Authors: Carolyn Davidson
There was a silence as the two police officers considered.
“Not likely,” Alex finally offered slowly. “Everything points to a vendetta, rage, something personal. But,” he raised his coffee mug in a wry toast, “if there’s one thing we know about people, it’s that they often don’t make sense.”
The kids had built a small fire in the cave, and its flames cast elongated patterns on the rocks’ pitted walls. The town cavern was no stranger to high school gatherings; spray paint on its facade depicted generations of scrawled initials inside hearts. Someone had managed to get a hold of some cases of beer tonight, and the teenagers’ voices and laughter reverberated in the stone shelter.
Trudy looked around as she stepped into the cave. Tommy wasn’t there, but it was early and he might turn up later. The circle of kids seemed tight knit, and no one moved to make room for her as she approached the group. Sitting between two of her school mates she shifted her hips slightly to make space. “Any spares?” she asked no one in particular, and when no one answered her she helped herself to a can, feeling the first swallow of cider sour in her mouth.
Pulling her knees up Trudy glanced at the group around her. This was alright, she would have a good time, and either Tommy would show up later or he’d hear that she had been at the party having fun. She could feel the cider going to her head already, and she found herself laughing even though no one had told a joke.
Surprised at how quickly the can was empty, she soon had to get up to find a tree to pee behind in the bushes. By the time she returned it seemed the circle was now made up of small groups huddled together or paired off in couples. She squeezed back into the spot where she had been sitting, and Steve, one of the basketball player from school, lightly punched her arm, saying “Hey there, why so pushy?” and next thing she knew he had his heavy arm across her back and he was sharing his beer with her. She was having fun, even if Steve’s breath smelled like Doritos mixed with beer and he kept putting his head, heavy with alcohol, on her shoulder.
When Steve grabbed her hand and led her away from the fire to the darker forest she thought why not? Tommy was probably with Sarah anyhow, why shouldn’t she have some fun, too. Maybe it would make him jealous, and he’d realize what he was missing.
And it wasn’t bad. They were making out and Steve was clumsily sticking his hand under her shirt and pulling at the zipper on her jeans. It wasn’t bad at all, and then she heard Steve say, “that’s disgusting” and he jerked away from her and she could smell the metallic scent of blood from the wetness on his fingers.
Stuffing her shirt back into the waist of her pants Trudy felt the heat rush to her face. She didn’t know it would soon be that time of month, she had forgotten.
Staying back in the shadows of the trees she watched Steve lurch back to the group by the fire, his hand held out in front of him. “That is so gross,” his voice cut through the murmurs of the group by the fire. “You won’t believe it, this is disgusting.”
Trudy stood rooted to the spot as Steve stepped into the campfire’s light. She heard one of the girls from her class squeal and one of the boys threw an empty can at him, telling him, “get out of here man, go wash up you pig,” and she backed away from the group, trying not to make a sound on the twigs underfoot.
She shouldn’t have come here anyway, she chastised herself, these kids were all jerks, she knew better. Trudy screwed her eyes almost shut in an attempt to rid herself of the images as she stumbled towards the main road.
For the rest of the weekend Trudy stayed busy with chores on the farm, mucking out the cow barns without being asked. It used to be her brother’s job, but that had ended when Eric took off four years ago, didn’t even tell her where he was going. One too many black eyes from her father she guessed, but it would have been nice to have him around still. It hadn’t been so bad; her father steered pretty clear of her since Eric left anyways, taking on most of the work himself. There had been talk of hiring a hand part-time through the summer, but it never amounted to anything.
Her father appeared at the barn door now, and grunted his approval when he saw the work was almost done and Trudy felt a bit better. The cows stared at her with dumb acceptance and at least no one knew anything about that school stuff here.
When Monday morning came Trudy felt her stomach start to roll again as she waited at the end of her driveway for the school bus. She ducked her head in greeting to the driver when the bus arrived, and settled into a seat on her own. Pressing her forehead against the grimy window she watched the fields stretch out from the sides of the road as they headed into town, trying to rid her mind of scenes showing her facing Steve with a group of his friends in the school hallway.
Trudy got through the week by spending a large portion of the school day in the girls’ washroom. She went to most of her classes, but the fifteen minutes between the time the bus dropped her off and homeroom started, and the ten minutes between one class’s end and the next one’s starting bell seemed excruciatingly long. She had tried standing in front of her locker, rearranging the sticky notes she had pinned up to remind her of upcoming tests, trying to look casual like everyone else. But everyone else didn’t have people calling names down the hall at them, or throwing crumpled up paper at their back as they passed.
