Seth had said, “She’s very keen to go along.”
Noel had said, “She’s useful.”
“Thanks, bro. We’ll look after the folks.” He patted Noel’s elbow, then put his arms around their parents’ shoulders.
Bro. How Californian. If they were gone three days, Noel would avoid a chemotherapy trip to Victoria. He backed out of the parking space. North, then west, turn and onto the new Island highway. He speeded up.
With a glance at the back seat—Alana absorbed in her electronic device—Kyra said softly, “Any thought of why Green Van wanted to push two investigators into the bush?”
Investigators. She’d used his preferred word, not hers: Snoop.
“Someone worried about us snooping. Taking over the woodlot business was a notion but, if Shane wasn’t the intended victim, that perfectly good theory’s shot.”
Kyra inhaled, and winced. Her stomach had been crampy off and on since brunch; shouldn’t have eaten so many garlic cloves? “What is the Coopers’ most prized or valuable thing?”
“The woodlot?”
“Shane.” Alana, from the back seat, one earphone out.
“Huh?” Kyra swiveled around.
“Sponsorships. If you’ve won major prizes, Worlds or Olympics. Shane’s worth more than a woodlot. In money. I don’t mean love and stuff. I bet he’ll be worth megabucks when his leg heals.” She re-anchored her earphone.
The miles sped by. Kyra ignored creek signs, Elk Crossing signs, extensive fences. “Who benefits if Shane is out of competition?” More cramps. Did she have to pee, was she going to dribble?
“A competitor?” Noel finally ventured.
“There were those two American women, one slashed the other with her skate blade. A real scandal.”
“I remember.” He mused. “Needs Internet investigation.”
The first exit to Campbell River appeared. Good thing, Kyra thought, she was feeling crampier and squirmy and—was she going to throw up? No, she was peeing, no she was— “Noel, I’m bleeding!”
Noel glanced over and the car swerved to the right. “Bleeding?!” He looked ahead, straightened and slowed.
Alana, earphones down, leaned forward and touched Kyra’s shoulder. “Do you hurt?”
“Don’t know yet. Quite bloody.” She shifted to look at the car seat. “Yep, bloody. A rental car. I don’t have any pads— Damn!”
“Hospital, next stop.” Noel speeded up.
• • •
They wouldn’t let Noel see Kyra after they’d put her in an Emergency cubicle. She needed privacy, the nurse said. Alana agreed to stay in the waiting room while Noel headed upstairs to find out about Derek.
Jason was slumped on a chair across the hall from the room. When he heard Noel approach his head jerked up and he half-smiled. “Hi. You made good time.”
“Yeah.” Noel checked his watch. Just after 8:30. “How is he?”
“None of his doctors are on and the nurses won’t say. Not even to Linda.”
“He was coming out of the coma?”
Jason’s checked shirt and khaki pants looked disheveled. “He moved, his toes twitched. His eyelids fluttered but they didn’t open . . .”
“And?”
Now Jason stared at Noel. “That’s it.”
“Does that mean the beginning of the end of it?”
“Linda thinks maybe.”
“That’s great!”
“Shit, he was almost back. And then—” Jason threw his hands open, giving up.
“Tell me what happened.”
“Timmy was here. Linda and I’d gone for a snack, then we’d checked on Shane. Oh god— His doctor says it’ll take months before he can skate. If he doesn’t heal completely before he tries anything, he could mess up his leg and limp the rest of his life.”
“I’m sorry, Jase—”
“Linda stayed with Shane and I came back and Timmy was stroking Derek’s arm, and crying. He grinned, he said, ‘Derek’s coming back.’ That’s when I saw his eyelids fluttering. They stopped and he lay still. Just like the last weeks. Timmy told me about his toes, he’d moved his right leg a little.”
“It’s the right direction, Jase.”
“Yeah, I was thinking that so I told Tim to go to Shane’s room and tell him and his mother, and get her over here. I sat with Derek and nothing more’s happened.”
“This is a good hospital and they’ve been doing all they can for Derek and Shane. And now for Kyra.” Noel’s specific anxiety climbed.
“Kyra?”
“She’s in Emergency. She was pregnant and miscarried.”
“Oh god— The car accident?”
“Likely. She’s staying overnight.”
“For a miscarriage?”
“Something else might have happened. What the accident did to her insides.”
“Oh Noel, I’m so sorry!”
“It’s all pretty bad.”
“How’re you doing?”
Noel shrugged. “Worried. I adore Kyra. I wasn’t the father. Case you wondered.”
“Oh.” Jason’s looked up. “I hadn’t thought.”
“I’ll look in on Derek.”
“Linda and Tim are there.”
“Just for a second. Let them know we’re back.” He entered the room.
Tim sat on the bed, Linda in a chair. She said, “Jason told you?”
Noel nodded. He stepped over to the bed. “Derek, hear you’re coming around. That’s great!” No response; Noel hadn’t expected any. He said, “I know about the visitor limits. You have my cell number. I’ll leave the phone on.”
