Tumbled Graves (25 page)

T
he
turnoff is coming up on your left,” Bennett said, checking his phone. “Otter Lake Road.”

“Glad you can see it on your map because I can't see much through this rain.” Kala had made good time considering the steady downpour since they left Kingston. They'd veered north on Highway 15 outside Gananoque.

“Have you figured out how we're going to gain access to the cottage?”

“I can pick the lock.”

“Really?”

“It's better than breaking in the door. We have the search warrant so we can get in however we need to.”

Bennett looked at her and grinned. “I like how you northern cops operate.”

She glanced at him. “How's it going with Woodhouse?”

“I asked Rouleau to partner me with you if that's any indication.” He pointed. “There's the turnoff. Hang a left.”

She swerved a little too quickly onto the side road and the back tires skidded before she regained control. “That came up fast.”

“Sorry. I almost missed the turnoff.”

Kala geared down to a crawl. “Sometimes working with a partner takes a while to become an easy relationship.”

“I prefer when it's easy from the start.” He looked down at the directions in his lap. “We continue on a ways. This road circles the west end of Otter Lake and the Manteau cottage is at the south end. I'll keep an eye for the Coopers' sign because Manteau's is the next lot over.”

They were silent for a while, Kala concentrating on the narrow road slick with rain and flooded in spots. Bennett kept his eyes on the side of the road, searching for the Cooper sign, which should be at eye level and nailed onto a post.

“The lots are long and narrow but the cottages aren't that far apart,” he said. “The good thing is that they've kept a lot of trees and wild growth so it doesn't feel too civilized.”

“A lot of these properties have lawns. Why would you have a lawn that you have to mow all summer? And a cottage the size of a house. I don't get it.”

“Where do you go to escape from it all?”

She didn't answer for a while, but then said, “North in the bush with my canoe. I think we're getting close.” She thought she saw movement in the trees to her left and slowed even more. She looked back using the side and rear-view mirrors speckled with rain drops. Nothing. Maybe she'd seen a deer. Whatever it was had been a dark, blurry form through the side window. She sped up the truck again as fast as she dared.

A minute later, Bennett pointed toward a track leading onto a property next to a sign that said
the coopers
. “There's the sign. Manteau's place should be the next one over.”

The Manteau property was a thicket of overgrown cedar bushes and long grass, beaten down by the rain. She spotted a small cottage with faded red siding and a black roof with weathered shingles nestled partway down a rutted hill. The lake was grey and choppy farther down the incline. Thick stands of trees surrounded the dwelling.

“I guess I'll turn around and park on the road,” Kala said. No point driving down there and getting stuck in the mud.”

She drove a bit farther until she saw an opening wide enough to turn the truck. A half minute later and she was back in front of the Manteau cottage and parked just off the road with two tires in the thick grass. She turned off the engine and looked over at Bennett. “Well, shall we go have a look?”

“I'm pumped to see you pick the lock.”

“Doesn't take much to amuse you, does it?”

“Not usually.” He flashed her a wide grin and opened the door.

They'd put on their rain jackets in the truck and both pulled up their hoods and started walking, Bennett in the lead. Stonechild reached for his arm as she spotted tire tracks off to her right, almost hidden by the swaying grass. Her heart jumped.

“Bennett, somebody's been here recently. I think we should slow down and scout this out.”

Bennett turned. He tilted his head and began to say something at the same time as a gunshot blasted through the curtain of rain falling all around them. For Kala, the next surreal seconds happened in slow motion, beginning with the startled expression in Bennett's eyes at the moment of impact. Immediately afterward, his mouth opened into a round circle of surprise and he looked to be trying to say something before his eyes rolled back and he slumped hard against her. Kala reached for him and they both tumbled into the wet grass, her managing to break his fall with her body. She lay winded for several seconds afterward, struggling to catch her breath, frantically trying to make sense of what had just happened. When she finally let go of him and lifted her hands from his back, bright red blood coated her palms and dripped from her fingers.

