A Dance of Cranes, page 25
“The details have been verified by Officer Ducannon of the RCMP. He’s the Jejeunes’ brother-in-law. It was Officer Ducannon who first contacted us. It was at his suggestion that we put a plane up for a cursory search yesterday. We’ve been coordinating things with him from the beginning.” Bracker gave Verity a superior smile. “You don’t seem to be up to speed on this, Ms. Brown. Perhaps you should contact Officer Ducannon yourself and coordinate your own inquiries with him.”
“Domenic Jejeune reported that he believed his brother was in trouble days ago. Some folks might think you should be well past establishing your search grid by now. Forgive me for saying so, but sending in one plane to make a couple of passes over a tiny section of a park this size doesn’t seem like a whole lot of searching so far.”
Bracker stiffened at the blunt reproach. Auburn-haired country girls with lip rings didn’t come into her office telling her how to do her job. She maintained the professional courtesy her position required, but the iciness in her tone now was unmistakable. “We authorized one flyover of Domenic Jejeune’s proposed route, but his expressed intent was to meet up with his brother and Dr. Prior. It’s entirely possible he found them and has decided to stay with them until they return. They are not scheduled to be back in Fort Smith until this evening. If the party of three fails to return by tonight, we’ll go out at first light tomorrow. So, if there’s nothing else, I’ll get back to drawing up that search grid.”
“Gaetan Robideau?” Traz poked his head around the open door of the small trailer and saw a tall, lean man with long black hair standing over a tiny sink.
The man turned at the sound of his name and held up two fish on a string. “Look at this. Two boys from the reserve got into a scrape and the elders assigned them a task. Go out and catch two fish, and take them to Gaetan Robideau for when he breaks his fast.” The man looked at the fish again. “The boys said they caught these for me out on the lake, but the gills on these fish are grey. Healthy fish have pink ones. These fish drowned, got caught up in a back channel somewhere when the water from that big storm overflowed.” He shook his head sadly. “Nature still tells its truths to those who know how to recognize them, but the young have no knowledge of the traditional wisdom anymore.” He set the fish in the sink and turned to Traz again, ushering him outside where he joined him beside the trailer.
“You want to talk about the outdoors, better we are outdoors. You’re here about those missing people in the park. Carol Bracker send you here, too?”
“The men in the park are my friends, Mr. Robideau. I know at least one of them came to see you.”
Robideau nodded. “The younger brother. Not the older one. You like to walk?” he asked. “Let’s walk.”
They walked through the grid of narrow streets in silence. Traz looked across at Robideau. He recognized the man was coming to terms with something, reconciling himself to it. He was unsure whether he should press for details now or simply wait for them to come. Although Robideau was staring straight ahead, he seemed to sense the conflict within Traz.
“This woman, she your friend, too?”
“Just the men,” said Traz. “I’ve never met Annie Prior.”
“Lot of good qualities. Determination, perseverance. Dene qualities.”
“She isn’t Dene, though?”
Robideau shook his head. “But she spent some time up here. She has always been interested in us. Our culture.” He mounted a small steep rise and Traz followed. They emerged onto a high ridge overlooking a wide expanse of river, glistening even in the dull, overcast light. “She wanted to dig at the old Dene feasting sites in the park.”
Robideau’s comment had Traz spinning to look at him. “Annie Prior did? I thought she was in the park to do research on Whooping Cranes. I was sent some coordinates. They were stopover sites for migratory cranes, I’m sure of it.”
“She never asked me about cranes, only those sites. Not sure what she was hoping to find in them, though. The deposits would go back a long way, possibly centuries, but there wouldn’t be much in there. Maybe a few cooking pots, some bones.”
“Human?”
Robideau shook his head. “The Dene wouldn’t bury their dead that way. Animal bones, from the feasting — beaver, deer, geese, ducks.”
“No Whooping Cranes, I trust,” said Traz. But his half-smile stilled at Robideau’s nod.