In the hall Jason said, “Linda’s staying the night. I’m going back to Quadra with Tim on the 11:30, they’ve got the late run tonight. You and Alana can come with us. She can have Derek’s room again. You can have Shane’s or go to Barb’s.”
If they released Kyra . . . “Thanks, Jase. I’ve got an errand. Won’t be long.” He left, glanced at his watch—8:57—and headed down to Emergency. He felt useless. Nothing to do for the Cooper kids, and he couldn’t see Kyra. Or—?
Alana was sitting in the waiting room, eyes closed, ear plugs installed, twitching to her private music. He touched her shoulder.
She bounced into consciousness. “Hi!” She smiled. “How’s Derek?”
Noel explained. “And Kyra? Have you seen her?”
“No. It’s only been twenty minutes since you left.”
No one at the nurse’s station. He marched toward the curtain hiding Kyra’s bed. He stage-whispered, “Kyra?”
“Yeah. Come in.”
He slid the curtain open. “How you doing?”
“I don’t know what they want me in here for.” She hiked into a half-sitting position. “I’m okay.”
“You didn’t look okay before. How’re you feeling?”
“I’m fine.”
“Shit, Kyra, I mean about losing the baby and all.”
“The baby? What baby. A few cells. No name attached.”
“Don’t—”
“Don’t what? I feel grungy. Morose. Relieved. Empty. Like myself again? I don’t know how I feel. My womb doesn’t ache, if that’s what you mean. Does my soul ache? I don’t know. But I do feel like I want out of here.”
“Yeah.”
She slumped against the pillow. “How’s Derek?”
He told her. “I’m going to have another chat with Sarah McDougal.”
Kyra didn’t want Noel to go. Not without her. “If she’s still awake.”
“It’s still light out.”
“Okay. But find out when I can leave and come back.”
He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “I will.”
It took fifteen minutes to find someone with information about Kyra’s fate. She was definitely being kept overnight; they were waiting for a bed upstairs, ready shortly. He returned and told her this. “You want Alana to stay?”
“Yeah. If she wants to.”
He squeezed Kyra’s hand. “See you soon.”
Alana paced, as if eager to head over to Kyra’s bed but not daring. “How is she?”
“Wanting out but they’re keeping her overnight. I’ve got to check something out. I’ll be quick. You willing to stick around, make sure Kyra stays okay?”
“I’m planning on being here all night if she needs me.”
“Thanks, kiddo. You’re great. They’ll take Kyra upstairs. Try to go with her. It may not be allowed, but try anyway. I’ll meet you there. Or here.”
She hugged him. “When will you come back?”
“Under an hour.”
• • •
Noel sat in the car figuring out what he knew, what he had to do. Set up an appointment with Shorty Barlow. He opened his cell phone, stared at it— He’d fought this piece of technology when Kyra had given it to him, became used to it, and then bought up for one with a camera. He located the number, and poked the keys.
“Barlow.” Grunted.
“Shorty, it’s Noel Franklin.”
“Back sooner’n you thought.”
“Your invitation still open, to watch those videos of Shane?”
“Sure, but not tonight. I got a visitor.”
“Couldn’t do it tonight. How’s tomorrow, mid-morning? You working?”
“I’m off, that’s fine.” He gave Noel the address. “Ten-thirty. I’ll have coffee going. You want it with brandy, you’ll have to bring it.”
“See you then.” Noel closed the phone, checked the map and erred his way to Sarah McDougal’s place. On the north side of the street with the sun low, Mrs. McDougal sat on the porch with a younger woman, both sipping something. He strolled up the walk. “Hello Mrs. McDougal. Remember me?”
“Asking about the kid who was beaten? This is my daughter. Like some ice tea?”
“No thanks. That vehicle across the street that night. Was it a truck or a van?”
“It was dark, and my old eyes . . .”
“You said there was a moon. Will you close your eyes and try to see it?”
Sarah McDougal closed her eyes, “Say, this is interesting . . .” She nodded again, and opened her eyes. “A van.”
“Can you see what color?”
“It was night.” But she closed her eyes again. “Grey maybe, or green. Not blue or red, nothing bright. Not black. Yes, grey maybe. Or green. Maybe grey-green.”
“Thanks,” said Noel, “that’s a help. Enjoy your tea.”
On the way down the hill he saw an open store and decided to treat the bloodstained seat to some enzymatic cleaning product. He was provided with a “guaranteed miracle” product. He bought a roll of paper towels too.
Back at the hospital lot, he left the door open to keep the overhead light on. He scrubbed at the blood with the product. He wouldn’t know until morning if it worked. But the rental company probably dealt with blood and guts every day.
He didn’t like Kyra alone in a hospital room. He had no choice. After visiting hours, Alana had been told, no one was allowed upstairs—not to see Derek or Shane, let alone Kyra. So he and Alana waited for Jason to appear. He’d take an early morning ferry back. Alana could stay on Quadra or come with him. Likely come, Noel figured. To see Shorty’s tapes of Shane skating.
