“Can you keep a car on the road? I need a lift home.”

He seemed relieved to switch off the computer. “We’ll take the long way,” he said. “Kill some time on this holiday Monday. Time-and-a-half isn’t worth it, I’ll tell you, Skipper, not when I could be with my kids.”

“Then take the short route,” she said.

“They’re down in Toronto with their mother.” He grimaced for her. “I got all the time in the world.”

They got into his cruiser, and he backed out of the lot and started driving north along Porter Street. “You weren’t kidding about the long way.”

“Unless your back is really bad.”

“No,” she said, “it’s a nice afternoon, and I could use a drive to clear my head.”

“Any ideas on what’s going on in this mannequin case?”

“Too many for any one to be useful. You?”

“Feels like the tail’s wagging the dog a little.”

“That’s the life of the investigator, isn’t it, Kraut? You only get the tail at first and then you hang on for dear life and try to crawl up to the head.”

He took her up north of the town and then turned onto one of the smaller highways leading to one of the little lakes that fed into Gannon. This one was called Echo Lake. A banner promising fireworks dated the night before had fallen down onto one of the little beaches. Fraser turned down onto the verge and faced the water. In the distance, pleasureboaters zipped back and forth over the surface of the lake. He turned off the motor. “In a couple of hours it’ll be peaceful out here again,” he said.

“It’s peaceful now.”

“I can always handle a little more quiet.” He powered down a window. It smelled of pine and wet earth outside. It had rained heavily overnight. “So listen, I know you got a lot to think about right now, but I felt I should give you a heads-up.”

“Oh-oh. I thought this drive had an ulterior motive.”

“The new guy at OPS Central, Commander Mason’s replacement?”

“Chip Willan?”

“Yeah. Well, we all got questionnaires.”

“Questionnaires.”

He reached into an inside jacket-pocket and took out a folded sheaf of papers and handed them to her. She opened the papers up – it was a fairly detailed document with the title Ontario Police Services Central Region Work Environment Survey. The first page was mainly demographic stuff, followed by a couple of pages asking the respondent various questions about resources, clearance rates, prevalence of certain kinds of crime in their jurisdiction, job satisfaction, and so on. She said, “This is pretty standard. In fact, it’s good to know he’s sending these around. Maybe it means he’s serious about making things better.”

“Look closer. Page five.”

She turned to that page and Fraser indicated question thirty-six with his index finger. It read, “If you were redeployed to another detachment within OPSC, which one would be your first choice?”

“Goddamnit,” she said.

“It asks for our full names and badge numbers on the last page. I showed it to Martin Ryan.”

“The sneaky sons-of-bitches. What did he say?”

“He said it was illegal to ask us to put our names to an informal internal poll, and that question thirty-six was a form of union-busting and that we should ignore the whole thing. Or at least, not answer that question.”

She turned to him in the seat, which hurt, but she needed to see his face. “Who’s ‘we,’ Kraut? You mean all the PCs got this letter?”

“And the sergeants.” He looked away from her, uncomfortable. “Anyway, Ryan says the whole thing’s illegal and we don’t have to respond, but the thing is, illegal or not, it may be the only chance any of us get to have a say. If we want one. I mean, if OPSC does decide to move any of us around, and a bunch of us ignored this letter, then maybe they can say they took an informal survey and got an idea of who wanted to go where and the rest of us are going to be sent to Bumfuck. And, Skip, I want to stay in Port Dundas, but if there is no Port Dundas, I don’t want to be in Bumfuck.”

“Oh, for god’s sake. So you’re going on the record?”

“I’m thinking I have to. If I want to have any say in my future, you know? And as the detachment’s union rep, I think I have to tell the rest what I’m going to do. It wouldn’t be right otherwise.”

“Even though your regional rep tells you the letter is illegal.”

Fraser looked down at the steering wheel. “I think this Chip Willan guy is even more of a hard-on than Mason was.”

“How hard can he be with a name like ‘Chip’?”

“Listen, he’s not staring down retirement any time soon, and I think he’s going to bring it, if you know what I mean.”

“You let OPSC control you like this, Kraut, it won’t matter where they send you. And they won’t bother asking you your opinion next time.”

He turned the car on and began to back out onto the road. “I’m sorry, Skipper,” he said. “But I’m fifty next year, I got two kids in high school, and I have to speak up.”

“I’m sixty-two in less than a week. Where does all this leave me?”

Fraser stretched his neck. That wasn’t a question he could answer. “Like I say, I’m sorry. I hope you understand.”

“I do,” she said, not looking at him. “Damn it. I guess it’s time I met Chip Willan.”

10

She woke to the sound of a tray being put down close to her ear. The smell of bacon wafted over her. I must have died and gone to heaven, she thought. She opened her eyes and saw her mother standing by the bed, drinking from a mug of coffee. “You here to taunt me with your breakfast?” Hazel asked her.

“You need your strength now that you’re getting better.”

Hazel pushed herself up to sitting. It was a little easier than it had been yesterday. Not bad, in fact. She reached over to pluck a piece of bacon off the tray, watching her mother the whole time, but Emily didn’t interfere at all. “Glorious,” she said as she ate it. She reached for the steaming mug of coffee. “You don’t come round here much anymore, do you?”

“Gotta get in line if you want to be of use.”

“You’re just worried you’re going to have to see me naked.”

Emily smiled in a pained fashion. She sat down on the edge of the bed, in exactly the same place Andrew had been sitting. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I know,” she said. “But it’s hard. Him up there and me down here, and he seems so reluctant to see me.”

“Well, wouldn’t you be?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Come on,” said Emily.

“You’re right.” She stuck her chin out so as not to appear to be capitulating completely. “But to be this close, you know? And stuck down here, aware of where they are at night?”

“You’ve known where they are at night for three years. Four, really. What difference can it make?”

“It wasn’t above my head before now.” She sipped the coffee. “When he was sitting in the bathroom, it could have been any time in my life but now. It felt that natural.” Emily let her talk, although Hazel could tell her mother was going to run out of patience for this line of conversation quickly. “The way he smells… that’s… it’s impossible. When’s that going to go away?”

“I can’t say,” said Emily, brushing crumbs off the blanket. “I couldn’t smell your father after he passed.”

“I’m not joking.”

Her mother looked up at her, and her eyes were impossible to read. “There’s always something, Hazel, but I’m not telling you anything you don’t know. It never goes. And why would it? You just have to live with it, that’s what it costs you to have had someone. You remember that fringed leather bag your father carried books in? I use it sometimes for shopping and when I put it over my arm, that stiff old strap is still curved to fit his shoulder. I have to brace myself when I pick it up.”