THE COTTAGE
CHAPTER 21
IN THE FOREST
Tim had just begun telling Sergeant Blackstone his story when a sharp knock at the door interrupted him.
A uniformed officer opened the door. “Sergeant, could I see you for a moment?”
Blackstone excused himself and stepped into the hallway. Through the closed door, Tim and Ned could hear voices, but not the words.
A few minutes later, Blackstone returned and took his seat.
“Sorry about that. Police matters, you understand.” He picked up his pen. “Go on, Tim.”
Tim nodded. “Where was I?”
“You were telling me about the pharmaceutical company you work for.”
Tim leaned forward. “Right. It started with the vaccines.”
Just moments later, Constable Dan received a radio transmission directing him to a small Sheet Harbour inlet some distance from his location. A body had been found there.
One body last night and now another? Well, anything to get me out of this domestic dispute.
“Doris, Henry, it’s time to stop throwing things at one another. You both need to sober up.” He gave them a stern look and spoke in a manner they understood. “Take some aspirin. Drink some strong coffee. I’ll check back with you later.”
When Dan arrived at the inlet, he found the ME already there.
“Good heavens, Doc! I know this young man. His dad died a few months back.”
“Ah, now I remember. Lung cancer, I believe. I conducted his autopsy. Very sad. He was only forty-eight years old.” The ME shook his head.
“What can you tell me about the lad?”
“Well, he was murdered. The carotid artery was severed.” He unzipped the body bag a little farther. “You see here?”
Dan knelt to examine the wound.
The ME continued. “I can tell you the person who did this was very skilled. He knew exactly where to cut. No hesitation. No unnecessary wounds.”
Dan looked up at him.
The ME slowly zipped the bag closed.
“This was not a crime of passion.”
Dan used his shoulder mic to call for a search team to ferret out the murderer. Then he made another call to the K-9 unit to see if Police Service Dog Samson was available from the Halifax Area RCMP Detachment. He’d worked with the service dog and his trainer, Constable Raymond Trent, before. He knew the pair to be among the best when it came to searching for bodies or tracking criminals.
Dan returned to the squad car to call it in. He had two hours before the search could begin, so he grabbed a quick bite and a bottle of water. Then he organized his backpack and went over his plans.
He returned to the scene wearing gloves and began gathering what little evidence he could find.
He stared at the little dock. No skiffs tied up. He scanned the horizon. No boats. The murderer either fled by sea or on foot. The Coast Guard was already on the job. Now the land search was in his hands.
He looked around. No fresh tire tracks. That meant the murderer was on foot.
He searched all around the cabin, evidence bags at the ready. Perhaps he’d find a knife. Indeed he did!
A rusty old pocket knife. Probably belonged to the young victim, Willy Burgis. Poor lad. And the ME thought his dad died too young?
Something else caught his attention. He got down on his hands and knees. Something red in the bushes. Yes, a piece of fabric. He pulled it from the picker bush and carefully placed it in the evidence bag.
Did it come from the murderer’s clothing or Willy’s? Maybe. Maybe not.
Out of all his searching, that’s all he had.
“Interesting,” he murmured. “Whoever did this was very thorough.”
He hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud.
“Yeah, you sure be right about that.”
Dan spun around. An old fisherman stood several yards behind him, watching. Dan was annoyed with himself. He hadn’t heard the man approach.
A rookie mistake.
He stood, straightened his uniform, and collected himself.
“Constable Fraser here,” he said firmly. “And you, sir, are…?”
“They call me Mister around here,” he said. His voice was gruff, but his blue eyes sparkled.
“You know something?”
“I know enough,” Mister said proudly.
Dan couldn’t help himself. He smiled. “Care to share?”
“Sure thing.” Mister looked at Dan and grinned a toothless smile. “I know about the bad men.” His grin faded.
“Tell me about the bad men, Mister,” Dan encouraged. “Would you like to sit? I have an extra sandwich in the squad car.”
“Nah. Me in that car? Never happen! I gotta get going in a minute anyhow. Can’t be seen with you.” He was suddenly nervous.
“Who are you afraid of, Mister? Can you tell me their names?”
“One’s called Colonel. That’s the only name. Murdering bastard. He killed Willy. I know it. And I might be next. Others gone missing, too.” He swallowed hard.
“Why are you next? What did you see?”
“I heard. I didn’t see. But it was him. He speaks funny, with a strange accent, like all his men got.”
“You heard him with Willy last night?”
“Yah, and he was mighty mad! He screamed at Willy. Then Willy screamed. Then it was quiet. I hid a long time, so scared I was.” His voice trembled.
“Listen, Mister. There’s no one here but us right now. I’m a police officer. I’ll do everything I can to protect you.” Dan paused, questions swirling. “Okay, now think. You said there are other bad men. How many?”
“Six. Maybe seven. They roam these parts looking for someone, maybe. Mostly looking for trouble, you ask me. The Colonel man has a boat. I don’t know where it went, and I don’t know where he went after cutting Willy.” He stopped abruptly.
Then he turned his blue eyes on Dan, as though remembering something important. “A girl. Colonel’s in the woods looking for a girl. Willy’s girl.”
“Willy had a girl?” There was urgency in Dan’s voice now.
“Nah, not his girl. A girl he found. He was helping her. That’s why Colonel killed Willy.”
Dan’s shoulder mic crackled.
“Sorry, Mister. I have to answer this. Just wait one more minute, please.”
Dan turned and took a few steps away. The K-9 team was five minutes out.
He turned back.
Mister was gone.
“Mister?” Dan called.
The woods answered with a sudden gust of wind.
The team of four constables arrived first. Then came Samson and Constable Ray Trent. When Ray opened the dog crate, Samson came bounding toward Dan. His giant paws landed on Dan’s shoulders, nearly knocking him over.
