DAN SHARP MYSTERIES
Listed in suggested reading order
Lake on the Mountain
Pumpkin Eater
The Jade Butterfly
Shadow Puppet
After the Horses
Lion’s Head Revisited
The God Game
Copyright © Jeffrey Round, 2020
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise (except for brief passages for purpose of review) without the prior permission of Dundurn Press. Permission to photocopy should be requested from Access Copyright.
All characters in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Publisher: Scott Fraser | Editor: Jess Shulman
Cover designer: Laura Boyle
Cover image: istock.com/Dorin_S
Printer: Webcom, a division of Marquis Book Printing Inc.
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Title: Lion’s Head revisited / Jeffrey Round
Names: Round, Jeffrey, author.
Description: Series statement: A Dan Sharp mystery
Identifiers: Canadiana (print) 20190127341 | Canadiana (ebook) 2019012735X | ISBN 9781459741379 (softcover) | ISBN 9781459741386 (PDF) | ISBN 9781459741393 (EPUB)
Classification: LCC PS8585.O84929 L56 2020 | DDC C813/.54—dc23
We acknowledge the support of the Canada Council for the Arts and the Ontario Arts Council for our publishing program. We also acknowledge the financial support of the Government of Ontario, through the Ontario Book Publishing Tax Credit and Ontario Creates, and the Government of Canada.
Care has been taken to trace the ownership of copyright material used in this book. The author and the publisher welcome any information enabling them to rectify any references or credits in subsequent editions.
The publisher is not responsible for websites or their content unless they are owned by the publisher.
Printed and bound in Canada.
VISIT US AT
dundurn.com
@dundurnpress
dundurnpress
dundurnpress
Dundurn
3 Church Street, Suite 500
Toronto, Ontario, Canada
M5E 1M2
For Gail and Ted Bowen, Don Oravec and Jim Harper, David Tronetti and Giuseppe Gioia, Geordie Johnson, and Minola Nistor
And in memory of Shirley Lecuyer (1935–2018),
a.k.a. Aunt Marge
CONTENTS
AUTHOR’S NOTE
PROLOGUE
ONE: Blood Money
TWO: Serious
THREE: Faith
FOUR: Advice for the Lovelorn
FIVE: Crystal Lullaby
SIX: Tilt
SEVEN: The Edge of the Universe
EIGHT: Into the Lion’s Den
NINE: Caves
TEN: The Return
ELEVEN: Polygraph
TWELVE: Straight Up, No Chaser
THIRTEEN: Cagey
FOURTEEN: Panic
FIFTEEN: Beauty
SIXTEEN: Ransom
SEVENTEEN: Things That Go Bump in the Night
EIGHTEEN: Deliverance
NINETEEN: Beautiful Boys
TWENTY: A Separate Deity
TWENTY-ONE: Cruise Control
TWENTY-TWO: A Telegram for Death
TWENTY-THREE: Last Rites
TWENTY-FOUR: Prophets
TWENTY-FIVE: Flip
TWENTY-SIX: The Silent Boy
TWENTY-SEVEN: The Oracle
TWENTY-EIGHT: O.D.
TWENTY-NINE: The Human Code
THIRTY: Exit Wounds
THIRTY-ONE: The Key
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I got my mind on eternity
Some kind of ecstasy got a hold on me
And I’m wondering where the lions are
— “Wondering Where the Lions Are,”
Bruce Cockburn
The wicked flee when no one is pursuing,
But the righteous are bold as a lion.
— Proverbs 28:1
AUTHOR’S NOTE
AS WITH THE PREVIOUS VOLUME, Shadow Puppet, Lion’s Head Revisited was written out of sequence from the rest of the series. Chronologically, it comes sixth, following After the Horses and preceding The God Game.
PROLOGUE
Georgian Bay, 2012 Promontory
SHE KNEW SHE WAS GOING TO DIE. The feeling persisted, like something pushing out from inside her until it took on a kind of force. The climb had been a mad, nerve-wracking scramble, up from the campground over moss-covered rock and low-lying brush to the top of the escarpment. She’d fought panic all the way. It was only on reaching the top that she paused for breath, her sides heaving. The drizzle had finally stopped. On any other day this would have been a dazzling view. The town of Lion’s Head lay in the distance across the bay. A ghostly finger of light slipped through the clouds and slid over the water. Far below, seagulls wheeled over treetops and the broken boulders lying scattered along the shoreline like pieces of an unfinished puzzle. If she fell, she’d be smashed to bits.
“Ashley!”
The breeze gusted the words away.
She checked her cellphone. No signal yet. The logging road was still another twenty minutes up ahead. They should have stayed together.
The promontory gave way to bare rock. A white blaze on a twisted cedar showed where the trail picked up again before disappearing in the woods on the far side. She followed where it led down. Stray branches whipped her cheeks; stones cut her fingers as she grabbed them, passing from handhold to handhold to steady herself, all the while fighting panic.
A sharp turn near the bottom confused her. The blazes seemed to switch back on themselves. Had she come the wrong way?
