by Linda Moore
We were almost at the end of the road. As we approached the top of the slope, he abruptly braked and came to a stop. “Look there!” he said.
A tanker truck was descending from the high bluff. We watched as the driver negotiated his way to the bottom of the hill, and then proceeded onto the bridge. Standing by the left-hand post, the old codger released the cable for him.
“This is good timing!” I said. “You get to see for yourself what I’m talking about.”
“That bridge is a major installation, Roz—and what on earth was that tanker doing up there?”
The truck began rumbling up towards us. Björn hastily pulled his Volvo as far onto the right shoulder as he could. He opened his door and started to get out.
“Björn! What are you doing?” I called.
“I want to talk to him—find out what’s going on.” He stepped to the front of his Volvo and gestured to the driver, but the truck roared by him and much too close for comfort. Björn got back into the driver’s seat. He smiled at me. “No interest in stopping.”
“Nope. I’m relieved he didn’t drive right over you.”
“I should go down there to the bridge and ask that older fellow what that tanker was doing up there,” Björn said.
“That older fellow is the one who told me the other morning to mind my own business. I’m sure you’ll get the same response. Sophie and I may still try to find a way up there to see what’s what. So at this point, I don’t want to draw attention to myself. I’m sure he hasn’t figured out I’m here with you, but I’d rather not give him that opportunity.”
“You’re right. And Roz, you should get to the hospital—so, another time!” Björn turned the Volvo around. “Well, now that I’ve seen it,” he said, “I’m going to check in with a few people I know, and see what I can find out about that bridge.”
“Will you keep me in the loop?”
“Absolutely, I will.”
We turned into the quarry and Björn pulled over to the right. He got out of the car and began examining the different piles of rock and gravel, all of which I was sure he recognized, and likely knew exactly where they were sourced. I walked towards Ruby Sube.
I was startled when the door of the trailer opened and a beefy middle-aged man stood there scratching his chest and looking us over. His stained heavy metal T-shirt didn’t quite cover the full terrain of his belly. He had on jeans and Kodiak boots, wore a red bandana on his head, and was sporting a healthy five o’clock shadow.
“Good morning,” I called out to him. “I’m just here to take that Subaru wagon out of your way.”
“Good thing too. I was gonna get her towed today,” he said. “Sometimes people think this is a junkyard and that, eh. I gotta keep this lot clear for pickups.”
“My friend didn’t mean to leave it here for so long,” I said. “He’s not well. Did you happen to meet him when he parked in here?”
“I’m only here in the mornings and that eh.”
“Where do you park?”
He used his thumb to point behind the trailer. “Harley.”
“Right,” I said. I wanted Sophie to be with us so I could hear her say, “Central casting.”
Björn was walking towards us. “Björn Sorensen,” he said to the man.
“Donny,” the fellow said, looking down from the doorway. He hadn’t moved.
“So, you manage the quarry?” Björn asked him.
“Helpin’ out. It’s construction season. Everybody needs gravel an’ that eh.”
“My friend and I just took a drive down to the end of the road,” Björn said. “There’s a brand new bridge that’s been built down there.”
Donny grunted. “They finally got that finished, did they?”
“It appears to be complete. In fact, there was a tanker truck crossing that bridge and coming back this way. Did you see it?”
“Nope.”
“I wonder what a large tank like that would be carrying?” Björn ventured.
“Wouldn’t know. Don’t have any call to go down that way.”
“Really?” I said. “But what about all those tanker trucks that wait right here in this quarry for their turn to cross the bridge? Haven’t you ever asked those cowboys what they’re up to?”
“I have no idea what you’re talkin’ about, miss. And anyways, I’m only here in the mornings an’ that eh.”
“Well, their ruts and tire tracks are all over the ground here,” I said, looking around.
“So? This is a quarry. All kinds of trucks come in here to get slate and heavy rock. They turn around in here, they have trailers an’ that eh—there’s always tracks here. I never seen no tankers.”
“No problem. We were just curious,” Björn said, calming the waters.
“Let’s hope this car starts,” I said, moving towards Ruby Sube.
Donny belched, disappeared back into the trailer, and shut the door.
I got into the Subaru and turned the ignition. She started right up. Old reliable, I thought, relieved to be getting her out of there. I backed up slowly and turned so I could approach the quarry exit. Björn pulled further in, and I drove up alongside him for a quick word. Facing in opposite directions, we each rolled down our windows.
“Nova Scotia telephone,” I joked.
Björn was serious. “So, what do you think, Roz?”
“What do I think? Either nobody knows and nobody cares, or everybody knows and they’re all in on it. But one thing’s clear, Björn. Nobody’s talking.”
Chapter 15
I was anxious walking into the Kentville hospital. What if McBride had taken a turn for the worse? But as soon as I rounded the corner into intensive care and saw Sophie’s face, I breathed a sigh of relief.
“He’s okay?” I asked
“He’s still sleeping, but re-hydrating well. All systems go.”
