Inspector Green Mysteries 9-Book Bundle (283 page)

So much for sheltering the kid, Green thought. “Well, not all in one place. It’s a big park.”

Tony’s excitement was back. “Will you see a grizzly bear, Daddy?”

“I certainly hope not, but if I do, the police officers I’ll be with will know what to do. And you, my little man —” He hugged the boy close, “you be a help to your mother back here. Remember she’s got little Aviva in there to look after, and she needs all the rest she can get.”

Sharon smiled. “You take care of us, and Daddy will take care of Hannah.”

“And the bears,” Tony replied.

The doorbell rang. Modo, roused to reluctant guard duty, lumbered into the hall, barking. To Green’s astonishment, Brian Sullivan was standing on the doorstep, dressed in jeans, T-shirt, and sandals. Green was so completely thrown off guard that he could only gape.

Before he could find words, Sullivan spoke. “I heard your daughter’s giving you a few more grey hairs.”

Green grabbed Modo’s collar. “Where did you —?”

“I hear everything, remember? I also heard you’re planning on heading out after her.”

“Well, I can’t just sit around waiting.” He wrestled the dog back. She was a hundred-pound Lab-Rottweiler mix, and immoveable if she so chose.

Sullivan ruffled her ears. “I figured that. And I figured you might need some company.”

Green stared at him. “Seriously?”

“Absolutely. It might take two of us to tackle those Mounties, and anyway, Mike, what do you know about the bush?”

Green laughed to cover the rush of gratitude that welled up. “But your —”

He left the word hanging unspoken between them, but Sullivan brushed it off. “I’m in better shape now than I’ve been in years. I’ve been running again, and my boys and I just came back from a week hiking the Appalachian Trail. It’s not like they got me doing any important work over in recruitment, Mike, and you know it.” He gestured inside. “So come on, let’s get you geared up and ready to go!”

Green led the way, speaking over his shoulder. “I’ve been trying to find a flight that would get me into Fort Simpson tonight, but it’s a rinky-dink airport that seems to have only one flight a day.”

“Forget that. We can’t rush into this thing blind, Mike. We have to plan. Get maps, equipment, survival gear —”

“Meanwhile Hannah could be trapped or hurt.”

“And you want to join her, do you? And make it two more people the SAR guys have to rescue?” He stopped at the entrance archway to the living room and grinned at Sharon reclining on the sofa. “I don’t suppose this man of yours even owns a pair of hiking boots, does he?”

Sharon laughed, but Green’s temper flared. “I’m not a complete idiot, Brian. I’ve printed off an equipment list from this outfitting guide online. The one Hannah was supposed to be going with.”

Sullivan snatched the paper from him and his eyebrows shot up. “We’d better get cracking if we’re going to get all this stuff by tomorrow morning.”

Chapter Four

Fort Simpson, July 11

 G
espite what felt like an interminable day, the sun was still high in the western sky when the small turboprop plane banked over the sprawling river plain and swept in low for a landing. The shadows were stark and the sun glared off the little cluster of roads and buildings below. Green peered out the window with interest.

During their long travel day, most of it seemingly spent waiting in airports for connecting flights, Green had managed to learn quite a lot about the village of Fort Simpson and its local law enforcement. Fort Simpson, population twelve hundred, occupied an island at the confluence of two massive northern rivers, the Liard and the Mackenzie, which at 2,635 miles long was the longest river in North America. The village had once been a bustling fort of the Hudson’s Bay Company during the height of the fur trade, but now served mainly as a base camp for adventurers and ecotourists bound for the Nahanni.

In the summer months it did a booming business in hospitality, outfitting, and Native arts and crafts. Float planes, wheeled aircraft, and barges ferried the tourists to and from the surrounding wilderness, and a highway connected the village to civilization farther south across what was euphemistically called an ice bridge. Meaning you drove across the frozen river and if the river was thawed, you took a ferry.

