“A handful escaped. One was a ten-year-old kid.”
Barnabe Savoie. His story had almost made me cry. Terrified, the child had fled Sheldrake for the only haven he knew. Home. Barnabe was taken from his father at gunpoint, bound with ropes, and hauled back to the island.
“They put kids out there?”
“Many. Babies were born on Sheldrake.”
“
“Most were rounded up and returned to the island. After that, even worse restrictions were imposed. All the sick were confined to one building, boundaries were set around it, and time was limited for fresh air and exercise. An armed guard was hired to enforce the new regulations.”
An image flashed in my head. Children with twisted features and rag-wrapped fingers. Coughing. Weeping for their mothers. I willed it away.
“What about the others, the ones that survived?”
“I’m not sure what happened to them. I’m going to do more research.”
“What’s this got to do with Gaston’s skeleton?”
“The girl had leprosy.”
I heard rattling. Pictured Hippo switching ears, considering the implications of my statement.
“You’re saying the kid died a hundred and sixty years ago?”
“It looks that way.”
“So that’s the end of it.”
“I know an archaeologist on faculty at UNB in Fredericton. Once the remains have been officially cleared for release, I can give her a call.”
Something banged, then a voice called out in the background.
“Hold on.”
The connection muffled as Hippo must have pressed the phone to his chest. When he reengaged, his voice was jazzed.
“You still there?”
“Yes.”
“You won’t believe this.”
27
“S OMEONE POPPED OUR FAVORITE PHOTOGRAPHER.”
“Cormier?”
“Body was spotted early this morning behind a warehouse near the Marche Atwater. Two slugs to the back of the head. Ryan just left the scene. Says Cormier was capped elsewhere, then dumped. Time line points to sometime after midnight.”
“Jesus. Is he there?”
“Yeah. Hold on.”
I heard rattling, then Ryan came on the line.
“Whole new twist,” I said.
“Yeah.”
“In all the uproar over the Anne Girardin exhumation, I forgot to tell you that I heard from Dr. Suskind.”
“Uh-huh.” I could tell Ryan was hardly listening.
“Suskind is the marine biologist at McGill. Her findings on the Lac des Deux Montagnes case are complicated.”
“Summarize.”
“She recovered diatoms from the outer bone surface, but not from the marrow cavity.”
“Meaning?”
“Either the girl was dead when she hit the river, she drowned elsewhere in treated water, she drowned before April, she hyperventilated and died quickly, or Suskind’s recovery technique was flawed.”
“Terrific.”
“Suskind did learn something useful. The diatom assemblages found on the sock best match a control sample collected at the bottom of a boat ramp in a park not far from where the body was snagged off L’Ile-Bizard.”
“Say that again.”
I did.