Here the rocks were treacherous, greasy with moss and damp. She was nearly at the bottom when her foot gave way. Instinctively, she reached out and caught a branch. It held for a heart-stopping moment then slid through her grasp as she fought to right herself.
Too late.
Her back slammed hard, knocking the wind out of her. For a second she lay there, too stunned to move.
She tried to cry out, but her lungs refused to draw breath. The merest whimper was beyond her capability. An ache clutched her chest. Where it had first been cold and numbing, now it was an excruciating burn, a hot knife jabbed between her muscles.
Panic overwhelmed her as she gasped for the breath that failed to come. She struggled to rise, but an invisible hand held her firmly down. Forest stretched in all directions, a dim twilight world. By nightfall the blazes would vanish entirely then the fear would set in for real. She had to get to the car.
She pictured the blue-and-yellow child’s tent, a tiny bubble set beside the larger khaki-coloured one. Jeremy’s favourite bear — a one-eyed, fur-shedding monstrosity that he clung to through thick and thin — had lain just inside the entrance when they had woken. She’d cried to see it.
“Ashley!”
Her voice sounded barely above a whisper.
A gnarled root protruded from the dirt. She wrapped her fingers around it, gripping until her knuckles turned pink-white. As a child she’d visited a farm and watched a chick break out of an egg, first one small feathered wing then the other, everything in the world focused on that struggle. Just so, she raised herself now, gripping and pulling, the ache so intense she thought she might black out.
Then, somehow, she was sitting upright. A small miracle. For the moment, it was all she could do.
Slowly releasing her grip, she slid to the bottom of
the incline and squatted, trying to get her lungs to breathe. Just breathe.
Ten minutes went by. At last, when the pain had retreated a little, she fought to get to her feet then headed haltingly for the parking lot.
Five minutes in she had to stop again. The effort was making her light-headed. She leaned against a smooth-skinned tree and lowered herself to the ground, legs stretched out in front. Her chest pounded. She was having a heart attack. She was going to die up here alone. They would find her like this, broken, wretched.
Somehow the thought calmed her. It wouldn’t be the worst way to go. The Head had always been a sanctuary, a place of peace and respite. But, no — there was Jeremy to think of.
Where the hell was Ashley?
Anger shot through her. Get it together, you stupid bitch! If nothing else, she would simply lie here, fighting mosquitoes and black flies till Ashley rallied help. Unless there were marauding bears. Then she wouldn’t stand a chance. The best she could hope for was that they would smell her pain and give her a wide berth. Wolves might not be so cautious. They’d heard them howling the past two nights, coming closer and circling the tents, hating the fire and the smell of people.
She struggled to stand then —
When she came to, her nostrils caught an acrid scent. Wood smoke. It took her a moment to remember where she was. She’d fallen and blacked out. The ache was far worse now, every breath a knife thrust.
Gently, she pulled on her collar and looked down. A purple stain spread across her chest under her left breast. A fresh wave of panic backed up in her throat, making her retch. She’d broken a rib … punctured a lung … that was why she couldn’t breathe. The premonition had been real. She was going to die.
A dragonfly buzzed overhead. Its wings shimmered, green and purple iridescence, as sunlight broke through the leaves, lifting the gloom. She sniffed at the air. Unless the woods were on fire, in which case she was clearly doomed, then someone had to be nearby. She pushed against the tree until she stood upright, her head woozy. The pain wasn’t getting any better. She needed to hurry.
The smoke came from up ahead. She simply followed it. Within minutes she reached a wire fence and limped alongside it for a while, but the bush grew thicker again. She retreated and headed back until she discovered the open field.
She pushed down on the wire and hauled herself over one leg at a time, collapsing in a heap on the other side. She fought to stand again then staggered toward the smell.
The farmhouse looked like something out of a fairy tale. Smoke issued from a chimney. The day was warm, so it wasn’t for heat. Someone was cooking.
She dragged herself forward, bent over, gasping with each step.
An old, grey wagon wheel had been planted in a bed of yellow nasturtiums. A wide porch seemed to invite visitors, despite the secluded surroundings.
“Help!” she cried, her voice faint.
She headed for the house, one arm clutching her chest, the other striving to keep her balance as she stumbled along. Somewhere a dog yelped.
“Please! Is anybody there?”
A door opened. A grizzled man in jeans and red-checkered shirt peered out. He had a long, white beard like a biblical prophet. His expression was stern, as though he disapproved of her. Whether that was because she was trespassing or for the sorry state she was in, she couldn’t tell.
“I’m lost,” she called out, as though it might not be apparent.
She couldn’t make out his reply. He flapped his hands in the direction of the fence, as though telling her to leave.
Like hell am I leaving, she thought. Not that she could have even if she’d wanted to.
Sweat fell from her brow and clouded her eyesight. Something rustled in the bushes off to the right.
The man disappeared back inside the house. A moment later he returned bearing what looked like a tea towel, waving it furiously. He came toward her with a jarring motion, as though he had to make an effort to swing his hips to get his legs to work, first right then left, like rusty hinges long out of use. He was ominous, a figure in a dream.
