a mess. The only thing I could get out of him is that he wants to go back to Brazil immediately. I can’t talk him out of it.”
Bill nodded knowingly. “Leave it for now. He’ll be calmer tomorrow.”
Thom lit a fire to distract himself. Bill poured him a drink. Thom sat on the sofa, his hand playing absently with the polished curve of the arm. Bill tried to reassure him that Daniella would turn up. Thom nodded distractedly, only half-listening. Eventually they turned the conversation away from the events of the evening, anxious for the consolation news of things that had nothing to do with them might bring. Thom assured them there was nothing they could do for him. They said goodnight.
“I’ll be fine,” he said, waving them away.
Upstairs, Dan lay on the bed fully dressed, staring at the blackness outside. The shimmering urgency of fear had drained away, leaving an empty calm, the bone white shock of lightning that reveals the world in negative for an instant before snapping off again. He dropped off to sleep just before five. He wasn’t sure when Bill slept or if he did.
Morning brought a return of the mist, a dull grey haze settling over everything. The call came just past seven. An officer from the Picton OPP told Thom they’d recovered the body of a young woman just before six thirty that morning. He asked them to come to the morgue as soon as possible.
Someone had made coffee. Dan grabbed a cup and went out to bring the car around. Bill got in the front with him. Thom emerged with Sebastiano, and the pair slid silently into the back. The boy’s face was grey, his eyes glassy. Even his cheeks seemed sunken. Dan glanced in the mirror. He recognized the look. He’d seen bereaved clients with that haunted glaze compounded of sickness and misery.
They endured the ferry crossing in silence. The blue water took on an ugly sheen; distant sails raised in joyous furls seemed an insult to them. The ride to town took forever. At the hospital, Thom got out first and went around to help his husband, but Sebastiano refused to leave the car. He sat with his arms wrapped tightly around his chest. “I don’t want to go,” he said, his voice hoarse.
“You have to come,” Thom insisted. “They’ll need you to identify her.”
The boy shook his head. “I can’t.”
Thom looked grim. “They need you, Seb.”
Sebastiano glared. “I hate you!” He pounded his fist against the door. “I hate you! How could you do this to us?”
Thom shook him by the shoulders. “I didn’t do anything. I told you not to bring her.” He looked around at the others. “I didn’t want her here.”
Sebastiano turned away, sobbing against the seat.
“Thom,” Bill said. “Leave him.” Thom jerked his head around at the sound of Bill’s voice. “Let’s go in. It might not even be her.”
Thom nodded. “You’re right.”
The hospital was small, red brick-efficient. It had been erected in the eighties and outfitted with hanging plants to allay the severity of the exterior. They were joined by Constable Saylor, the officer who’d recognized Dan’s name the night before. Still fresh-faced and earnest. Eager and correct. They followed an assistant to an alcove lit by a rack of fluorescence where all the warmth had been sucked out of the room. A burnt smell hung in the air.
A modest shape lay beneath a sheet, a bulge concealed beneath a mound of fresh snow. It scarcely seemed possible that something as momentous as death lay before them. Dan thought of the lamb and goat corpses in the butcher’s window on the Danforth. Even they had seemed more imposing, more noteworthy somehow. The officer pulled the sheet down to reveal first the head — lips blue, skin grey, as though she’d been embalmed already — then further down. It seemed needlessly cruel to expose her like this under the harsh glare.
For a moment, Dan doubted it was Daniella. The body was so bloated, it seemed as though it might have been someone else, one of the countless nameless faces in the Doe files. Dan stepped forward in disbelief, ready to proclaim it a case of mistaken identity. Looking closely, however, he realized he was staring at Sebastiano’s sister. That was clearly her hair, now damp and dishevelled, those the fingers that had pawed his chest only hours ago.
Thom made a small choking noise. He reached out and touched a wall, as though he might faint. Bill and Dan were used to seeing bodies in various states of decomposition. Still, Dan felt a surge of nausea followed by something like grief, even though he’d hardly known her.
Thom rubbed his chin between his thumb and forefinger like a man trying to decipher a difficult problem. “It’s her. It’s really her. Fuck.” He turned away.
Something on Daniella’s right temple, an irregularity near the hairline, caught Dan’s eye. He pointed out the dull purple bruise mostly hidden by hair. “Did anyone notice this?”
“Yes, we did,” Saylor replied. “I noted it in the report.” He looked at Dan. “Is anybody here related to her?”
“Jesus,” said Thom. He looked up. “Sorry, no. The person you want is out in the car. I don’t know if it’s a good idea to bring him in here yet.” His hands moved in small circles, warding off an unpleasant event. He wanted to be out of there, away from the swollen body with the telltale bruise on her forehead. “He’s not in a proper state of mind.”
Saylor assumed a look of professional sympathy without seeming insincere. “I understand, sir. Perhaps you could get him to come in when he’s ready?”
Thom nodded. “I will. I’ll bring him back.”
They emerged blinking into the daylight. The sky was pastel with soft clouds scudding overhead. Apart from a few passersby, the town looked deserted. For a moment Dan wondered if everyone was in church, just another small town Sunday.
Thom paced, walking himself through his dilemma. He turned to Dan and Bill. “Stay here. Let me do this,” he said, glancing back at the parking lot.
He went to the car and got in beside Sebastiano. He sat there looking forward and spoke a few words. At first there was no reaction, then Sebastiano turned and hit him with his fists. Thom took the punishment until Sebastiano finally stopped and leaned his head against Thom’s chest. Thom’s hand reached up and smoothed his hair. It was another five minutes before they got out of the car and came haltingly to the door.
“I told you it was haunted,” Sebastiano said softly. “It was a bad place!”
Thom looked at Bill and Dan in confusion. “I don’t know what he’s talking about.”
“I think he means Lake on the Mountain,” Dan said. “He seemed pretty spooked by it the other day.”
Thom shook his head in bewilderment, not comprehending how one thing related to the other. He turned to Sebastiano. “Are you ready? You’ll have to go in some time. If not now, then later.”
“Then it is Daniella? For positive?”
Thom nodded and Sebastiano crumpled on the steps. His grey pallor was succeeded by bright red. The veins on his forehead seemed about to burst. He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture becoming obsessive in its repetitiveness. “I told you I didn’t want her to come. I told you ...” he broke off, choking on his sobs.
Thom