• • •
Which is more or less how it worked out. Tim and Jason appeared, Linda spending the night in Derek’s room. With two sons in the hospital, the administration wouldn’t send home a caring mother and a nurse who knew the place intimately. None of them, Jason made it clear, would be any help tonight. “Let’s go get some sleep.” They left the rental Honda at the hospital and headed to the wharf in Jason’s Toyota. The ferry plowed across the Strait. They arrived at the Cooper house.
Alana and Tim went to their rooms. Jason offered Noel a nightcap: “Laphroaig?” Noel accepted. Jason poured. He raised his glass. “To Kyra’s health.”
“To Derek’s and Shane’s.”
They sipped. Noel remembered the smooth peaty taste. He and Brendan had made a trip to Scotland and they’d been side-tracked from castles by single malt discoveries. Home in Nanaimo they bought the bottles they remembered best. But outside Scotland it tasted different. They’d gone back to vodka-tonics.
Noel and Jason sat in silence until Noel asked, “What’s a woodlot worth?”
“To buy? Or lease?”
“Buy.”
“Depends on the size, where they are, quality of the timber, how much you’re allowed to cut. Here, you can probably get a quarter section for $250,000 to $600,000.”
“Hundred sixty acres?”
“Usually measured in hectares now. Our land might go for $400,000. Not that I’d sell it, hope the boys won’t either. And I’d never give up the licenses.”
Noel sipped more Laphroaig. “Look, ol’ bud,” he said, “we think whoever hit the car didn’t know Shane was in it. We think he thought Shane was me. He or they think we’re sniffing too close to whatever.”
“Noel—that’s terrible. I’m so sorry. Never thought I’d be putting you in danger.”
“Comes with the territory.” He had tried to sound tough but it came out softly. Yes, he could easily have been in the car.
• • •
In Derek’s room Alana found the bed just as she’d left it yesterday. Barely thirty-six hours ago. Poor Kyra. That accident, then a miscarriage. Kyra’s conversation on the beach with her mother and grandmother and her now made more sense. Could the accident and the miscarriage be connected? Come on, Alana, don’t be stupid, a woman gets rattled around like that and of course she’s going to lose a baby. The accident hadn’t phased Kyra much, at least from how she talked. But what would a miscarriage do to her? Kyra seemed tough. Maybe she’d cope.
• • •
He’d felt it build as he drove off the ferry, his neck first, sliding down his shoulders, upper arms, hanging in the biceps seconds before hitting elbows and forearms, tingling his wrists, then hands. He flexed his fingers. Springy, ready to grab and bash. Weird how that came over him sometimes, the tingle that needed action. Lucky being in Campbell River tonight. Safer than on the island. More privacy there, but if you want a car in town you need the ferry and anybody can see you. Action in town safer than action on Quadra.
Good coincidence, this need for action and Saturday night. Charlie went to Saddleman’s Wednesdays and Saturdays mostly. Now, how to get Charlie out sooner rather than later. Bad idea to go inside, who needed a roomful of witnesses. Charlie played late into the night, waiting for him in the truck would look suspicious.
He reached over to touch the bat. Sweet smooth oak, wouldn’t crack in contact with a hardball. Or a skull. Better than golf clubs. He liked ribs too, three or four cracking from one blow. Charlie’s ribs might be a little tougher to get at, that fat covering them. But everybody’s got arms and legs—hell, elbows and kneecaps, good cracking sounds.
Gettin’ late for alternative action? Just any sucker walking around? No, he wanted Charlie. Cheating at cards, immoral. No respect for the guys at the table, pretty low. Palming an ace, a corrupt soul. Maybe Charlie didn’t have a soul to get corrupted. Just skin covering fat and bone. And shit. Soul-free shit. He grinned— Fuck! Cops.
The cruiser angle-parked in front of him. Goddamn it. He hadn’t done anything. A Mountie opened the passenger door and came toward him. Roll down the window, smile. “Evening, Officer.” Tall, vest over his chest, pistol, no hat.
“License and registration, please.”
“Something wrong?”
“Need to see your identification.”
Wallet for the license, glove compartment for registration. Pass them out the window. The cop takes them, back to the cruiser. Now he’ll get on his computer . . .
Four minutes later the guy was back. “You waiting for somebody?”
Damn right. “No. I was thinking.”
“Yeah? In public?”
“Is that illegal?”
“No overnight parking here.”
“I wasn’t going to think that long.”
“Just move along, then.”
“Okay.”
The officer handed back the documents but continued to stand just beyond the window. Key into ignition. Start the engine. “You’ll have to move your vehicle, Officer.”
The cop turned back to the cruiser, got in, it was driving away. Bye-bye, cocksucker. He could still feel the tingle in his fingertips, but less so. Just enough to still want action. Maybe a different kind of action. He turned the corner onto Dogwood, up the hill a ways and into the Town Centre Inn. He liked to stay here. They had free and early breakfasts. Yep, a room. He could get back to the island early. He went upstairs. Not too late, he’d call Joanne. He set the bottle of Scotch on the dresser. She was a night bird. That tingle, definitely still there. Joanne liked it rough and tumble. That always got her off. He punched numbers into the phone. She answered on the second ring. Like she was waiting for him.
