Cold Mourning. Brenda Chapman

dirt as Sunny approached. They started walking toward the house, not speaking.

      Lily pulled Sunny into the trees part-way up the property. There’d been a cold snap on the weekend and the leaves were starting to turn colour. Sunny craned her neck back to look at the shades of yellow in the alders and the blue sky overhead. A string of Canada geese was honking its way to the marshes south of the reserve. She waited for Lily to start talking.

      Lily leaned against a pine tree. “You okay?”

      Sunny nodded. “You?”

      Lily shrugged. “I’m not sleeping so good. Nightmares.”

      “Is Roger still mad about us being out so late and your black eye?”

      “He got over it. He wanted to track down the girls I told him I’d had the fight with. Took a while to keep him from charging back to town to start hunting them down. Luckily my story kept him from figuring out we were with the city man who disappeared. Did you get into trouble coming home late?”

      “I don’t think they noticed. The police still looking for that man?”

      “Big mystery. They can’t figure out why he left his van and nobody’s seen him. He grew up near here. His parents still live in Miniota. Roger and I were in town two days ago and I saw that guy’s, you know that David Williams, I saw his wife yesterday sitting in the coffee shop. Well, the same woman as in that picture. She was sitting all alone having lunch.”

      Sunny shivered inside her down vest. She’d tried to forget about that day and already bits of it were getting fuzzy. She wasn’t too happy to have Lily show up and remind her even if she was glad to see her.

      “Anyhow,” Lily said, “the reason I’m here is because I wanted to tell you that I’m leaving. They’ve decided I need to get me a real education so I’m flying out tomorrow for Winnipeg. Some family is putting me up while I get my grade eight. It’s all arranged.”

      “You never let them take you off the rez before,” Sunny said. Tears came to her eyes. She lowered her head and blinked hard so Lily wouldn’t see.

      “Well, I never killed nobody before neither,” said Lily. “Things change.”

      “I wish I could come with you.”

      Lily’s voice softened. “Are they still treating you okay?”

      Sunny shrugged. “They have six other kids. Half the time we don’t have much to eat. I think they’ve already asked for me to be moved.” She tried to smile, but it didn’t work. “If you go, I won’t have any family left.”

      “I’ll always be your family, Sun. No matter where I live. I just can’t …” Lily took a deep breath, “I just got to get away from here. I can’t take knowing what I did.”

      “You had to. He wasn’t going to let us go.” Sunny let her mind flit to an image of the man on the ground and all the dark blood coming from his head before she closed it off. She couldn’t think about it because thinking about it made her stomach hurt and her head fill with screams that wanted to get out. Sometimes, she woke up in the night crying. She knew she couldn’t tell anyone, especially not Lily. Lily had her own nightmares.

      “Does Roger want you to go?”

      Lily shrugged. “I think he hoped that if I stayed, my mother would come back. Maybe he’s starting to wake up to reality. She was only with him two years. It’s not like he owes me nothing.”

      “We’ll be together again one day, won’t we Lil? You’ll get me when we’re old enough to live on our own?” Sunny moved closer until she leaned against Lily. She rested her head on Lily’s shoulder. Lily stiffened for a moment before she wrapped an arm around Sunny.

      “Yeah, we’ll be together again little one. We’ll have our own house and nobody will do nothing to us that we don’t want. We’ll have good jobs and money and lots to eat.”

      “And I won’t have to keep Rascal tied up outside and I’ll have my own bed.”

      “Yeah, your own bed. You won’t have to share with the other kids.” Lily laughed. “Can you imagine, Sun? We’ll have real lives and people will envy us.”

      “Let’s promise to find each other. Promise we’ll be together again.”

      “I promise, Sunny. So help me God, I promise.”

      “And I promise too.”

      1

      Tuesday, December 20, 10:45 p.m.

      Tom Underwood looked across the room at his wife and wondered how it would feel to place his hands around her slender neck and throttle the life out of her. He imagined her sinewy veins under his fingers and the satisfaction of hearing the bones crack as he twisted in a quick motion — like putting his hand around a jar lid and applying pressure in one glorious snap. Her red lips would form a soft “o” of comprehension as he tightened his hold and her eyes would widen before freezing open in death. He’d seen people murdered in enough films to know the drill. Would it be better to get rid of her before or after Christmas? He could return the gifts he’d bought her on Boxing Day if she were to die within the week. That could be the deciding factor. The gold link bracelet he’d bought her was overpriced. He took a long swallow of Scotch, and kept his eyes on her, then blinked back the dream.

      Laurel lifted her head and tossed back her ironed veil of red hair. She’d lined her violet eyes in kohl and filled in the lids with gold shadow that shimmered in the light from the chandelier. She’d seen him looking at her. Her full lips curved into an amused smile as she trailed the fingers of one hand up and down between the V of her breasts as if rubbing an ice cube across her skin to cool off her hot flesh. Her lips parted in a suggestive smile before she turned her attention back to the man standing next to her.

      Tom imagined the man eying Laurel’s breasts, poor bastard probably wondering if he stood a chance of getting her somewhere alone so he could run his own hands up and down the curves outlined by her black form-fitting gown that dipped like a crescent moon in front. The thought of plunging one’s face between those twin mounds could drive a man crazy if he let it. Tom knew all about that. He felt the familiar heat in his groin and cursed himself for being weak, for still wanting her.

      “You meeting Archambault tomorrow?”

      Tom dropped his eyes to look down at the man in front of him. J.P. Belliveau. He couldn’t be in the same room as his partner anymore without thinking of bullfrogs — squat, round toads with oversized cheeks and bulbous eyes under heavy lids. He forced his face to relax, as if he had nothing on his mind but the deal.

      “I have a call scheduled with him when I get into the office tomorrow. I’m going to fax him the contract before lunch and then head to his office in Montreal right after Christmas to finalize and pick up the signed papers.”

      “For less than we offered last month?”

      Tom nodded.

      “How did you manage to talk Archambault down?”

      “I told him we would only assume the risk if he came down in price. I knew we were his only real hope so he had to drop his bottom line.”

      “I thought an American company expressed interest.”

      “They didn’t have the capital to take it on this quarter. I might have also planted a seed with their point man that the design was flawed.” Tom shrugged and smiled.

      “You impress me. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think we were separated at birth.”

      Tom nodded again but something burned in his guts like bile on a barbecue. He’d forgotten to bring antacid tablets and would be in rolling pain by the time he pried Laurel away from the party. Maybe he would make time for the doctor’s appointment tomorrow. He’d cancelled the last two times but this ulcer was getting worse.

      He felt an arm slip through his