When she’d made it to Friday without incident Trudy figured she was safe, and the kids had forgotten about the party. It wasn’t that big a deal after all, and all the kids had been drinking; likely no one even remembered. The smell of cafeteria food seeped into the hallway as she left her afternoon classroom and her stomach growled in response. She usually avoided the cafeteria. There was no table where she had a place, and she felt exposed without the classroom’s enforced order to let her feel she blended in.
Hesitating in the hallway, Trudy decided to risk it. She could hear the noise from the cafeteria as she drew closer, the raucous voices of students released after being pent up in classrooms reverberating as she approached the open door. Taking in the chaotic scene as she stood in the cafeteria entrance Trudy changed her mind suddenly. I’ll just walk into town, she told herself, pick up a slice of pizza at the corner store and make it back to school in time for afternoon class.
She had turned back towards the hallway and was almost gone when she heard a high pitched voice shriek “Look who it is, it’s dirty Trudy. Be careful, she’s going to bleed all over you!” Against her will Trudy turned back to face the room, seeing the faces of her classmates and kids older and younger than her laughing and staring at her with disgusted hilarity. Amid the jeering faces she saw Tommy, and felt her cheeks flame as she made eye contact with him. At least he would defend her, he would see what the other kids were really like.
“Isn’t that your cousin?” she heard one of the football players at Tommy’s table say over the din. “What’s wrong with her?”
Trudy kept her eyes locked with Tommy’s sky blue ones, waiting for him to put the boy in his place, and then he looked away from her. “I dunno,” she saw his mouth form the words as he shrugged his shoulders. “Her side of the family’s weird anyhow.”
*
Sometimes, when George was home alone, he could hear still hear her ragged breathing. It made life difficult, because if he was home he was more than likely alone. She had been gone for just over four months now, but he still stood in the doorway for a moment after unlocking the front door, listening for her breathing.
Listening to it the first few weeks had been a form of torture; if only there were some way he could reach inside her body and breathe for her. By the second month he was able to tune it out, and by the third he found his mind searching for ways to make it stop.
When the doctor sat across from Aldershot and his wife and told them what was coming he expected that his years examining bodies at the morgue would somehow make him better able to cope with what lead up to death. But this slow ending of a life, thinned over months to a trickle that could sustain nothing more than pain. This he wasn’t good at.
They had agreed she would spend her remaining time at home. In the early days when planning it out seemed like preparing for an implausible trip that they would never actually take, it seemed like something he could do. There would be nurses and support staff to help as needed, but he had promised his wife there would be no hospital, and when the end came it would be in their home.
It had turned out that the daily visits from the caregivers hadn’t been enough; they left after Joyce was bathed and given her medications, they left and he was alone in the house with her straining breaths and the moments stretching out like infinities.
He had found himself lingering at the office when every last report was done; hunting in the forests back of the house when he knew darn well it wasn’t deer season. Even joining his colleagues for a beer at the pub when he had never been one for socializing.
None of it worked, because when it came down to it nothing could change what was happening to Joyce, and nothing could change what was happening to him watching it. It was enough to turn you into someone you weren’t.
*
“What were you doing there?” Constable Ronald Knapton asked bluntly. Maggie had asked Alex’s brother in law to come into the station, keeping her wording fairly blasé. “We’re talking to anyone in the community who was seen around the cliffs,” she told him over the phone. “See if they picked up on anything out of the ordinary.”
Tony shifted uncomfortably in the interview room’s plastic chair, pulling his suit pants where they had bunched at his groin.
“I just stopped by on my way home from work to grab a moment of peace.”
“Were you on your own?” Ronald asked.
Tony’s eyes shifted between Knapton’s and the constable sitting to his left who was watching the exchange noncommittally, hands face down on her uniformed thighs.
“Of course I was my own,” Tony gave a forced laugh, “what do you think, I was with the town floozy?”
“I’m joking,” he held his hands out beseechingly to the unresponsive officers. “Come on, give me a break.”
When they didn’t respond he continued.
“It was a long day at work, that’s all. I’ve got cases piled a mile high on my desk and the junior clerk has taken off to find himself or some such thing, and then there’s the drive back from Owen Sound, one lane and you get behind a tractor, you know how it is.”