“Them, too. Till they got rare. Don’t worry; the Dene stopped eating Whooping Cranes long before the government told them they had to.”
“Do you think Annie Prior could have gone to look for these sites herself?”
Robideau shook his head. “She knows she would never find them on her own.”
“So she’d need you to take her to them.” Traz paused for a moment. “But why would you ever agree to do that, I wonder.”
Robideau was looking out over the rapids, and beyond, to where the river snaked away, winding its way back into the wilderness. Traz stared at his profile for a long time. The features never changed, the nerves never twitched. No squint, no scowl. Just the staring.
“A trade,” he said, without turning. “Been something of a tradition up here over the years. Your history books may even have mentioned it.” The light from the lopsided grin illuminated Robideau’s craggy features for a second before dying out as quickly as it had risen. “Annie Prior came to see me. She said she had heard I needed evidence of the changing water patterns in the park and she could get it for me. Photographs, from some cameras fitted to cranes. She would hand them over in return for access to the sites. She said she knew it would be difficult to get the council’s permission, but maybe if I went to them to petition on her behalf, they’d agree. I told her if she got the evidence, we’d see what could be worked out.”
When he turned back to Traz, regret swam in his eyes, but with it, too, a kind of defiance.
“The band council would never have accepted Prior’s deal. But they should have. Trading our history for our future, isn’t that what all existence is? This is what nature teaches us, to let the older generations pass in order to secure a future for the coming ones. That water supply is our children’s heritage.”
The men stood in silence on the ridge, the sound of the wind in their ears. Traz looked back along the river, as Robideau had done, up into the wilderness. Out there, the steady measured cadence of nature’s heartbeat continued as it always had, as it always would.
“Do you have any idea where those people might be, Mr. Robideau?”
“I looked for them. To recover the cameras, they would need to trap those cranes, and the only place you can get close enough to do that is at their nesting sites.” He shook his head. “Used to be there were only a couple of places you could find nesting Whooping Cranes; Lobstick, Sass River. Now with the changing water systems, there are many new areas for the birds. I went to one or two, but there was no sign of them.”
Traz leaned forward, trying to drive down his despair with the urgency of his question. “Can you give me any clues at all as to where the other places might be?”
Robideau shrugged sadly. “No one can know what’s in a wild bird’s heart. They go where things are good for them.” He looked out over the rapids again. “I met your friend here,” he said. “Water was lower then. Not so angry. I think maybe your friend felt he could control his situation out there. But the wild places are outside everyone’s control. My guess is, he’ll know that by now.” He pointed to a thin band of powder blue sky beneath a bank of cloud on the horizon. “North wind heading this way. You better hope the search team finds your friends fast. Wherever they are, they’re in for a cold night.”
Traz and Verity sat at the same table at the rear of the general store. She stared in horror at the submarine sandwich he had just withdrawn from a microwave oven that looked like it might double as the store’s engine degreaser. He tore off half the sub and pushed it towards her. She looked at the label on the piping hot saran wrap and pointed to the expiry date. “I should have brought a candle,” she said. “It’ll be celebrating its first birthday soon.”
She reached around to open the cooler, handing a jug of orange juice to a boy to save him from having to inch past them. When she turned back to Traz, his face was a mask of sadness. “Robideau says a cold front is coming. It’s not good. They’ve been out there a long time, Verry. What did Carol Bracker say about the search plans?”
Verity reached across the table and took his free hand. “Traz, they’re not even going to start a proper ground search until tomorrow.”
Traz looked devastated. “There’s got to be something I can do.”
“You need to be here, in case the search party needs to contact you. They might need more details about your friends. Their brother-in-law has been helping them out up to now, but maybe the boys told you something he’s not aware of. Did you know he’s an RCMP officer?”
“Roy?” Traz nodded. “Domenic’s a cop, too. A detective, back in the U.K. It kind of runs in their family.”