This can't be happening.
“Bennett? Can you hear me?”

Somehow, she rolled him sideways and scrambled out from under him. She crouched as low to the ground as she could and searched for the shooter. The rain was running into her eyes and she blinked to clear her vision. She couldn't see anybody near the cottage or in the trees, but there were lots of places to hide. They could be anywhere. She looked down at Bennett's wound. The bullet had entered near his shoulder and blood was spreading from under his rain jacket. They were sitting ducks where they were. Her police training kicked in.

She got to her feet and grabbed him around the waist, pulling him toward a clump of bushes several feet away. Another gunshot and a bullet whizzed by, ricocheting off a tree behind them as they reached cover. She ducked and rolled Bennett onto his side and felt under his jacket until her hand grabbed the handle of his handgun. She worked it out of the holster and then turned Bennett onto his stomach. She checked to make sure the gun was loaded and set it next to her as she tried to stem the flow of blood from his exit wound. She made a compress from a scarf she had in her pocket. It wasn't great, but was better than nothing. The shot looked to have gone through his shoulder but could have hit his lung. It must have missed his heart because he was still breathing. She lifted one hand and felt for her cellphone. As she pulled it out, she looked up.

“Drop it in the grass,” said Philippe Lebeau. He had a handgun pointed at her face. Rain had plastered his long hair to his head and his beard was dripping water. “Then get up real slow and walk ahead of me to the cabin.”

She dropped her phone and raised her hands, palms facing him before carefully getting to her feet. “I don't want to leave my partner. He needs medical attention.”

Lebeau didn't say anything. He motioned with the gun for her to get moving. Then he crouched down with the gun still pointed at her while he picked up Bennett's service revolver.

Kala took a last look at Bennett and started walking with her hands in the air at chest level. How had this gone sideways so quickly? Was Benoit Manteau directing Lebeau from his prison cell or was Lebeau working on his own? Were Etienne and Cécile in the cottage? She stumbled and slipped on a muddy patch but managed to remain upright. Lebeau was a few feet behind her and she could hear him curse when he slid on the same piece of ground. She thought about turning and lunging at him but he wasn't close enough and she didn't like her odds. They reached the back door and she looked behind her. He was right there, the gun inches from her neck. She stepped sideways and opened the door. As she went to step inside, Lebeau gave her a shove from behind and she stumbled into the kitchen and landed on all fours.

She lifted her head. Through a wide doorway, she saw a small living room with a brown couch under three large picture windows with an external door on their right. The floor was gritty with dirt under her throbbing hands and the room smelled of mildew and something rotting. Lebeau was on her before she could get up. He yanked her arm and pulled her to her feet. “Stand still,” he ordered and she felt his left hand patting her down, resting longer than it needed to on her breasts and rear end. She could feel rage growing inside her and it took all of her will power not to lash out. She closed her eyes and counted to five in her head. She'd try talking him down first and hope he lowered the gun. Then she'd strike.

He grabbed her arms from behind and pulled her roughly over to the counter. She heard him rummaging around in a drawer before she felt a rope bite into her wrists as he tied her arms behind her back. When done, he let her go and pushed her into the living room.

She managed to stay standing and turned to face him. “Let's talk about what's going on.” She kept her voice neutral, non-accusatory. “Is Etienne with you?”

“Sit on the couch.”

She looked toward the two bedrooms as she crossed the distance to the couch. Someone's legs and feet were stretched out on a bed through the closest open door. She reached the couch and sat down awkwardly, her wrists aching from where he'd tied them. “Who's that in the bedroom?” she asked. “Are they okay?”

“All I wanted was to get my kid and get out of here. Why the hell did you show up? Did he call you?”

“Who? Did who call me?”

“Her husband.”

Kala tried to think. She had no idea what was going on and felt on slippery, shifting ground. Lebeau's face was red and angry and he was jumping around while he talked, the gun always pointed in her direction. She had to remain calm. She had to get him to calm down too. This could be her only chance.

“I think we need to get some medical help,” she said. “You don't want to hurt so many people.”

