Gundersund watched a white Mazda wheel into the driveway from where he stood on the front steps of the Thompson house. A young woman in a brown suede coat and boots leaped out of the driver’s seat and started toward him. Her two fair-haired young passengers exited from the back seat more slowly and appeared to be in no hurry to follow her. He first thought she was the child caregiver but realized his mistake when she introduced herself as Naomi Van Kemp, the name he recognized as belonging to Adam Thompson’s live-in girlfriend. She looked closer in age to the two kids than to Jane Thompson.
“Sorry to keep you waiting.” She said the words over her shoulder, half out of breath, as she unlocked the front door. She pushed it open and motioned Gundersund to follow her inside. “I’ve just sent Adam a text since it’s him you’ve come to see. He had an errand to run but expects to be home shortly.”
“No problem. Perhaps you and I can chat first.”
The look on her face said she’d rather not, but she recovered quickly. “Of course. Let me get Ben and Olivia a snack and settled and then I’m all yours. Would you like a coffee or tea?”
He waited in the family room for her and she sat across from him ten minutes later after serving cups of coffee brewed in one of the fancy one-cup contraptions. He noticed that she’d taken the time to brush her long straight hair and apply fresh makeup. Her perfume lingered on the air — a light, youthful scent that he didn’t recognize.
“I’m not sure I know anything that will help you with the murder investigation.” She was leaning on the arm of the couch with her stocking feet tucked under her, sipping on her coffee and watching him as he set his small tape recorder on the coffee table. The look in her eyes reminded him of Fiona and the way she’d study him as she searched for a way to get him to do what she wanted. He’d heard Naomi with the kids in the kitchen while he waited. She’d been on the bossy side and done most of the talking.
The girl, Olivia, had gone upstairs to do her homework, but Ben was sitting at the counter eating an apple with a book open in front of him. Gundersund had a feeling that the boy was listening to their conversation while pretending not to be. He was the older of the two kids, likely twelve years old by the look of him. That would have put him at eight when his mother’s trial was underway and plenty old enough to feel the impact. He’d know something new and terrible was hovering around his family again. Perhaps, he’d become the silent listener. How could a kid not become anxious with all that had gone on in this house? Gundersund looked back at Naomi, who’d pulled her iPhone out of her pocket and was checking messages.
“I understand you supply taught at Winston Churchill when Devon Eton was there. How well did you know him?”
Naomi dropped the phone onto the couch next to her and looked at him. Her eyes were guarded. “I knew who he was, of course,” she said. “Kingston is a small town and the teaching community is tight, so we all know the Jane Thompson fall-from-grace story. Devon was in one of the grade eight classes that I supplied in for a few weeks.”
“How did he seem to you?”
“Seem?”
“Was he friendly, closed off, happy? What was your impression of him?”
“Devon was quiet but everyone was aware when he was around. I thought he might be milking the damaged, angst-filled victim role, but the girls were all in. Justin Bieber, loner bad boy … every girl at that age wants to save the rebel.”
“He had a best friend named Charlie Hanson.”
“Charlie Hanson. I never understood why Devon was hanging with him, but they’d been friends since grade five or something. Charlie’s kind of creepy.” Naomi’s phone pinged and she grabbed it from the couch. “Adam just pulled into the driveway.” She leaped off the couch and disappeared down the hallway.
Gundersund heard her greet Adam before their voices lowered to a murmur. He looked over at Ben. The boy had his head tilted so that he could hear Naomi and his father, but he was still pretending to read the book resting on the counter in front of him. He straightened up as his father walked into view. Adam nodded to his son but kept walking confidently toward where Gundersund was sitting. Gundersund had the impression of a man used to taking charge.
“Officer, sorry to keep you waiting. I see Naomi has given you coffee. Would you like a refill?”
“No thanks. If you have time for a few questions, I won’t keep you long.”
“Of course.” Adam sat down in the spot vacated by Naomi. He ran a hand across the stubble on his cheeks and let his fingers rest on his neck. “I imagine you’re here about Jane.” He turned toward the kitchen. “Ben, I’d like you to go upstairs and get started on your homework.”
