Later that night I was cleaning up after dinner when the phone rang, showing a private caller. “Hello?” I repeated it several times, but was only greeted by silence. I said, “Lisa? Is that you?” Then I heard a click. I set the phone back down, a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. What if it had been Lisa? What if she was hurt, or sick, and couldn’t speak? Again I considered going to the commune and demanding to see her. I thought about Kevin’s words of caution. Damn it all. I had to know if she was okay.
I was in the process of getting my purse and keys together when the phone rang again. This time it was Steve Phillips.
“I was able to get hold of a friend with a cadaver dog. He was planning on doing some training exercises anyway, so he’s going to come up to Shawnigan tomorrow, and we’ll take a walk down by the old commune, see what we sniff out.” There was an edge of excitement to his voice. “Did you want to join us?”
“Please.” My blood surged with new hope. If they found something at the site, they might bring Aaron in sooner. If there was enough bad press, the retreats might even shut down. I explained to Steve what had transpired the day before.
He said, “It’s possible they targeted Lisa.” I sat down on my hall bench, fear taking my legs out from underneath me. “But she could’ve also got that drug addict to make up the story to throw you off. Either way, if she’s in there, she probably won’t like you showing up. I’ve got a grown son. He was hell on wheels in his twenties. He always did the opposite of what I wanted—just to piss me off.”
“Unfortunately, she’s the same.” I set my keys down beside me.
“My son, he came out of it all right. Maybe just give her some time.”
“Lisa’s had a couple of close calls.” I flashed to the image of her pale in bed after her overdose. How many more could she survive? What if something went wrong at the center? “What time should I come up in the morning?”
I had to do something.
* * *
That night, I woke abruptly with every nerve alert, sure that I’d heard a noise. I lay quiet in the dark, my heart thudding as I strained my ears. What was it? Something outside? The truck slowing down again? There was nothing but silence, then the feeling that I wasn’t alone. Someone was standing nearby.
I reached up and slapped the light switch beside my bed, grabbing for the phone and my mace at the same time. I rolled off the side of the bed, crouched in a defensive position as I faced my room, ready to attack. There was no one there, just the faintest whiff of lavender floating in the air, like a memory.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
The morning was dismal and wet. I was glad that I’d dressed in jeans, hiking boots, and my warm goose-down coat when I got out at the driveway of the old commune, the rain sneaking in under my skin, turning my hands red with cold. Steve’s truck was already parked on the road, and behind it, a black SUV, with tinted windows. Inside, a dog barked. Steve and another man, also lean and tall, but with a hard-lined face and snow-white hair and mustache, were standing near the SUV, stainless-steel coffee cups in hand, steam billowing up into the cold air. As I walked over to them, the dog barked short, deep warnings.
Steve introduced me, and I shook his friend’s hand as he said, “Ken.”
As soon as Ken got his German shepherd, named Wyatt, out of the back of the truck, the dog was working, sniffing the ground in a back-and-forth pattern, anxious on the end of the long rope. Ken explained that they would do a preliminary search first, to see if the dog picked up on anything, then a finer grid search in some likely areas. He warned me that if there was a body, it had been buried for so long the dog would have to be within a couple of feet to pick it up.
I followed behind as we headed down the trail, feeling safer this time with the men and the dog. Ken called out commands, his voice seeming loud in the quiet forest, while the dog worked the ground as they moved closer to the barn.
The river roared in the background, and the surroundings drifted away as the scent of wet forest, leaves, and dirt enveloped me, bringing with them a new memory.
I’m down at the river. Aaron orders me to stand naked against a tree, the bark wet and rough against my skin, while he stares at my body, slapping my hands with a switch if I try to cover any part of myself.
He says, “Separate yourself from your physical body. Feel the sensations, but don’t attach to the discomfort, just observe. Control your shivering.”
At first, the pain of the cold and the humiliation is excruciating. I think I’m going to scream from it, but then I focus on the sound of the river, a bead of rain dripping off a leaf, chanting my mantra in my mind, until I’m able to separate from the pain, aware of it, but distantly. Then it doesn’t matter what he does.
The sound of Ken calling his dog broke me out of the memory. Still shaking off the lingering shame and anger the memory had roused, I skirted the edge of the old barn. The rain made the wood slick and wet, the scent of old barn and rot even stronger. Ahead of me, Steve was waving his arms, trying to catch my attention. I walked toward him. He was standing at the side of the barn, pointing to the ground. “This the spot?”
“That’s it.”
The dog was pacing back and forth in tighter and tighter circles, then started pawing at the dirt. He took another couple of sniffs and sat, his eyes focused on Ken’s face. A shiver spider-walked up the base of my neck.
Steve and Ken began to dig, while the dog and I watched. The rain was coming down harder now, and I pulled my hood up over my head, moving a little in place to keep warm. Neither man showed any sign of stopping, grunting in exertion, their breath billowing out. My body was stiff, my hands tucked into the crooks of my arms, everything in me waiting, waiting. My mind filled with images of bones, stark and white in the wet earth. Steve stopped, stood straight, still staring down. I held my breath, my legs carrying me closer.