He slouched back slightly in the chair, stretching his legs in front of him. “I don’t know if you have kids” he gestured to the constables, “but if you don’t you’ve got no idea what you’re in for.”
“We’ve got twins,” Tony told them, “two little girls, almost four years old. And I love them,” he continued, “There’s nothing like it, you’ll see when you have your own. But it is exhausting,” he looked to the ceiling and then back at Ronald.
“It’s no wonder men lose their hair. The minute you step in the door it’s, ‘I need this,’ ‘I need that,’ and sometimes there’s nothing left to give. So I just need a minute of peace once in a while, a moment of silence between the demands of work and the demands of home.”
Stellar guy, Alex thought sarcastically, as he watched the interaction through the mirrored interview room window. Olivia was lucky to have nabbed him.
“You know we have to ask you,” Ronald was telling his brother in law, “process of elimination. Where were you Monday morning between seven and eight o’clock?”
“Driving to work,” Tony told him. “Highway ten to Owen Sound, got there by eight thirty.”
“Anyone that can confirm that?”
“The guy at the coffee shop in my office building lobby. My secretary when she arrived at nine.”
There was a brief silence and Tony eyed the constables. “No worries,” he told him. “I’m a lawyer, I know how these things go. You have to tick all the boxes.”
“Okay, Tony,” Ronald responded. “That’s all we need, thanks for coming in.”
“No problem,” Tony replied, suddenly affable as he stood and shook out his coat. He cuffed his shirt sleeve to look at his watch and left the room hurriedly. Walking down the hall to the front exit he spotted Alex standing at his desk and stopped to give him an awkward punch on the arm. “It’s been too long” Tony told him, “We’ll be seeing you for Sunday dinner one of these days?”
“No doubt,” Alex said, watching his brother in law’s back as he dashed out of the station.
At some angles, they looked almost the same. Trudy pulled her hair forward over one shoulder and tilted her head slightly as she observed herself in the mirror. She could be Clare’s sister, rather than her niece.
Her father had thrown out any photographs of her aunt that had Tom in them after she died, had forbidden any mention of the Logan name in the house. Trudy found this one framed photo by chance years ago when she was in the attic, exploring unnoticed one day when she was home sick from school. She had brought the picture to her mother in the kitchen, and asked who the people in the picture were.
Her mother was never much for conversation, but she had told her the story while preparing the soup. “Don’t you tell your Pa we talked about this stuff,” she warned her daughter with a dishwater reddened finger in Trudy’s face, “I don’t need him ranting about the place.”
Trudy had nodded and sat quietly at the table, careful not to make another sound in case her mother changed her mind.
The story her mother told sounded like something from a world far away from here. Her beautiful, newlywed and lonely aunt stuck at home in a farmhouse with a baby while the handsome Tom senior larked about the town with all the pretty young women.
“Her heart must have been broken,” Trudy breathed before she could stop herself, and her mother shot her a dark look over the onions she was chopping.
“I don’t know about all that, but apparently she wasn’t all there in the head to begin with.” Mrs. Everett looked over her shoulder at the kitchen door as if her husband might suddenly appear. “Even your Pa knew she was a flighty one.”
Rubbing her hands together as if ridding herself of the conversation, Trudy’s mother finished her dialogue, which all in all amounted to more words put together than Trudy could ever remember her mother uttering at one time. “So there you have it, Tommy Logan’s mother ain’t his real mother and your Pa’s sister’s dead.”
Trudy had nodded quietly and left the kitchen with the picture held securely in both hands.
She studied it again now, as she did most nights before she went to bed. There was something romantic about the eighties styles of the picture: her aunt’s dark hair parted down the middle, smiling face free of makeup over her turtleneck. And Tom Senior’s light hair falling in shaggy curls around his face, his arm draped around her aunt’s neck. They looked as though they didn’t care about anything in the world except each other.
Trudy held the picture closer and studied Tom Logan’s face. He would have been close to the age Tommy was now, and there were definite similarities. His eyes were also a deep blue, a summer sky blue. And they crinkled at the corners the same way Tommy’s did when he smiled.
She had heard the rumours around town, about the way her aunt had died. When she asked her mother about it one morning while her father was in the fields her mother had snapped the tea towel she held against Trudy’s bare leg with a vicious sting. “You’re not on about that again,” she had thrust a bowl of unpeeled potatoes into Trudy’s hand and turned her back, and the topic was closed.
