they find us frozen to death.”
She strode ahead of him and the front door opened before her foot hit the bottom step. Two elderly women stood in the entranceway. The shorter one hovering in the background was wearing a black dress that stretched tight over a full bosom and fell past her knees, beige tights and sensible shoes, a red head scarf the only bit of colour. The one who had to be Evelyn, the more regal of the two with her grey hair tightly permed, held a black-and-white dog that appeared to be a spaniel and Boston terrier mix. The mutt was barking and squirming in her arms and looked ready to have a go at them.
“Clemmie!” she said in a voice so sharp Gundersund froze with one foot inside the doorway. She lowered the dog to the floor while keeping a firm hand on his collar and looking up at Stonechild. “Let him sniff you and he’ll settle.”
Clemmie took his time checking them out — lingering over Gundersund and growling low in his throat before Evelyn clipped out his name again — and then immediately lost interest in defending his castle, turning and walking away, his nails clicking on the hardwood. Gundersund’s eyes tracked him down the hallway. You’re probably going to lie near a hot air vent where I would love to stretch out alongside, you lucky dog.
After introductions, Evelyn led them into a living room to the right of the entrance partway down the hall. Gundersund smelled traces of pipe tobacco before furniture polish and cleaner overpowered the scent. The room was small, the furniture made from dark-stained oak of a long-distant age, the grey couch cushions frayed but clean, the carpet faded even in the lamplight pooling from two end tables. The couch faced a fireplace with a charred grate swept clean. Evelyn gave them the couch while she and the neighbour, introduced as Antonia Orlov, pulled wing chairs closer, one on either side of the room. The space was gloomy and claustrophobic and Gundersund felt himself pulling in air through an open mouth, trying to fight past an asthma attack and regain his equilibrium. Stonechild sat perfectly still next to him, her eyes taking in the room while her face remained its usual inscrutable mask.
Evelyn began speaking without prompting. Gundersund got the feeling she was used to taking control. “My daughter-in-law went for a walk in the early afternoon and nobody has heard from her since. The children are out searching for her.”
“The children?” Stonechild asked.
“Well, my adult children. Adam and Mona are in one car and Lauren and Tristan in another. We’re getting worried as you can imagine with Vivian pregnant and not from here. Her coat wasn’t suitable but she refused something of mine.”
As if this was a bigger crime than being lost. Gundersund leaned forward, arms on his knees. “Was Vivian experiencing any medical issues with her pregnancy?”
“Not that anybody told me. She certainly ate enough at mealtime and she insisted on wearing inappropriate high heeled boots even in her condition.”
“How far along is she?”
“From what they told me, four months. Girls are so careless these days. I put no stock in her reliability about anything. Today is one more reason.”
Gundersund felt as if questioning Evelyn was like trying to catch an eel with his bare hands. He was relieved when Stonechild took over.
“Let’s start from the beginning, shall we? You said that Vivian is not from here. What is her full name and what is she doing in Kingston?
“Why Vivian McKenna, of course, since she’s married to my son Tristan. None of this nonsense about keeping her maiden name. I insisted that if she was marrying my son, she had to take his name. They live in Edmonton but everyone is here because my husband is in the hospital.”
Gundersund saw her chin quiver, the first sign of a chink in her prickly armour.
Stonechild’s voice softened. “I’m sorry that your husband is ill. Can you tell me the other relationships for the names you gave earlier?”
Evelyn relaxed her shoulders. She appeared to focus on Stonechild for the first time. “Adam is my eldest. He’s a pilot with Air Canada and his wife, Mona, is a teacher. They have a nine-year-old son, Simon, whom they left at home in Vancouver. Lauren is the second oldest, my daughter. She lives in Toronto and owns a kitchen design business.”
“And what do Tristan and Vivian do for a living?”
“Tristan is a writer. He had a bestselling novel a few years ago and is working on a new book while also freelancing. Vivian works at the Bay in cosmetics.” Evelyn’s mouth drooped as if pulled taut at the ends by a string.
Her face was a series of tells that let them know exactly what she thought of the people in her life. Gundersund knew that Stonechild would be way ahead of him on this. She was as intuitive at reading people and situations as anyone he’d ever met. Except when it came to her own personal life.
The other woman had been sitting motionless across from Evelyn, half in shadow, and she shifted slightly so that he could see her. “You live in the house next door?” he asked.
Her eyes darted over to look at him. They were faded blue and startled above plump cheeks. “Yes, with husband,” she said, but it was enough for him to hear a strong Slavic accent.
“Did you see Vivian today?”
She shook her head, the red scarf slipping lower on her forehead.
“What about your husband?”
“Boris is working all day in basement. He make birdhouses.”
“That are works of art,” said Evelyn. The two women smiled at each other.
“My Boris has gift.”
Gundersund felt Stonechild’s elbow against his arm as she stirred next to him. “It’s early to file a missing-person report,” she said, “but if you have a picture of Vivian, we could start our patrol officers looking for her and we’ll check the hospitals in case she stopped in for any reason. If she isn’t home by morning, we’ll reassess the situation. If Vivian turns up or contacts you, please be sure to let us know right away.”
“Of course.” Evelyn rose and picked up a picture in a silver frame from the mantle. “This is their engagement photo from a few years ago. You can make copies and return it to me in the same condition.”
Stonechild stood to accept the picture and Gundersund pushed himself off the hard cushion to stand beside her. He pulled a business card from his pocket and handed it to Evelyn. “Call me as soon as you hear from Vivian.”
They left the McKenna house and crossed the street. Gundersund leaned against the side of her truck while they discussed next steps. Stonechild held the framed photo and studied it in the light from the streetlamp. “She’s pretty: black hair, brown eyes, and Tristan looks vaguely familiar. I might have seen him on television or something to do with his book. He’s got a pleasant enough face and quite piercing brown eyes behind his glasses.”
“Let me have a look.” Gundersund took the photo from her. “A good-looking couple. I can’t say that I’ve ever seen either of them before. I’ll keep this and go get things started back at headquarters while you get home to Dawn.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, no problem.” He pushed himself off the side of the truck. They were standing so close that he could smell coffee and spearmint
