Delorme put one knee on the bed and sat on the edge, facing him at an angle.
He reached and touched her, resting his index finger on her knee. “I found your handcuffs too.”
“I figured.”
“They’re under the pillow. Have you ever worn them for fun?”
“They had us put them on at the academy. So we’d know what they felt like. The tightness, et cetera.”
“Did you enjoy it?”
“The context wasn’t conducive.”
“But you might.”
Delorme took his hand and held it in both her palms. It was very cold.
“Leonard, you know what I think?”
“No. What do you think?”
“I think you’re the one who likes to be scared.”
“It’s true you make me a little nervous.”
“So I see. I think I know what to do about that.” She rubbed his palm with her thumb. “Warm you up a little.”
“Oh yeah?”
She got up on both knees, giving him the full view.
“Oh my,” he said. “Oh yes.”
He started to slide his hand from between her palms. Delorme gripped tight and twisted.
“Jesus!”
He was face down now, Delorme on top with his wrist at the back of his neck.
“Fucking hell!” He reached back, flailing at her with his other hand. “Ease off!”
“I haven’t even started yet. Did you go through my closet?”
“What? No.”
She jerked his arm up.
“Yes! Yes!”
“Oh, you found the toys, then.”
“What toys? There weren’t any toys.”
“The blue case. On the shelf. I’ve got some things in there that’ll get your attention, Leonard. Some things that’ll teach you respect for the law. But first I think I’d like to see you in a stress position. Give me the handcuffs, Leonard.”
“Not bloody likely.”
“Was that a no, prisoner?”
She jerked his arm, and he pulled the handcuffs out with his other hand. She knelt on his pinioned arm and snapped the cuff on the other wrist, looping the chain through the bars of the headboard.
“I can feel your pussy hair on my-”
She slapped him hard across the back of the head. “Other hand. You’re not going to give me trouble, are you? Are you going to give me trouble?”
“Never. Wouldn’t dream of it.”
She loosened her grip a little. “Because the faster I get you cuffed to this bed, the faster I’m going to dig out those toys and really go to work.”
“God, I knew you’d be good at this.”
“Shut up. You have a choice here, prisoner: toys or gun. Take your pick.”
“Toys. No question.”
“Then put your wrist in that cuff.”
“No. Ow! Christ, you’re a total fascist bitch, you are.”
Delorme pulled his arm down and around, relieving the pressure, and he let out a gasp. She pulled the arm up to the cuff, and he offered no resistance while she snapped it on.
“Happy now?” He waggled the bracelets. “Totally at your mercy. And I have a feeling you’re going to make me regret it.”
“Oh, yes.”
“Your implements of destruction and all.”
“I may even have to involve some other officers.”
“No, I’d have to draw the line at that. I think we should agree on a safety word: lawyer?”
“Well, if you think it will stop me. But first I want to whisper something in your ear.” She leaned forward and brought her mouth close to his ear. He would feel her breath, remember the moment always. “Leonard Priest,” she whispered, “I am arresting you for the murder of Regine Choquette. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say may be used against you. You have the right to an attorney…”
23
Ronnie Babstock goes to work. He cannot be at home. He cannot be alone. It might be smart to let us protect you, Cardinal had said. Durie hasn’t come after the other men, but you’re the last on the list and he might see you as the ultimate target.
“I hope he does come for me,” Babstock had told him. “I’d be glad to die if it meant Hayley would live. Christ, John, she’s so young. This is a girl who’s never hurt anyone.”
There is plenty of work to do. The next Mars launch is less than six months away. The wheels on the latest iteration of Marti are refusing to fully retract, making a landing impossible. And the developer of the alpha-particle spectrometer can’t seem to keep the specs straight. In both cases, communications between team leaders and department heads have reached a pass where only a quiet talk at the top is going to move things forward.
He can’t bring himself to make the calls. His daughter’s face is before him. It is an obsession he has not experienced since the year he fell in love with her mother and it was far from certain she would marry him. His mind had held her close the way his arms could not. Time was erased.
Now his daughter is before him in all her ages, from burping, crawling infant to knobby little skater girl to trampy teen in torn sweatshirts to frightening Goth poet to student and scholar and teacher. From his office on Airport Hill he can see across Algonquin Bay to the frozen bay itself, blue sky, the strange, snowless expanse of the lake. He is seeing none of it. He is seeing Hayley’s face. He tries to select favourite moments: his visits to Toronto, all too infrequent, when Hayley takes him to dinner with colleagues, drags him to the AGO, even a poetry reading. His daughter the adult, the person he is still just getting to know. This person he has known all her life, suddenly a new friend.
He couldn’t stand sitting there anymore, he had to be out and moving. He put on his coat and had just opened the office door when his computer made the sound of an incoming Skype call. Few people knew how to reach him directly that way.
He looked at his assistant. “Grace, did you just relay something to my Skype?”
“We haven’t got anything out here.”
He went back into his office and sat down.
Incoming Call From: Hayley Babstock.
Hayley didn’t have a Skype account, as far as he knew. He clicked on the answer button.
An image of a newspaper clipping appeared onscreen.
“Hayley? Hayley, are you there?”
The cops had a trace on his phone lines but they wouldn’t be able to trace this, not in time. He clicked Record.
The image zoomed in on the sidebar to a main article from twenty years ago. SCIENTIST PERISHES AFTER SURVIVING DRIFT STATION DISASTER. There was a photo. The young woman with her beautiful hair and shy smile. Twenty-seven. A specialist in Arctic cloud formation and energy exchange. He had never forgotten her face, though he had seen it only once, the day the story broke.
“Mr. Babstock, this is Karson Durie.” There was just the voice and the clipping. The voice was polite, calm. “I