“I don’t have any.”
Naomi shook her head from where she stood behind Ben. “I told him to go to his room after his snack but he’s been stalling.”
Adam said, “Benjamin.” He started to rise from the couch.
“All right, Dad. All right. I’m going.” Ben’s voice held a touch of panic. He slid off the stool but took his time crossing the kitchen floor once he realized his father wasn’t coming after him. He disappeared from view and Gundersund heard his footsteps on the stairs.
Adam sank back into the couch. “Sorry about that. Ben is entering the defiant stage of adolescence made doubly bad by his mother’s maddening behaviour.”
Gundersund asked, “Have you seen Jane since she got out of prison?”
Adam laughed, a short, sharp bark. “Actually, that’s why I’m late. I met Jane downtown to tell her that she won’t be seeing the kids until this murder is resolved. I won’t have her popping into their lives only to … well, find out she’s embroiled in something.”
“Do you think Jane killed Devon Eton?”
Adam stared into Gundersund’s eyes. Gundersund was struck by the anger he glimpsed before Adam laughed again. “Of course I don’t think she killed that kid.”
His words rang hollow to Gundersund and he couldn’t decide whether this was what Adam had intended. Protest while meaning the opposite. He realized that he didn’t like Adam Thompson much, but whether or not the man was a decent human being wasn’t germane to the case at hand. His actions were, however. “Where were you and Naomi Monday evening?”
Adam glanced back to where Naomi was wiping down the counter. She stopped when he said, “What were we up to Monday night? Do you remember, babe?”
Her forehead creased. “You went to the gym after supper and I went shopping at the Cat Centre. Remember I bought the new bedding at the Bay?” She looked at Gundersund. “The Cataraqui Centre, if you want me to be explicit.” She smiled.
“That’s right. I was already home when you showed up back here around nine thirty.”
“Were you with anyone?” Gundersund directed his question at both of them.
“I was by myself,” said Naomi. “I had planned on meeting up with a girlfriend, but she texted that she couldn’t make it.”
“And I worked out alone. There were guys around but nobody from my usual crowd. It was later than I normally hit the gym.”
“Any reason you went later than normal?”
“Naomi had a parent interview and we ate late. Ben is old enough to babysit so we got them settled and headed out for a few hours.”
Gundersund had the uneasy feeling that their stories had been rehearsed. They’d had lots of time to get their routine down. He said, “One last question. Naomi met Devon when she was supply teaching. Did you have contact with him after the trial, Mr. Thompson?”
“Are you kidding me?” Real emotion at last. “He’s the last person I wanted to see from that time. I didn’t hate the kid because I think Jane manipulated him, but my way to heal was to forget he existed.”
Gundersund thought, And now he doesn’t.
He stood to leave. “Well, thanks for your time.” He looked up the stairs on his way to the front door and thought he spotted the top of Ben’s head on the landing. He would have loved to talk to the kid, but without his father or Naomi present. He bet that Ben knew more secrets than CSIS. Too bad he wasn’t a few years older so that he could be interviewed without an adult present.
“Come in and have a seat. Caroline will be right with you.”
Kala nodded at the woman’s back and looked around. A torn red leather couch took up one wall. It looked more comfortable than the plastic chairs on either end, so she picked a corner and settled in with a Glamour magazine that had been lying on the end table. The pages were dog-eared and somebody had taken a purple pen to the models, giving them moustaches, beards, and Harry Potter glasses. After flipping through the pages, Kala closed her eyes and leaned her head against the wall. She let her mind relax and pictured a northern river under a prairie blue sky. She imagined herself in her canoe with Taiku in the front. She was trailing the paddle behind her and enjoying the sound of a loon calling up ahead. Gentle waves were lapping against the boat.
“Officer Stonechild?”
Kala’s eyes fluttered open.
“I’m Caroline Russell. Thank you for coming.” A short, middle-aged woman with purple hair and multiple piercings in each ear reached out her hand. Kala lifted herself to her feet and shook the offered hand, still groggy from her short nap.
