Tumbled Graves. Brenda Chapman

with the woman missing.”

      “Well, I’ll be there a couple of weeks. Offer stands.”

      “I’ll come to Ottawa if I have time.”

      “Can I count on that, Son?”

      “All I can do is promise you that I will try.”

      Chapter Five

      The team was waiting for Rouleau in the small meeting room when he arrived fifteen minutes late. Someone had brought in doughnuts and everyone had a mug of coffee. He selected a Boston cream from the nearly empty box and sat in the chair at the head of the table they’d left vacant for him.

      “Caught in traffic?” Gundersund asked, smile tugging at his lips. Even on the worst days, Kingston roads were not an issue this time of the morning.

      “I see you’ve managed to fill in the time without me,” Rouleau said before biting into the doughnut. He chewed and then asked, “Any word on the missing woman and child?”

      “Nothing,” Gundersund said. “Stonechild called this morning and spoke with the husband, Ivo Delaney.”

      Rouleau saw Stonechild fix her eyes on Gundersund. He knew what she was thinking. Gundersund would be wise to let her speak for herself. “Delaney didn’t hear from his wife overnight?” Rouleau deliberately turned to face Stonechild.

      She stared back. “Nothing. He was up all night.”

      Zack Woodhouse was sitting across from Stonechild, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed over his potbelly. “Or at least that’s what he told you. He probably has a better idea where she is than he’s letting on.”

      “We haven’t ruled that out yet.”

      Rouleau picked up the file and read through Gundersund’s report of their visit to the Delaney house. The others silently drank their coffee and waited. Rouleau looked across at Gundersund. “No sign of a struggle and her car still in the driveway. Breakfast on the table uneaten and the front door open as if they left in haste.” He was speaking aloud, sorting the facts and wondering at their significance. “You checked the woods?”

      “Just the perimeter. It was getting dark when we finished inside the house.”

      “Although unlikely, we need to make sure they aren’t wandering around lost. Stonechild, take Bennett and Woodhouse and have another look around the property. See if Mr. Delaney sticks to his story. Talk to the neighbour again and see if she can provide more information about the Delaney marriage. I’ll pull in someone to check out the airport and the train and bus stations.” He looked back at the notes. “She has a sister named Leanne Scott who lives in Gananoque. Can you follow up with her, Gundersund? It’s a short drive. Might be good to talk to her in person.”

      “Right.”

      “I could get the Amber Alert in motion, but if the child is with her mother, and we have no reason to believe otherwise, an alert appears premature. So far this is baffling and worrisome, but not criminal. It’s quiet right now so we may as well move on this one until somebody hears from Adele Delaney. I’ll be in court this morning testifying on the Mendelson case but keep me informed by text.”

      Four heads tipped in unison.

      Rouleau watched them file out. Nobody had bought into a crime yet, but they were definitely intrigued. Even Woodhouse moved more quickly than usual. He was infamous for dogging it but Rouleau had hopes that Woodhouse would turn around now that his partner Ed Chalmers was retired. Andrew Bennett had replaced him, a bright young cop from the Ottawa force who wouldn’t be satisfied skirting over investigations and taking shortcuts. Already Bennett had asked to be partnered with Stonechild. They’d worked a case together in Ottawa and he liked her investigative skills, could learn from them, at least that was the reason he gave for wanting to work with her again. Rouleau doubted that was the only reason. If Stonechild knew that Bennett found her attractive, she’d given no sign.

      Bounded on the southern end of town by the St. Lawrence River, Gananoque is known as the Gateway to the Thousand Islands. Gundersund had taken Fiona on the Thousand Island cruise one August day several years back. They’d caught the ship, along with another hundred tourists in the harbour, outside the Gananoque Hotel. The day had been overcast and cool, but he and Fiona had huddled together on deck, his arm around her, not wanting to miss the beauty of the islands slipping past or the feel of her body pressed against his. She’d been captivated at the sight of Boldt Castle, a magnificent six-storey masonry masterpiece built in the early 1900s on Heart Island. They’d docked and spent a happy afternoon traipsing around the island, exploring the restored structures, and posing for pictures. She’d agreed to marry him standing under the stained-glass window in the central hall. Once back in Gananoque, they’d walked up Stone Street to downtown with the requisite charming small-town shops, restaurants, and bars kept alive by the summer tourist trade. A leisurely supper with two bottles of wine to celebrate and then lucky to get a room in the hotel. One of the few idyllic memories he had left from their time together. Until now, he’d had no reason to return.

      Leanne Scott lived on Elm Street on the west side of town in a bungalow: white siding, green trim, and detached garage on a small lot. The windows and front door had been recently upgraded and a small verandah added to the front. A modest house well maintained on a quiet street.

      Unlike his last day in Gananoque, the spring sun and clear sky gave the day a promising feel. He spotted tulips pushing up in the small garden that lined the walkway. The smell of earth and damp rotting leaves rose up to greet him as he passed by. Purple and white crocuses had pushed through and would soon be in bloom. Leanne Scott was waiting for him and opened the door at the top of the steps before he rang the bell. She’d already brewed a fresh pot of coffee and served him a cup in the living room, snugly fit with a plaid couch, coffee table, rocking chair, and recliner.

      He took a moment to study her as she settled into the rocker. She was an older, faded version of her sister, from what Gundersund had seen in Adele’s photo. Leanne’s eyes had the same blue directness, but the brown in her hair was overtaken by grey. She was a tall woman but her body had thickened in the middle, fat dimpling her arms and what he could see of her legs. She was wearing a striped v-necked T-shirt, pink Bermuda shorts, Birkenstocks over socks, pushing summer and fashion sense just a bit, Gundersund thought.

      “Have you spoken with Adele this week?” he asked. He took a sip of coffee and waited. It was strong and sugary, flavoured with hazelnuts and chocolate. The unexpected sweetness made him wince. He raised the back of his hand to his lips to hide his involuntary response. He preferred his coffee bitter and unadulterated.

      “I’m fifteen years older than my sister. We keep in touch, but not daily, or even weekly for that matter. I guess the last time I spoke with her was just after New Year’s.”

      “I guess not even monthly then.”

      She returned his smile. “No. I guess not even that.” She paused, “Although, we did exchange emails this week.”

      He should have been less specific with his question. “Can you share what she wrote?”

      “Of course. She was asking how Randy and I are doing and mentioned that she and Violet were due for a visit. I emailed her back and said next weekend would be great. She said that she was hoping for this weekend but could hold off until then. I still have the exchange if you’d like to read it.”

      “I’ll give you my email address and you can forward the emails. Did she use the words ‘hold off’?”

      “Yes.”

      “Did these words strike you as odd?”

      “A little, since I hadn’t heard from her in so long. They made me think that she had something to tell me. Naturally, I wondered about her marriage since she didn’t mention Ivo.”

      “How would you describe your sister’s marriage?”

      “Okay. It had been okay.” Leanne shifted, groaning softly. Sweat