Dan laughed and scratched his ears. He’d always wanted a dog. Just never got around to it.
Dan steadied himself enough to shake Ray’s hand. “Glad to work with you again.”
“Ditto,” Ray said. He was all business now as he used hand signals to bring Samson to heel. “Who are we searching for?”
The search party gathered around.
Dan explained. “I just learned we’re looking for a murderer who goes by the name Colonel and is likely Russian. He’s supposedly responsible for the death of a young man, Willy Burgis. Stabbed in the carotid artery.”
He looked around. Every constable was listening.
“But there’s a new wrinkle.” Dan paused. “This Colonel may travel with a crew, so be especially alert.”
He reached into his pocket for the evidence bag containing the torn piece of red fabric. “This may be helpful to Samson. Problem is, I don’t know whose clothing it is. It could belong to Willy, Colonel, or the girl.”
“Girl? What girl?” several voices asked at once.
Dan raised a hand. “I was getting to that. A local who goes only by Mister alluded to a girl. She may be a hostage. She may be dead. That’s all I know. The point is, we’ve added a girl to our search.”
Ray studied the fabric through the evidence bag. “Looks like satin. That’s something, at least.”
He removed the fabric carefully and held it out for Samson.
The dog sniffed once, then again. His entire body changed.
Samson caught the scent and surged forward.
Ray took off after him. The other constables fanned out into their assigned positions, and Dan hurried to catch up with Ray and Samson.
“Mind if I join you two?”
Ray glanced back. “Hope you’ve got your running shoes on, Dan, ’cause we’re off to the races.”
Dan was already breathless.
“Samson won’t stop till he finds something—or someone. He’s trained not to bark. He’ll sit when he finds something, so be on the lookout for that behavior.” Ray gave Samson the signal to continue.
They moved quickly through the forest. The trackers looked for broken branches, shoe treads, cigarette butts—anything fresh that suggested someone had recently passed through. Almost an hour went by with no results.
Then Samson stopped.
He sat.
One muddy paw lifted slightly, almost as though he were pointing.
A huge red spruce had fallen in the storm, probably rotting from the inside out for a decade or more. It smelled of moss, mold, mud, and decay. Its roots had been ripped from the earth, leaving a cavernous hollow where the old tree had once proudly stood.
Dan raised a hand, signaling the trackers to stop. No one moved. Weapons were drawn. Eyes were on Samson.
Samson sat like a statue.
Then came a slight movement from beneath the roots. A faint rustling.
A moan.
Ray carefully pulled a small branch aside.
“I’ve got her!” he shouted. “It’s the girl.”
Dan moved in. “Good heavens. The poor thing looks frozen. She’s blue.”
He immediately pulled a Mylar rescue blanket from his backpack and carefully covered her.
“She’s wet through to the skin and shivering convulsively.” He checked her pulse. “Barely there.”
Ray radioed for an ambulance and gave their location. “Hypothermia. She’s barely responsive, but she’s still shivering.” He listened for several seconds. “Yes, sir. We can do that.”
Dan nodded. “We’ll be careful. She’s clearly in a fragile state.”
He turned to the other constables. “Continue the grid search. We still have a murderer to apprehend. And check with the Coast Guard. See if they know anything yet.”
The searchers moved off while Dan and Ray stayed with the girl, shielding her from the wind and covering her with another Mylar blanket. They kept her as still as possible.
The ambulance had reached the dock, its siren now silent.
“That was fast,” Dan said. He crouched beside the girl. “Can you hear me?”
No response.
“Blink if you can hear my voice.”
Her eyelids barely fluttered.
Two paramedics arrived minutes later, breathing hard from the trek through the woods and carrying their equipment.
“Give us some room, Dan.”
They nodded toward Ray and smiled when they saw Samson still sitting, one muddy paw raised.
“Sorry, Samson.”
Ray gave a hand signal. Samson immediately stood, yawned, and stretched his body.
Dan smiled. “Hard work, huh, Samson? What a good boy you are.”
Another signal, and Samson returned to his handler’s side, safely out of the paramedics’ way.
The paramedics went to work. They checked Caroline’s heart rhythm, oxygen level, blood pressure, temperature, and pulse. One started an IV and attached a bag of warmed saline while the other carefully cut away her wet clothing and wrapped her in dry insulating blankets beneath the reflective covering.
“She’s severely hypothermic,” one of them said. “You called us just in time.”
He leaned closer to her hair.
“Salt water. She’s been in the ocean.”
Dan’s head snapped up.
“Can I have a few seconds with her? I need to ask her something.”
“Make it quick, Dan. We need to get her out of here.”
While the paramedics prepared the rescue basket, Dan knelt close beside her.
Her eyes opened just enough for him to see pale blue. Her lips moved, but the words came out thick and slurred.
“Dim…”
Dan leaned closer.
She tried again.
“Dim…duh…mee…tree.”
Dan looked at Ray, puzzled.
Ray’s expression changed. “Dmitri. I think she’s saying Dmitri.”
Russian.
Just as Dan had suspected.
Caroline struggled to speak again.
“B…boat.”
Dan took her hand. Her fingers barely closed around his.
“Kkk…”
Her whole body shook.
“K-kidnapped.”
That word came through.
Clear enough.
Dan stared at her. His mouth fell open. Could it be?
“Is your name Caroline?”
Her fingers tightened around his hand.
Once.
Firmly.
Dan swallowed hard. “We’ve got you, Caroline. You’re safe now.”
Her lips moved once more.
“Thank you.”
Then her eyes closed.
Dear Reader,
I only had time for one painting this week. I’m taking a hiatus for a short period. I promise you I will be back soon to continue THE COTTAGE.
Fondly,
Elaine