The Taken (40 page)

“You want to be a target?”

“No,” she said, “I want to end this.”

Quinn fell away on the diagonal, pointing the nose of the huge steel machine toward the forest while trying to get as close to the water as possible. Hazel kept her eyes on the shoreline and stole glances to the surface below to keep track of the rescue. Tate and Calberson were still swimming toward Eldwin with powerful strokes; from the helicopter, she could see now that the basket had righted itself in the water and Eldwin was still strapped in. Behind her, Childress had braced herself behind the bench and was leaning over, gripping Wingate’s ankles. She was holding him tightly as he slid forward on his belly toward the open door.

Then there was a flash of white in the distance, from within tree-cover, and a half-second later, the empty seat behind Hazel’s head spat a tuft of cloth and foam and Quinn bent the craft away from Goodman’s sightline. “Hold her!” she shouted to him, and stood in the open space, firing as he ignored her and turned the side of the helicopter to the line of fire. Hazel gripped the edge of the broken window frame and twisted herself partway out into the lashing rain and kept firing at the flares from the treeline. The vast emptiness around them swallowed up the reports and it sounded to Hazel as if someone
were setting off harmless fireworks all around them. Quinn was trying to make himself smaller as he leaned out his window to gauge the distance to the surface. More bullets tore at the body of the helicopter and Hazel returned fire for as long as she could and then yelled “Clip! Clip!” and Childress quickly freed her firearm from her holster, keeping hold of Wingate with one hand, and kicked it toward the cockpit.

Quinn was tilting dangerously now, the blades sending shockwaves over the surface in semi-circular surges; Hazel hoped all the soft, human forms below them were out of the way, but she knew, and dreaded, that Quinn had only a minimal amount of control over the bird. She took cover behind the passenger-side door and looked behind herself to see Tate pulling himself up along Wingate’s arms and heaving himself into the cabin, drenched and breathless. He turned and braced his thigh against the open doorway and the two of them brought up Calberson and then the three men reached down out of the lurching craft and grabbed a hold of the slack rope, and pulled it and Eldwin in hand over hand. “
ALL IN
!” shouted Childress and Quinn pulled the helicopter up again, the whole body rising as if shaking itself free of a monstrous grip. The ding of bullets rang against the metal behind her and then she felt the passenger door shatter, and suddenly there was nothing holding her up. She sensed the space below her opening, and as she was falling into it, Quinn reached out and grabbed her by her belt and she spun around wildly and gripped the now-naked steel bar that separated the windshield from the door and fired wildly on the white reports bursting in the distance against the rain. She heard a voice shouting
FUCK YOU FUCK YOU
and didn’t realize it was her own until she saw the white
star of Goodman’s muzzle flare suddenly rise against the wall of trunks and within it was a small bloom of red mist. She’d hit him. She’d hit him and he was down.

“Let’s get out of here!” she called, and Quinn pulled away from the site in a wide turn, rising and twisting, until they were once again clear. Hazel looked around anxiously, but everyone was accounted for, and Wingate was standing in the middle of the helicopter, looking at Hazel with shining eyes.

“Turn around,” he shouted, rotating his index finger in the air, and Hazel did and he ran his hand up the back of her jacket and under her shirt, feeling for the wound he was sure he’d find. But there was nothing. “He shot the glass in the door out – you were standing right there,” he said, but Hazel shook her head at him.

“It was my turn,” she said. “Not his. I hit him. Call dispatch, I want any way in or out of this side of the lake blocked and I want teams working on a grid in those woods until they find him or his body.”

He called it in, and then Hazel leaned down to Eldwin’s motionless form, and pulled the drenched layers of cloth away from his throat. She felt along below his chin for a pulse. “I want to know how hard we should be trying to save this man’s life,” she shouted to Childress. “Call your people now!” The constable backed away and turned to face the rear of the cabin. “I don’t feel a pulse,” Hazel said.

“He was alive in the water,” yelled Calberson. He leapt to the back of the cabin and dragged his emergency kit out from under one of the benches. “Move aside.” Someone finally closed the door and the howl of the wind moved to the front of the helicopter, where the windshield had been shot out. Calberson
cut the soaked cloth off Eldwin. “There’s a survival blanket in the kit –”

Childress shook the reflective blanket out and passed it to Calberson. Eldwin was naked beneath his windings; it was a pathetic sight, and Calberson put the thin survival blanket on top of him. He held one edge of it up. “You,” he yelled to Childress, “get in.”