Adventure tourism flourished three months of the year, while during the other nine months the village seemed to return to its traditional life, albeit connected to the larger world by satellite TV and Internet. Fort Simpson was the metropolis for the surrounding area, boasting community centres, a high school, an RCMP detachment, a fully operational airport, and even a golf course. But it was still a simple northern village, Green observed as the plane descended. The so-called airport was a single runway carved into a meadow, and when the plane taxied to a halt he and Sullivan clambered out into the middle of a field. The other passengers on the plane were all tourists bound for the wilderness, and they talked excitedly among themselves about their upcoming adventures. They discussed bug sprays, wilderness toilet facilities, and the latest in paddling gear.

Assorted vans and pickups were waiting at the edge of the runway and quickly loaded their charges and gear aboard. Green was standing in the surprising warmth of the mid-afternoon sun, wondering where one got a taxi, when the co-pilot walked over.

“Where you two staying?”

“Wherever we can find a room.”

The co-pilot arched his eyebrow. “This time of year? Without a reservation?” He squinted across at the ring of trees and roads in the distance. “I’ve got a minute while they refuel and load me up, so I’ll make some calls for you. I’ll try Andy’s place first. Not fancy, but they can usually squeeze a couple of strays in.”

Andy, as it turned out, was a tiny bird of a woman with a steel grey braid down her back and skin like parched leather. What she lacked in size, she made up for in strength. She hefted their packs — Green’s with the price tag still attached — into the back of her truck for the trek into town. The hand-carved sign outside her little bungalow announced it as Andy’s Crossroads. Painted statues of a moose and grizzly graced the lawn, and a few geraniums struggled to grow in window boxes out front.

“You can bunk down here for tonight —” She gestured to the painted plywood floor in the main room. “And in the morning maybe we can find you a proper bed. I’ve got two checking out.”

“You’re a saint, Andy,” Sullivan said with his easy grin. She grinned back like a dewy-eyed school girl.

“You want some food?” Without waiting for an answer she disappeared through a door in the back.

Green eyed the bare floor dubiously. Sullivan had already tossed his Therm-a-Rest and sleeping bag into the corner, and he laughed. “Get used to it. At least this is flat.”

Green was still trying to make sense of his sleeping-bag zippers when Andy reappeared with two steaming bowls of stew. After a day of pretzels and miniature sandwich buns, they smelled heavenly.

Andy looked at his tangled sleeping bag and smiled. “Cops, eh? First time in the north?”

Green nodded and explained about Hannah. “We’re hoping to see Constable Tymko today. You know him?”

“Chris is a good man. But he’s away in Fort Liard. I’ll call him in the morning for you.”

“But I want to get started as soon as possible. Is there anyone else?”

She shrugged. “Better to wait for Chris. Everything is closed for the day.”

Green glanced at his watch in surprise. It read 10:00, still on Ottawa time, but he realized it was already eight at night. Andy shrugged again. “Daylight tricks the mind. You should eat and get some rest. Morning comes early.”

Morning arrived around 4:00 a.m. when the sun, barely having gone to bed, peeked back out from the other side of the Mackenzie River and washed the living room in lemon yellow light. Birdsong filled the air. Green gave up trying to sleep. He’d spent four hours tossing and turning on the ridiculously thin Therm-a-Rest, trying to ignore Sullivan’s snoring, the pale grey of the northern night, and the fear worming within him. He’d felt a temporarily relief when they’d landed in Fort Simpson, for the weather was warm, the river placid, and the village civilized. Hardly the deadly wilderness of his imagination. But fear crept back in the solitude of the night.

At five o’clock he gave up the effort, slipped on some clothes, and tiptoed outside. It was far too early for the police station to be open, but maybe they had a man on duty.

Despite the sun, the air was frigid. Dew glistened on the grass and pink mist rose from the water. The sky was a ragged patchwork of clouds rolling in from the west. The village was still asleep and only dogs roamed the streets, ignoring Green as he walked toward the village office. It was a handsome, modern two-storey building that doubled as a visitor’s centre and housed most of the municipal offices, including the police. It was locked up tight, however.

Green turned back, disappointed but not surprised. The detachment had a total of six officers, hardly enough to provide twenty-four-hour coverage. Probably the officers took turns being on call. When he returned to the B&B Andy was awake and the smell of fresh coffee greeted him. She smiled and offered him a cup as he squeezed into her tiny kitchen. He cradled it gratefully to warm his hands.

“You get used to it,” she said. He wasn’t sure what she was referring to, but she said no more. Just sipped her coffee.

