A Cold White Fear (26 page)

I
relaxed when I saw the blond-framed visage of Bébé Jean through the door window. I was still having difficulties reconciling this man who looked the epitome of a Black Devil with the undercover cop he had turned out to be.

“I'm on my way back to Montreal,” he said, rubbing his ungloved hands to keep them warm. “I wanted to let you know that we've finished the investigation at your house. It's all yours.” His English sounded as if he was born to it. The French accent must've been part of his cover.

“You look cold. Would you like to come in and have a cup of hot tea before you set out?”

“Thanks. Sounds good.”

Shoni scurried out of his way, despite his attempts to pat her. It was going to take some time before she would be used to strangers, particularly strange men.

“I'm afraid we've left your house in a mess,” he said, enclosing his hands around the hot mug as he sat in the other chair. He angled it closer to the fire.

“I've expected as much. Though given all that has happened, I may just sell it. I'm not sure I can live there again.” I sat down and rewrapped the duvet around me. The puppy resumed her place on my lap.

“You have a beautiful house. It looks as if it has been in your family a long time. If you don't mind my saying, don't make any quick decisions. I find with crimes of this nature that time is a great healer. Often victims later regret decisions made in the heat of the moment. So wait until you've had a chance to mull things over.”

“You sound like my husband. That's what he said last night when I mentioned selling.”

“Eric Odjik, isn't it? I remember when he played hockey. Even though I'm a Canadiens fan, I'll never forget the winning goal he scored against us in the Stanley Cup. That was some goal.”

“You don't look old enough.”

He laughed. “It's amazing what a bottle of peroxide can do.” He ran his fingers through his scraggly blond hair. “Tools of the trade. A nice man, your husband. We had a good chat yesterday when he dropped by the house.”

“I didn't know he'd gone.”

“He came to pick up the Ski-Doo he left on Tuesday.”

Something else I didn't know. I'd assumed he'd arrived in his Grand Cherokee.

“Apparently the SQ were blocking the entrance to your road and wouldn't let him through because of the ongoing operation. So he came in by Ski-Doo via the lake.”

“Probably one of the fishing-camp machines.”

I thought back to the Ski-Doo I'd heard. I'd been so happy and relieved to see him that I never thought to ask how he'd managed to arrive at just the right moment.

“I haven't had a chance to thank you for saving Jid and me. If you hadn't come when you did, I don't think I would be talking to you today.”

“Thanks. I will admit it was touch and go whether I'd reach you two in time. But from the way you were holding that Smith & Wesson when you almost shot me, I think you would have handled yourself very ably.” He chuckled in a way that so reminded me of Eric.

He'd only been gone an hour, and already I was missing him.

“I've been so focused on myself, I never thought to ask about Judge Meilleur. I assume you reached him in time.”

“Remember the cops the Hydro guy mentioned? They were setting up a perimeter around his cottage.”

“But we saw no evidence of them on the road into his place.”

“They came in via Ski-Doo from across the lake. The intent was to keep their presence unknown in order to capture Professor. Before I left Montreal, I let my contact know that the location of the hit had changed to the cottage.”

“How did Professor manage to escape?”

“I think he sensed something wasn't right. Before they reached the cottage, he made Jo turn around and go back. Jo tried to run me down, but I jumped out of the way. As she turned the machine to come after me again, I shot her. Professor tossed her body aside and took off before I could shoot him. I ran like hell back to the snowplough. I tell you, I don't think that old snowplough ever went so fast. I was very worried I would be too late.”

“Lucky for us, you weren't.”

I went over and kissed him on both cheeks in Quebecois fashion. “Many, many thanks from both Jid and me.”

“How's the kid doing?”

“I'm not sure. He's with his aunt. He's a good kid with a lot of inner strength. I think he'll be fine. To go through what he did and to lose a father on top of it will be doubly hard for him.”

“Yeah, I heard Larry was his father. Tough.” He took a sip of his tea. “How are you doing?”

“It's been difficult, but I'll survive.” The puppy slipped off my lap onto the floor.

“How are you feeling?” Though I hadn't seen any outward signs of discomfort, I thought I should ask. “I should let you know that I put mouse poison in the scrambled eggs.”

He laughed. “So that was it. I thought you'd done something with the food. Apart from a few stomach cramps, I've had no adverse effects, but I didn't eat anywhere near the amount of eggs the other two did. It helps to explain the extent of Slobodan's blood loss. I'm afraid he left a lot behind on your carpet. Freddie's nose took a long time to stop bleeding, too. He's using it to accuse me of police harassment. What a guy. I guess I'll have to make sure they give him the antidote, and I'd better take it too, although it's unlikely the poison will do either of us much damage. I think humans have to ingest a few boxes before it can cause serious harm.”

