The Darkly Stewart Mysteries: The Woman Who Tasted Death Page 5

  Darkly knew this was ridiculous and that her mother had quite a number of truisms at the ready to explain away her fear of change. But, this morning, Elizabeth Schilling deviated. She ventured into her daughter and husband’s private world, a world she wasn’t supposed to understand.

  After carrying her empty plate and Darkly’s undisturbed one to the kitchen, she disappeared into the bedroom for a minute and returned with a yellowed scrapbook.

  “Before your father gets back from the lodge, I want to show you something.”

  Elizabeth flipped through pages of black and white news clippings and stopped on the page displaying a photograph of a man in his late twenties, head bowed, being led away from a residential home in handcuffs.

  “Your father considers this man his greatest mistake.”

  Darkly pulled the book closer.

  “Who is he?”

  “His name is Ed Laving. It happened two years before you came to us. You brought your father back from the desperate place he lived in thanks to this man. God knows I couldn’t reach him.”

  Darkly had never heard her mother speak like this before. She scanned the article.

  “He killed his wife, his children?”

  She looked more closely at the photograph. In the home’s doorway, Darkly could make out a younger version of her father holding a handkerchief to his mouth. This man wasn’t the rock who had raised her.

  “Your father first noticed Mrs. Laving at the supermarket. He bumped into her, and she reacted as though she was cut with a knife. He thought it was strange she wore long sleeves in hot weather and never took off her sunglasses. He took an interest. When the scarf around her neck slipped to reveal two burn marks, the kind made with a cigarette, your father decided he would keep an eye on the family. On Mr. Laving in particular.”

  Darkly felt the newspaper clipping between her fingers, while her eyes remained glued to her mother’s. She was enthralled not just by what her mother was saying, but by what her mother was projecting. Elizabeth had lost William years before to his work, to the victims’ plight, to the love of the law he shared with Darkly. Elizabeth was cut out; she was a necessity, not a passion. But, lately, since giving up the law, William had begun a journey back to his wife.

  “A few nights staking out the house, and your father heard Mrs. Laving’s screams. And the children.”

  “What did he do?”

  “He forced his way into the house, handcuffed Ed Laving, and demanded to examine the children.”

  “And?”

  “There wasn’t a scratch on them. Ed Laving punished his children indirectly. Dirt under their fingernails, and Ed slapped his wife. Not finishing their supper, and it might be a punch to her stomach. A poor grade ended up as a cigarette burn on her neck.”

  “I don’t understand.” Darkly pointed to the newspaper article. “It says they all died.”

  “Ed Laving was the son of a city councillor who was a close personal friend of your father’s sergeant. Mr. Laving was released after only one night of jail, and your father was told not to harass the family anymore.”

  Elizabeth closed the book.

  “Your father could have gone over the head of his sergeant, but he followed orders. Mrs. Laving and her children were dead three days later.”

  Elizabeth got up from the table.

  “I’m going to make a cup of tea. Do you want one?”

  “No. Thank you.”

  “Ed Laving is up for parole for the first time this week, so your father’s a bit on edge. Don’t take it so personally.”

  Elizabeth left her daughter to dwell on the demons that haunted her father.

  Over Sunday roast that evening, William offered an olive branch. As he passed Darkly the Yorkshire puddings, he told her truthfully, “It’s been nice to have you home.”

  Elizabeth smiled. The ice was broken.

  “It’s been good to be home, Dad.”

  “Your mother thinks there’s something you haven’t told us. About that night.”

  Darkly frowned in her mother’s general direction.

  “Your mother is very intuitive,” William elaborated.

  William reached out and gave Elizabeth’s hand a squeeze.

  “When I broke that embezzlement case, it was your mother who told me it had to be a woman.”

  Elizabeth answered Darkly’s look. “If it had been a man, there would have been a trail of obvious spending. It was hidden in her children’s trust funds.”

  William continued the story. “She may have been a criminal, but she was providing for her family.”

  “While her husband was spending the honest money on a mid-life crisis,” Darkly’s mother finished.

  Her mother rarely allowed herself such a moment of smugness.

  “You were always an introspective girl, closed off—”

  “Mum—”

  Elizabeth continued, “Closed off, sometimes, to the help that only those who love you most can give.”

  “I lost my partner.”

  “It’s more than that. Look at your hand.”

  Darkly’s eyes darted to both of her hands. Her right hand was covered in a web of blue veins.

  Her mother sighed. “I still check on you in the middle of the night. I can’t help myself. Whenever you wrapped your hands around that necklace in your sleep, there was nothing I could do to pry them free.”

  Darkly gave in to the cross-examination.

  “The woman in the hospital, the dead woman, she had the same markings as me.”

  William turned his attention to his plate of food and brushed Darkly’s concern aside. “Many people have allergies.”

  “Not like this.” Darkly held up her hand.

  William opened the road atlas to a page of great open spaces and only a few red lines, representing country roads. There was a long, straight yellow line representing the Trans-Canada highway. William placed his fingertip on a section of the highway.

