Where the Ice Falls Read online

  “I’d say we’re about even.”

  That night Lacey dreamed that Dan was looming over her at their kitchen table in Langley. Fists clenched, he spoke in that low, dangerous voice she’d learned to dread. “You were out with Tom again.” She groped for something, anything, to protect herself, and woke with her right hand tangled in the blankets.

  As she huddled in the dark, listening to her pounding heart and the warm air hissing through the vents, she thought of Tom and Marie and how they’d given her a no-questions-asked couch to crash on last spring. Marie had lied without blinking when Dan had called there to ask where Lacey was. The police brotherhood protected male officers first, and the wives protected the brotherhood. But Marie had protected her.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Zoe bumped the van door shut with her hip. “Of course you need a nap. Their plane might be delayed, and you’ll end up asleep on a bench at the airport, drooling down your chin for a bunch of tired strangers to see.”

  “Fine.” Lizi flounced into the house.

  Zoe sidled through the front door with all her parcels and kicked it closed behind her. For the first time all day, she felt as if she were shutting off that strange gaze whose source she couldn’t pin down. She was overtired, that was all. She’d feel better after a proper night’s sleep. If not, she’d make a doctor’s appointment first thing tomorrow. Her to-do list was too full to wait for a psych referral before medicating.

  Nik called from the kitchen, where something sizzled and sent promising aromas through the air. “You’re kind of late. A phone call would’ve been nice.”

  “Sorry, I had another long list of old contracts to dig up. I’ll be so glad when the sale’s ready to go forward.” And not only because she could finally bill the company for all these hours. With the sale, her old shares of TFB Energy would pay out — and at a premium — rewarding her for all the missed meals and late nights she’d put in when TFB was a brash young start-up taking on the established Alberta oil patch. She hung up her coat and headed to the kitchen to give Nik a kiss.

  “Mmm, meat.”

  “Any luck finding an alternate ski resort?”

  “Not so far. Everything is hundreds of bucks a night. Per room.”

  Nik ran his greasy fingers under the tap. “If I’d known we’d be stuck like this, I wouldn’t have invited them for Christmas. We’d get a much better deal on airfare and accommodations in January.”

  “None of us could’ve predicted this.” Zoe reached for the wine bottle. “And before you say anything, no, we are not spending the holiday at JP’s place even if the police clear it. We can’t take Lizi back there.”

  “I know.” Nik stirred his concoction. “I hardly get to see my boys, and I promised them a skiing holiday, but I don’t see how we can, with the economy so slow. They keep saying it’s turning around, but we’re only drilling half the wells we did last year.”

  “Day trips, I guess.” Zoe poured two glasses. The red wine swirled, mesmerizing her with its blend of light and dark, like looking into a world just beneath this one, or out a window into the darkness. Out of habit, she looked up at the kitchen window. Her hand jerked, tipping a glass. Nik grabbed it as it fell off the counter. Almost in slow motion, the purplish-red fluid flowed from the glass toward his tan pants. He leaped back and the wine fell to the tiled floor, splashing his pant cuff even as he danced out of the way.

  “What the fuck? This was my last work-worthy pair.” He gulped the remaining mouthful and set down the glass.

  “Sorry.” Zoe looked again at the window, her pulse thudding in her ears. There was no face now. No young man out there in the cold, staring in. She was overtired. She grabbed a dishtowel and dropped it onto the spreading liquid. Even if the stains never came out, replacing one dishtowel was easier than explaining to sensible, grounded Nik that she’d seen a ghost on the deck. She watched the red liquid soak into the yellow towel, turning the cloth a noxious brown, a poison inside her defences.

  Doctor’s appointment first thing tomorrow. The nurses kept a slot or two open for emergencies, and this was one of those. She gathered the cloth and wrung it out in the sink, willing away the disruption. “How long until supper? I’ll go hunt for discount bookings online.”