“I didn't think it would, but I felt it was worth a try. I assume that you had nothing to do with the prison break.”

“God, no. If I had, it never would've happened and three men would be alive today.”

“Do you know anything about Professor? I found him a very intriguing man, full of contradictions.”

“He's been on our radar for a very long time. One of your classic hitmen, but he was so damn good, we could never catch him. The only offense they could nail him on was tax evasion on the money he'd locked away in the Caymans. I gather several million was involved. The assassin business must be good. When I discovered he would be doing this job for the Devils, I knew it was now or never. The main reason for inserting myself in the operation.”

The puppy padded toward the man, her nose in the air, sniffing. But she chickened out before she got within touching range.

“Do you know why Professor became a hitman? After all, he had a very respectable job as a university professor.”

“I believe he got his taste for blood while he was living in France. He was a champion fencer. Though he didn't win a medal at the Olympics, he ended up in the top five. When he left the country he left a couple of bodies behind, one killed by a sword, the other a stiletto. The French police suspected him, but they couldn't prove it. They brought him to our attention a couple of years ago after a French national was killed in Quebec City with a similar MO to the stiletto death in Nice. He was very good at his job. He never left so much as a trace behind, DNA or otherwise.”

Shoni approached again and was within sniffing distance of his legs before she scampered away. Jean dangled his hand as an invitation for a pat.

“It still doesn't answer the question of why?”

“I think it is a simple answer of liking it and being good at it. The money didn't hurt either.”

Finally Shoni grew brave enough to sniff his hand. He held it very still while she gave it a thorough once-over. She approached closer and received a delicious ear rub for her courage. Next she was on his lap, licking his face.

The puppy was going to be okay. I hoped I would be able to say the same about me.

“I know he liked the finer things in life. Maybe a professor's salary wasn't enough to support the kind of lifestyle he wanted. Do you know the reason for the snake tattoos?”

“Sorry, I can't help you there. But maybe it was to get the message across that he was as fast and deadly as a snake. It sounds as if you might have liked the guy.”

“I wouldn't go as far as to say liking. Though he scared me, he treated Jid and me well, apart from one or two instances, not like that dreadful Slobodan.”

“Yeah, if a guy ever deserved to be dead, he did. He was a mean son of a bitch. Exactly the kind of enforcer the Devils like to use. He's left a lot of bodies behind too. Not as many as Professor, but enough, and they weren't always tidy, instant kills like Professor's. He was also a suspect in a couple of rape cases, but they could never pin them on him.” As he mentioned the rapes, he kept his gaze steady on me.

I squirmed and concentrated on the flames licking the glass window of the fireplace.

“Not sure if anyone asked you about the ripped clothes we found in your bathroom during our investigation.”

I continued staring at the fire. Should I tell him? “Sorry, no one mentioned anything to me. I'm not sure what clothes you are talking about?”

I felt his eyes fixed on me, but I ignored them.

To fill the silence, I asked, “What do you know about Jo?”

“Not much. She was a biker chick. Got her jollies by hanging around the clubhouse. If she were a male, she would have become a full patch member. But being a female, she couldn't. So she used Slobodan to satisfy her thirst for danger and for blood. I don't think she loved him, but he was sure turned on by her.”

“Since she wasn't a real Black Devil, how did she manage to be in charge of such a big operation?”

He chuckled. “Easy. After Slobodan went to jail, she took up with the boss. He had her running a number of activities usually handled by a Devil. Needless to say, there were a few bruised egos within the gang.” He placed the puppy on the floor and stood up. “I should be on my way. A long drive ahead of me.”

I followed him to the door. “What happens to you now? I don't imagine you can go back to being Bébé Jean.”

“You've got that right. With every Devil in the province out gunning for me, I'm going to have to lay low. But I can only take a desk job for so long.” He shrugged a typical Gallic shrug before opening the door.

“By the way, what is your real name?”

“Better for both of us if you don't know.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper. “Do you have a pen?”

I ran back into the living room to retrieve one from my purse.

Placing the paper against the wall, he wrote a phone number on it. “It's not easy going through what you've just been through. Sometimes you need to talk to someone who can relate. This is the number of my counsellor. She is very good and has helped me through a couple of difficult situations. She can help you too.”