“What’s it like on the Nahanni? Colder than this?”

“Sometimes.” She sipped again. “Your daughter is healthy?”

He nodded.

“Smart?”

He hesitated. She smiled. “Yes, she’s smart. But she doesn’t know this kind of wilderness.”

“It is wild, but there are many people on the Nahanni River. If she’s in trouble, they will help her.” She began in her gentle, unhurried way to gather the fixings for breakfast.

“What time does the police detachment open up?”

She dumped flour into a bowl. “Chris will come. When we’re finished breakfast.”

He quelled his impatience and went out to rouse Sullivan. When this Chris guy did show up, Green intended to be ready for action.

Just as they were draining their second cups of coffee, a dusty Jeep pulled up outside and an RCMP officer climbed out. He tossed his cap on the seat and adjusted his sunglasses against the morning glare.

Andy glanced out the window and a slight frown puckered her placid face. She flicked Green a look. “I guess I was wrong.”

The Mountie knocked on the doorframe and, without waiting for an answer, pushed open the door. Like Green, he was about five-foot-ten and one hundred and seventy pounds, but there the similarity ended. This man worked out, obsessively from the look of it. Muscles rippled across his shoulders and chest, and he moved with the bounce of a coiled spring. As if to reinforce the effect, he wore his grizzled grey hair in a marine-style buzz cut and mirrored aviator sunglasses, which he now propped on his head. He nodded a perfunctory greeting at Andy before turning to Green.

“Inspector Green? Sergeant Nihls.” He thrust out his hand to grip Green’s in a vice. Green managed not to wince. Ah, he thought. Detachment Commander Travis Nihls. Was this a show of respect, or power? He decided to sidestep the potential power struggle.

“Thanks for coming. Travis, right? And I’m Mike.” He introduced Sullivan. Nihls’s manner changed subtly as the two men sized each other up. Sullivan had at least six inches on him and even in his new, trimmer shape, fifty pounds. Whereas Green could be dismissed as a mere suit, obeyed only because his rank required it, Sullivan commanded respect effortlessly. An alpha male among alpha males, Sharon always said. But Nihls did not look impressed.

“What can I do for you gentlemen?”

“We’re not here in any official capacity,” Green said. “My daughter has gone missing on a canoe trip and we’re here to lend a hand with the search.”

“Missing.” Sergeant Nihls pulled a chair back and joined them at the table. Andy had been very quiet, and now she pulled back from the table. “I understand your concern, Inspector, but it may be premature. Constable Tymko apprised me of the situation, and it seems to me you daughter does not yet meet the criteria for missing. No distress signals or reports have been received, nor have they missed their take-out.”

“But their canoe was found —”

“When canoes get damaged beyond repair, as in this case, the party simply doubles up and carries on. Your daughter’s party will turn up.” He paused and seemed to realize a greater show of sympathy was required. “I’ve seen this before, Inspector. Plenty of times.”

“What have you done so far?”

“Done? About what?”

“About verifying their status.”

“Nothing. As I said, we have no reason to think they’re missing.”

“I know, but have you interviewed other travellers or searched the area for distress signals?”

“Searched the area?” Nihls’s face tightened. “With all due respect, Inspector, we’re talking about five hundred kilometres of river, surrounded by hundreds more of mountains and forests.”

“Even a simple aerial trip —”

“Do you have any idea of the cost of a simple pass up the river? And where am I going to get a plane? Civilian pilot? Armed forces? Who’s going to authorize that expenditure?”

“I understand Constable Tymko has a float plane.”

“Constable Tymko has other duties. He has done a preliminary pass on his own initiative and on his own time, but beyond that he has no authority to investigate further.”

“Who does have the authority to order a search and authorize the expenditure?”

Nihls’s eyes narrowed. “I do, sir. If I deem human life is at risk. Until such time —”

“Sergeant, please give me some credit. I’ve been a homicide investigator for nearly twenty years and I know all about danger to human life. I know all about chain of command. If you have to authority to say yes, do it!”

Nihls sat perfectly still but the muscles in his neck twitched. Andy leaned across the table, and even Green found himself holding his breath. He knew he’d crossed the line. “Please.”