• • •
At the B&B, Noel had a hard time finding sleep. Tuesday Kyra had told him she was pregnant, four days later she wasn’t. She must be going crazy in that hospital. He hoped they’d given her a sleeping pill. He hoped she wasn’t feeling lonely, or abandoned. Or scared. Nothing he could do till tomorrow. Jason had said Linda would look in on Kyra.
Noel had never worked on a case like this, where instead of the parts moving towards a solution, the pieces were drifting apart, the situation going from poor to dreadful. Derek beaten, Shane’s leg broken, Timmy smashed up, Kyra too, and then losing the baby. If she’d decided on an abortion, at least the decision would’ve been hers. And they were no closer to figuring out who had messed Derek up.
• • •
They stopped at the hospital to collect Kyra, check on Derek and Shane, knowing from Linda’s phone call that nothing had changed since last night. Tim said he’d stay with them. He didn’t need Shorty’s tapes, he’d seen most of Shane’s competitions. Kyra was dressed when they got to her room. She wanted out. Now!
Noel said. “How’re you feeling?”
“Battered, but I’ll survive.” She smiled at Alana. Alana grabbed Kyra’s suitcase.
Into the hall, to the elevator. Noel said, “There’s time for a proper breakfast before our skating education.”
The passenger seat of the rental looked better. Earlier, Jason had dug a blanket out of his car, and placed it beside the spot till it dried. Kyra, though impressed by Noel’s cleaning job, chose to leave the blanket in place and opted for the rear seat beside Alana.
• • •
A night of bawdy games with Shu-li. In the early morning he kissed her brow, stroked her hair, apologized for leaving.
She understood: hypnosis for Shane’s leg. “I’ll expect you for brunch.”
Austin was at the hospital by nine-thirty. Shane lay on his bed. “How’re you doing?”
“Ehh,” Shane said, and pulled the sheet over his midriff.
“Eaten?”
“Yeah, cereal and tea.”
“Ready to work?”
“I guess.”
Austin shut the door, hitched the chair closer to the bed, and sat. “Close your eyes and breathe, in, out, one, two—“
Shane had done this often. He settled quickly into a hypnotic state.
“Look at the places that need to knit— All your attention on your leg . . .”
A knock at the door. It opened. The doctor, Linda, and Jason entered. For god’s sake, Austin thought, how am I going to get this leg healed?
“Oh, hello,” Linda said, “you’re here early.” She introduced Dr. Bremer to Austin.
“Quite a skater, I hear.” He checked Shane’s cast. “How was your night, Shane?”
“Sore, but I slept. Thanks.”
“What are you doing?” Linda asked.
“Talking about the breaks,” Austin replied, “in a healing way.”
“It needs time for the swelling to abate,” said Bremer, “so we can adjust the cast.”
Shane could hear the doubt in the doctor’s voice. Bremer didn’t have much belief in what he assumed Austin was, some faith-healer.
“Don’t touch the leg.”
“I wouldn’t think of it.” Austin exuded world-weariness.
“How long will you be, Austin?” Linda asked.
“Half an hour, forty-five minutes.”
She looked at her watch. “We’ll come back for you, Shane. We’ll go to Derek’s room for Sunday brunch.” Linda kissed his brow and left.
The doctor listened to Shane’s heart, took his blood pressure, and left also.
“Back to it, Shane,” Austin said, his tone trance-inducing. “The skin on your shin, it’s started to heal . . . Your bones are protected by sinews . . . The bone shards join with each other . . .”
• • •
“Hi, Carl? Shu-li Waterman here. How you doing?”
He said her name, making it sound like Sheh-li, which was how she got to the anglicized Shirley for her skating name. They went a long way back.
“Good, yeah, me too. I’m over on Quadra visiting Austin, Steve is here too— Why don’t you join us? It’s a big house— Oh yeah, you wouldn’t want to miss that . . .” She laughed. “Listen Carl, bad news. Shane was in a car accident and broke his leg . . . Right. It’s terrible . . . Three places . . . Well, he might. He’ll probably be ready for the Olympics, but not for the Fall qualifiers . . . Yes, Austin’s working with him every day— Yeah, you know Austin . . . Right . . . Carl, you ever heard of anyone skipping the qualifiers and going right to the Olympics? . . . No, I never have either . . . A damn shame, he’s so good and you and he’ve worked so hard . . . Would you ask around? Maybe Harold? . . . Okay, we’ll keep you updated . . . You have the number here? . . . Bye.”
Shu-li closed the phone and looked at Steve sitting on the sofa in Austin’s office. “That’s the most I can do. Let him think for a few days.”
“Stroke of genius, inviting him over,” Steve said.
“A safe stroke. He hates ‘the wilderness’.”
“And you left it open for more calls.” Steve’s tone was overly admiring.
“He cares for his star pupil, and Shane is pretty crocked.” She stood up. “Would you like a hearty walk before I concoct something for brunch?”