  In the quiet computer room, Zoe first sent her nightly email to JP, reporting on the progress on his list of files. She didn’t mention Eric. Making that first phone call to his family had been too stressful. Each time she’d dialed, she’d been so thoroughly sick with terror that she’d hung up before it rang. What if contact with them pushed her over the edge? Was it even fair for JP to expect her to be liaison when she and Lizi had found the body? Too many jobs, too much responsibility, and now Nik blamed her for ruining his sons’ holiday. She liked Kai and Ari just fine, but for all those years of their childhood, she’d worked full-time and more for JP, paying the bills for the Calgary family while Nik’s money went back to New Zealand. That was the second wife’s burden: her needs and wants came after those of the first family. She could fume about this all night, and had done in the past, but there was no time to work off the anger by cleaning a closet or painting a guest room. They had barely four hours until they had to leave for the airport — time enough to eat, get the beds ready in the downstairs room, and, hopefully, to create an alternative holiday plan.

  Lizi wandered into the computer room, her big, fluffy cat overflowing her arms. She kissed it between the ears. “I’m sorry I bitched at you, Mom. You’re right, I should have a rest.” She leaned on the corner of Zoe’s desk. “If … well, I heard you and Dad, about the money for skiing. I don’t want to spoil Kai and Ari’s holiday. If you want to take them to the chalet for the week after Christmas, I can stay here.”

  Zoe leaned over to scratch the cat’s neck. “Honey, we’d never leave you here alone, especially at Christmastime. We’ll find some way to make this work. Go set the table for Dad, please.”

  Alone again, she added a final paragraph to her email:

  The police will probably release the chalet soon. I’ll know more after I’ve talked to them tomorrow. Are you sure Arliss can’t handle Eric’s parents? And should the company have a memorial moment or time off for the funeral, whenever it is?

  She hit send and left the room, wondering if she should phone JP’s ex-wife directly. They hadn’t spoken since Arliss and JP split up, but Arliss might know how her next-door neighbours were handling the loss of their son. Arliss might tell her it was all under control, and she could avoid a meeting that loomed with a weird blend of horror and longing.

  After they’d gulped down a quick meal and made up the guest room, Zoe took her own advice and lay down for a nap. But she soon woke again, shivering from a dream in which cold, dead Eric kept opening his eyes and then his mouth, trying to talk to her.

  CHAPTER TEN

  The sunset above Highway 1 was streaked dirty yellow from diesel exhaust, mirroring Lacey’s mood as she sped toward Cochrane. Bull clearly hoped she would convince that fragile teenager to admit she had inadvertently barred the woodshed door herself when she ran from the scene. Well, he’d be disappointed. Pressuring witnesses wasn’t Lacey’s style, not when she’d been a cop and not now, as a Victim Services volunteer. She could only open the possibility to Lizi of amending her statement. With any luck, she’d also have a chance to sound out Zoe about whether JP Thompson’s oil company had any hidden issues — oil spills or whatever — that Eric could have discovered. Anything serious enough to kill him over, that is, though she wouldn’t spell out that part for a civilian.

  Five minutes later she set her Tims cup on the table across from Lizi. The girl was wearing her pink hat and neon-splashed hoodie again, but her thick black mascara and eyeliner had stayed around her eyes this time instead of running down her cheeks. The dark circles under Zoe’s eyes were another story.

  “Rough few days?” Lacey asked.

  “Nothing unusual for the time of year.”

  “How about you, Lizi? Things goi
ng okay for you?”

  Lizi fidgeted with her mug of frothed whatever-it-was. “I might’ve forgotten to say so, but thanks for hanging out with me out there, after, you know …”

  “No problem.” Lacey blew on her coffee. “How are you sleeping?”

  “She has nightmares.” Zoe took a sip of her black coffee and stared into its depths.

  “Just that first night.” Lizi gave herself a foamy milk moustache and thoughtfully licked it off. Her phone chirped and she scooped it up.

  Lacey tried to get her attention back. “You don’t take any medication to help you sleep?”

  “Only herbal tea.” That was Zoe, again answering for her daughter. “Can you please explain to Lizi what we’re doing today?”