  “This is where we picked you up.”

  Darkly pointed to a blue dot adjacent to the yellow line.

  “What’s that dot?”

  “A town.”

  “It doesn’t have a name.”

  Darkly flipped to the map key at the beginning of the book.

  “It says here that it’s an abandoned settlement.”

  “Many towns sprang up overnight during the gold rush. They were left behind by the early twentieth century for more prosperous settlements along the railway lines.”

  “What if people still lived there?

  William removed his reading glasses and grasped the edge of the map page. With one quick flick of the wrist, he ripped the page from the book and handed it to Darkly.

  “What if?” her dad asked.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “Some coffee with your cream?”

  The thirty-something, unshaven young man smiled at Darkly as he opened a pack of sugar and dumped it into his own Starbucks grande coffee. The airport terminal was packed with morning business travelers.

  Darkly gave him the hint of a smile. Just the corner of her mouth. She would be polite, but didn’t want to encourage him. She continued to pour the cream into her own coffee until it threatened to spill over the rim.

  “Better take a sip.”

  She ignored him and dumped some of the liquid into the stainless steel garbage hole. Starbucks employees—or “partners” as they preferred to be called—must hate people like her.

  “I’m flying to Van this morning. You?”

  He clearly thought he had a shot. He was sure to offer Darkly his business card next.

  Darkly nodded her head.

  “Vancouver, too. Alone. I just got out of a relationship. Need to take a break somewhere different.”

  That would throw him off the scent.

/>   It wasn’t untrue. Aaron had been the name of her last boyfriend before her recent undercover assignment. He was a good-looking metro police officer, with a heart of gold, which doomed him from the start.

  He had begged Darkly not to end it. He had promised to be there when she needed him, give her space when it was demanded. He’d told her she was the love of his life. Men love to say what’s in their heart at any given moment, thinking it will gain them what they want. Nothing could persuade Darkly. The more he pleaded, the easier it was to walk away.

  She had woken up one night not long before the breakup and turned to study Aaron’s sleeping figure. They’d made love a few hours before. She always hated that term, “made love.” Maybe she wasn’t a real girl. Afterwards, she had to contend with Aaron’s annoying little snore, the way he whimpered when he was unconscious. He suffered from chronic bad dreams, and she realized she really didn’t want him there. She couldn’t even say she cared deeply for him anymore. Yet, if you’d asked her the day before, she would have been certain of a different answer. Those who didn’t know her might think she was incapable of knowing her own mind.

  Darkly took a sip of her coffee. Can anyone really trust that the decisions they make are what’s best for them? Was she embarking on a fool’s quest? Was she leaping out of a plane thinking the clouds would break her fall, not noticing the sharp rocks underneath? The earth has teeth, and it eats us all in time.

  The young man offered his hand. “Gus Willet.”

  Darkly shook his hand firmly. “Darkly Stewart.”

  “Nice to meet you, Darkly.”

  Darkly had to admit, Gus was attractive in that surfer, man-boy kind of way.

  “Flight 292 to Vancouver, now boarding first class passengers. Those with small children or who require assistance are also free to board at this time.”

  The announcement brought Darkly back to her senses. Gus hadn’t commented on her name. That was strange. Perhaps he was more polite than some. But, she didn’t sense any surprise in him. In fact, she got the distinct impression he found exactly what he was looking for. Dad must have sent him.

  She watched a young mother push a stroller ahead of her through the gate, while holding a fidgeting child in her other arm. Darkly looked down at her boarding pass and then back at the terminal exit. It wasn’t too late. She could get on a plane to somewhere warm and leave her past undiscovered.

  Darkly looked down at her hand. The blue veins had faded substantially, thanks to wearing a glove in bed. She made up her mind.

  “Is my father flying you first class?”

  “Excuse me?”

  Despite Gus being a good actor, Darkly recognized her father’s handiwork. “No, he’s a bargain shopper. Let me see your boarding pass.”

  Darkly grabbed it out of Gus’s hand. A tug-of-war ensued.

  “Let me see it.”

  “Why should I?”

  “Because I asked nicely.”

  The pulling continued, and Gus’s grip was slipping.

  “Buy me a drink on the plane?” Gus asked.

  “I’ll buy you a coke,” replied Darkly.

  “Cokes are free.”

  “I know.”

  Darkly won. She read aloud the seat assignment, “14B. What do you know, I’m 14A.”

  “Coincidence.”

  Darkly played her last card. “But we don’t believe in coincidences in law enforcement. No one traveling alone willingly chooses a middle seat.”

  Gus smiled sheepishly and wondered if she was letting him on the plane or was about to cause a fuss that would end with him being escorted off airport premises.

  Thirty thousand feet up, the occupants of seats 14A and 14B got to know each other better. Over cokes. With a dash of Jack Daniels.

  “So, my father paid for your flight? He and my mum are on a fixed retirement income. I hope that makes you feel good about yourself, Constable.”

  If Darkly was stuck with Gus for five hours, she was at least going to have some fun torturing him.

