on an armed robbery spree. She reached out a hand and took hold of Lauren’s. “You did all that you could and I’m amazed by your compassion. You’ve suffered a terrible shock and it will take you time to recover, but what you’re feeling now will recede and you’ll regain your equilibrium. We have good people to help you through this and I’ll give you a phone number that you can call whenever you feel overwhelmed. Will you promise to reach out and take this help if you need it?”
Lauren used the back of her hand holding the glass of Scotch to swipe at her eyes. The false bravado returned to her voice. “Sure, why not?”
Kala squeezed her hand and wouldn’t let her look away. “You don’t have to be alone in this. I’m going to check up on you every day until I know you’re okay.”
“I’ll be in Toronto.”
“That’s why God invented telephones.”
Lauren finally smiled as she said, “You aren’t like other cops, you know that?”
Kala withdrew her hand and laughed. “So I’ve been told.”
Lauren took a long shuddering breath and set the empty glass on the bedside table. She slapped her thighs with both hands. “What next?”
“If you’re up to it, I’d like to get you to HQ to make a formal statement.”
“I figured. Yeah, I can do that. May as well get it over with now so I can be home for supper.”
“Good. I’d say that after all this, you’ve earned a good meal and time to decompress. I find a long walk helps to clear the head after a shock like you’ve been through.”
“I might take you up on that idea. Might be better than mine.”
“Which is?”
“Buy myself a big bottle of vodka and get shitfaced.”
chapter thirty-six
The team met up at the Merchant after Lauren gave her statement to Woodhouse at HQ. The snow was making driving tough with several centimetres on the ground and no let up predicted overnight, but they needed to wash away the sight of the Orlovs’ bloody bodies and to digest the news that Antonia Orlov had killed Zoe Delgado and Vivian McKenna.
Kala finally reached Dawn on her cellphone as she waded through the snow to the pub’s main entrance. She stood with a hand over one ear, protecting the phone from the wind and falling snow, squinting to keep the moisture out of her eyes as she stared at the lights shining in the windows of the limestone buildings across the street. “I won’t be long,” she said, raising her voice to be heard above the wind. “Everything okay with you?”
“Yes.”
“Take whatever you want out of the freezer and heat it up if you haven’t already eaten. I’ll have some when I get there or I’ll make a sandwich.”
“I’m not home yet.”
Kala pulled the door open with some effort and stepped inside the Merchant’s front foyer. “Where are you?”
“Waiting at the bus stop, but the bus is late. I could start walking.”
“I’ll come get you. Tell me where you are.” Kala strained to listen as static and background noise filled her ear, followed by the sound of breathing and Dawn’s voice.
“I see the bus. I’ll meet you at home.”
“I could …” but Dawn had hung up and left Kala with an uneasy feeling. She checked her watch and wondered what Dawn was doing in town so late. She’d been skipping school and hanging out with friends when she was staying in the foster home. Could she be returning to the street again?
She turned to get back in her truck and collided with Gundersund on his way inside. He reached out and steadied her. “Hold on there, lady! Warmth and drinks are thatta way,” he said pointing toward the bar.
“Gundersund, I should get home. Dawn is on the bus and I’m not sure where she’s been. Besides, the weather is getting terrible.”
“She’s on the bus?”
“Yes.”
“Then nothing to worry about. Come in and decompress and we can follow each other home.”
Kala hesitated and the shock of the day began to steal over her, making her legs tired and her shoulders ache. She knew that an hour talking out the images and making sense of the deaths with colleagues who understood the trauma of facing violent death would help her to cope. Dawn would be a while getting home anyhow. “All right,” she said, giving in to the need to relax for a few moments. She let herself be swept into the room where Rouleau, Bennett, and Woodhouse sat waiting with jugs of beer and a plate of nachos already on the table.
Dawn hadn’t been entirely truthful with her aunt about seeing the bus coming down the road but knew that one would be along soon after checking the schedule on her phone. She wasn’t sure why she was keeping her after-school life a secret from Kala, but thought it had something to do with not trusting Emily or the reason she wanted to hang out. By not talking about Emily, she felt that Kala wouldn’t pity her when Emily stopped needing her help with math and stopped talking to her. Keep Kala from hoping that she was fitting in and she wouldn’t be disappointed. Dawn knew this was the best way to get by. No expectations and no pain.
She’d stayed late and helped Emily get caught up on the math she’d missed in the morning class, but Emily had been eager to get home to see her brother and wanted to leave by four. She seemed happier than Dawn had ever seen her before and when they packed up their books, Dawn said, “You’re having a good visit with your brother. Is he home long?”
Emily smiled. “A few days. He’s my best friend.” Her smile disappeared. “He’s gay and my parents took a long time to accept it. They sent him away to military college but he refused to go back after the first six months. They finally agreed to let him go to university out West. My parents are all about appearances. I think they’ve finally come around.”
“Is that why …?” Dawn trailed off awkwardly, her gaze flickering away from Emily’s face and down to her arm.
Emily nodded slowly. “I cut myself? I know you saw and thanks for not asking. I’m seeing a shrink, but that’s another family secret. We’re full of them.” She laughed. “We’re going on a family ski vacation at Christmas, so we�
�re all trying.”
“I never would have guessed.”
“Nobody would. That’s part of the problem. It’s exhausting to have to pretend all the time, but letting go of that isn’t easy either.”
After she’d gone, Dawn lingered to take a book out of the library before leaving with the last stragglers. She hadn’t felt like going home yet knowing that Kala would be working late again. Taiku would be waiting but he could last inside a few more hours.
The thick cloud cover made the late afternoon feel like evening and moisture dampened her face as she descended the front steps. She looked across the street where the man had been standing but he wasn’t there. She was relieved but also oddly disappointed. He had seemed lonely like her. Out of place.
Instead of going toward the bus stop, she began walking toward the downtown. When she was living in the foster home, she’d walk for hours from one end of the city to the other, usually finding a quiet spot near the lake to sit and watch the water. She’d been approached a couple of times by homeless men who — and she knew people might not believe her — asked if she was okay. A few of them would sit nearby and talk to her and she was surprised by the lives they’d left behind. One guy named Greg had been an engineer in a big mining company, married with three kids until he started drinking. Last time she saw him, he was heading south for the winter.
The snow hadn’t started yet but the dampness worked its way through her jacket, making her chilled. She stopped at a corner coffee shop and sat inside reading her library book with a cup of hot chocolate. When the lady behind the counter cleaned the table next to her twice with sideways glances in her direction, she left and kept walking toward the waterfront. She scanned the length of the pathway in front of the Visitors’ Centre, searching for the man who’d been watching her school, but he was nowhere to be seen.
Bleeding Darkness Page 25
