In Winter's Grip (11 page)

Chief Anders shook his head. A lock of white hair fell into his eyes, and he brushed it aside. “Investigations take time, and as you know, we've been short-staffed. I have my best man Tobias working on the case, with David Keating helping out when he's not on regular patrol. They both send their sympathies, by the way.”

It didn't seem like enough people working a murder case, but I kept that thought to myself. “I've always wondered why my father left the force. What happened exactly?”

“Old history, Maja. It had to do with some complaints we had about evidence going missing. It was strictly mismanagement, but I had to allow an external investigator to come in and go through the books and whatnot. Your father was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He'd been tasked with looking after what we'd confiscated and couldn't explain where it went. There was nothing conclusive against him, but he agreed it would be better to leave rather than drag the force through something messy. Luckily, the position at the border came up around the same time, and he accepted.”

“But if he was innocent, wouldn't he have stayed and tried to clear his name? It wasn't like my father to roll over.”

“I suppose in normal circumstances. Your mother was having a difficult time, as I recall, and your father wanted more regular hours. You'd left for school, and he wanted to be around the house more.”

That could have held a kernel of truth. However, my father had never been all that concerned about my mother's health, except when it came to keeping up appearances in the community. He might have wanted to appear the self-sacrificing husband, especially if it got him out of a sticky situation.

“I hear you're retiring soon.”

His face relaxed. “Ah yes. My wife and I will be moving somewhere warmer. I think we've done enough service in the North.”

“When is your last day?”

“A month tomorrow.” He smiled at me. “It was nice seeing you again, Maja. I just wish it had been under better circumstances. I'll see you before you leave, although I'm sure you'll be flying out soon.”

“I've decided to stay a few more days.”

“Oh?” His shaggy eyebrows rose. “Well, then I'm sure we'll be in contact. I've told Tobias to keep me informed about the case and to let me know if anything develops. We'll be reporting to your family as soon as we have anything to share.”

“Thank you. We're anxious to find out what happened, as you can imagine.” I made myself hold his gaze. I would not give him any reason to suspect that I intended to find out what happened to my father before Tobias did. He wouldn't know that I'd resolved to stay until I was satisfied that Jonas would never be found guilty of the crime.

Gunnar happily packed an overnight bag after receiving an invitation from a friend for a sleepover. This was the most animated I'd seen him since I arrived, and the sight of his smile was nothing short of uplifting. As soon as he left, Claire disappeared upstairs on unsteady legs to fall into bed. She wasn't used to drinking but appeared to have developed a taste for cheap wine. Jonas met me at the bottom of the stairs and gave me a hug. I inhaled the Scotch on his breath as he said good night.

“Don't worry. I'll lock up,” I said.

“See you tomorrow then.” He started slowly up the stairs. “Thank Christ that's over.”

I took off my shoes, which were pinching my feet, and circled the living room, blowing out candles and picking up empty glasses as I went. I checked that the front door was locked and turned off the lights with my elbow. I carried all I could hold into the kitchen and put the glasses into the dishwasher. The kitchen counters were littered with half-eaten food trays, more glasses and wine bottles. The mess could wait until morning. I lacked the wherewithal to clean it up, since I'd also had my fair share to drink. I turned out the kitchen lights and retraced my step down the hallway to my bedroom at the back of the house.

I dropped my clothes onto the floor, stepping out of my skirt and pulling my black cashmere sweater over my head. I unrolled my pantyhose and tossed them in the direction of the 86 chair. They spreadeagled on the floor like a pair of splayed legs. I plopped onto my back on the bed in my slip and stretched my hands over my head. I should have been tired, but instead I felt wide awake and restless. I'd had enough to drink to dull any pain I'd been feeling. I spotted my cellphone on the night stand and rolled on my side to reach for it. Sam should still be up, and I hadn't spoken to him for a few days. It would be good to hear his voice.

He answered on the second ring. “Maja? I wondered when I'd hear from you. I've tried calling, but your phone's been off.”

