I tried to run, but my legs didn?t move. I?d sunk into the earth, and was standing in a grave. Dirt was trickling in around me. Charbonneau and Claudel were peering down at me. I tried to speak, but words wouldn?t come. I wanted them to pull me out. I held my hands out to them, but they ignored me.
Then they were joined by another figure, a man in long robes and an odd hat. He looked down and asked me if I?d been confirmed. I couldn?t answer. He told me I was on church property, and had to leave. He said only those who worked for the church could enter its gates. His cassock flapped in the wind, and I worried that his hat would fall into the grave. He tried to restrain his vestments with one hand, and dial a flip phone with the other. It started to ring, but he ignored it. It rang and rang.
So did the phone on my coffee table, which I eventually distinguished from the phone in my dream. Awakening through layers of resistance, I reached for the handset.
?Um. Hm,? I said, groggily.
?Brennan??
Anglophone. Gruff. Familiar. I fought to clear my head.
?Yes?? I looked at my wrist. No watch.
?Ryan. This better be good.?
?What time is it?? I had no idea if I?d been asleep five minutes or five hours. This was getting old.
?Four-fifteen.?
?Just a sec.?
I set the phone down and stumbled to the bathroom. I threw cold water on my face, sang one chorus of ?The Drunken Sailor? as I jogged in place. Rewrapping my turban, I returned to Ryan. I didn?t want to increase his annoyance by making him wait, but, even more, I didn?t want to sound groggy, or to ramble. Better to take a minute to slap myself into shape.
?Okay, I?m back. Sorry.?
?Was someone singing??
?Hm. I went out to St. Lambert tonight,? I began. I wanted to tell him enough, but didn?t want to go into the details at 4:15 A.M. ?I found the spot where St. Jacques put the X. It?s some sort of abandoned church property.?
?You called to tell me this at four in the morning??
?I found a body. It?s badly decomposed, probably already skeletal from the smell. We need to get out there right away before someone stumbles on it, or the neighborhood dogs organize a church supper.?
I took a breath and waited.
?Are you fucking crazy??
I wasn?t sure if he was referring to what I?d found, or to my going out alone. Since he was probably right about the latter, I went for the former.
?I know a body when I find one.?
There was a long silence, then, ?Buried or surface??
?Buried, but very shallow. The portion I saw was exposed, and the rain was making it worse.?
?You sure this isn?t another pissant cemetery eroding out??
?The body?s in a plastic bag.? Like Gagnon. And Trottier. It didn?t need saying.
?Shit.? I could hear a match being struck, then the long expulsion of breath that meant a cigarette had been lit.
?Think we should go now??
?No fucking way.? I could hear him pull on the cigarette. ?And what is this ?we?? You have something of a reputation as a freelancer, Brennan, which doesn?t particularly impress me. Your go-to-hell attitude may work with Claudel, but it?s not going to slice with me. The next time you feel an urge to go waltzing around a crime scene, you might just politely inquire as to whether someone in the homicide squad has an opening on his dance card. We do still fit that sort of thing into our busy schedules.?
I hadn?t expected gratitude, but I was unprepared for the vehemence of his response. I was starting to get angry, and it was causing the hammering in my head to escalate. I waited, but he didn?t go on.
?I appreciate your calling back so soon.?
?Hm.?
?Where are you?? With my brain fully functional, I would never have asked. I regretted it immediately.
After a pause, ?With a friend.?
Good move, Brennan. No wonder he was annoyed.
?I think someone was out there tonight.?
?What??
?While I was looking at the burial, I thought I heard something, then I took a shot to the head that knocked me out. All hell was breaking loose with the storm, so I can?t be sure.?
?Are you hurt??
?No.?
Another pause. I could almost hear him turning things over in his head.
?I?ll send a squad to secure the site until morning. Then I?ll get recovery out there. Think we?ll need the dogs??
?I only saw the one bag, but there must be more. Also, it looked like there?d been other digging going on in the area. It?s probably a good idea.?
I waited for a response. There was none.
?What time will you pick me up?? I asked.
?I won?t be picking you up,
Now I was furious. My temples were pounding and I could feel a small cloud of heat directly between them, deep in my brain.
??More holes than the TransCanada,?? I spat at him. ??Get me something else.? Those are your words, Ryan. Well, I got it. And I can take you right to it. Besides, this involves skeletal remains. Bones. That?s
The line was silent for so long I thought he might have hung up. I waited.
?I?ll come by at eight.?
?I?ll be ready.?
?Brennan??
?Yeah??
?Maybe you should invest in a helmet.?
The line went dead.
16
RYAN WAS TRUE TO HIS WORD, AND BY EIGHT FORTY-FIVE WE WERE sliding in behind the recovery van. It sat not ten feet from where I?d parked the night before. But it was a different world from the one I?d visited hours earlier. The sun was shining and the street throbbed with activity. Cars and police cruisers lined both curbs, and at least twenty people, in plainclothes and uniform, stood talking in clumps.
I could see DEJ, SQ, and cops from St. Lambert scattered here and there, each wearing a different uniform and distinctive insignia. The assemblage reminded me of the mixed flocks birds will sometimes form, spontaneous jamborees of twittering and chirping, each bird declaring its species by the color of its plumage and the stripes on its wings.
A woman with a large shoulder bag and a young man draped with cameras smoked and leaned against the hood of a white Chevy. Yet another species: the press. Further up the block, on the grassy strip adjacent to the fence, a German shepherd panted and sniffed around a man in a dark blue jumpsuit. The dog kept bolting off on short forays, nose to the ground, then darting back to its handler, tail wagging and face upturned. It seemed anxious to go, confused by the delay.
