groaned in frustration. A cornered animal was the one thing that would keep Sergei from his food. Unfortunately, the only method of extrication was to forcibly drag him away by his collar. I tried to catch a glimpse of him through the trees, but it was impossible to distinguish his black body from the deepening shadows. Besides, his muffled barking suggested he was further into the forest.
With leash in hand and dog bribes in my pocket, I walked quickly towards the sound, which seemed to be coming from the direction of Aunt Aggie’s sugar shacks. While I could still see the web of overhead branches against a sunset sky, I could barely see my feet on the path. I figured I had about ten minutes, fifteen at the most, before it became too dark. I debated returning to the house for a flashlight but didn’t want to waste any more time. I quickened my pace instead.
Sergei’s barking drew nearer, then abruptly stopped. Worried, I called out and was answered by the rustling of leaves. He’s finally coming, I thought, and walked on, expecting to see Sergei’s dark shape bounding towards me, but reached the sugar shacks without even a glimpse of him.
I blew his whistle. This time only dusk’s stillness answered. Where was the damn dog? Half annoyed, half worried, I felt my fear of darkness rise. I frantically pushed it down. Now was not the time to run panicking back home.
I searched the ground for signs and found a number of tracks in the mud near the door of the main shack. Unfortunately, in the fading light it was impossible to tell if a dog had made them. I peered through the surrounding forest, searching for Sergei’s darker mass and saw only the converging shadows of night. Frantic, I called again, several times, each time more shrilly as I fought my rising panic.
All of a sudden, the rustling started again. It was coming towards me. I froze. Every nerve ending in my body tingled as I strained to see through the dark.
“Sergei?” I whispered.
I waited. The rustling drew nearer. I edged towards the shack door with the idea of escaping inside. Before I reached it, a black mass suddenly lunged towards me and knocked me to the ground. A wet nose jabbed my face, followed by the sandpaper lick of a dog’s tongue.
“You stupid animal!” I cried out in exasperated relief, and gave him a big hug to show that I was more than glad to see him. Then as I stood up, I noticed another dog, almost as large but lighter in colour.
A voice cut the silence, “Meg, that you?”
My nerves spiked. This person knew me. Footsteps slowly approached.
“Who’s that?” I gingerly called back. I unlatched the shack door with the intention of barricading myself inside.
“Hélène. You got my bitch with you?”
“God, did you scare me. What in the world are you doing here?”
The glowing tip of a cigarette moved towards me and stopped a few feet in front. I could just make out her tall, lanky shape. Her face loomed into view as she sucked on her cigarette. Her eyes sparked with its fire, then went black.
For a moment she remained silent, then she said, almost as a challenge, “I was at the Lookout. That okay with you?”
“Sure, no problem,” I said, then remembering my last trip to the rock outcrop, I asked, “You go there often?”
Her cigarette glowed brighter as she took a deep drag. I heard the slow release of air when she answered, “Why do you ask?”
“Saw some butts on top. Another time, when I was on the lake, I saw a figure in purple close to the cliff edge.”
“Yeah, that was me. Look, I know it belongs to you, but that rock has special meaning to my people, kind of religious like, eh? Your aunt used to let us visit.”
“Be my guest,” I answered, while wondering why Eric had never mentioned the Lookout’s sacred properties.
“Do you always go there so late in the day?”
The cigarette glowed again, then she answered, “I guess I kinda lost track of time. And your dog came.” She laughed. “Could be your dog’s gonna be a daddy.”
I groaned. “Don’t tell me your dog’s in heat. No wonder Sergei refused to come when I called. Come on, let’s get out of here.”
I didn’t completely relax until we finally reached the security of the light surrounding my cottage. Holding Sergei’s food bowl inches from his nose, I managed to lure him away from his new friend and lock him inside the house. With a last glance at the building to ensure everything was secure, I headed towards my pickup.
Knowing Hélène would have a very long and dark walk home through the woods, I offered her a ride as far as the turn- off to the Fishing Camp. She gratefully accepted and put her dog, now revealed to be a nice looking golden retriever, into the back of the truck and jumped into the cab beside me. She sat with her long, angular body folded into itself, staring out the windshield while I started up the truck. Under the overhead cab light, her face appeared strained and tired.
“You must be working too hard?” I asked. Shifting the truck into gear, I headed down the drive.
She sat as if she hadn’t heard me, then turned a bleak stare towards me and answered, “Just a few things hitting me right now, but nothing I can’t solve.”
“Want to tell me about it?” I asked, not sure if I really wanted to delve into her personal life. I felt I had enough problems of my own to deal with at the moment.
But she saved me from having to battle my conscience by answering “Ain’t much. Only bore you.” And continued staring at the beam of light bouncing in front of us.
To lighten the mood, I said, “Nice retriever you got there.”
She sat silent for a moment, then answered, “Not mine, Charlie’s.”
“You mean Charlie Cardinal?” I asked in surprise. Somehow a rottweiler seemed more his type of dog.
She grunted “Yup” and hunched further forward.
Unsure of what else to say, I drove on in silence and quickly reached the end of the Three Deer Point road. I turned onto the main road towards Migiskan Village. Night surrounded us in an impenetrable blackness as we pursued the moving tunnel of light. Occasionally, a stray object would flash into life, then die as the headlight beam pushed forward. I felt as if my entire world was reduced to this barely lit cab of a broken-down truck with Hélène and me its sole inhabitants.
“Too bad about Marie,” I said.
Hélène sighed. I felt the back of the truck seat move as she leant against it. “Yeah, a real shame,” she replied. “But if a woman puts up with a man beating her up all the time, she’s gonna fight back, eh? Might even kill him.”
I decided not to challenge her. Better to let the real story of Marie’s murder come from Eric or Police Chief Decontie. Instead, I made some benign comment about Marie’s funeral.
Hélène continued talking as if she hadn’t heard. “I tell ya, I woulda left the bastard years ago. Any man lays a finger on me, wham, I hit him right back.