He glanced at me and said, “Just stretching,” then rubbed his back. I stopped, embarrassed. They dug a little while longer, and the tension began to ease in my body. It would take them a while to get down deep. The earth was heavy and wet, and they had to work around roots and rocks. I started to wander around again, keeping them in sight. They struggled to break up one root, then paused, looking down at something. Their voices low, I couldn’t hear them over the river. My blood whooshing in my ears, I started back toward them.
Steve turned in my direction. “Looks like the body of an animal, maybe a goat or something.”
The air came out of my chest. “Oh, thank God.”
Ken said, “We’ll just do a general search over the area, and see if Wyatt shows some interest anywhere else.”
I nodded. While Ken and Wyatt worked, Steve followed behind, and I had a better look at the commune. More memories came back when I got closer to one of the cabins, noticing the groove below where I used to hide. I dropped to my knees, peered into the dark, then turned and looked out at what my vision would’ve shown—mostly the campfire. I walked behind one of the cabins and stared out into a clearing, remembering when we’d chant as a group, our breaths exhaling as one. I skirted around the edges of the field, hearing Aaron in my mind.
I can end all your suffering.
I stopped at some plants on the side, an image coming to mind: a sea of red poppies in bloom. Aaron had told us their color symbolized resurrection after death, and we’d harvested the seedpods, probably for opium. I reached out and touched one of the leaves. My body flooded with another new memory.
I’m down on the ground. Aaron’s hand is wrapped tight in my hair, his breath panting in my ear as he starts undoing my shorts. My hands reach for help, finding only poppies, their sick, sweet scent filling my nostrils. The air’s so hot that I can hear the bark crackling on the arbutus trees as it peels back in the sun. Fragments break off and drift down, spiraling closer like brown butterflies.
Steve’s voice snapped me out of the memory. “Nadine.”
I was disorientated, a leaf crumpled in my hand, still caught somew
here between the past and the present. When was I in the field with Aaron? What else had happened?
Steve spoke again, louder now. “Nadine?”
I dropped the leaf, brushing its juices from my palms as I turned. “Yes?”
“Wyatt did a preliminary search, but he’s not alerting anything. We’ll spot-check a few areas, but he’s starting to lose interest.” He noticed my arms tight around my body. “If you want to get going, I can—”
“I’ll stay.”
I followed Steve back to the center of the commune, then kept close as Wyatt worked the field in a grid, and along the riverbank, anywhere it might be easy to bury a body. The dog was moving slower now, his tail drooping.
Finally Ken said, “He’s done for.”
I walked with them to our vehicles. As Ken put Wyatt back in the truck, I said, “He’s a beautiful animal. My brother has a shepherd, too.”
“Yeah, they’re good dogs.” Ken reached in and gave Wyatt a scratch.
Steve gave me a look. “How is Robbie?”
I startled. “You know my brother?” I wondered why he hadn’t mentioned it the first time I came up.
“When I was still on the force, I had to break up a fight he was in at the pub.”
I wrinkled my brow. “What was the fight about?”
“Don’t know. The other two guys took off. It took a couple of us to settle Robbie down, and he wouldn’t tell us what happened.” He held my gaze. “He had a pretty bad temper.”
Something about the way he said it felt like a warning, which confused, then angered me. “He was younger. He’s worked through his issues.” I had no idea if that was true or not, but he was my brother.
Steve nodded, and then smiled. “We’ve all got issues.”
* * *
I followed the men back to the main road, but they kept going straight to the village, and I turned toward my brother’s. In case it got back to him that I was in town, I wanted him to hear it from me first. I also wanted him to know about Lisa. He’d always had a soft spot for her, and if he’d had any memories of the commune that he wasn’t sharing, he might change his mind knowing she could be at risk.
He was working in the shop again. Brew gave a woof and bounded over to me, sniffing at my legs for traces of Wyatt. Robbie straightened up from the workbench where he’d been sharpening the blade on a chain saw, the tool still in his hand. He looked over my shoulder, studied the mud on the car. I watched his face, the way his jaw muscles tightened.
I said, “Hi, I wanted to let you know that Lisa might be at The River of Life Center.”
He turned back to me, his face confused. “Whatya mean?”
I told him everything, then added, “If she’s gone there, she could end up staying. So I’m hoping that the center will get shut down. Tammy, the woman I found, she might go to the police, but she’s still struggling with the decision.”
“Does Aaron know you’re talking to people?”
“I don’t know, maybe.”
“He’s not going to like this.”
I thought about the truck rushing past, the hang-ups, the feeling of being watched, wondered again if it was someone from the commune. “No, you’re right. He won’t, but there’s not much I can do about that.”
Robbie picked up on my tension. “Has he come after you?”
“I’ve been getting some strange calls and a couple of drive-bys.”
“You should just back off and forget—”
“He’s hurting people, Robbie. You wouldn’t believe the things he’s doing now. He’s got these chambers, where he basically starves people, and—”
“He’s starving them?” His face was stunned, his mouth open, eyes wide.
“Yes, in isolation chambers.” I told him everything Tammy had shared.
Now he was pacing, back and forth, like a boxer in a ring without an opponent.