  Lacey moved her hand on the table, dragging Lizi’s eyes away from her phone. “You’ll read a typed copy of the statement you gave to the sergeant out at the chalet. If you want to add something you forgot then, or clarify something that you said, you can change it. Don’t worry that the police will think you lied. People often overlook things or say them in the wrong order during a stressful time. The staff will type up any changes and print out a new copy for you to sign. That will only take ten minutes or so. Do you have any concerns?”

  Lizi’s eyes slid to her mother, but Zoe was still staring silently into her coffee as though the secrets of the universe lurked in its shifting darkness. “There’s nothing to change,” she said. “I broke the ice, lifted the bar, and yanked the door as far as it would come through the snow. I squeezed inside, and when I saw him, I screamed and ran out.” She turned her mug around on the table, studying the foam.

  “The ice — Zoe, could you see that from the kitchen?”

  “The door was covered in it, all gleaming in the sun.”

  “And the crossbar?”

  “It was hanging from its bolt when I got there. I went in. I called to him. I touched him on his cheek to see if he blinked. But he was so cold.” Her eyes lifted. “I can’t remember if I told the sergeant I touched him. Will it make a difference? Can we go right away and get this over with?”

  Half an hour later, reading through her statement at the RCMP detachment, Zoe raised the point again. “So I did tell you about touching him, sergeant. That’s a relief. I was pretty shocked then, and worried about Lizi. That’s the first dead body she’s ever seen.”

  Sergeant Drummond focused his attention fully on Zoe, putting Lacey in mind of a dog’s ears twitching to a sound too high for humans to hear. Lizi’s first. Lacey’s old cop senses had picked up the same phrasing. Was Zoe implying she, herself, had seen dead bodies before?

  Of course, neither of them would ask her in front of her daughter.

  Lacey pushed back her chair. “Sergeant, did I see the canine unit out front? Can I show Lizi the dog? If he’s still here?”

  “I’m a cat person,” said Lizi, but she followed Lacey outside.

  Bull Drummond shifted into the chair Lizi had vacated.

  The police dog was a hit — or maybe it was the dog’s handler, who was no more than twenty-five, broad-shouldered and bashful. When had that age started to look young to Lacey? People in their thirties were not supposed to be rehabilitating friends and nursing dying mothers. They should be taking adventure vacations and rising through the ranks at work. Lacey’s life belonged to someone thirty years older. She watched Lizi watch the handler demonstrate basic commands. What it was to be young and innocent. At Lizi’s age, she hadn’t yet met Dee or Dan, much less joined the RCMP.

  When Zoe emerged from Sergeant Drummond’s office, she looked more haggard than before. She thanked Lacey and added, “JP, the chalet’s owner, asked me to be his liaison with Eric’s family. Is there anything else I can tell them, like when they can make funeral arrangements?”

  “Sergeant Drummond didn’t say?”

  “All he said was that the investigation is ongoing.” Zoe put her hand to her forehead and closed her eyes briefly. “I’m not looking forward to seeing that family, but I promised.”

  This was hardly the time to start grilling the woman about TFB Energy’s company secrets. Maybe Dee’s acquaintance, Marcia, could help with the business angle. Lacey made a mental note to ask.

  When the mother and daughter had left the building, Bull came out of the statement room and gestured for Lacey to join him in his office.

  As soon as they were inside, she asked, “Did Zoe say anything about previous dead bodies?”

  Bull dropped into his chair, which groaned alarmingly. “She said her comment was a general concern, and she’d never actually touched one before Tuesday.” He rubbed a huge hand over his five o’clock shadow. “One strange thing, though. She asked if the police ever take tips from psychics. Think she plans to anonymously phone something in?”

  “Damned if I know. I was going to gently probe her for information about the company she works for, but I’ve got no official standing to ask directly, and I’m out of Victim Services reasons to follow up. She told me she’s the oil company’s liaison with Eric Anders’s family. I’m not their Victim Services contact, but should I check on them, too?”