“Let’s meet in my office, shall we?” Caroline’s voice was warm and friendly, the opposite of Tamara Jones’s, the young court worker she was replacing. Caroline’s eyes were creased in laugh lines.
The office was small and cramped. The fluorescent overhead lights were off and a desk lamp left shadows in the corners of the room. Kala eased into the visitor chair and wedged her knees against the desk. The room smelled of Earl Grey tea and oranges. She spotted a large teapot and flowered mug on the window ledge. Caroline had a file open in front of her. Her eyes scanned a page and then she lifted her head and smiled at Kala.
“So Dawn lived with you for a few months earlier this year. How did that go in your view?”
“Does it matter? Tamara placed her with a family. She was clear that they’re better suited to raising a teenager than a single, Aboriginal cop.”
“Hmm.” Caroline squinted at something written in the folder. “Yes, they’ve had some success with a couple of kids but Dawn doesn’t appear to be one of them, at least that’s my initial assessment.”
“I’m not surprised. Her life hasn’t been stable or happy the last while.” Kala remembered the vibrant twelve-year-old kid she’d first met in Ottawa and sadness filled her. You didn’t need a crystal ball to know where Dawn’s life was heading. This case worker might be having second thoughts, but she would be helpless to stop the plans already set in motion.
“There’s a note in the file that you called the foster mom to set up a meeting with Dawn. Did this take place?”
“No.” She could mention the roadblocks set up by the foster parents, but chose to remain silent. Her experience was that those working in the foster care system stuck together. Long hours, inhuman workloads, sad, sad stories, and burnout — mistakes were inevitable, given the system and lack of resources. Kala figured that each of the case workers had clients they’d felt helpless to save. They only had so much time to give to each foster kid before they had to move on to the next.
Caroline’s eyes searched Kala’s face. “Would you be willing to take Dawn for an afternoon?”
“I’m not sure I understand where this is coming from. Would her foster parents be in agreement?”
“I can convince them.” Caroline leaned back in her chair. “Let me be frank, Officer Stonechild. I visited Dawn at her foster home last week because her teacher had reported her skipping school on two occasions. I didn’t see any rapport between Dawn and the couple. In fact, Dawn appeared to be largely invisible in the home as they have two young kids of their own and two other foster kids, one of whom is physically disabled and takes a lot of care. They’re good people but stretched thin. I spoke with Dr. Lyman, who’s counselling Dawn, as you know. She’s also concerned and was opposed to having Dawn moved from your home. It seems her advice was factored out of the decision made by my predecessor.”
Kala felt the old anger course through her. Dawn had been removed from her and placed with a family that didn’t have the time for another kid. The insane waste. She thought about how a meeting with Dawn would open the girl up for more pain when the system decided to move her somewhere else. Seeing Dawn again would be the same as slowly tearing off a Band-Aid. These people had no idea what it did to a kid to start a relationship with someone only to have them disappear from their life.
She planted her feet and worked her way into a standing position. “Can’t you simply move her back with me?”
“It’s not that easy, I’m afraid, but I’m going to see what I can do. A visit would be a good first step.”
Kala didn’t know whether to trust this woman, who was making no promises. She could be replaced by someone new or Tamara Jones could return. “Let me think about it,” she said. “I’ll give you my answer in a few days once my work settles down again. I want to make certain that I do what’s best for Dawn, and I’m not sure if what you’re proposing is the answer. I’ll be in touch.”
Caroline sighed and got to her feet on the other side of the desk. “I suppose that’s the most I could ask for given what has gone on. I’ll wait for your call. Thanks for coming by.”
Kala stopped at the door, her hand on the knob. She looked back at the social worker. She’d closed Dawn’s file and had turned to work on her computer positioned on a side table. The photo of a boy who looked to be three years old filled the screen, with a file number under his picture. Kala bowed her head and kept walking, the lost expression in the little boy’s wide blue eyes staying with her as she stepped outside into the gathering dusk.