“What?”

“You’re the smallest one here, so you’ll put the least strain on his chest. But we got to warm him up or he’ll die for sure.” She hesitated and he reached out and grabbed her wrist. “I’m not asking.” Childress lay down on top of Eldwin, face to face with the unconscious man.

Hazel leaned down to her. “Did you get through?”

“I’m on hold.”

“Jesus Christ,” she said, “give me that phone.”

She took off her helmet and put the phone to her ear. Calberson picked up the helmet and spoke into the mic. “Mr. Quinn? – where’s the nearest hospital?”

“The only ER that can handle this is in Mayfair,” Quinn said.

“Go.” He had Eldwin’s left wrist and was feeling the pulse. “He’s twenty beats a minute. He’s lucky it got cold or he’d be a corpse by now. As it is …”

“Hello?” said Hazel into the phone. “Who is this?” The man on the other end gave his name as Fredricks. She pressed the phone into her shoulder. “Childress? Fredricks is your guy?”

She nodded. She was looking ill – Hazel imagined Eldwin was somewhat ripe. Her radio buzzed and she passed it to Wingate.

She put the phone back to her ear. “Fredricks? I’m Detective Inspector Hazel Micallef, from the Port Dundas detachment of the OPS. I’m sorry, I’m in a helicopter – we’re waiting on some forensic results.” She listened for a moment. Wingate was saying
984, but we’re going direct to Mayfair, call ahead 951
and Hazel put a finger in her other ear. “We know that already, but I sent the superintendent some … evidence yesterday afternoon. That’s right. Okay,” she said, squinting to hear better, “say that again.”

She looked over at Wingate, but he couldn’t tell what her look meant.

“You’re sure? Okay, I understand. Now, we faxed a second set of prints up there … that’s right. From the Port Dundas OPS, sender’s name was Fraser …” She listened. “I need you to doublecheck that. You’re certain? Thank you, Fredricks. Put all that stuff back where you found it now, and not a word to anyone. I appreciate this.”

She turned back to face Wingate. “He didn’t do it,” she said. “He didn’t kill Brenda Cameron.”

Wingate looked down at the still form in the basket. Calberson had relieved Childress of her warming duties and was putting a tube in the back of Eldwin’s hand, running fluids into him. “Poor bastard,” he muttered.

“Let’s get this man to hospital.”

Quinn ascended, cutting wide back over the shore, heading southwest to Mayfair. Below them, the sunrise was spreading its pale, orange light. The rain had finally stopped. “Figures,” said Childress. “Now that we’re at the easy part it lets up.”
Hazel was watching her, and gradually, feeling the woman’s eyes on her, Childress brought her gaze around. “What?”

“You want to go home?”

“And face the ridicule of my colleagues? No thanks, I’m putting in for a transfer.”

“You helped to save a man’s life. That’s not nothing.”

Childress had retreated into herself, lost in thought. Finally, she said, “I’ve been on some wild goose chases … but this one …”

Hazel leaned across the cabin and patted Childress’s knee. “I hope you have that medal you were going to pin on yourself.” Childress smiled into her lap. “Quinn?” The captain acknowledged her. “We’re going to be passing close by Kehoe River in a couple minutes, right?”

“Should do.”

“How much of a crimp does it put in your flight time to put down for a minute? I’ve got cars down there and I can double back to Mulhouse Springs and get Eldwin’s wife, bring her down to the hospital.”

Quinn looked back over his shoulder. “I’m under the impression every minute counts.”

Calberson said, “Probably a good idea to have next-of-kin present.”

Quinn nodded and looked back out his missing windshield. Kehoe River was ten kilometres in front of him. Hazel radioed the community policing office that they needed a car. “Tell them to bring it to the parking lot of the Giant Tiger,” said Quinn, and she relayed the information. They passed over the town and Quinn put down in the empty parking lot.

“I’ll take Childress,” Hazel said to Wingate. “Then I can drive her back to Toronto after stopping at Mayfair. You see Eldwin gets the attention he needs.”

He looked back and forth between them, then offered Constable Childress his hand. “Thanks for your help.”

“Yeah,” she said, a little stunned. “Okay.”

