“Sorry I didn’t get over to your place last night. Something came up and it got too late.” Gundersund wasn’t about to tell her he’d had an exhausting standoff with Fiona. He’d finally gone to sleep in the spare room when she refused to leave. He’d tried again to tell her that their marriage was over while she kept saying it was time for her to move in. Part of him thought it might be easier to concede and give it another shot. The idea of letting her back into his life didn’t make him feel good. In fact, it made him feel trapped.
“No problem. I got your email update.” Kala dropped into her desk chair and swivelled around to look at him. “You look like hell.”
“Only because I feel like hell.” He stretched one aching shoulder. The mattress on the spare bed had seen better days. By the look of her, Stonechild hadn’t gotten a good sleep either. Her eyes were exhausted. “How’d it go with the court worker? What did she want?”
“For me to get involved with Dawn again.”
“Are you going to?”
“I’m thinking about it.” She paused. “Believe me, I want to see Dawn, but I’m worried that if I keep popping in and out of her life, I could do irreversible damage. The next court worker might decide I’m a bad influence or they might move her to another town.”
“Sometimes, you have to make a leap of faith, Stonechild. Dawn needs you.” He could have added, “and you need her,” but he thought it wiser to let the thought go unspoken. If he’d learned anything about his partner, it was that she didn’t like anyone interfering in her personal business. “So what’s on our plate today?”
She was looking at her computer screen, seemingly relieved with the change of subject. “Rouleau is meeting with Heath now and said to hang around until he gets back. He wants a quick powwow.”
Woodhouse spoke from behind Gundersund. “Your relatives would know all about that, aye Stonechild?”
Gundersund turned. “And yours would know all about eavesdropping. Why didn’t I know you were sitting at your desk?”
“Because I crept in while the two of you had your heads together.” Woodhouse rolled his chair past Gundersund and stopped inches from Stonechild. He leaned in and pushed his face close to hers. “Like a thief in the night, I hear all and see all and steal your secrets.” He wriggled his fingers in the air as if conjuring up some voodoo before he pushed his chair slowly back toward his desk with his feet, all the while keeping his eyes glued to her face.
She held his gaze. “Are you naturally creepy or do you have to work at it?”
Woodhouse laughed. “The lady has teeth,” he said looking up at Gundersund as he rolled past. “You’d better watch out or she might take a bite out of you.”
The irrational part of Gundersund wanted to punch Woodhouse in the jaw, but the rational part knew Woodhouse would enjoy the fallout too much. The best way to get to Woodhouse was to ignore him. Gundersund turned and looked at Stonechild. “Hey partner, do you want to go for breakfast while we wait for Rouleau?”
“No, that’s okay. I’ve got stuff to do.” She glanced at him before lowering her head to look at something on the computer screen. Her mouth was set in a tight line.
“Good thing one of you has a work ethic.” Woodhouse was leaning back in his chair, hands folded across his rounded belly.
Gundersund walked over to his desk without commenting. If he’d said anything it would have been to ask Woodhouse if he’d always been such a prick. He sat and turned his back on Woodhouse, grabbing the mouse for his computer and scrolling through emails. He reached the end of the unopened list when Bennett sauntered in, looking lean and fit in a black leather jacket and jeans. He was young, fresh-faced, and happy, everything Gundersund had lost along the way.
“Sorry I’m late. Doctor’s checkup.” Bennett stopped at Stonechild’s desk and Gundersund wasn’t sure he liked how her face lit up. They chatted for a bit and he heard her laugh. Gundersund noticed Woodhouse watching them with an intensity he found disconcerting. For a second, he felt hatred radiating out of the man. Was it directed at Stonechild or Bennett or both? Rouleau walked in at that moment and Woodhouse’s focus shifted.
“Anything to report, boss?” Woodhouse asked. His expression had relaxed into its usual surly state.
“Let’s gather in our meeting area,” Rouleau said. “This won’t take long.” He called across the room for Bedouin and Morrison to join them.
Gundersund stood and followed Stonechild and Bennett into the meeting area. He wondered if he’d read too much into Woodhouse’s face the moment before. Woodhouse was a jerk, a male chauvinist pig, but harmless enough. Even helpful when necessary, with a cunning kind of intelligence.
They found places to sit or lean while Rouleau had his back to them writing on the whiteboard with a black marker. He was copying times and names from a paper that he held in his hand. When he finished, he turned to face them.
“Good morning everyone. Thanks for entering all your reports into the system.” He waved the paper. “I got word from Forensics about Devon’s cellphone records. He made a few calls and texts the day he died. At 3:30, his mother called him. He received a phone call from a pay phone at 3:42 and called Charlie Hanson at 4:05. He texted his sister Sophie’s phone a few minutes later and again five minutes after that. Forensics is still tracking down information on the pay phone, but we probably won’t be able to identify the caller. The calls and messages stopped after that.”
“What were in the text messages to his sister?” Stonechild asked.
Rouleau looked at her. “The first was ‘Need to talk’ and the second was ‘See you in a few.’”
“Did she respond to either?”
“No. However, she might know something about what he was up to that afternoon and we’re going to have to talk to her. I’d like to get her away from her parents if possible, although we’re going to need their permission. Try the mother first.”
Stonechild nodded. “We’ll pay them a visit this morning.”
“Have another chat with Charlie as well and find out what Devon called him about. I couldn’t find any reference to the call in your notes.”
Gundersund said, “He never mentioned a call. Just said that he didn’t see Devon after he left school. They might have been having an argument at their lockers so we’ll be checking that out too.”