• • •
Austin had just wrapped up when Jason appeared with a wheelchair. “Going to scoop the kid up,” he said. “Feed him a good breakfast.”
“Right,” said Austin. “See you tomorrow, Shane.”
“Yep.”
His father wheeled the chair close to the bed so Shane could clamber onto it. It felt good to be upright. Semi-upright. “We’re trying smell therapy. All Derek’s favorite foods, and he’s wired to an EEG and an ECG. We’ve discussed this with the doctors. For the rest of us,” Jason put his hand on Shane’s shoulder, “it’s a normal Sunday brunch.”
To Derek’s room, Tim sitting on the bed. “Where’s Mom?” Shane asked.
“Hey Derek,” Tim said, “Shane and Dad are here. Mom’s coming with the food.”
“Think he hears you?”
“Who knows? He might. He might smell the food.”
Shane looked at his brother, inert, head bandaged, tubes going in under the sheet. “Hey Derek, it’s Shane. I have a broken leg and you have a broken head, but we’ll make it, dude.” He wheeled closer and grabbed Derek’s hand.
Linda appeared loaded with takeout cartons, followed by a candy-striper volunteer who wheeled in two bed-trays, piled with dishes and cutlery. The smells helped Shane forget the earlier lukewarm oatmeal.
“Not hospital food, is it?”
“It’s from The Comfort Zone. Let’s eat while it’s hot.”
Waffles, bacon, scrambled eggs, perfecto hash browns, and local strawberries for the waffles, juice, milk, and rich-smelling coffee. Like coming downstairs on birthday mornings of Shane’s childhood.
They all ate, watching Derek. “Hey Derek, it’s really good, want some?” Tim touched his strawberry-laden spoon to Derek’s nose. To his lips.
“It’ll take time,” Linda said. “Let’s just enjoy a breakfast picnic together.”
• • •
Back in the car, Noel handed Kyra the map, said the address, and guided them to Shorty’s house, a one-storey bungalow. “What a gardener,” he exclaimed. In front and at the sides, thriving green—lush vegetables, fruit, flowers. “Shorty Barlow believes in self-sufficiency.”
A black and white cat on the deck meowed as they walked up the steps.
Barlow opened the door. “How do, how do.” He checked Noel’s and Kyra’s hands. He shook his head, said, “No brandy, eh?” sounding disappointed.
Noel hadn’t taken the hint seriously. “Sorry.”
“Ah well, dry movies. Come in.”
“My business partner, Kyra Rachel. And my niece, Alana Franklin.”
Shorty ran a ship-shape house, Noel noted. Another cat on the sofa, a mottled one. Noel didn’t hate cats the way Kyra hated dogs. He figured they couldn’t help being cats, any more than he could help being human.
“Coffee? Juice?”
“Nothing, thanks,” they chorused.
“Let’s get on with it then,” said Shorty. “I have carrots to thin.”
“This is generous of you.” Noel, making socially appropriate noises.
“Think nothing of it,” Shorty replied. “The carrots can wait an hour or so. I’m trying to train the cats to weed, but it’s like herding grasshoppers.”
Alana laughed and sat on the brown leather sofa. Kyra looked at the cat, which yawned, stretched, curled around again. Kyra sat between it and Alana. Noel, thinking Shorty probably occupied the lazy-rocker, took an overstuffed floral armchair.
“We’ll start at the beginning.” Shorty shoved in a video and turned on the TV. “And proceed to the end. An hour or so.” He backed up to his chair.
Their attention refocused from the sun-filled living room to the artificial lighting of an arena. Shane appeared, skated to the center of the ice, stopped, raised his arms, and smiled, waiting for his music.
“He’s fourteen here,” Shorty said. “First Junior Grand Prix.”
Shane was wearing a powder blue, skin-tight one-piece costume, and blue skate covers. The music swelled, Shane waited three beats, swooped to the side of the rink and around the end, rotated and skated backwards, fast. Forwards, backwards, forwards, so fast it looked like he was twisting, then into a camel spin, down the side, and the turn for an axel, a double. The music soared, he was down the other side, a double axel, another.
“Wow!” Alana said. “He’s so good. Even then.”
More twisting bits, a lengthy spin, arms upheld, the music stopped, he bowed to the judges and skated off. The crowd applauded enthusiastically.
His marks afforded him third place, a bronze. Shorty fast-forwarded through the winners on the podium and the medal ceremony.
“That was his first major competition,” said Shorty. “Now the next year—”
Shane, fifteen, a gold skintight costume with russet trim, an autumnal look. He’d gained in confidence and strength. He performed to “The Sting,” quite a different program, but still containing spins and axels and other jumps Noel couldn’t name. Shane won gold.
Third Junior Grand Prix. Shane in a tuxedo like Fred Astaire, his hair in longer coif. Even as he stood, waiting, it was apparent his confidence generated charisma. The crowd cheered even before he started to skate. Again a stellar performance, more and higher leaps to “There’s No Business Like Show Business.” Now he owned the rink.
“See what I mean?” Alana repeated.
Noel and Kyra nodded, not taking their eyes off the video. Shorty beamed like a proud parent.