“I tell you, Sophie, he’s resilient as hell. What do you want to do?”
“I’ll just hang out, Roz. I’m fine.”
“Okay, I’d better go and find out how Molly’s doing at the vet’s.”
“Our two invalids.”
“Living parallel lives.”
“Then what, Roz?”
“Well, finding McBride was at the top of the list. Finding out what he knows is next. I’ll call you later, and we’ll take it from there.”
When I got to Wolfville, I lucked into a parking space across from the vet’s and went in. The young assistant who’d been there when I’d brought Molly in smiled. “She’s doing better!” she said.
“Good news all round,” I said.
“I’ll get the vet.” After a few minutes, he appeared in the doorway.
“Would you like to come back and see her?” he asked.
I nodded and followed him. Molly was lying down. He opened the large cage.
“Molly,” I said softly. She lifted her head a little and her tail flapped weakly against the cage floor. I reached in. She licked my hand.
“What do you think?” I asked him. “Should I take her with me now, or leave her another day?” I was trying not to worry about cost. McBride would want what was best for her.
“Just resting like this and not being moved will mean she can continue to heal undisturbed, and we can keep observing her. I think another day would be wise. She’s calm and needs sleep. And then, after she’s out, she’ll need a lot of care.”
“Do you think she’ll recover fully—that she’ll be okay?”
“It will take time, but she’ll be as good as new. She’s a lucky girl,” he said, looking at Molly.
Sophie was right, I thought, recalling her certainty that Molly would be fine.
“It could have been much worse if you hadn’t gotten her here as soon as you did,” the vet continued. “That wound was deep and badly infected.”
/> Fear and anger welled up in me. I stayed a few more minutes with her, and then decided that I would take his advice and leave her there.
When I stepped outside, I spotted a bench further down the road, set in under two sheltering trees. I went and sat there a moment to take stock.
Danger at every turn, I thought, mulling over the tumultuous events of the last few days. Molly and McBride had each had amazing luck. Aurelia apparently had not, and as for Jacob, I worried that if things were to go awry with those thugs, he would not be spared.
My stomach churned. I leaned back against one of the trees and surveyed the town. To my right and a street over, I could see the peaks and domes of some of the campus buildings. I had a sudden impulse to visit the university library. The single entry in Aurelia’s notebook had mentioned going to the library on the same day she planned to move up to her rented cabin on the Bay of Fundy. Since I now believed Aurelia and the girl in the tree were one and the same, I needed to find out what she’d been working on. It might shed some light on how she’d met her bizarre demise.
I was amazed to find the library open. I introduced myself to Frida, the woman at the desk, and showed her my Public Prosecution Service ID. I asked her if they’d had a recent borrower or researcher by the name of Aurelia Strange.
“Oh yes—that young journalist!” she said immediately.
“That’s right. I’m trying to track her down and I wondered if you have a local address for her, or if she left any kind of forwarding information.”
“She was often here around the end of term. We were very busy at the time, so I didn’t get to talk to her much. She used to sit at that table by the window over there, poring over things, making notes. But I haven’t seen her for quite a while now. She’s not in trouble is she?”
“No, but I do need to connect with her. Were there specific books or DVDs that she borrowed?”
“She wasn’t one for taking books out. She was always working on material here, and that information wouldn’t show up on her card.”
“So she had a card?”
“Oh yes, she was registered….” Frida was looking at her screen. “Oh, I’m wrong—she did take out one book back in early May.”
“What was it?”
“Naomi Klein’s new book, This Changes Everything—just recently published. In fact she was its first borrower! She hasn’t returned it yet and it’s overdue. Oh and I see there’s a change of address noted here. She moved from Kingsport to Old Mill Road.”
“Old Mill Road.” That morning Jacob had mentioned to Björn that he lived on Old Mill Road—according to him, a mere stone’s throw from Caroline Beach and the cave that would now be forever burned into my brain.
Frida was writing down the address for me.
“And I’ve given you an email address we have as well. She didn’t give us a phone number. I believe she’s American.”
“That’s right,” I said. “From Maine. So, apart from the Klein book, there’s no actual record of what she was researching here?”
“No, I remember her diving into a lot of newspaper items and statistics and looking over maps, but I don’t know what it was all about. Now, my colleague Genevieve might know—she helped her quite a bit. But she’s away on vacation. Won’t be back until next week. Why don’t you come back then?”
“Thank you, Frida,” I said. “I just might do that.”
For some reason I felt less anxious. I had discovered once again that librarians tend to be the most helpful people in the world. I left the library and stood under the canopy of hardwoods on the campus grounds, looking at the address Frida had given me: 121B Old Mill Road.
I should go to Kingsport, feed the cat, switch cars, and then go over the mountain to this address, I thought. But first—should I visit the RCMP detachment and update Corporal Monaghan? So much had transpired since the previous evening when Constable Cudmore had found McBride’s car. I was debating this when my phone chirped. It was Sophie.
“How’s it going? How’s McBride?”