Lebeau rubbed his fist across his jaw. “It didn't have to be this way. She could have just told me where she had my kid. None of this had to happen.”

Kala felt the first toehold. “You tried to get Adele to hand over Violet. You're the father, not Etienne or Benoit.”

His eyes signalled that she was right. “Cécile and I are going away as soon as he brings our daughter.”

She risked another question. Keep him talking. Use his name. “Philippe, how do you know she's your daughter and not Etienne's?”

“Because she wasn't sleeping with him. She was sleeping with
me
.”

“Not Etienne?”

Lebeau started pacing, checking out the kitchen window as if waiting for someone. He came back and looked at her. “I was the poor cousin with the crackhead mother. They looked at me like a charity case, always giving me the leftovers, making me feel like dirt. Giving me a fucking bartender job and cutting me out of being an owner. Like I owed them for the air I breathed. Well, I got the last laugh on Benoit and I'm about to have the last laugh on Etienne too when they arrest him for Adele's murder … and yours.” He slowly raised the gun. “Cécile picked me over the two of them. We used to lie in bed and laugh at them. We talked about taking their money and going where they'd never find us. That kid is mine and nobody is going to take her from me. Not Adele. Not her sister. And not you.”

Kala heard the click of the gun hammer being pulled back. A deep calm filled her as she considered that these would be her last moments alive. She hoped Dawn would be spared knowing how this ended.

He sounded almost sorry. “Hell of a shame it had to come to this. Would have been better for all of us if you'd pinned Adele's murder on Ivo.”

She closed her eyes and prepared herself for the impact. In what she knew was a futile effort to save herself, she twisted her body and rolled sideways at the same time as a gunshot blasted through the closed window. Shards of glass exploded into the room. She fell onto the floor and banged her cheek and forehead hard as she landed. Her ears were ringing and felt stuffed with cotton batting. Through one eye she watched Lebeau's arms fly up over his head and his gun go flying across the room, crashing into the wall. Blood pumped from his chest and he fell backwards onto the floor, his feet landing not far from her own.

“You okay in there?” She heard through the hole where the window had shattered and thought she recognized the voice. She lifted her head as Randy Scott rammed in the door like some avenging angel. He towered over her for a second before kicking Lebeau in the legs to see if he was alive. Satisfied, he grunted and crouched down next to her. He eased her into a sitting position. “Have you seen my wife?”

Kala licked her lips. “I think she's on the bed.”

He stood and took a step toward the bedroom. “Leanne!” he called as he started running.

Kala pushed herself to her feet, using the couch as leverage. Philippe Lebeau had believed Leanne and Randy had his daughter. He'd gone completely off the deep end. She was dizzy but stepped around Lebeau's lifeless body and staggered toward the bedroom. She leaned against the door jamb and saw Randy cradling Leanne in his arms. Her face was bruised and her lip was bleeding onto his shirt.

“Is she…?”

“Still breathing strong. My wife is hardy stock.”

“Thank God.” The second of relief disappeared as quickly as it came. “Can you untie me? I have to get to my partner. He's been shot and is lying outside.”

“I saw him and bandaged him up with my shirt. He was coming around. I left him propped against a tree. That's why I took a bit of time getting around back to get a shot off. I called for help on my cell and they should be here soon. I asked for a couple of ambulances. Looks like we're going to need them.”

For the first time, Kala noticed Randy's bare chest inside his open raincoat. “Thank you for all you've done. I hate to think how this would have ended without you.”

Randy lay Leanne gently back on the bed and took a hunting knife out of a sheath on his belt. He held the rope around her wrists steady with one hand and said as he cut, “You're hurt too. Your face is puffing up on the one side and I think there's glass in your other cheek.”

After he said it, she began to feel sharp jabs of pain. The rope fell to the floor and she shook her hands to get the blood circulating. She gingerly touched her forehead with tingling fingers. When she removed her hand, warm blood dripped into her left eye from a piece of embedded glass. There was no time to worry about fixing herself now.