She opened her mouth to cry out, to say she needed help, but the words wouldn’t come. Sparkles formed at the edge of her vision, waves of tiny lights followed by black clouds. As she fell forward, she wondered if she was about to find herself in far more trouble than she was already in.
ONE
Blood Money
PI DAN SHARP SAT with his back to the window. Behind him, the Don River murmured quietly after the previous night’s storm. His office on the top floor of a warehouse import-export business had long been a sanctuary for him. Currently, however, it was feeling a bit crowded.
The three people facing him looked to be in their late twenties. The blond had multiple piercings and tattoos on her arms. The young man, slender and bearded, was agitated. The third, a quietly attractive woman, watched him with gentle eyes. They were waiting for his answer.
“You have no choice,” Dan said. “You have to report it.”
“But we want to keep it private. At least for now,” the man insisted.
His face was ravaged with red eruptions, like a perpetual adolescent. While his concern was evident, it wasn’t anything Dan could agree to.
“It can’t be private, Eli. This is a police matter. Kidnapping is a criminal offence.”
“It might be a hoax,” the pixie-haired blond, Janice, argued. “We don’t know for sure if a crime has been committed.”
“Do you want to take that chance?” Dan asked. No one answered. “Why do you think it might be a hoax?”
Janice frowned. “Because when they called, they never mentioned Jeremy. They just said they were raising money for missing children. When I asked how much, they said a million dollars.”
“They were probably playing it safe in case someone was listening in,” Dan said. “Your son has now been missing for three days. The police found no trace of him on the trails up on the mountain or anywhere near the shore where you were camping. You’ve already had one phone call and soon you’ll get another. The only choice you have to make is whether you’re going to pay the ransom or not.”
Eli shook his head. “But what if it’s someone who heard Jeremy was missing on the news and is trying to extort money from us? We need to buy ourselves time.”
“Time is a luxury you may not have, but whether the kidnapping is real or fake, you need to let the police know.” Dan hoped he sounded sympathetic.
“But so far they haven’t found anything useful,” Eli persisted. “We don’t have faith they can help us, to be honest.”
“Look — even if you think the police aren’t doing their job, the best I can do is run a parallel investigation. I can’t interfere with what they’re doing. If you know something, you have to tell them.”
“But we don’t know anything!” Eli exclaimed.
Janice put a hand on his arm. “No, Dan’s right. We do know something — we know that we were asked for money.”
Eli threw his hands up in the air. “And where do we get this blood money from? Is there some government fund for kidnap victims that we can apply for? Or maybe I should just ask my boss for a raise of, oh, I don’t know — a million dollars?”
He wrapped his arms around his chest and slumped into his chair. Dan had had enough of his petulance.
“Eli, I appreciate that this is difficult for you, but what you do now could make all the difference in getting Jeremy back safely.” He turned to Janice. “Did they say anything else?”
“Yes. They said not to mention the call to anyone.”
“That’s to be expected. How’s your back, by the way? I understand you had quite a fall coming down the escarpment.”
“She nearly got gored by a bull, but a crazy man came out waving a tea towel and chased it away,” Eli interjected.
“That was after I fell.” Janice gave Dan a rueful smile. “The doctor said I’ll live. Though I’m not sure I want to right at this moment.”
“Janice
!” The rejoinder came from the other woman. “Please! Let’s have none of that.”
Her speech was clipped, almost a bark.
“Oh, go to hell, Ashley!” Janice snapped, then she turned suddenly contrite. “I’m sorry. I have no right to act like this.”
Ashley nodded. “It’s all right. You’ve been through a lot.”
The name suited her, Dan thought. Lithe and willowy, with hair the colour of ash wood.
She turned her eyes to him. “We don’t know what to do. We need you to advise us.”
“Thank you. The first thing you need to do is report the call to the police. That’s what I advise.”
“Then what?” Eli asked, still sulking.
“Then we start looking. For now, tell me everything that’s happened.” Dan picked up a pencil. “Start with anything irregular or noteworthy you recall in the days before Jeremy disappeared.”
Janice nodded. “There was something odd. I saw an older woman outside the house twice right before the camping trip. She seemed to be waiting for something. I went out to see what she wanted, but then Jeremy came out with Ashley and she walked away.”
“Did she say anything at all?”
“She called me Kathy.”
Dan glanced up from his notepad. “Kathy?”
“Katharine is my first name, but no one ever calls me that. I go by my middle name, so I don’t know how she’d know that.”
“Can you describe her?” Dan asked.
“She was plain. Mousy looking. The sort of woman you barely notice even if she’s right beside you.”
Dan looked at the pert blond with triple ear piercings. There was no chance of not noticing her.
“Was she short? Tall? Slender? Overweight?”
“Average height. Dumpy, but not huge. A little bulky. She had brown hair going grey.”
“Was there anything memorable about her face?”
“Her eyes were sad. That was my first thought.”
“Good. Anything else?”
Janice shook her head. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Okay. That’s a start,” Dan said. He turned to the others. “Did either of you see her?”
Lion's Head Revisited Page 1