She didn’t need her mother to explain it to her though, she knew Mr. Logan wouldn’t have hurt their aunt, not on purpose. They were star crossed lovers and the townspeople gossiping about murder and suicide were just jealous that they didn’t have a love like that.
*
Emily was on walk in interview duty at the Wiarton OPP station, fielding the steady influx of citizens stopping by with information they thought might be relevant, or just to express concern regarding the murder of Sarah Harmon.
It was a process which had so far this morning been comprised of distraught former classmates of Sarah, and an elderly Ferndale resident who was convinced that the crime was a sign of the apocalypse. Emily had nodded dutifully through his description of the catastrophe’s postponement from the previous winter, making a cursory note on her pad as he described the Mayan documents proving the event’s imminence, and was able to thank him for his time and usher him to the station door in just under fifteen minutes.
The constable rolled her eyes at Maggie theatrically as she lead the next interviewee by the front desk. He looked like he had the potential to follow the bent the day had taken, with hair either unwashed by neglect, or styled purposefully into a form of dreadlocks and tied back in a ponytail. Either way, it wasn’t a look well suited to someone who appeared well into middle age.
Opening the door to the interview room Emily felt her jaw tighten; being paired with Knapton was the icing on the cake today. Usually teamed with Gary, the Inspector had matched her with Ronald for the past few days, no explanation given.
Emily gestured for the witness to have a seat in the empty chair across the table from Ronald, finding it hard not to fume as she took a seat beside her colleague. Leaned back on the plastic station chair like he was at home on his recliner in front of his TV, he might as well have a beer and a remote in hand. On the force ten years longer than her, he treated her like she was his assistant, bringing the interviewees to him as he pretended to write notes on his pad. She had lifted the note pad’s cover to sneak a quick peek when Ronald was in the washroom earlier this morning and wasn’t surprised to find the pages covered in large part with cartoonish doodles. The guy hadn’t moved an inch up the career ladder in the decade he had on her, and she had no problem seeing why.
Enough complaining, Emily chided herself, taking a seat beside the object of her ire. If she wasn’t careful she’d turn into the caricatured jaded civil servant, not something that matched the route she had mapped out in her mind, a route more along the lines of the Inspector’s career path.
Seated across the table from their witness, Emily took note of the man’s name as she gave him a surreptitious once over. Lee Daly, long-time resident of Lion’s Head, currently unemployed. Unemployed musician was the information he had given Maggie. Sounded about right, he had the look of the guy who had been the cool kid in high school and hadn’t changed much in twenty-odd years to follow.
“I understand you have some information for us regarding Sarah Harmon?” Ronald began the interview.
“I might.” Daly clenched and unclenched his fingers in front of him. “I’m not really comfortable doing this kind of thing.”
“What kind of thing?” Emily glanced at her partner. Hold on to your hat, she told herself. They might finally have something pertinent.
“Putting others in a bad light.” Lee leaned back in his chair and shrugged his shoulders. “Telling the teacher, you know.”
Emily shot Knapton a look and waited for the man to continue. Her first instinct was to inform the witness that he had better spill whatever information he had, and pronto, as it was his civil duty, and each minute he delayed was another minute there was a murderer was at large in their community. However, she was an eager student, and Inspector Kovalsky had taught her early into her placement at the station that it was best to hold your tongue and let the interviewee tell his story in his own time. You’ll be amazed what people will tell you if you just open your ears and listen, she had told her, and Emily had found it to be good advice.
“But what happened to that kid, you know,” Lee continued, worrying a hangnail on his thumb. “It’s just wrong. She was a beautiful girl, I saw her around. I play the free mic at Rachel’s,” he added when Emily didn’t comment. “The kids come in, dig the music and all.”
He fell into an apparent reverie of past performances, and Emily decided it was time to intercede.
“Did you see something suspicious at the café?” she asked him.
“No, man, no,” Lee snapped back to attention, “nothing like that. It’s just something I heard.”
“What did you hear?” Emily asked with forced patience.
“Whatever I tell you is confidential, right? This isn’t going to be brought up in court or something is it?”
“That depends,” Emily told him. “If something you tell me can help us to find the perpetrator we obviously have to pursue it.”
“Yeah, I know,” Lee responded, rubbing his forehead with his fingers. “I just don’t want my name getting caught up in this.” He exhaled deeply, dropping his chin to his chest. “Okay, the thing is, I heard she got herself mixed up with the Thibeault kid a few years back.” He looked up at the officers to see if there was a reaction.
“You guys know the Thibeault’s, right?”