In the next segment it was apparent Shane was the audience’s darling. He appeared in rib-high brown tights, bare-chested with a slinky vest that showed his chest hair. He had on a brown skullcap with two little points above his ears.
“That’s a radical costume,” Kyra stated.
“I saw this on TV,” Alana breathed. “Just wait.”
“L’ Apres-midi d’un faune” swelled forth and Shane skated, leaps, splits, twists, stunning smoothness. Taking lessons from old Nureyev films? Noel realized he’d been holding his breath.
“That blows me away,” Alana crooned.
The gold again, to a standing ovation.
“Told you he was good,” said Shorty. “Okay, last spring. Just turned eighteen.”
Shane, as he looked now, skated to center ice, held his start position. He wore a space explorer costume, blue one-piece with red tabs on the shoulders. Zipper down nearly to his navel, curly hair peeking out. He smiled, waited, arms straight down. The first bars of something spacey. On the second beat he shoved into a glide, ran on his picks, pushed into a double axel then, at the other end of the rink, a triple.
“Just wow!” Alana couldn’t help herself.
Up the far side, an extended spin—Shane fell.
The crowd gasped. So did Alana. Shane caught the ice on his hip, then elbow and back. Instantly he was up, not appearing hurt. The crowd sighed in relief. He smiled, carried on, catching up to his music, leaps and spins backwards and forwards, ice dust on his hip and back. He scored just out of contention, fourth. Off the podium, first time in five years.
“Every skater falls,” said Shorty, “but a damn shame he did it in this competition.”
Alana said to Shorty, “Would you run that again, please?”
“What? The whole tape? I got to get to my carrots.”
“No, just the fall, please.”
Shorty rewound. Shane finished the double, the triple, went into the spin—
“Stop! There!”
“What?”
“Can you do slow motion? Frame by frame?”
Uncle Noel kicked in. “What’s up, Alana? We’ve taken a lot of Shorty’s time.”
Alana ignored him, continued to Shorty. “Have you watched the fall real close?”
“Just when it happened.”
“Please, let’s watch again, then in slow motion. It’s so weird for him to fall.”
Shorty raised his eyebrows, rewound again, Shane fell again, got up—
Frame by frame, spin, fall—
“See there on that toe loop? Looks like Shane’s pick did something, or he dug it in and changed edges . . .”
“Where?” said Shorty.
“Run it again. Look hard.”
Shorty rewound, then frame by frame played Shane’s skate from the triple. Noel couldn’t figure out what Alana was on about.
“There!” The cat bolted from the sofa. Alana stood, walked up to the TV, pointed. Shorty stopped the frame. “He’s dug his pick in. And look!” She made a clicking motion with her thumb. Shorty obliged. “See? He should be on his back outside edge. But he’s picked with his left toe and come down on his inside right edge. Then he falls. Weird.”
Shorty backed the film up, ran the few frames.
“What are you saying, Alana?” Kyra asked.
Alana kept her eyes on Shorty. He re-ran the frames.
“What?” Kyra repeated.
The tension in the room sparked.
“You think he tossed it?” Shorty asked Alana.
“Strange mistake for someone that good.”
“Everybody makes mistakes.” Shorty ran the piece again. Shane came out of the spin, started his toe loop, raised his other leg as if to push off, shifted to his back outside edge, landed on the right, fell—
Noel was grasping for a sense of the sequence. “Did he just lose his balance?”
“Why would he do that?” Shorty asked, of no one. “It was a simple accident. Damn bad timing, that’s all.” He ran the frames once more.
Kyra shifted on the sofa. “Why would he do it? What does it mean?”
Shorty put the remote down. The screen blanked. He stood up, paced around. “It’s a hard charge,” he said to Alana. “Let’s look at the beginning again.” She perched on the sofa arm.
Shane in his space suit, arms raised, smile. Shorty rewound until Shane skated out to begin, slowed this to watch each frame. He wound back to the beginning of the faun-suit program. “He looks more present there,” Kyra observed.
Back to the space suit. “Tense,” Noel said. “Maybe.”
Shorty shut off the TV and re-wound the tape. “Only thing to do is ask Shane. I won’t believe he did that on purpose unless I hear it from him.”
Noel stood. So did Kyra and Alana. “Are you certain, Alana?”
“Uh—,” she shrugged. “He probably has an explanation.” She bit her lip. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“We gotta ask him,” Shorty repeated.
“We’ll do that now. Shane’s still in the hospital.” Noel led the parade to the door. “Thanks, Shorty. Get to your carrots.”
“I’m coming too. He’s one of mine. Cats can do the carrots.”
Kyra and Noel exchanged a glance. Kyra said, “The hospital allows two people in at a time. Noel and I’ll talk to Shane. We’ll let you know.”
“Kyra’s right.”
Shorty frowned. He looked at Alana before he conceded. “You phone me immediately. I can be over in minutes.”
Noel and Kyra nodded.
“You want to stay here?” Shorty asked Alana. “Do some weeding?”