“Fuck. I told you—they’re messed up.”
“That’s why I have to do this. There’s a woman, her name’s Mary. She was from the commune, and she still lives out by the river. Did you know that?”
He looked wary again. “No, but Mom used to go see some woman.”
My turn to be shocked. Mary hadn’t mentioned anything about spending time with my mother after they’d left the commune.
Robbie was studying my car again. “Where did the mud come from?”
“I met with a retired police officer out at the commune. Steve Phillips…”
Robbie turned back to the saw and began to sharpen, the tool making a rasping sound in a steady rhythm. “Yeah, I remember Steve.”
“He remembers you too.” I paused, waiting for him to inquire further, or give me some acknowledgment, but the rasping continued.
I added, “He said he busted up a fight you were in years ago.”
Now Robbie turned around, his face angry. “I told you not to talk about me to cops. Why the hell would he tell you that?”
“He’s retired, and I didn’t ask. He brought it up. He has a friend who has a cadaver dog. We searched the commune site, and—”
Before I could get the words out Robbie said, “You searched the site? What for?” His face was shocked.
“For Willow.” Then I told him about Mary’s finger.
Robbie shook his head. “I don’t know anything about that, but Willow, she got the hell out of there. Last time I saw her, she was hitchhiking on the logging road back to town—the morning she split from the commune.”
I was confused. “How did you see her? Weren’t you sleeping?”
“I’d gotten up early to go fishing at the big pool down by the bridge. I was just coming back when she was leaving.”
I paused, thinking it through. “But you still don’t know if she made it out. If she couldn’t get a ride, she might have returned and—”
“No, I saw one of the logging trucks stop for her—a red one.”
His last statement connected with a thud. I thought of Larry, of his big red truck and his leering at pretty seventeen-year-old girls. Was it possible he picked her up? Heat infused my face. All the time we’d been out there searching, and Willow was probably living somewhere with three grandkids by now.
I waited to see if Robbie would add anything, but he was quiet. I was ashamed to realize that I wanted to be right about this, wanted to believe that I hadn’t just been chasing ghosts. Now I feared I’d been wasting everyone’s time. I still had a few questions.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were friends with Willow?”
He gave me a what-are-you-talking-about look. “I was friends with everyone in the commune.”
“You were more than friends.” I didn’t really know if it was true, but something made me say it.
His face flushed, and his mouth tightened. “I was more than friends with lots of the girls. What’s your point?”
What was my point? Was I actually accusing my brother of lying to me?
“I just wondered if you knew anything else that might help me find her.”
“What’s going on with you? I didn’t know anything else about her, okay. She was just some chick at the commune. I hear from you once a year, and now you’re on me every day about this shit. Why do you care so much about her?”
I hadn’t seen Robbie this angry in years. “I’m sorry. You’re right, I’ve been pressuring you.”
Robbie’s shoulders relaxed slightly, but he still looked upset. I watched Brew, who was watching Robbie, his eyes anxious, a low whine starting from his throat. He came over and sat near Robbie’s feet, bumping against him. I wondered myself why I was so obsessed with finding Willow. Then it came to me.
“I guess because I wasn’t able to help my patient, I’ve fixated on Willow.”
He nodded. “Are we done with this? I’ll hose your car off.” I knew it was a peace offering, but I still felt frustrated. My brother was shutting me out, again.
“Thanks. That would be great.”
As he rinsed off my car, I remembered that I’
d also wanted to ask him about Levi. He’d reacted badly to my previous questions, but he’d been friends with Levi, so I didn’t think it should be a problem. I said, “Steve also told me that Levi moved back here, and he runs the ski school. Did you know that?”
He kept spraying the car in swoops. “Yeah, I knew he was here.”
“I might go talk to him.”
“What do you want with Levi?”
“I told you. I’m trying to find witnesses. Why did you tell me that no one from the commune lived here anymore?”
This time it was an outright accusation: You lied to me.
He didn’t bother defending himself, just kept spraying the car. I was starting to get angry with his avoiding my questions—avoiding me. I moved around the hose, standing within his eyesight. He still didn’t look up.
“What happened? You two used to be close.”
“People change.” He finally met my gaze. “Don’t talk to him about any of this unless you want it all over Shawnigan. He has a big mouth.”
“So you’ve never spoken to him since he came back?”
He paused, a tiny hesitation, and then said, “Nope.”
My brother had lied to me again.
* * *
After I left Robbie’s, I thought over our conversation. His desire to keep me from talking to Levi was obvious, but I wasn’t sure why. I didn’t want to break whatever tentative relationship we were forging. But I had a feeling Robbie was hiding something—something that Levi knew. Part of me wasn’t sure if I wanted to open this door, but I’d already come too far to pull back now. In the end, still wrestling with my loyalty to my brother, I decided to take the long way around the lake and drive by the marina to check things out and maybe spot Levi.
As it happened, just as I neared the marina, I noticed a man pulling up to the dock in a ski boat, the flash of his ginger-colored hair catching my eye. Was that Levi? I took a closer look. It was definitely him. Now I also realized whom I’d seen that day at the pay phones by the store.