the hell is his mailbox?”
He turned the car slowly and started up the unplowed side road, which wound to the right through pine trees and bushes frozen in ice. It was icy, slow going. Half a kilometre on, a black and tan dog the size of a Rottweiler bolted out of the woods and began loping alongside their car. Kala could see its head bobbing up and down outside her window.
“Careful,” she said to Whelan. “The dog could slip under the tire.”
Whelan muttered under his breath and scowled but slowed the car to a crawl. Finally, he pulled into a clearing and parked next to a green Cherokee Jeep. A small cabin was set back into the trees. Smoke billowed from the chimney and disappeared skyward into the falling snow.
“What do you think our chances are with the dog?” asked Whelan, leaning his arms on the steering wheel and turning to face her.
“Scared?”
“Let’s say I have a healthy respect.”
“I’ll go first,” said Kala already opening her door. “Hey boy,” she called. The dog’s tail wagged. “How are you boy? You protecting your property?” She reached down her hand to let him smell before scratching his head. She stepped out of the car and looked back at Whelan. “The danger has been neutralized.”
She straightened and looked over at the cabin. A man stood in the open doorway holding a cup of coffee. He whistled through his fingers and the dog ran toward him. Kala and Whelan followed at a slower pace. They stopped a few yards away.
“Hunter Underwood?” asked Kala. She blinked as his eyes stared into hers. His were a riveting deep grey, lined in dark lashes. “We’re with the Ottawa Police. We’ve come to speak with you about your father.”
“Come in,” he said, turning abruptly and disappearing inside.
Whelan looked at Kala and shrugged before he led the way up the stairs.
The living room was sparsely furnished. A battered leather recliner sat near the window with a floor lamp next to it. Bookcases lined two walls. The only other piece was a roll-top desk with a laptop set on top. She followed the men into the kitchen. It was a long, narrow galley with a small table and two chairs at the far end. Tall, lead-paned windows let in greyish light.
“Have a chair,” said Hunter pointing to the two at the table. “Coffee?”
The dog padded silently across the floor and flopped down at Kala’s feet. She felt its head rest against her leg and shifted so that there was more room for the dog between her foot and the chair leg. She imagined Taiku’s weight pressed against her and felt an overwhelming longing for home. The cabin resembled her own small place not far from Lake Superior.
She moved her head to study Hunter as he poured them each a cup. He hadn’t shaved and was dressed in faded jeans and a checked shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He looked to be five eleven, a hundred and sixty pounds, with wide shoulders, lean physique, and curly brown hair that brushed his collar. After he set the coffee cups and the milk container on the table, he leaned up against the counter and sipped from his cup. He didn’t appear disturbed by their presence. She wondered if his calmness was an act.
Whelan cleared his throat. “You know who we are I gather?”
“Since I heard my father is missing, I figure you’ve come to find out if I know anything.”
“And do you?”
“No.”
“Have you seen your father recently?”
“He came by a week ago.”
Whelan looked down at his notes. “We were informed that you and your father are estranged.”
“We are, more or less.”
“Then why the visit?”
“I’ve been asking myself the same thing. He said it was time to mend fences.”
Kala said, “I imagine you found that odd after ten years of not being on speaking terms.”
Hunter looked at her and then at his dog lying with its jaw on her boot. “You’ve made friends with Fabio. Not many do.”
Kala looked down and smiled. She reached a hand to pet the dog’s massive head before looking up at Hunter. He was still watching her, his grey eyes observant, taking in more than she would have liked.
Whelan cleared his throat again. “So how’d the visit with your father go?”
“Okay. He came into my shop and we talked while I worked on a painting. He seemed at ease. I got the feeling he just wanted to get away from his life for an hour.”
“Was something making him unhappy or depressed?”
“We didn’t talk long enough for me to find out anything personal. He asked if he could visit me again soon. I told him to do as he liked. If I had to say my impression of his state of mind, I’d say regretful.”
“He didn’t give any indication why?” Whelan asked.
Hunter grinned as if Whelan had said something funny. “He had lots to regret, let’s just put it that way.”
“Do you know of anybody who would want to harm your father?”
“I’m really not part of his world so I couldn’t say. Did you ask my brother-in-law Max Oliver? He’d know more about Dad’s life than I do since they work together.”
“We’ll be sure to raise it with him.” Whelan jotted in his notebook.
“I don’t suppose you have any idea where he could have gone,” said Kala.
“Not a clue.”
Whelan took his time pulling a card out of his pocket. “If you hear from your dad …”
“I’ll be sure to let you know,” finished Hunter.
They stood to leave. The dog followed them out of the kitchen and down the hall.
Kala stopped near the front door and turned toward Hunter. “You said you were painting. Is that your profession?”
“I paint portraits on commission, but my main line of work is sculpting.”
“You must get your art gene from your mother. We were just admiring her paintings.”
“She taught me when I was young and she still works with inner city kids in the after-school programs. My studio’s out back if you’d like a tour.”
“We’re due back at the station.”
“Well, another time.”
She didn’t respond. There was something about Hunter and the piercing way he looked at her that put her off-balance. His eyes made her want to keep looking back. A family with all that money, and he chose to live like a hermit. His home wasn’t much different than hers, although their lives were separated by culture