“I'm sorry. I've just been preoccupied with everything going on, and I forgot to bring it around with me.”

“So, have you had the funeral yet?”

“Today. It went well as funerals go. Lots of people to see Dad off. Claire and Jonas weren't speaking to each other, and Gunnar was as sullen as a pre-teen can be, but we soldiered on.”

“So you'll be flying out tomorrow? I can pick you up if your plane arrives after six. I'm tied up in meetings until then.”

“No. That is, I'm going to stay on a bit. Jonas seems to be heading into another depression, and I'd like to be here.”

“I thought we agreed you'd be back right after the funeral.” Sam's voice stayed warm, but a familiar edge had crept in.

“I know, but it's important that I be here for a bit.”

“What about your patients? You're already backed up.”

“They'll keep. I've phoned the office and cancelled for the following week. Doctor Rajah is picking up the urgent cases.” Not that there were many. Good god—a few more wrinkles before I could get them under the knife. It wasn't exactly life or death. I felt myself getting discouraged. “How are you doing?” I asked to change the subject.

“Okay. We're close to sealing that deal I went to New York for. It should be a nice commission. I thought I'd take you somewhere warm for a vacation next week. How does Bermuda sound? A little sun, sand and sleeping in?” His voice was light and cajoling.

“Hmmm. I really have to finish up here, Sam. Then there is the matter of patients I've been putting off.”

“Yeah, well, I'll check into some hotel packages and see what we can swing. It would be good for you to have a holiday.”

When Sam got an idea into his head, there was no shaking it. I'd given him something to obsess about. He'd plot out his campaign to get me to Bermuda and would begin with sneak attacks. I knew his methods. “Gotta go, hon,” I said. “It's been a long day.”

“Yes. I'll talk to you tomorrow.”

We both hung up, and I closed my eyes. He was probably already searching the internet for travel sites. Why was the idea of going to Bermuda getting under my skin? Was it too much Scotch...or not enough? And why did I have the feeling that the trip south was more for his benefit than mine?

ELEVEN

I
got up and brushed my teeth then changed into a white silk nightgown before pulling back the covers and climbing into bed. After I turned off the bedside lamp, I noticed the moonlight streaming in through the window and catching me square in the face. If I didn't get up to close the blind, I'd be wakened too early by the rising sun. I climbed reluctantly out of bed and crossed to the window. The hardwood floor was cool on my feet, and I shivered under my light nightgown. Just as I reached up for the blind cord, a pebble clattered against the glass, making me jump back in fright. A second one followed, and I felt a stirring in my chest. This was a signal from long ago that I had never expected to hear again. I unlocked the window and lifted it open a few inches. A cold blast of air made the curtains billow on either side of me.

“Who's there?” I called quietly, even though I knew.

“It's me, Maja.” Billy's voice came out of the darkness.

“I'll meet you at the back door,” I said.

I almost had an out of body experience—seeming to float through the bedroom and down the hallway to the kitchen. Would Billy and I have the same connection as when we were teenagers, or would this be a dream I should never have kept? Would he find me old and be disappointed in the woman I had become? But I
was
old—forty and counting. There was no way I was the same girl he remembered...and he would not be the same boy either. I wanted to see him, but I was afraid. Conflicting emotions rose in me as I made that quick journey to the back door. When I finally unlocked it and swung it open, I was a bundle of apprehension, convincing myself not to expect anything much.

Billy Okwari stood on the back deck, hunched into the upright collar of his leather jacket, his black hair loose to his shoulders. He was dressed in dark blue jeans and work boots the colour of butterscotch. I took in these details in the blink of an eye, but my gaze was drawn to his dark, oval-shaped eyes that were openly studying me.

“You said you'd be back one day, Maja Larson,” he said. “I just didn't know how long it would take.” He smiled the sideways grin that had won my heart all those years ago, and in one swift motion, I crossed the space between us and wrapped myself around him. We stood that way for several heartbeats before he moved us into the warmth of the kitchen. I took a step backwards, and he leaned in to kiss me on my lips. His were cool from the winter night and tasted of mint. As I drew away, I opened my eyes. Billy was looking at me. I saw compassion and something else I couldn't read in his expression.