Verity looked startled. “Domenic’s a police detective? Is that why he went into the park, to check on a crime?”
“What? No.” Traz set down his sandwich and looked at her. “He went into that park to look for his brother. And Annie Prior. Why would you think he’d be looking at criminal activity? He’d have no jurisdiction here to investigate anything. Is everything okay?” He kept his eyes on her face for a moment. He wondered if she had learned anything from her meeting that would cause this heightened state of concern that now seemed to have gripped her.
“Traz, you might need to start preparing yourself for bad news. That park superintendent believes she’s smart and all, but I don’t think she can find your friends. At least, not in time.”
He looked around at the haphazard grocery shelves and the cramped confines of this machine shop-cum-café. It was a terrible, soulless place to hear somebody pronounce a death sentence on people you cared about.
“I have one idea,” said Verity. “I need to get to my computer back in the room to access the tracking data from Aransas. I’m not sure if it’ll tell me anything, but right now, I believe it’s about the only chance your friends have.” She looked at him earnestly across the Formica tabletop. “It may be that folks up here know the terrain and the conditions and all. But they don’t know them birds like I do.”
43
Danny Maik wasn’t angry with himself that he’d missed such an obvious location. He’d long since given up being upset about his inability to protect Lindy. Now all that was left was to try to undo the damage that had been done. Perhaps then, if he got her safely away from Ray Hayes, he’d find the time to treat himself to the contempt he deserved.
He had advanced as far as he could along the beach, but now it had become necessary to scrabble up the sandy cliff onto the coastal path for his final approach. It was here the first risk would come. As he emerged into the open at the top of the cliff, there would be a moment when he was in direct view before he could reach the shelter of the brush along the far edge of the path. He’d get there as quickly as he could, but if Ray Hayes happened to be looking in this direction as he broke cover, Danny would be visible.
He paused for a few moments just below the top of the rise, his body pressed flat against the rock face, his feet firmly entrenched in the runnels that ran like claw marks down towards the sea. He could hear the waves breaking gently on the rocky shore below him. The faintest of breezes stirred the sprigs of early sea bindweed poking out of the rock all around him. It was a cool day, with a weak sun that suggested more warmth than it delivered. It suited Danny. He was already perspiring, and he knew by the time he’d made it all the way to the place Lindy was being held, he’d be sweating a lot more. It wouldn’t be because of the weather, though.
He had no doubt this was the right place. He’d known it as soon as he’d seen it on Quentin Senior’s battered map. Off to the east, if he’d have cared to raise his head from the cliff face and look, was the proof. The cranes were a fair way inland. Maik must have driven past the site countless times on the coastal road, but he’d had no idea it was there. It was surprising Jejeune had never pointed it out to him. Perhaps some vestiges of that early secrecy Senior had spoken about still existed among the birding community. Lindy was aware of this population, though. She knew where it was, even if she couldn’t have made out what the birds were from this distance. Maik doubted even Domenic Jejeune could have identified the birds as Common Cranes from this far away. But Lindy hadn’t said he would be able to identify them. She’d told Maik her boyfriend would have been able to recognize them. It was a word you used for something familiar. And that was how Maik knew she was here.
He drew in a breath and risked a peek over the edge. Everything was as he remembered it — the path, the approach, and the sightlines from those windows. It was a risk he had to take. If he made it across the open space, he had cover all the way up to the building.
He hauled himself up over the cliff edge and ducked into a low roll, shuddering a stand of gorse as he crashed through to the far side. He waited, recovering his breath, his ears attuned to any noise from the house. There was no reason to suppose Hayes would have come tearing along the path even if he had spotted Maik. The sergeant had already learned enough to know Ray Hayes was clever, and clever criminals didn’t give up their advantages with panicky, ill-advised moves. So, the silence behind the gentle rustling of the vegetation all around him didn’t really prove anything. Whether Hayes had seen him or not, Danny knew he had no choice but to continue his approach.