Was he asking not to be left alone? He looked very worried.
“I’ll go to the hospital, Shorty,” Alana said. “I’ll phone the minute I know anything.”
“Shorty,” Noel sounded tense, “what’s your best analysis?”
The tall, thin, mustachioed man looked from Noel, to the girl, to the woman. “Suspicious.” He turned to his garden. “Be easy with Shane.”
• • •
Steve and Shu-li strolled from the house along one of the paths through the woods to the top of the southern cliff overlooking Austin’s beach. Below to the right gentle surf broke against a line of craggy rocks. They stood a couple of feet apart, Steve steepling his fingers. “Think Carl will find a way for Shane?”
“I felt good about it when we were talking.”
“Now?”
She shrugged. “Now I can’t say.”
“Not feeling optimistic?”
She stared out to sea. “I’d like to talk to you about something else.” She turned to face him. Now he was splaying his fingers. Should she get into this?
“Aren’t we talking now?”
“We’ve known each other for a long while, right? And I trust you.”
“Well, that’s good. Because I certainly trust you.”
“Can I trust you not to talk to Austin about what I’m going to say?”
He tilted his head to look at her face. “If it’s important to you, I will discuss nothing you tell me with Austin.”
She believed him. She cared for Austin a great deal, but she had to sound Steve out. “How important is our project to you?”
“Taking down Arensen, making him bleed? Very.”
She nodded. “Do you think it will happen?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m worried. I think things are falling apart.”
“Because of Shane’s injury?”
“All of it. Shane, my Miranda—she’s so young still. Your guy, Graham. You’ve haven’t praised him since you’ve been here. Is he going to become one of our tools, Steve? Good enough for Arensen to want to take him under his wing?”
Steve remained silent. He interlocked his fingers and tensed them from nearly horizontal to right angles.
Shu-li put both her hands on his. “Don’t do that, listen to me. You’re not talking to Austin. This is just me. Will Graham be ready to play his part?”
He pulled his hands from hers and stared at the ground. “I don’t know.”
“Look at me.” Steve did. “I want to destroy Harold. But we’re not getting there. Shane was our real chance. I don’t see it happening.”
“Austin thinks he still can—”
“What, hypnotize Shane into mending? It’s a multiple fracture. Austin’s good, but he’s fooling himself.”
“But if Certane can get past that—”
“Carl’s good too, but I heard it in his voice—we’re on the wrong track. The rules are too tight, there’s no wiggle room.”
Steve’s right hand grabbed his left fingers, started to massage them. He dropped them as he saw Shu-li eyeing his move. “What’re you saying? We should call it off?”
“We have to talk to Austin. Make him see. Maybe try again later.”
“With a new trio of students? I’m not sure I’m up to it.”
“Austin has to listen to us. Stop telling himself everything’s going to be okay.”
Steve shook his head. “Normally I enjoy being here on Quadra with the two of you. The three days together gives me new energy.”
“Yes,” she said, “me too.”
“But it’s strange. By the fourth day I’m ready to leave.”
Shu-li felt a sharp chill take her.
“Must be a throwback to my skating days. By the fourth day I wanted to get away from people like myself.”
She forced herself to smile. “Even when you were in the final round?”
“Especially. That intensity.” He nodded wistfully. “This time I’m ready to leave now.”
The fourth day. Her heart pounded. She glanced down to the surf. All these years, was this why she’d felt such discomfort? “Come on, let’s go back.” She led the way.
• • •
Noel drove through the hospital lot twice. No space. He parked half a block away. Walking back, Alana said, “Please may I come with you?”
“It’s an interrogation, Alana,” Noel said. “Three on one doesn’t work.”
“I noticed the strange fall.” She pulled back from a pout.
“Yes, you did. Thank you.”
“We’ve got to take it from here,” Kyra finished. “We’ll meet up at the cafeteria.”
Alana looked at them, their tones as businesslike as their demeanors. She dragged out her iPhone, plugged in the ear pieces, turned something on and walked away.
Shane was dressed, sitting on the edge of his bed. Tim sat in the visitors’ chair. “Hi,” Kyra said, “How’re things?”
“They’re letting me go home,” Shane said with a smile. “Dad’s getting me a loaner wheelchair and crutches.”
Noel said, “We’d like to talk, Shane. Tim, Alana’s in the cafeteria. Will you join her?”
“Oh.” He looked at Shane, at Noel and Kyra. He took off his cap. “Well.”
“We’ll be down soon,” Kyra said. Noel sat in Tim’s chair. Kyra remained standing. Shane watched Tim leave, then stared at his cast.
Kyra closed the door. “Shane, we’ve watched the tapes of your competitions. You’re very good. We also saw you fall. We watched that one about ten times. Frame by frame. We have some questions about it.”
Shane swiveled his head from her to Noel, made as if to stand on his cast, flinched and squirmed back onto the bed. “Yeah?”
Noel said, “We watched the tapes with Shorty and Alana. They think there was something suspicious about that fall. They pointed out that you dug your pick in on the toe loop, which you started on the back outside edge and ended on the inside right. Shane, did you throw that competition?”
