Stonechild and Rouleau Mysteries 2-Book Bundle. Brenda Chapman

      “Sure.” Rouleau spoke to the team. “But it’s Christmas Eve so I want each of you to quit by five and take tomorrow off. If I have to call you in, I’ll need you to be in the vicinity, but likely that won’t be necessary. Plan a full work day on Boxing Day.”

      They all stood. He motioned to Stonechild. “Can I see you a minute?”

      She waited while the others spoke to Rouleau on their way back to their desks. He finished talking to Grayson and finally turned to her.

      “I know this is a tough time of year to move towns, and now this case. I was thinking if you want a place to stay until you find an apartment, I have a big house with a spare room. It’ll save you some money and give you a chance to find somewhere permanent.”He saw surprise on her face and then hesitation as if she wasn’t used to offers so freely given. She looked at him for a moment, weighing his offer. She appeared on the brink of accepting when the openness in her eyes disappeared. “I’m okay where I am.” She softened her words with a quick smile.

      “Well, if you change your mind, here’s my address and phone number. I’m in Kingston tomorrow for lunch but back by suppertime. You’re welcome to come by any time if you change your mind.”

      She took the card and shoved it into her pocket. “Thank you, Sir.”

      “It’s the least I can do. We’ve given you no time to get settled.” He sensed that any more discussion on his offer would make her withdraw even further. “That was all,” he said. “Check in later.”

      She made no move to leave. “Any word yet on Whelan’s baby?” she asked.

      “Nothing yet. The next few days are critical though.”

      “I hope it works out for them.”

      “I’ll pass along your best wishes when I speak to him later this morning.”

      “Thanks.”

      He watched her join the others and then walked to his office. He’d done what he could to ease the guilt he felt for bringing her into this unit at Christmas time. It would be no big surprise if she headed home early in the new year. He could tell by the expression in her eyes that she’d already figured out the state of things. If he were in her position, he wouldn’t be long leaving Ottawa either.

      Kala shivered inside her leather jacket and leaned on the bell for a second time. She’d seen a curtain move inside the living-room window and wasn’t going to leave until somebody answered the door. It took another three minutes but patience won out. The bald man in a tweed jacket and red ascot who slowly opened the door had rheumy eyes and no memory of who lived next door. She thanked him for his time and snapped her notebook shut as she strode over to Gage and Bennett on the sidewalk. Two hours of door-to-door and she’d come up with exactly nothing. It made her want to throw something.

      The tips of Bennett’s ears were cherry red and his moustache sparkled with white frost. “These people haven’t got a clue who their neighbours are. God save us from people with money.”

      Kala shook her head. “One guy said if he wanted to know who lived next door, he’d move into a slum where they share diseases.”

      “The Christmas spirit kinda touches you right here, don’t it?” said Gage, tapping his chest. “Wonder what it feels like to be this rich and able to tell everyone to take a piss.”

      “Damn satisfying, I imagine. There was one bit of information,” said Bennet. He lowered his head to read from his notes. “Woman decked out in a gold lamé jumpsuit who lives across the street said she woke early the morning Underwood disappeared and is certain she saw him scraping ice off his windshield. Says it was around six thirty.”

      “I would have been black as pitch at that hour,” said Kala. “How did she know it was him? Do you think she’s reliable?”

      “I’d say so. She got a look when he got into the car because the overhead light went on. Says it was definitely him.”

      “Did she see Laurel’s car in the driveway?”

      “No, just his. She said he was alone and drove off a few seconds later. Then she went for a shower and didn’t see anything else.”

      “Well that’s something at least. Establishes he left of his own accord. It would help to know where he was going so early in the morning since he never showed up at the office,” said Kala.

      “Did you check his phone messages and incoming calls?” asked Bennett.

      Kala nodded. “He didn’t have any incoming calls that morning on his cell or home phone. His daughter Geraldine called the night before the party, but nobody else.” She began to shiver. “It’s just past lunchtime and too cold to stand around here any longer, so why don’t you both get home to your families and start enjoying the holiday? I’ll go talk to the ex-wife’s friend Susan Halliday on my way back to the station to file the report.”

      “You sure?” said Gage. “We can file if you like.”

      “It’s okay,” said Kala. “I’ve got nothing but time.”

      “Well, happy holidays,” said Gage. “I expect I’ll be getting a call to come back into the station just as I’m sitting down to a turkey dinner tomorrow.”

      “Criminals enjoy working through dinner hour,” said Bennett.

      “That’d change if they had to deal with my wife’s anger when I get called into work. I haven’t had one uninterrupted Christmas meal in five years.”

      Kala smiled. “Well, maybe this’ll be your lucky year.”

      “Bloody unlikely, but thanks for holding out hope.”

      They separated and she got into the car she’d been assigned for the day. She jiggled the key in the ignition and turned the heater up high. She looked across the street to the Underwood front entrance. Still no sign of Underwood’s wife and the little girl. For a woman who’d been so desperate to find her husband, their disappearance was odd. Worrisome, even.

      She looked down the empty street toward the river. This would be a perfect morning to bundle up in her parka and Kodiaks and head for a tromp in the bush with Taiku. Last Christmas Eve they’d gone to the beach and walked its length while the sun rose above the churning waters of Lake Superior. Chunks of ice had been scattered like sculpture along the shoreline. She’d brought along her camera and taken pictures. One she’d even framed and put up in the office of her cabin. She closed her eyes and for a few seconds imagined herself there. The wind off the lake, miles of evergreens, and wild, haunting stillness. The smell of biting, cold air untouched by city traffic and the softness of Taiku’s fur against her cheek as she squatted next to him to watch the sun’s orange and pink fingers across the horizon.

      Her lips parted in the beginnings of a smile. Three deep breaths and the tension left her shoulders and neck. When she opened her eyes again, the loneliness had lessened, tucked back into the well she carried deep inside. Her eyes surveyed the over-sized houses one last time as she set the car into drive and slowly pulled away from the curb.

      13

      Saturday, December 24, 3:30 p.m.

      The man who led Kala inside the two-storey detached house on Eisenhower Crescent in Chapman Mills was not the husband Kala would have picked for Susan Halliday. He was younger, for one thing, and definitely military. Susan had struck her as artsy and bohemian. A quick inventory of his physical appearance included hair so sharp a person would cut their hand if they grazed a palm across the bristles, square shoulders, and a wide stance. He was Mr. Poster Boy for the armed forces. She’d felt like saluting when he opened the door.

      She paused inside the doorway to the living room and looked around. French doors led into a room dominated by windows on the north wall and a ceiling-high stone fireplace on the wall facing her. A white leather couch and three mismatched chairs encircled a glass coffee table. A faded Oriental