He started to leave and then turned back. “Please, don't keep it to yourself. I know from experience that it will only eat at you until like a cancer it becomes too big to handle. If you don't think you can talk to her about it, talk to someone you are close to, like your husband. He's a good man. He'll understand.”

Before I could respond, he was striding down the walkway to his car. With a final wave he was gone.

As I walked back into the living room, I noticed a strange noise coming from the kitchen. It took me a couple of seconds to realize it was the fridge.

Hallelujah, the power was back on.

“M
erry
Christmas, my
Miskowàbigonens
.” Eric rolled over, wrapped his arms around me, and planted a big kiss on my lips.

I tried not to flinch and willed myself to respond the way he wanted me to, but the images of the monster wouldn't release their hold on me.

“A very Merry Christmas to you too.” I caressed his dimples, kissed the tip of his nose, and jumped up off the mattress before he decided to add more zest to his holiday greeting.

“I'll start coffee. Why don't you make us the perfect Christmas breakfast? Teht'aa should be here soon.”

The two of them had arrived later in the afternoon than expected. I'd begun to worry that they had been involved in an accident. But when I saw the bags of groceries coming into the house, I forgave him.

We spent an enjoyable Christmas Eve dinner catching up on the latest happenings in his daughter's life in Yellowknife, including a new man, before she had to rush off to visit with friends.

I swore every time I saw her she was more beautiful, with her flowing raven locks, sculpted facial features, and flashing almond eyes, the same soft grey as her father's. She was tall and slim; her dimples were the only other feature she had inherited from him.

Since our makeshift sleeping accommodations didn't promote privacy, she was staying with a friend. She'd promised to join us for breakfast.

“Come on sleepyhead, get up. I'm hungry.” I threw my pillow at him.

I donned my heavy Aran cardigan over my flannel nightie. Not exactly sexy, but it was warm. Though the baseboard heaters had been churning out heat all night, the house still hadn't reached a comfortable temperature. I tossed some birchbark and a log onto last night's coals and hoped a fire would start on its own.

With his mane of grey-streaked hair spread over the pillow, Eric yawned and stretched and then kicked off the duvet. Normally he didn't wear anything to bed, but last night he'd kept on his boxers and T-shirt.

“Why don't you put on your wool slacks and cashmere sweater?” he said.

“Why? We're just having breakfast.”

“Ah, but it's a day to dress up and celebrate in style.”

With a single leap he bounded off the mattress and proceeded to do squats.

“You make me tired just watching you. How can you be so energetic at this hour of the morning?”

He chuckled. “Keeps me young. I'm going to have a shower, and by the time I finish, I hope you'll be ready to go.”

“Go? Where?”

“Oh, did I forget to mention that we wouldn't be having breakfast here this morning?” His dimples erupted.

Before I could ask again, he wrapped his arms around me and held me so tightly, I could hardly breathe. “I tell you, when I heard those gunshots, I thought my world had ended. I was certain you were dead.”

I gave him a lingering kiss and enjoyed it. “I love you more than you can ever imagine.”

“I don't need to imagine at all. I love you even more.” He responded with another temperature-raising kiss. “Maybe we should delay breakfast.” He started to pull me toward the mattress, but I extricated myself. “I thought we were in a hurry. You'd better have that shower.”

Since his return, neither of us had mentioned our less than loving parting. Worried it could open a Pandora's box, I was keeping my mouth shut. I still didn't know the identity of the woman nor did I want to.

“Okay, okay, but get ready for an extra special Christmas celebration later.” He licked his lips lasciviously.

Even though I knew he was joking, I couldn't stop myself from stepping back. He'd parodied the monster too perfectly.

To hide my discomfort, I rummaged through the suitcase in search of my sweater.

Twenty minutes later, fully attired in our Christmas best, we were buckling ourselves into the front seat of the Jeep with the groceries in the back seat and Shoni on my lap. “So where are we going?”

“You'll see.”

“What about Teht'aa?”

“She's meeting us there.”

I assumed we were going to Will's. It made sense to share Christmas breakfast with Eric's best friend and his family. But we turned in the opposite direction and headed out of town. SUV-high banks of snow flew past as we sped along Migiskan Road. The remains of a broken pole that had snapped during the storm lay stretched along the side of the road.

“Surely we're not driving all the way into Somerset.”

“You'll see.”

I tensed as we neared the turn-off to Three Deer Point and wondered when I would gather the nerve to see my house again.

