boundary re-alignment and now Dogtown is part of Lockport.”
“Oh, sure. They even tried to amalgamate us with Blackshore to the north of us, and everything in between, and call us something else. We just ignored it.”
“The Davidsons reported Faith’s disappearance to the Owen Sound force. We’ll have a bulletin somewhere, but the investigation file is lean. Bernie obtained a copy of the report from Owen Sound and read me the highlights. We can’t be sure at this time that we’ve located Faith Davidson, but it appears she was never seen after grad night.”
Cornwall stared at the pictures in front of her. “Here’s Faith. Standing off to the side … alone, as usual. I think she was the only one who wasn’t drinking.” She looked up. “She just came back from Toronto for the evening and was taking the late bus back to the city. Did she get on that bus?”
“A witness saw a young woman waiting at the Greyhound bus stop in front of the Petro station about twelve-thirty. She was wearing a white dress. The bus driver couldn’t confirm he picked anyone up at that stop on his way through Lockport. Not after two weeks. They didn’t have electronic tickets back then. So we don’t know if the young woman was Faith. If it was, she got on the bus and disappeared in Toronto.”
“Faith’s graduation dress was bright yellow. Like a buttercup. And she wouldn’t have worn it on the bus. She would have changed into jeans and a jacket. I guess we know she disappeared right here. She never left the building that night.”
“We can’t be sure yet, Cornwall. Were you good friends with Faith?”
“Yeah. We hung around at school. Me and Faith, Fang, Chico … a few others I haven’t seen in years.”
During his time on the Toronto force, Neil knew of many people who slipped off the radar and were never heard from again. There were just too many places to hide, or hide a body. He thought a small town might be different, but he should have known better. Big city, small town, it was all the same. And poor communications were a major cause of screw-ups between police jurisdictions.
He stuffed his tie in his pocket and put on his belt. “Why don’t you throw a few things in a bag and come home with me for the night, Cornwall? I’ll bring you back first thing in the morning.”
A faint smile appeared, then vanished. “It’s pretty stormy out there. Maybe you should close the highway and just hunker down here for the night.”
“The OPP decides when to close the highway. I have a full day of interviewing ahead of me and I’ll need a fresh uniform. How about it? I don’t want to leave you here alone in case the power goes out.”
“If that happens, I’ll pull a blanket in here and sleep in front of the gas fireplace. I won’t freeze, or starve, but thanks.”
He leaned over and gave her a lingering kiss. Maybe he could run home in the morning to change. Spending the night in Bliss Moonbeam Cornwall’s bed was far more enticing than returning to his cold cabin in the bush and sleeping alone.
Before he could change his mind, he stepped out into the storm. The snow had turned to sleet that cut into his face as he scraped the ice from his windshield. He sat in the driveway for a few minutes to let the inside of the windows defrost. Fuck. Bruce County in the winter had to be the shittiest spot on the planet. The sun didn’t shine for days, and the snow came at you sideways — try driving in that without your stomach heaving.
He restrained himself from charging back into the house, throwing Cornwall over his shoulder, and dragging her back to his cabin. She’d kick him in the head, call him an asshole, and never speak to him again.
He knew why she didn’t want to spend the night at his place, and it was his fault, no doubt about that. But he didn’t know what to do about it. He backed out of the driveway and drove cautiously out of the subdivision toward the highway — which may very well be closed by morning if this weather kept up.
The sound of a revving motorcycle filled his vehicle: Cornwall’s ringtone. He touched the Bluetooth button on the steering wheel. “Have you changed your mind? I’ll come back for you …”
“No. Listen to me. Did you find Faith’s suitcase?”
CHAPTER
ten
I decided to sleep in and hit Canadian Tire when the store opened at ten. Glory’s non-negotiable list put me in charge of decorations for the food bank fundraiser and I was going to get everything done in one stop.
Monday morning’s sky was more grey and desolate than Sunday’s and, while the snow had tapered off during the night, the frenzied wind still blew off the lake. The parking lot of our national icon to tacky Christmas crap, as well as everything else a Canadian needs the rest of the year, was almost deserted. I planted my feet gingerly in six inches of fresh snow.
I took one step and windmilled desperately before falling to my knees. Under the snow lurked a layer of ice. I skated to the entrance and tumbled through the automatic doors.
By the time I found Chico in the paint section re-filing colour chips, I had formulated the perfect plan to separate him from some of his better-quality seasonal home decor. I explained my mission to my old high school buddy.
Chico placed the customer service desk between us and pushed back his black ringlets. His hair was even longer than in high school. He pursed his lips and aimed his pale grey eyes at the twelve-inch fake tree in front of him. He plugged it in, and tiny coloured lights blinked on, reflecting off the lenses of his black-rimmed glasses.
“I don’t know, Bliss. We still have three weeks until Christmas. After our year-end inventory, I can give you some leftover merchandise, but right now, I don’t know …”
“It’s not like I’m asking you to contribute decorations for my own house. This is for the food bank. Think of all the little hungry children. Think of their excitement when they see the lights and decorations at the greenhouse. Imagine the huge sign at the entrance that acknowledges the Leeds family for their generous donation.”
He pulled the collar of his trademark red golf shirt away from his neck and remained mulishly unconvinced. “Well, maybe a string or two of twinkle lights.”
“Do you have a chair I can sit on, Chico? I fell in your icy parking lot and feel a bit dizzy. I’m sure I’ll be fine, though.” I smiled and let my lower lip tremble, just a little.
After that, Chico couldn’t fill up a cart fast enough.
“Try to keep up,” I called over my shoulder as I wheeled the cart through the aisles. I tossed in not only indoor and outdoor twinkle lights galore, but reindeer, snowmen, elves, and every damnable Disney creature from Micky to Ariel, the red-headed mermaid with the improbable mammaries.
When one cart was full, I left it for Chico to push and nabbed a second one away from a shopper whose back was turned. Bonus. The cart already contained a few tasteful decorative items. I halted in front of the artificial Christmas tree display and contemplated a ten-foot monstrosity. Behind me, Chico made a soft mewling noise. I reached for a box, then hesitated. Glory hadn’t mentioned a tree. I suspected she’d make us sacrifice a real fir. I pulled my hand back and heard a shuddery sigh from my helper. The hell with it. I reached for a pre-lit twelve-footer and laid the box over my cart. Behind me, the whimpers turned into bleats.
There.