  “I had vacation time coming. I planned to spend it out west in the Rockies anyway.”

  Gus took a small sip of his drink.

  “The alcohol has a greater effect at this altitude.”

  “A big strong man like you who protects fragile, young, highly-trained RCMP Constables traveling on their own can surely handle it.”

  Darkly knocked back her drink in one go.

  “And how long did you agree to babysit me?”

  “It wasn’t like that.” Gus sounded genuinely annoyed.

  “No?”

  “Constable, I’ve never met your father, but I’m impressed with his style. He called in all his favors on this one. Vincetti assigned me to you. I’m ordered to help you bring back an escaped fugitive. I’m your new partner.”

  Gus reached his hand out to Darkly. She refused it.

  “You can get on a return flight the moment we land. I’ll pay.”

  “That’s not going to happen. I’m under orders.”

  “Some orders shouldn’t be obeyed. You can tell my father I said that.”

  Darkly turned to look out the window. Gus sat back and continued to sip his drink, while Darkly chewed on her nails.

  Thirty thousand feet down, a wolf with fur the color of wheat leapt from nearby birch trees into a field of cattle. The wolf had only now stopped to drink after leaving the hospital ten days before. With still more than a week ahead of her, Marielle Bowie needed to feed.

  Across the field, on its own, a calf was separated from its mother. Easy prey. As Marielle approached, the prone calf got up and began walking in circles, bellowing for its mother. The mother cow responded and moved quickly across the field. But, Marielle would easily get there first.

  The first shot missed its mark. Not again. Marielle had come back from the dead more than once. Firing silver bullets wasn’t common practice, after all. Not in the outside world, at least.

  Marielle turned back for the birch trees, but the second bullet found its mark, tearing into the left ventricle of her heart. Seconds later, she was dead, just as she was dead when Lawrence fired on her, preventing her from killing Darkly, the heretic. Dead temporarily.

  Or so she thought. Marielle did not count on the farmer panicking when he found his cows standing over the naked body of a dead woman. There she lay where he knew in his heart had stood a wolf. How could this have happened? How would he explain this? He would not be able to. And, so, he burned the body, and this time, death remained death.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Gus and Darkly had taken a Greyhound from the city of Vancouver north to Prince Rupert. Then, they began hitch-hiking east into the vast boreal forest, eventually finding themselves two-thirds of the way to Prince George and a couple days’ hike from that little blue dot in the middle of nowhere.

  The first day had gone by without incident. On the second day, Darkly and Gus woke in their two-man tent before dawn to the sound of leaves crunching underfoot.

  Both reached for their service-issued revolver before a timid female voice called out, “Hello?”

  She and a van full of actors were heading to a low-budget horror film shoot about an hour’s drive away when they broke down. Serena had spotted the little tent a mile back on the rural country highway and suggested they hike back to ask for help from people who must have a keen sense of how to survive in the wilderness.

  Gus was handy with cars, patched the radiator leak with his vinyl tent repair kit, and re-filled the reservoir with water from his canteen.

  “It’s not hot out. That will last you until the next service station. Where are you headed?”

  Jake, the locations manager, as well as camera operator and travel coordinator—meaning driver—answered, “An old gold-rush town. It’s not even on the map. Just a litt
le blue dot. ‘Wolf Woods,’ the locals call it. Tiny place.”

  Gus and Darkly looked at one another.

  “Mind if we hop a lift?” Gus asked.

  Darkly conceded with another private glance to Gus that he had proven useful this time. One time was hardly a habit.

  The twelve-seat minivan was filled to capacity. Darkly leaned her head on the glass of the passenger window and pretended to doze.

  Christopher, the actor playing the serial killer, was in his late 40’s, had piercing blue eyes, dressed like an aging rocker, and couldn’t stop talking about his time on a Roman Polanski film in Europe. Apparently, Christopher liked younger women, too, as was evidenced by the fact that every time Darkly moved closer to the window, he pressed his leg harder against her own.

  The actors were going through their usual first-meeting conversation by reciting their entire resumes and discussing their non-theatrical pastimes, in order to prove to each other and themselves that they were well-rounded individuals. They were not.

  Darkly stared out into the thick woods on either side of the highway. She hadn’t seen another car for the last fifteen minutes.

  Jake hadn’t been to Wolf Woods before, but he’d spoken to the sheriff on the phone. The group was going to be an economic jolt in the arm for the town after renting hotel rooms, buying food, and maybe even hiring some local crew.

  “Who knows, maybe we’ll put them on the map.” Jake laughed at his own joke. “Actually, the sheriff’s only stipulation was that we don’t do that. They’re off-the-grid nutballs. You know the type. We had to swear to tell no one where we were going. Northern B.C. That’s all anyone knows.”

  Jake looked out the window at the endless forest.

  “We might as well be that plane that went missing in the Indian Ocean.”

  Peter, whose role was as the hero of the group of camping students being stalked by a backwoods serial killer, called out suddenly, “I see an orange cone!”

  Everyone clapped. Jake exhaled a sigh of relief. Christopher patted Darkly’s knee.