“You're shivering,” he said.

I looked down. My breasts were visible through my nylon nightgown, and I wrapped my arms around myself to cover them. Gooseflesh marked my skin. “I'm freezing, actually,” I said. “Do you want to come to my room? I can put something warmer on.”

“Okay.”

We slipped silently back to my bedroom, and I picked up my robe from the chair. It was a pale apricot colour that matched my nightgown. I put it on and wrapped the sash around my waist. Billy stood next to the door, watching me.

“Climb into bed under the covers and I'll sit in the chair,” Billy said. “That flimsy thing won't keep you warm.”

I nodded and climbed back into bed, pulling the duvet around my shoulders. I propped myself upright against the walnut headboard and reached over to turn on the bedside lamp. “Jonas lets the wood stove die down at night and keeps the house just above freezing. Claire says it makes her sleep better.”

Billy crossed the room and pulled the desk chair closer, turning it so that he sat facing me. He stretched his long legs straight out, resting his elbows on the arms of the chair. “I'm sorry about your father. I didn't like him, but his death was a bad way to go.”

“No, it's not resting easy with me. The more I dig around, the more people seem to have had a reason to dislike him. He was all charm on the surface, but his self-absorption seems to have had other victims than just his wife and children.” In all of my imagined conversations with Billy, my father had never been the subject. With the Scotch I'd consumed still coursing through my veins, the whole scene had taken on a fantasy feel. I raised a hand to my face. My fingers came away hot, and I knew I must be flushed.

Billy rested his head on the back of the chair but kept his eyes on me. “You stayed away after your mother's death.”

“I came back a few times. By then, you'd gone.”

“You never got in touch. I had to make a life or go crazy.”

How much would I tell? I looked at Billy's still face, his features older but the same. He was still lean, and the angles of his face were sharp, with high cheekbones. He knew me like nobody else, even Sam. I could let down my guard and let him see me. I knew without question that this was true. Billy would never judge me or find me wanting. The eyes riveted on mine did not lie.

“I gave up,” I said softly. “I couldn't fight any more.”

Billy shifted in his seat and crossed one booted foot over the other. “You married, I hear.”

“Yes, ten years ago, to Sam Cleary. He's a businessman, and we live in Ottawa. I became a doctor, a plastic surgeon.”

Billy nodded. “I can picture you as a doctor. You never had any children?”

If I hadn't known him so well, I wouldn't have detected the underlying pain in his question.

“I didn't want any kids.”
Not after the abortion.
The words lay unspoken between us. We would not go there. Billy's eyes spoke without words. We'd never needed words.

“You married too,” I said.

“Yes. Nina and I live in a little house on the Bois Forte Reservation at Nett Lake with my brother Raymond and his son. We just moved back.”

“Ah. Would your brother's son be about twenty?”

“Wayne mentioned that he saw you at Hadrian's the other night.”

“He looks so like you, I almost fainted.”

“Wayne acts a lot like me too. Poor kid.” Billy smiled.

“Do you have any kids of your own?” I asked softly, not sure I wanted the answer.

“A daughter. Her name is Ella, and she's nine.”

“You've made a good life,” I said, but inside I was wistful. This was the life I would have had.

“I'm happy with my life. Nina is a fine person.”

His words were the slap that I deserved. I pulled my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around them, letting my cheek rest on their hard surface. “Where does she think you are now?”

“I don't want to talk about Nina.” A shadow crossed his eyes, but he kept them on mine. “This is about you and me. I've always missed you, Maja. You must know that would never change.”

“I know,” I whispered, the nights of misery slipping into my voice. All those nights of dreams had led me here. Before I could think twice, Billy rose from the chair and crossed the short distance to the bed. He stretched out next to me, pulling me down so that my head was resting on his chest. I could hear the comforting beating of his heart against my ear. I sighed, and Billy's arm tightened around me.