Rouleau looked at the whiteboard. “The call lasted thirty-five seconds so Charlie must have picked up or there was a voice mail message.”
Woodhouse grunted. “Shouldn’t we be bringing in Jane Thompson for more questioning? Seems to me she’s the one we should be investigating. Has anyone checked her phone calls? We’re spinning our wheels if we focus on these kids.”
“Heath is on the same page as you.” Rouleau stopped as if recalling the conversation. “He wants her movements accounted for and you and Bennett can get on that. Get as much detail as you can on her interactions from the moment she left prison last month. We need to know if she was in contact with Devon. It’s reasonable to assume that they could have bided their time to start something up again. According to past cases where a female teacher and a student had an affair, they often reconnect after the teacher serves her time.” He turned to Bedouin. “Anything interesting from the call line?”
“We’re checking out a couple of leads but I’d say nothing too promising at this point.”
“Okay, well, let’s keep digging everyone. Heath wants something for his next news conference scheduled for end of day.”
Rouleau left, and Stonechild and Bedouin followed him out.
“If it was a male teacher and a female student, they’d lock the teacher away and pitch the key into Lake Ontario,” said Woodhouse as he stood up. “Appears to be a double standard for pedophiles based on your particular gender.”
“You’re actually right about that,” said Gundersund. “Male teachers are dealt with much more harshly in the courts, both in Canada and the U.S.”
“And in public opinion,” said Bennett.
“Wasn’t there a woman teacher in the U.S. who kept getting caught with her student every time she got out of the pen? I think she had his baby in prison. Whatever happened to her and the student?” Woodhouse asked.
Gundersund took out his cellphone. “They got married. She got seven years after she was caught with him after serving her first six-month sentence. When he turned eighteen, they got married. He was twelve years old and she was married with four kids when they hooked up the first time.”
Woodhouse shook his head as he got to his feet. “Man, I just don’t get it. Saddling yourself with a sad old lady when you’re still a kid. He missed out on all the firm young flesh at his randy disposal.”
Gundersund tried to signal Bennett with his eyes to let it rest but he was too late to stop Bennett from taking the bait. “Christ, Woodhouse. You really are a disgusting excuse of a man.” Bennett pushed past his partner, who dropped back into his seat clutching his stomach. Woodhouse’s laughter followed Gundersund and Bennett like a cackling crow all the way back to their desks.
Kala hung up the desk phone and reached for her jacket slung across the back of her chair. “I spoke with the secretary at Sophie’s school. Sophie didn’t make it in today and hasn’t been in class all week. We can take a run to the Etons’ and hopefully get a chance to speak with her.”
“I’ll be right with you,” Gundersund said, covering his cellphone with his hand. He switched the phone to his other ear and said, “I’ve got to go. Yeah, I’ll meet you for supper at The Keg. I’ll be there but I don’t have time to talk right now.”
Kala could have sworn Gundersund’s eyes were sheepish when he looked her way. “Fiona?” she asked.
“Yeah.” His jaw tightened. He stood and motioned with his hand for her to lead the way. “Let’s get going.”
And that’ll be the end of searching for a family lawyer, Kala thought. Fiona wins another round.
Gundersund drove. He didn’t say anything as they headed down Division to Union, turning west and winding through the university campus until they reached Beverley Street. Kala used the time to run the facts of the case through her mind. She was comfortable with Gundersund’s silence, yet something about the closed-off look on his face made her think he had worries beyond the case. She took quick peeks at him as he drove, trying to guess what was eating at him. It couldn’t be his marriage, which appeared to be improving if he was having supper with Fiona. She was glad now that she hadn’t asked him over for dinner as she’d planned that morning when she pulled a couple of steaks from the freezer.
He pulled into a parking spot across the street from the Eton house. The day was an autumn jewel with clear blue sky and vibrant red, orange, and yellow foliage. Kala stepped out of the car and crunched leaves with her boots as she followed Gundersund across the street. An ancient oak had shed its leaves like rain overnight and stood dark and barren amongst its counterparts. The tree was dying and would have to be cut down before long.
“You should take the lead with Sophie,” Gundersund said, waiting for her to catch up.
“If you like. I don’t see any cars in the driveway.”
The house had an empty feel to it and she wasn’t surprised when their knocks on the front door went unanswered.
“Let’s swing by Mitchell Eton’s workplace and see if he knows where they are,” Gundersund said as he clumped down the steps behind her. “If we have to come back later, Charlie Hanson might be home from school and we can kill two birds with one stone. You okay working a bit of overtime?”
“Sure. We could pay a visit to Jane Thompson. She should be at work. What about your dinner with Fiona?”
“She’ll understand if I’m running late. Woodhouse and Bennett are doing more background work on Jane. Maybe we should wait until they’ve finished before we approach her again.”
Kala sighed. She wanted to get something going on this case but every lead had been a dead end and now they were playing hurry up and wait. “Fine,” she said, “although it sure would be nice if we could stop chasing our tails and figure out what Devon Eton was doing Monday night after school that got him killed.”
“I’m with you on that,” said Gundersund. “We’re almost a week into this case and no closer to solving it.”
Kala looked both ways before starting across the street. She glanced back at him and smiled as she stepped off the sidewalk. “Well, we might be frustrated with the pace, but nobody on the team can say that they’re bored anymore.”
“I’ll give you that,” he said. “This beats the long summer of twiddling our thumbs. Too bad it’s at the expense of a dead seventeen-year-old boy.”