He moved forward in a low crouch, using the gorse as a screen. He elected to go in from the back. He could come up virtually underneath the rear patio without being detected. On it, there was a key to the back door under one of the planters. Hayes would have looked for spare keys, but Lindy wouldn’t have told him where this one was. With luck, he would have missed it.
Maik leaned against a bulky steel strut that angled out to allow the patio to project over the cliff edge. He didn’t need to peek up to check the layout. He’d been on this patio many times before, taking in those wonderful sea views, raising a glass to this success of his DCI’s, or that one of Lindy’s. There would be no champagne toast to mark this visit to the cottage, though, only the bitter taste in Danny’s mouth at his failure to perform the one duty entrusted to him by Domenic Jejeune.
The kitchen was empty. Maik closed the door gently behind him and listened. He heard a faint hiss he couldn’t identify, but there were no sounds of movement. He’d expected some sort of early warning system — pots or pans leaned against the door, even, to clatter a warning of an undetected entry. But there was nothing. A house with four exposed sides should have had some sort of arrangement like that. But Hayes not only was intelligent, he thought he was intelligent. He’d be confident that his choice of this location to hold Lindy was clever enough that it wouldn’t be considered.
Maik eased slowly along the long hallway, his footsteps on the hardwood floor as light as falling feathers. He pressed himself back against one wall as he approached the living room, trying to stay out of the sightlines. He tried to imagine where Hayes would be. The chair near the window would be his guess, watching for an approach along the driveway. If so, he’d have his back to Maik as the sergeant emerged from the hallway. There would be a split second of advantage for Danny. With luck, it would be all he would need.
Running water. Maik recognized the hissing noise now. It was coming from behind the closed door he had just passed. The bathroom door. But why was the water running? To wash away blood? Had Hayes already killed Lindy? Was he now trying to clean up the evidence? Maik spun around and began moving back down the hallway towards the bathroom door, abandoning his stealth in his panic. As he reached for the doorknob, he felt the cold steel point press into his neck from behind. He froze.
“I had hoped you wouldn’t be bright enough to think about looking here, Sergeant. See what a price you pay for underestimating somebody’s intelligence. What you’re going to do now is leave that hand on the doorknob and reach forward and put the other one on top of it. That’s right. And now back your feet away. Keep going.”
Maik kept backing away until he was at full stretch, his entire weight supported only by his two hands on the doorknob, at arms-length in front of him. In this position, Danny Maik was helpless to launch any kind of assault, but he knew any attempt to reposition himself would result in a knife blade across his carotid artery. Maik had been utterly outmanoeuvred by Hayes, and both men knew it.
“Where’s Lindy?” Maik’s arms were beginning to tremble with the strain. “What have you done with her?”
Hayes ignored the question. “I really do wish you hadn’t come, Sergeant. Things are going to get bad in a hurry now. And it’s all going to be your fault.”
The pressure of the knife point on Maik’s neck had remained constant. There was no shaking in Hayes’s hand to suggest any nervousness or uncertainty. He wouldn’t be squeamish about spilling Maik’s blood. So why hadn’t he?
“Where’s Lindy?” asked Maik again. His tone was demanding, insistent, despite his position.
“She’s just on the other side of that door, as a matter of fact. But I wouldn’t advise going in.”
“Why not?”
“She’s naked.”
Maik raised his head despite the knife point, feeling the wave of nausea swell within him. “If you’ve done anything to her, Hayes, I’ll …”
“On your hands and knees. Crawl towards the living room. I know you know the way. Slowly, and don’t try to get up. Let’s see if we can keep this nice wood floor from getting all covered in blood, shall we?”
Danny was lying face down on the living room floor in a spread-eagle position when Lindy entered the room. She was wearing a white blouse and faded blue jeans. She was barefoot, and her short hair was still wet from the shower.
