Four

As the police vehicle crunched to a stop beside us, I tried to interpret the Lightbodys’ expressions through the back side window. But the solemn stillness of both parents gave no hint. Even the police chief’s acne-scarred face remained obliquely impassive. But I did notice that they were alone. The mother and aunt of the other missing girl were not with them.

The two girls ran up as their parents climbed out of the SUV. Marie-Claude’s brother, however, remained standing by his bike. His hand gripped a Nazi-like helmet almost as if he were planning a fast getaway. By now Summer Grass Woman, the other women, and their daughters had joined us. They stood clumped together in nervous silence, a safe distance from the biker.

Jeff and Marie-Claude also ignored J.P., although I thought I caught Marie-Claude glance quickly at her brother before returning her gaze to her daughters.

Will Decontie frowned at the biker but made no attempt to acknowledge the man’s presence. With his uniform jacket hanging open and matching navy pants sagging under the weight of his overhanging stomach, Will looked disheveled after the long drive, an appearance that wasn’t entirely unusual for the police chief. He was often challenged in maintaining an orderly, cop-like demeanour.

Like Will, Marie-Claude’s thin cotton skirt and sleeveless blouse were also rumpled, her wavy, white-blonde tresses in need of a comb. But I’d never known her to pay much attention to her appearance. Nonetheless, the fine delicacy of her features invariably shone through.

Her husband, on the other hand, in his pressed khakis and crisp button-down shirt with the sleeves partially rolled up, could’ve stepped out of a Brooks Brothers catalogue. But this was standard. I’d never seen him with so much as a shirttail hanging out. I guessed it was his way of reminding us of his importance in the community. A chartered accountant, he was the reserve’s financial manager.

He and Marie-Claude had met while at the Université de Montréal, she in anthropological studies and he in economics. It was love at first sight, Marie-Claude had confided in me. She’d fallen for his animal magnetism that spoke of his warrior ancestry, her words, not mine. I couldn’t sense it myself. But through the eyes of love, one could see anything.

Afraid of the answer, none of us were prepared to ask the question. Instead we stood silently waiting for one of them to speak up. Finally Will removed his cap and shook his head sadly.

I felt more than heard a collective moan. I was about to offer my condolences when Jeff spoke up. “Thanks to the Creator, the girl wasn’t our Fleur. But …” He ran his fingers through his thick black hair and sighed deeply. “It was Becky. Our hearts are with Dorothy.”

Although everyone visibly relaxed, I could sense a sheepishness in their expressions of sympathy for the dead girl’s mother and aunt. Summer Grass Woman even offered to hold a smudging ceremony in Becky’s memory. None of us, though, asked how she’d died, an accident or murder. We knew that if Becky had been killed, it would not bode well for Fleur, something the Lightbodys would not want to dwell on. Instead they probably wanted to quietly rejoice in the hope that their daughter lived.

Then, as if noticing his brother-in-law for the first time, Jeff called out, “Christ! What are you doing here? You know you’re not welcome in my house.”

Marie-Claude clutched her husband’s arm. “S’il te plait, mon marie. I asked him to come. I thought he might be able to help find Fleur.”

Jeff turned his anger on his wife. “What can he do that the police can’t?”

“I … I thought he might be able to ask around the biker community. Maybe they know something.”

“What?” He glared down at his wife, who was at least a foot shorter and eighty pounds lighter. “Woman, you shame our daughter.” Marie-Claude cringed backwards. “You think our daughter is into drugs, is a prostitute?”

“Non, no I don’t….”

“That’s the only world this scum knows.” He advanced towards his brother-in-law. “Get out of here.”

J.P. stood his ground with his legs planted, ready for action, while the threatening devil on his T-shirt sneered through his crossed arms.

The policeman placed his bulk between the two men. “Now, son, I think it best you leave. These good people are upset enough without adding more wood to the fire.”

J.P. remained rooted, his goatee jutting out defiantly.

“S’il te plait, petit frère,” Marie-Claude pleaded. “It’s best you leave. I will call you.”

The biker continued glaring at his brother-in-law, then strapped on his helmet, kicked his motorcycle into action with a violent thrust of his boot, and powered out of the Lightbodys’ drive and onto the main road in a spray of gravel.

As the bike’s roar faded, Jeff spoke up. “Marie-Claude, I don’t want you involving your brother, okay?”

She remained silent as she bit her bottom lip.

“Do you hear?”

“Oui,” she whispered, crumpling her skirt in her hands.

“This is our affair and nobody else’s, you understand?”

Marie-Claude nodded numbly, while the rest of us squirmed.

“Papa,” Neige said. “Is Fleur okay?”

He tugged at one of her pigtails. “I hope so, little one. I dearly hope so.” He placed a protective arm around each of his daughters. “Let’s go inside.”

But before he did, he turned back to us. “Kòkomis Elizabeth, Meg, and the rest of you, I want to thank you ladies for looking after my girls. Meegwich.”

With Marie-Claude straggling behind them, they disappeared inside their house with a solid click of the front door.

The rest of us didn’t move, unsure whether we should rejoice that the body didn’t belong to Fleur or be more worried now that death had intervened.

Summer Grass Woman spoke up. “It is their time to be alone. Come. We go.”

The old woman trudged down the dusty drive. She was joined by one of the women and her daughter, while the rest of the girls’ friends and their mothers dispersed in their trucks and ATVs.

I stayed behind. I wanted to learn more. I nabbed the police chief as he was climbing back into his vehicle.

“Will, I hope you don’t mind my asking, but how did Becky die? Was it a natural death?”

He sighed. “It’ll be on the news soon enough, so I can tell you. She was murdered.”

“How?”

“I think it best to see what the Sûreté du Québec release to the media, but let’s just say it wasn’t a nice death or a quick one.”

“Does that mean she was also raped?”

“Wait for the press release,” he replied.

“How dreadful for her mother.”

“For sure. Never easy having a child murdered. I gather Becky was her only one.”

“Do you think Fleur might have been with her when she was killed?”

“It’s possible. We know they were seen together in Ottawa shortly before the two of them disappeared.”

“Are they concerned that Fleur might have been killed at the same time?”

“I don’t suppose I’m speaking out of turn if I say that the SQ are looking into the possibility. In fact, they have police dogs combing the woods right now.”

“I guess because the Quebec provincial police are involved, it means Becky’s body was found on the Quebec side of the river and not in Ottawa.”

“Yup. A couple of birdwatchers found her by a beaver swamp near the northern border of Gatineau Park, a good thirty kilometres from downtown.”

“Kind of an isolated place. What in the world would she be doing there?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

A flicker of movement caught my eye, and I turned to see Marie-Claude staring at us from a side window. I thought I saw tears on her cheeks before she let the curtain fall back into place.

I shuddered to think of the unrelenting seesaw of worry and hope the Lightbodys must be on.

As if reading my own thoughts, Will said glumly, “All we can do is pray that Fleur wasn’t with Becky when she died.”