“He’s sleeping, but Roz—there are two men here to see him.”
“Two men?”
“One of them looks like the guy who came out of the grocery store last night with Jacob.”
“Sophie, it’s them! Don’t let them near him.”
“The nurse won’t allow visitors. Doris—she’s pretty stern. She and I have bonded, so she’s letting me sit with McBride. But they’re out there, Roz. Waiting.”
We rang off, and I stared up at the trees. I had no reason to assume their intentions were anything but lethal. I needed an ally—and someone with clout. On an impulse, I dialled the Halifax Police.
“Roz! It’s been a while—how’s the new job?” It was Detective Donald Arbuckle. McBride and I had worked closely with him on a previous case.
“I’m enjoying it, Donald, but for the present I’m on vacation in the Valley.”
“Nice!”
“Yeah, only it’s turning out not to be a vacation. Something’s afoot and it’s not good. I need your advice. Have you got a minute?”
“I’m all ears. Shoot.”
I proceeded to give him a condensed version of the situation, starting with the day I saw the girl in the tree. “So now, there’s McBride, lucky to be alive and hopefully recovering in the Kentville hospital, but Sophie’s just called me with alarming news: the two heavies who accosted me that first morning are now lurking around the hospital trying to get at McBride. My guess is he saw something that day when he went back up the mountain. They failed to muzzle him once, and if they can get to him now before he talks, nobody will be any the wiser. I believe he’s in serious danger.”
“The Mounties should put a constable in the room.”
“That’s exactly what I would ask for, but according to Corporal Monaghan, so-called ‘higher-ups’ in the force are working with these same men. It’s murky, but the cops seem to somehow be part of it.”
“That’s disturbing.”
“No kidding.”
“Okay, Roz—first things first. We’ve got a connection with a security firm in the Valley. I’ll assign someone to his room today.”
“That’s a great relief! Drop me a text when the security person’s in place. What’s the company called?”
“It’s called—hang on—Gateway Security.”
“Thank you, Donald.”
“I’m going to do a little digging around. We’ll stay in touch.”
I called Sophie. She answered softly. “Hi, Roz. McBride’s still sleeping. I’m just stepping out into the hall.”
“Are they still there?”
“I saw one of them nosing around the snack machine a few minutes ago. They’ve parked themselves in a lounge down by the elevators—I won’t leave his side. I’m on guard basically.”
I told her about my arrangement with Arbuckle. “I think he’ll have someone from Gateway there soon, Sophie, so hang in. I need to take a little trip over the mountain, but I’ll be at the hospital as soon as I can.”
Chapter 16
I decided not to take the time to go to Kingsport and within half an hour I was up over North Mountain and driving along Old Mill Road, which overlooked the Bay of Fundy. I parked across from 121B, the “little cabin on the Fundy side” that Aurelia had been so thrilled to find.
It sat close to the road and well apart from the main building, which was a modest ’40s farmhouse with a screened-in porch. The cabin had a silent, deserted feel, but I rapped on the door anyway. Then—old habits—I tried to open it, but it was locked. Next to the door was a multi-paned window, with the blinds down.
I crossed the yard and went along the stone walk that led up to the farmhouse, climbed the front steps, and pushed open the screen door. Inside the verandah was a rickety card table with three rusty metal chairs, and an old wicker couch. The large main
door to the house was locked. I rang the bell.
As I stood waiting, a young girl came bouncing up the porch steps and through the screen door. She jumped when she saw me. She was maybe twelve or thirteen.
“Hi,” I said. “Sorry to startle you. I’m Roz.”
She took a beat to get her breath. “Whatever. My mom’s out.”
There was no mistaking those startling blue eyes. Just like her brother’s. Aurelia had been renting the cabin from Jacob’s family.
“What are you staring at?”
“I’m actually looking for my friend Aurelia, the person who lives in your cabin.”
“She left.”
“She’s moved?”
“She’s away. Had to go somewhere.”
“Oh really—when? I have something of hers.”
“I dunno. A few days back.” She shifted her weight.
“Do you know when your mom will be home?”
“After eight. She works at the hospital.”
“In Kentville?”
“Duh.” Gotta love the attitude, I thought.
“I guess it’s the only hospital around here eh? What does your mom do there?”
“Cafeteria.”
“What about you—aren’t you supposed to be in school?”
“It’s one of those ‘teacher symposium days’.” She made the air quotes gesture.
“Oh, right. What about Jacob? Is he around?”
“How do you know my brother?”
“From the arts centre. He told me where your house was. What’s your name?”
“Katie.”
“So Katie, would you mind letting me into Aurelia’s place? I just want to sit for a minute and write her a note.”
“I guess.”
“I won’t be long.”
“I gotta find the key.”
“Okay great, I’ll meet you over by the cabin.” I took out a notebook and pen from my shoulder bag so I wouldn’t forget to actually write the note. My props, I thought. But my real intention was to get a look at the place. If Aurelia’s things were still in the cabin, there might be some clues as to what she’d been working on.