  “They have their own VS, and I hope some relatives have stepped up by now. That mom is a wreck. The search went on for a week once Black Rock’s road was plowed, but the kid’s Camry probably won’t be found ’til spring, if ever. Another scab for the family to rip off just when they might be starting to heal.” Bull rubbed his stubble again. “We’ve reviewed every statement from when he was first reported missing, followed up with everyone by phone or in person. There’s no viable motive for killing him. Unless he picked up a hitchhiker who locked him in the shed and stole his car.”

  Lacey hitched her hip onto the corner of the desk. “An intern heading to his boss’s place picks up a hitchhiker and takes him along for the ride? Unlikely.”

  “Really long shot, I know.” Bull waved at the map behind his desk. “There’s a lot of wilderness to hide a vehicle in. We sent up drones, but even a red car won’t show through metres of new snow or tree cover. It’s mostly evergreens out that way. That one small corner of my turf has more tree-filled gullies and sharp drop-offs than anywhere else in K Division.”

  Lacey looked over the map. Black Rock was a long way from anything resembling civilization. If Eric hadn’t been inside a building, protected from predators, he might have stayed on the missing list in perpetuity. “Two questions: how did he get locked in the woodshed? And was he dead or alive when the bar was dropped?”

  “Autopsy established he wasn’t moved after he died, and it was hypothermia that killed him. Unless one of our outstanding interviews explains how that door got barred, this file goes to Major Crimes. I’ll break the news to the family myself, but I’m hoping it won’t come to that. Not before Christmas.”

  “Who do you have left to speak to?”

  “The resort manager is checking his files for which employee cleared that chalet after the storm, and we’re waiting on the snow plow contractor to get back from Mexico. He might have noticed the shed door when he first cleared the driveway, and slung the bar over without looking inside.”

  “Slim chance. But you have to check everything. You’ll let me know either way?”

  “Can’t hurt.” He grabbed the next file off his in-tray. She was dismissed.

  As she walked back to the Lexus, she thought again about the oil company and Eric’s internship. Someone there might have tried to prevent him from seeing the boss. But why? And could she find out in time for Dee to sell the chalet before their joint finances got so dire she had to sell the roof over their own heads instead?

  With her sleeves and shirt front coated in archival dust, Zoe backed out of the file racks. A grey-white cloud rose as she dropped the files onto the table. Sneezing, she flipped gingerly through the oldest deals, with her own decade-old handwriting annotating the scrawls of long-departed contractor workers. The number seven with a little crossbar, she recalled, belonged to Gunter, who’d gone home to
Bavaria when his mother died, and then there was the Land guy who wrote the four that looked like a nine. Or was it a nine that looked like a four? Pete from Red Deer. Well sites in Jumping Pound, Sundre, Nordegg, Caroline … all the wells they’d drilled a decade or more ago. Some were still producing, while others had been sold off for stripping. A few had been swapped for blocks of land closer to TFB’s higher-producing sites for tie-in. She was sure those good wells into the Cardium Formation had been drilled in 2007 — they’d celebrated for a week when those all came in — but the original contracts did not seem to be down here. If there was a production-cap share clause like the one she vaguely remembered discussing, it would have to be included in the pre-sale report. Someone in Accounting might have the files on their desk right now, to check payment history or follow up with a sub-contractor. But which someone?

  Marcia, the acting head of Accounting, stuck her head into the dingy basement room. “How’s it going in here? Anything I can help with?”

  “Before your time, I’m afraid.” Zoe shoved her bangs aside with one dusty hand. “Who in your department would I ask about checking the payment history for our Cardium wells?”

  “Cardium?” Marcia frowned. “Is that an oil company? I don’t remember seeing any invoices under that name.”

  Zoe looked down at the files, hiding the incredulity that she was sure showed on her face. After nearly four years working in the oil patch, now as acting head of Accounting, Marcia still didn’t know the difference between a world-famous oil-producing geologic formation and the oil-production companies that drilled wells into it? She let out a slow breath. “Cardium,” she explained, “is a thousand-kilometre long geologic formation along the eastern side of the Rockies, with thrusts out into the plains, in which a vast reservoir of hydrocarbons is trapped between layers of black mudstone. The biggest, highest-producing oilfields in Alberta sit on top of it. The Pembina field, for example?”