wanted to make sure you knew who she was.”
“Rebecca Fenn. I know who she was. She was young and beautiful and full of promise.”
“Much like your daughter.”
“Mr. Durie, I will do anything you ask, pay any price, give up my own life-anything-if you let my daughter live.”
“There’s nothing you can do. You did it many, many years ago.”
“I’ve regretted it ever since.”
“That makes no difference to me.”
“Look, hate me. Hate me all you want. But not my daughter. Not Hayley. She’s not someone you could possibly hate if you got to know her for even five minutes.”
“I don’t hate her. I don’t even hate you. I’m indifferent. Just like you were. You were indifferent to a man and woman who were dying at your feet. Indifferent as the Crusoe Glacier, the Piper Ridge, the Steacey Ice Cap. It’s the natural state. The remarkable thing is that there was ever in the history of mankind an instance of anyone who wasn’t indifferent.”
“I wasn’t indifferent. I was greedy, selfish, stupid, ambitious, reckless, immature.”
“Mid-thirties by my estimate-hardly a child.”
“I know. And I won’t lie to you-we saw the flare. And I know you don’t ignore a flare in the Arctic. We had a lot at stake, and we made the wrong choice. It was wrong, and I am sorry for it. I’ve wanted to undo it for many years, but it just isn’t possible. I will tell the world about it, if that will help in any way.”
“It won’t.”
“May I see my daughter, please?”
“Of course.”
It had been a while since the squad had had occasion to open the “war room.” This was a grand name for the closet that housed special operations materiel. Each detective was issued a shotgun and full Kevlar, along with backup magazines and speed-loaders for the Berettas.
In the middle of all this, Cardinal had to go out to the meeting room to try to calm down Ronnie Babstock. He’d showed up with a laptop that he opened on the board table to the video recording of his daughter. She was dressed like the other victims, in blue down jacket, new boots, no gloves, no scarf. Nothing else visible in the frame but ice.
Her breaths were shallow, visible intermittently as fog against the blue of her jacket. She appeared to try to speak, but no words came out.
“She’s going to die, John. I need to know what is being done.”
“Ron, we looked at this the minute you zapped it over. It doesn’t contain anything we can use, and we have another lead to follow up right now-a strong lead. We’re heading out in a few minutes. You go back home and I’ll call you soon as we know.”
“He’s on Axel Heiberg, John. Tell me the Mounties are there.”
“They’re on their way. They don’t have an outpost on that island, but they’re in the air right at this moment. Listen, Ron, that is only to make sure. We don’t think he made it up there.”
“He left the numbers. The coordinates.”
“Yes, it was his plan. He wanted us to arrive too late. But he was in a car accident. He’s injured. There’s no way he could fly a plane that far. We believe he’s here now. There’s nothing in the video that couldn’t be right here in Algonquin Bay.”
“This is a recording.” Babstock pointed to the laptop, the image of his daughter curled up on the ice, a chain winding out of the bottom of the frame. “It wasn’t even live when he sent it.”
The cottage was near the tip of Cole’s Landing. The assault had to be coordinated with Jerry Commanda and OPP SWAT. He had asked Cardinal what they could expect.
“We don’t know. Durie’s sister told us the cottage never contained any weapons of any kind when they were growing up. Their father wasn’t a hunter or anything. But he’s had plenty of time to stock it up with whatever he wants. We’ve had plainclothes get as close as they can. So far, there’s no signs of life, no signs of recent activity. We don’t know if he’s in there or if the girl’s in there alone, or what. If she’s with him, he could shoot her the minute he sees us.”
A stillness had settled over the lake, no trace of last week’s freak wind, or any wind at all. Sun hanging low over the Manitou Islands, radiating nothing but cold. The quiet sawn in two by a snowmobile heading out through the fishing shacks. Not too many of those would be occupied on a day like this. Thirty below, and that was in the sun. It was hard to believe anyone could die on such a beautiful day, but if Hayley Babstock was out in this, she surely would.
“Jesus, this is hellish,” Cardinal said, “and we’re dressed for it.”
Delorme said nothing. She had been keeping her distance all morning. He had congratulated her on the Priest case and wanted to arrange a dinner or some time they could catch up, but she had pulled out her cellphone and feigned sudden interest in a text.
Not that he could worry about that now. He had McLeod and Szelagy at the ready behind a rock cut on the west side of the cottage. From there, they had a clear shot at the walkout on the lake side should anyone decide to make a run for it.
He and Delorme were taking the front, but OPP would be first in. Cardinal had briefed them thoroughly and he had no reason to fear they’d blow it.
“I think I saw a curtain move,” Delorme said.
“I didn’t.”
“I could be wrong. Staring too hard.”
The curtains had been drawn all morning as far as the drive-bys could ascertain. There was smoke coming from the chimney, but that meant nothing. All houses kept some degree of heat on throughout the winter to prevent pipes bursting.
Jerry Commanda’s voice over the radio. “Everyone in place?”
Cardinal told him they were ready.
“All right, then. Let’s hope she’s in there.”
Despite their vantage point halfway up the hill, he couldn’t see Jerry and the SWAT team until they emerged from the bush like so many ninjas-ninjas plump with parkas and weaponry. He saw the point team heave the boomer into the door and a split-second later heard the crash of it.
He and Delorme ran down the hill and into the house.
“They’re not here,” Jerry told them, “but it looks like they were.”
There were dishes in the sink, bloody bandages in the bathroom. They found a coat in a heap on the floor that Cardinal recognized from photos of Hayley Babstock. He went to the wide front window and looked out across the lake. To the north, the blocky outlines of fishing huts silhouetted against the sun. To the west, the reflected sun was almost as bright as the real thing. It was a moment before Cardinal realized the reflection was coming from Babstock’s lake house, those glass rectangles hurling the sun right back in bolts of fire.
“Do we have any idea where he might be headed next?” Jerry said.
“Somewhere cold.”
“That could be anywhere.”
“It could.”
“And we don’t know what he’s driving.”
“No.”
“You gonna order up your ident team?”
“They’re on the way,” Cardinal said.
“What’s wrong? What are you staring at?”
“Ronnie Babstock’s house. Glass one over there.”
“I thought he owned that huge place on MacClintock.”
Cardinal was about to answer when there was a flash followed by a tremendous bang. All those bright reflections vanished in billowing clouds of black and grey.
“My God,” Jerry said.
They both pulled out their phones. Jerry issued terse requests for fire and ambulance. “Is that Outlook Drive