Emily saw Knapton snap to attention in her peripheral vision. “Yes, we know them,” she replied quickly, cautious to keep her impression impassive. “What kind of ‘mixed up’?”
“Apparently they had a thing a while back, she might have got herself knocked up.”
“Okay,” Emily answered thoughtfully. “Can I ask how you came by this information?”
“I’m not in with that group,” Lee answered defensively. “I’m a chilled out guy, I don’t mess with any trouble.” He raised his arms as if to indicate that his well-worn t- shirt and faded jeans were proof of this. “But I was at a party a while back, and this kid, Eddie, was sounding off. Apparently he was just out from a couple years in jail, he was pretty wired up.” He paused a moment before continuing. “He was ranting about this girl he’d hooked up with, said she got knocked up, and went about getting rid of the baby while he was locked up.”
“An abortion,” he clarified when Emily looked at him with raised eyebrows. “Said his cousin works at a clinic in the city and told him a local girl was in. I didn’t think twice about it at the time, I wasn’t paying him any attention.” He shrugged his shoulders diffidently. “I was just there to have a couple beers and chill out.”
“And then I hear her name in the news, see that police lady saying a girl was murdered, and I see a picture of that same girl on the screen and I’m thinking to myself isn’t it freaking creepy that I just heard someone cussing a blue streak about that same name only a few weeks back.”
“And that’s it.” Lee swept his hands across the table as if pushing away a meal he had finished. “That’s all I have, and maybe it means nothing, but it was gnawing at me and I had to tell someone.” He narrowed his eyes as he finished, “and it’s on you if you put my name in it, because this is no family to mess around with. Remember that, I brought this to you, but you keep me out of it.”
“Okay, Lee,” Emily gave a placating nod. “We appreciate you coming in with the information, you did a good thing.”
Emily caught a whiff of marijuana emanating from his clothes as she led him back to the station doors. It was like dealing with children sometimes, she thought to herself, but maybe this errant pupil had brought something helpful in.
Maggie watched Constable Beckstead lead the witness down the hall and looked suddenly down again at the list of names in front of her. Picking up the phone she dialed Alex’s cell number by memory, tapping her pen impatiently on the desk while she waited for him to pick up.
“Alex,” she said hurriedly when she heard the click of the phone being answered, not waiting for his greeting. “That guy you had me looking up, getting an address for, Lee Daly?”
“What about him?” Alex asked, surprised. Maggie could hear the sound of water running in the background, and guessed he was in the shower.
“He’s here.” Maggie replied. “He came in with some information. I just twigged that it’s the same guy you were checking into; Emily and Ronnie just finished with him if you’re interested.”
“Okay,” Alex responded, his voice sharper now. “Keep him at the station and I’ll be there in ten”.
“Alright Sarg.” Maggie responded. “Don’t forget to tie your shoelaces.”
Hanging up the phone she smiled sweetly at the constable and her witness as they approached her desk. “Mr. Daly,” she addressed the man with an ingratiating smile. “If you wouldn’t mind having a seat again, we just need a few more minutes of your time. I’ll bring you a coffee myself, and I’ll get you the good stuff. My personal stash,” she smiled, wrinkling her nose and pointing her chin at the coffee maker standing sentry in the middle of the reception room, gurgling out stale black liquid to any takers.
“Sure,” said Lee, taken aback by her enthusiasm. “I guess.”
Taking that as a yes Maggie escorted him to another interview room and bustled back to make the promised coffee. She felt in her element, with the chairs of the waiting room full and the phone lines ringing regularly.
Not that she’d wish anything bad to happen, God forbid, she reminded herself mentally, but it did give her a buzz to feel needed. And after sitting front and center at the station desk for a decade and a half, through her initial boss, who was a jerk in her opinion, Commissioner Andrews, who had been a sweetheart, and now Susan, she was happy with the current office atmosphere. She’d had some concern that Susan’s promotion would turn her power hungry, feeling the need to prove herself, but she had shown herself to be a fair boss overall, giving appreciation where it was due. All in all they were a good team. And who could stop themselves from having a bit of a soft spot for Alex?
“What’s that about?” Emily asked Maggie now, still standing in the hall with her clipboard in hand. “What’s going on?”
“O’Reilly wants to talk to him, too,” Maggie told the Constable, rustling through her desk drawer. “Hazelnut,” she said triumphantly, taking out a paper sachet.
Confused, Emily shrugged and looked down at her clipboard at the list of waiting witnesses.