He slowed and turned in.

“Oh Eric, I don't think I can do this.”

“It's going to be fine. Trust me.” He reached for my hand and held it tightly.

I didn't think I could ever be able to look at the snowbanks lining my road without thinking of Gerry. I'd not yet spoken to Claire, but Eric had visited her and passed on my condolences. His memorial was planned for the day after Boxing Day. I would go.

“Surely we're not having breakfast here. It's going to be a mess.” I gripped his hand tighter. Shoni, as if sensing where we were going, whined.

“Trust me.”

I squeezed my eyes closed as we rounded the final bend. I could still hear the gunshots, the cruel laughter, the threats.

“It's okay, Meg,” Eric said softly. “You can open your eyes.”

I took a deep breath and opened them. “The tree, it's gone!”

“Yup, Will's boys cleared it away yesterday.”

While the branches had been taken away, the trunk, sawed off into lengths, lay stacked along side the driveway. The broken roof was propped up, but it looked so precarious I wasn't certain anyone should walk under it. A piece of plywood had been hammered to the outside of the broken window. Some of the planks on the steps had been replaced. But apart from these minor blemishes, Great-Grandpa Joe's cottage looked the way it had looked for over a century: magnificent, especially under its mantel of snow.

Maybe everything
was
going to be okay.

We gathered up all the groceries and walked up the steps with Shoni trotting behind us.

“Are you sure the roof is safe?” I asked.

Eric gave one of the supports a hefty tug. It didn't move. “We'll have to wait until spring to do a proper repair, but in the meantime this should survive another dump of snow.”

Before Eric could open the door, it sprang open.

“Merry Christmas, guys!” Teht'aa opened her arms in greeting. But she wasn't alone. Beside her stood Jid, beaming just as broadly. He flung his arms around me. “Oh Auntie, I'm so glad to see you.”

Not caring whether I broke something, I dropped the bags and hugged him as if I never wanted to let go. I could feel the tears trickling down my cheeks. I kissed the top of his head and whispered, “I love you,
nigwisis
.”

There, I'd done it. I finally voiced what I'd been thinking for a long time. I called him my son.

I felt Eric's arms go around both of us and knew he'd likely had a hand in springing Jid's release.

“All right, already,” Teht'aa said. “Plenty of time for a love-in later. It's cold out here.”

The house was filled with the smell of bacon and freshly baked bread and the scent of spruce. The hall floor gleamed with a fresh polish. A fire crackled in the living room, but I kept my eyes averted as we passed the den. The kitchen shone as if it had never seen a dirty dish … or a murderer.

“Someone has been hard at work,” I said.

“Teht'aa organized it,” Eric replied. “Some of her friends and their mothers spent most of yesterday afternoon and evening cleaning up.”

“But what about the pipes? There must have been water everywhere.”

She laughed. “Yeah, but not as bad as it could've been. The cops turned off the water. Stephen came by last night and replaced the broken ones in the bathroom, so we have water.”

“Teht'aa, how can I ever repay you?” We hugged as only sisters could hug, though technically we were mother and daughter.

“Okay guys,” she said. “Breakfast is almost ready. Grab a seat and enjoy.”

The surprises didn't end with breakfast. Afterward, Eric led us into the den, where the Christmas tree stood ablaze with multicoloured lights, glittering tinsel, and gleaming ornamental balls.

“I decorated it yesterday.” Jid beamed.

“It's beautiful. The best tree ever.”

In pride of place, at the top of the tree, next to my plastic Santa Claus, hung the birchbark beaver that had belonged to his father when he was a child.

My thoughts were so taken up by the tree that I forgot about the bloody carpet. It was gone. I hoped never to be seen again. In its place was an oriental carpet from the living room.

Underneath the tree were Christmas presents.

Eric pulled out a beautifully wrapped box, a striking departure from his usual minimalist approach. “Merry Christmas, my
Miskowàbigonens
.”

Inside was something I'd longed for: a velvety-soft doeskin jacket, the beading delicate and intricate, the fringe long and wavy.

“Try it on.”

It fit perfectly. I twirled.

“I had it made for you in Regina.”

The minute the words were said, I knew the identity of the woman whose ears were probably still ringing after being so rudely disconnected.

“I'm so, so sorry. I've done you a terrible wrong.”

“Sssh….” He kissed my lips closed and held me as if he never wanted to let go. “It doesn't matter. All that matters is that we are together and always will be.”

I felt the tears trickle down my cheeks as I hugged him just as tightly.