His face had turned pale. “What do you think I am, man?”
“A liar,” said Kyra. “You’re too good a skater to have fallen right there. Why didn’t the judges pick it up?”
Sweat had formed on his brow “I don’t know.” His pupils contracted.
Silence, as all realized what Shane had admitted.
“Why, Shane?” Noel asked.
Shane shrugged, let out a sob, twisted so he could fall onto his pillow.
“Why, Shane?” Kyra watched his shoulders tremble. Some instinct drew her to rub his back, but she resisted. “You’re too beautiful a skater to throw away a career.”
Noel: “We know Derek was dealing pot to support your career. He’s in a coma. We know someone sideswiped Tim, on purpose. We do not think someone hit the car you were in to damage you, but to get rid of Kyra and me, the investigators. You seem to be the crux of this. You and that fall. Why’d you do it, Shane?”
Shoulders heaving slowly. Mumbling.
“What did you say?” Kyra moved closer.
Now his chest heaved. Now she did rub his back. He was just a kid. When he moved on skates, a beautiful kid. After a few seconds the heaving subsided and Kyra drew back.
Shane sat up. Noel handed him the box of tissue. Shane blew and wiped. “The judges didn’t catch it. They didn’t disqualify me. I just didn’t get a medal.”
“Why?” Noel asked.
Shane took a deep breath. He stared out between Noel and Kyra. “Austin—” Shane’s mouth stayed open. They waited. A whisper. “Austin told me I had to.”
Kyra shivered. “But—why?”
“Because if I didn’t fall he’d stop—” he sniffed a sob, “—supporting me.”
They stared at him. Noel whispered, “Why did he want you to fall?”
“I don’t know!” He shuddered. “I don’t know.”
Kyra now: “But what good did it do him if you fell in that competition?”
“I wish I knew. He said I had to fall, make it look accidental. That’s all I know.”
“I think you know something more than that,” Noel said.
“What? What more?”
“You tell us.”
Shane stayed silent. They waited. Ten seconds passed, twenty. Shane stared at the floor. He spoke but so quietly they heard no words.
Noel asked, “What did you say?
“I know something else.”
“What?”
“He—wants me to fall again.”
“When?”
“In September. First qualifying round.” He breathed in hard, small gulps of air.
His tone acerbic, Noel said, “You won’t be falling soon, not with that leg.”
Shane squeezed his eyes shut. Tears seeped out. “I couldn’t, I couldn’t. I’ve been an asshole but I know what I can’t do! I can’t stand it!”
“He simply told you to fall, just like that?”
Shane shook his head. “When he took me on. When I was fourteen. He said one day I’d have to do something for him. He made me promise. He’d let me know when.”
“And he waited, what, four years?”
Shane stared at Kyra. “Do you know how hard this is?”
“It’ll get easier.” Kyra could feel a great resistance in Shane, words he couldn’t bring himself to say. “Just tell us all of it.”
“He started pushing. A year or so ago. Then in the winter he insisted.”
“But how could he insist?”
“He has the money. He bought me everything I needed. And—”
They waited. Noel prompted: “And finally you gave in.”
A long sigh. “Yeah. I gave in.”
“That’s it? That’s all.”
“Isn’t that enough?!”
“Is there something more you’re not telling us?”
“I can’t do it again!”
Noel said, “He can’t make you. He can try to undercut your skating career, but he can’t make you be untrue to yourself.”
Shane mumbled, “Yes he can.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because I know him! I know he can.”
“How?”
He closed his eyes again. “He says he can take pain away, and he’s done it for me. He says he can cause pain just as easily.”
“‘Cause pain’? What’s that mean?”
“I don’t know. He’s never made it clearer. ‘Don’t make me cause pain, Shane.’”
Noel glanced at Kyra. “Cause pain.” To Shane: “Has he ever caused you pain?”
Hesitantly: “No. Not really.”
“How do you mean, not really?”
“I mean no, he hasn’t caused me any pain!”
Time to move on. Noel said, “Now what do you want to do?”
“What do you mean?”
“Are you going to tell your family?”
“About Austin?”
“All that you just told us.”
“Do I have to?”
“It’d be best if you did. Otherwise we’ll have to. At least your father, since he hired us.”
Shane thought about this for a full half minute. Then he glanced from Noel to Kyra and back again. “If I do—when I do—can you both be there?”
Kyra glanced at Noel, who nodded. “It’d be best if you did this when they were all together. Say, this afternoon. In your home. We’ll meet you there.”
Slowly Shane nodded. “Thank you. Should I tell my parents when they drive me home?”
“That’s up to you,” said Kyra. “It might be easier if you only had to do this once.”
Shane nodded again. “Yeah.”
As if on cue, the door opened. Jason, pulling a wheelchair, crutches balanced on the seat.
“Hang in there, Shane,” Kyra said. “We’re getting there.” To Jason she added, “Alana and Tim are in the cafeteria. Do you mind driving them over to Quadra? We’ve got a job to do. And then we should all meet at your house. About two?”