Hazel thanked Quinn, Tate, and Calberson and then the two women stepped down onto the parking lot surface. They moved back and Quinn took the rest of his passengers up again. He’d got down and off-loaded them in less than two minutes. They watched him angle down Main Street as one of the cars from the Kehoe River office pulled up. “You mind walking back?” Hazel asked the driver, as she slid into the passenger seat. “We have to get down to Mulhouse Springs in a hurry.” The officer touched his cap and she watched him get smaller in the rearview mirror.

They were in Mulhouse Springs in twenty minutes and Hazel had to wake Officer Childress up. The lights were off in the Eldwin house, but all it took was a light knock to bring it to life and Claire Eldwin opened the door tying a housecoat around herself. The moment she saw Hazel on her doorstep, she began to cry. “Oh no, no …”

“He’s alive,” said Hazel. “But barely.”

“Oh, thank God –” said Eldwin, stepping forward to embrace her. Hazel held her a moment, and then Eldwin stepped back and pushed her hair off her cheeks. “He’s going to make it, right? Tell me he’ll make it.”

“He’s at Mayfair General. They’re going to do their best. But we’d better get you down there quickly just the same.” She stepped into the house. “This is Constable Childress. She helped with the search.”

“Thank you,” said Eldwin, taking her hand. She looked disoriented and exhausted. Hazel guessed that the bottle had been
her companion the night before. “You’re soaked. Have you been out all night?”

“All night,” confirmed Childress.

“You must be freezing. I’ll put on some coffee and get dressed.” She disappeared into the kitchen. They heard the beeps and grinding of the coffeemaker being started. “It’ll take three minutes. Make yourself at home.”

They went into the kitchen and Childress opened the fridge. It was nearly empty, but she found a carrot in the crisper and began to eat it. “Sorry, I’m starving.”

“Go ahead,” said Hazel. She watched the coffeemaker fill. Her eyes were drifting over the cupboards and countertops and she thought she might fall asleep in the chair. But her night was not over yet.

Eldwin returned in jeans and a black shirt and poured the coffees. She had a bag full of clothes for her husband. “Should we take the coffees with us?”

“No,” said Hazel. “Maybe you should sit for a couple minutes with us. So we can prepare you.”

“God,” said Claire Eldwin, sitting. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

“It’s not good. He was set adrift in a canoe, wrapped in cloth, and it rained on him all night. He was barely alive when we found him, half drowned and freezing. He didn’t have much of a pulse.” She waited a moment as Eldwin took this in. “Mrs. Eldwin, he’s missing a hand.”

Claire set her coffee down with a jolt. “Oh
no
–”

“There’ll be time to explain everything later. But I just want you to be prepared.”

Eldwin stood. “We should go.”

“Just another minute. There’s more.”

She sat.

“Your husband’s innocent.”

“I told you he couldn’t have done it. He might be an unrepentant cheat, but he’s not a killer.”

“I guess you knew him better than we did.”

“I
am
his wife,” she said. Hazel turned to Childress, as if looking for confirmation of something, and when she brought her eyes back, Claire said, “What else?”

“There’s this,” said Hazel. She reached into her jacket and took out the book she’d bought in Toronto. She tossed it onto the table and watched Claire Eldwin’s reaction. “Before we go, I’m wondering if you’d sign this?” It was a mystery novel called
Utter Death
, by Clarence Earles. Claire Eldwin extended her hand slowly and picked it up. She held it almost tenderly. “I thought the inheritance story I heard sounded like a load of bull.”

“Clarence has been very good to us,” she said. She turned it over. “This is an early one. I started it before Colin and I met. Taking his class helped me finish it.”

“Did Colin even know he had a story in the
Westmuir Record
?”

Eldwin was still staring at the back of the book. “No,” she said softly. “He got the
New York Times
. He thought the local papers were garbage. There was no risk he’d see it.”

“But someone else did.”

“Clearly,” said Eldwin. She turned the novel idly in her hands and looked at the back cover.

“I’m betting Colin didn’t even know it’d been published under his name until they showed it to him. Imagine what your
husband’s denials must have sounded like. Pretty far-fetched. I bet it made them bloody mad.”

“I stopped writing it when Colin vanished. Then more chapters appeared.”

“I’ve spent two weeks reading between the lines. Joanne Cameron was almost right, she just had the wrong Eldwin.”